As she surveyed the chamber she realized her things no longer sat on her dressing table. It held nothing of hers.
She glanced at the closed door. Her robe was missing from its hook. She rushed to the armoire and opened the drawers. Someone had removed her clothes! The entire room looked as if it had never been occupied.
There was an emptiness about it that chilled her to the bone. She wanted to scream. However, tonight, it didn’t matter. Tomorrow, she would see her clothes returned, but tonight, she would sleep in her chemise.
Something told her that any minute now Simon would bang on her door and demand she explain herself. She glared at the door then began to pace the floor. She had said all she intended to say. She had no intention of sleeping with him, in fact, she would retain this room. The master suite was Simon’s, not hers. He might have gotten a bride, but he didn’t have a wife. She had told him as plainly as she could.
The more she paced the more upset she became. Where was he? Had he understood what she’d said? Surely, she couldn’t have made it more clear.
She paused and wondered if his reason for not approaching her had to do with his pride. Perhaps, he didn’t want the rest of the household to know she’d rejected him. Yes, that had to be it. He intended to pretend everything was fine between them.
But, what would she do if Agatha came to prepare her for her wedding night? She could only hope Simon’s aunt had decided that after discovering them in Simon’s room, she wasn’t needed. If Agatha came Amy would have to think of something. If she came!
Time passed slowly. But, neither Simon nor Agatha appeared. She heard her sisters moving toward their rooms and wishing each other good night. Next, the door across from hers shut. Even Agatha had retired for the night. A deep sigh escaped Amy and she fought a touch of disappointment.
She sank to her bed and frowned. They must think she was still with Simon. And, obviously, they were not going to interrupt a newly married couple. But, she wasn’t ever going to be really married. Somehow she held back the sobs that threatened to choke her.
She slipped from her ivory gown and pulled the hair pins from her tresses. She muttered a prayer of disappointed thanks and crawled between the sheets. Thumping her pillow, she reminded herself she had no reason to feel let down. What she had to do was stay away from her husband. And, that was what she was doing.
She lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes. But, her mind replayed this day. She remembered the look on Simon’s face as she descended the stairs to the parlor. Nor could she dismiss the stunned look when she told him she would not come to his bed.
She tossed and turned, desperate to make her mind a blank. Still, slumber eluded her.
She must have dozed for a short time because she heard the door knob of her room turn and rattle. She lifted her head. Simon?
When whoever stood at the door realized she had locked herself in, that person tapped on the door. Amy stiffened. One of her sisters? Agatha? She tried to ignore the second series of taps.
“Amy,” Simon’s deep voice rolled through her.
“Go away,” she pulled the pillow over her head. Oh, yes, it was Simon and he wanted into her room.
More taps.
“Amy,” he sounded frustrated.
“Go away,” she sat up.
“We have to talk,” his voice was louder now.
“I have nothing to say to you. I’ve had my say. There is nothing more to discuss.” She threw herself back against her pillows, praying he wouldn’t wake the rest of the household. No more questions, not tonight.
A thump sounded against the wood, as if he slammed his fist against the door, but, though she listened intently, she heard nothing more.
Surely he hadn’t given up. She felt crushed.
She wanted... She didn’t know what she wanted. However, it seemed he would leave her alone--tonight. She wiped a drop of moisture from her cheek. She gritted her teeth and reminded herself, this was the way it had to be. But, would he come to her room each night he was here? And, why was she so attracted to him? No other man had this affect, so why Simon? And, why did resisting him hurt so much?
She groaned and rolled over, ignoring the tears forming in her eyes. She knew crying never accomplished a thing, but somehow, the tears seemed to come from her soul. She had to convince him theirs must be a marriage in name only then she wouldn’t feel such pain.
She brushed at her damp cheeks. If only she hadn’t thrown herself at him. She had given him the wrong impression. She shivered. She’d gotten herself into this situation. She would have to figure a way out.
~ * ~
Simon stalked toward the master suite. He’d sat in his office for a long time trying to understand what had prompted Amy’s actions.
Was she afraid? That was the only reason that made any sense. Well, he could deal with that, couldn’t he? After all, he felt certain she was still a virgin.
He paced the bedroom floor, his hands behind his back. Women were a puzzle, one he didn’t believe he would ever solve. Of course, he’d never been in a situation like this before. Nor, could he remember a time when he’d tried to bed a virgin.
She did like to be kissed. He knew she had enjoyed the intimacy they had shared the night of the ball and the night in this same room. So, what had brought on tonight’s panic? Perhaps he should talk to his aunt. She might offer some kind of explanation.
The thought of telling Agatha his bride of a few hours refused him didn’t sit well. Talking to Agatha had to be about as bad as having a crusty bunch of pirates maroon him on a desert island. He wouldn’t have allowed the latter without a fight to the death, and he couldn’t attempt the former and keep any pride. Talking to Agatha was out.
How about one of the sisters? Caro seemed to be the closest. Could he talk to her? It would be most inappropriate and Amy would suffer a great deal of humiliation. He couldn’t do that to her even if she wouldn’t explain herself. Somehow, he would have to convince her that coming to his bed would be pleasurable for them both.
That thought triggered the remembered pleasure of having her in his arms. At that thought, his body reacted and he let loose a string of curses. This was a poor way to spend his wedding night--trying to figure out why his bride had herself locked in her old bedchamber.
He turned and faced his empty bed. This was not what he’d planned for this night. A drink. He needed something to dull the pain, and it was pain.
He poured a touch of brandy from his decanter. Then he paced the floor. Oh, he didn’t love her, even though he had just promised to cherish her, but he was attracted to her and he knew he’d enjoy her passion. He’d already been given a taste, something he wasn’t about to forget. And, she thought to deny him? He wouldn’t allow it.
But, what could he do? He had never forced a woman in his life. He wasn’t about to start now. Somehow, he’d have to seduce her. He grinned. After all, he had always enjoyed a challenge. He knocked back the liquor, set the glass aside and prepared for bed.
He crawled between the cold linens and groaned. Bloody hell! Some wedding night.
~ * ~
Amy sat upright in her bed. What had disturbed her this time?
Voices! Outside her room. She strained to her what was being said.
She identified Caro’s voice, “Well, someone has to wake them.”
Beth mumbled something.
Amy slipped out of bed and hurried to her door. She pressed her ear against the panel.
“I still think we should wake Aunt Agatha. She can wake them.” This from Beth.
Hurried footsteps and a breathless Ellie responded, “Bolton’s out of the question. I couldn’t wake him up.”
Caro again. She sighed and then muttered, “I guess I’ll have to tell them.”
What was this all about? Why had they tried to wake Bolton and why did Beth think Agatha should be awakened? What was their quiet discussion about that they needed to wake Simon or Amy, or both of them? And, for heavens sake why?
She twisted the key and opened her door.
“What’s wrong?”
For an instant they looked startled, then Caro’s intent gaze surveyed Amy, and the door to the room she occupied. “What are you doing in your own room?”
Amy ignored her question. “Tell me why you have to wake me.”
“Dora,” Ellie exclaimed, the candle in her hand weaving strange shadows against the wall.
“Dora? Where is she?” Amy looked past the three of them. Dora wasn’t behind her sisters.
Caro clarified, “Dora hasn’t returned from her walk.”
Amy gasped.
“That was hours ago. I told her not to go far. She should have returned by now. Wait! How do you know she isn’t here?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Ellie explained. “So, I slipped out of bed and decided to get a book to read. I went to the library, but I couldn’t find the book I wanted. I remembered Dora saying how much she liked it. We’d talked about it--”
“Ellie, get on with it,” Amy snapped.
“Well, I went to her room, but she wasn’t there and her bed has not been occupied. I went back to the library, but she wasn’t there. In fact, no book’s out of place, so I went to the kitchen. It was empty. I searched the other rooms downstairs, but she’s not there. So I woke Caro and Beth.”
“I’ll wake Simon,” Amy whispered, her heart sick with apprehension. Dora should have returned long before now. Dora was adventuresome but not reckless. Knowing her, Amy was certain this sister would not have strayed far from the house.
“Wait here,” Amy rushed into her room, grabbed the candle on the stand by the bed, lit it, then started toward the master suite.
She had thought to avoid Simon at all costs, but this spelled more trouble, serious trouble. As the oldest, she had to be the one to tell him that yet another of her sisters was missing.
She knocked on the door and slipped into the room, pushing the door closed behind her. For a second, shadows from the candle played against the bed curtains, and masking the objects in the room. She raised the light and as her eyes adjusted, she could make out the bed and the man in the middle of it.
The sheet rested at his waist below the broad expanse of his naked chest. She stepped to the side of the bed, her hand outstretched, her heart in her mouth.
The memories of the last time she had been in this room rushed up to swamp her. Once again she felt the intense burning of his lips, the caress of his fingers on her hot flesh, the heat of his mouth as he kissed her breasts. Again, she felt his warm flesh under her own fingertips along with the beat of his heart. All other thoughts vanished with those memories.
She felt her own heart race as hot blood rushed through her body.
Suddenly, Simon rolled toward her and opened his eyes, eyes full of knowledge and heat. And desire! Desire for her!
She stared at him. Waves of longing crashed through her. As she gazed at the hand stretched out before her she realized it as her own.
He touched her fingers, slid his hand over hers and eased her toward him.
“You came,” he sat up and steered her into his arms. He placed his mouth against the curve of her neck and licked the flesh below her ear.
Simon smiled at her sigh. He swung an arm around her waist and another under her legs and lifted her into the bed next to him. He placed his lips against hers and thanked the Lord. She was here. She had come to him.
Never taking his mouth from hers, he slipped his hand into the front of her chemise, seeking the full breast he remembered so well. He brushed his fingers over the nipple, feeling it pebble beneath his attentions.
He fumbled with the ribbons and slipped the garment from her shoulders. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, the soft skin just behind her ears as he reached for the garment’s hem. Tonight he wanted to see all of her, from her head to her toes.
Before he had the garment stripped from her body, a loud knocking stopped his actions. He groaned.
“Bloody hell,” he swore.
Amy must have heard the knocking as well for she jerked away from him.
“Oh, no,” she whimpered.
“What’s going on here?” Simon demanded reaching for her.
“Dora,” she murmured and pushed him away.
Simon stared at his wife. She’d backed to the end of the bed, now sat on her legs, and her expression, even in this dim light, indicated horror. Even in his aroused state he knew that passion was not why she had come to his room.
“What is it? What about Dora?”
“Dora’s missing. I came to wake you,” she whispered.
Her voice shook and Simon wondered if she expressed fear or shame or a bit of both.
Bloody hell! Now what was he to do?
He threw off the covers and stood. He heard the gasp from behind him and fought a grin. Amy had gotten her first real look at her new husband naked as the day he was born and in all his aroused glory.
Well, he couldn’t worry about that now. He grabbed for his trousers and buttoned them with fingers that didn’t want to cooperate. He tossed a shirt over his shoulders.
“All right, now tell me what this is all about.”
Amy bounced off the bed, fumbling with the ribbons of her chemise and moved away from him.
“You’ll need to ask my sisters.”
Without another word Simon started for the door. He turned once, before he reach for the knob.
“Where are they?”
Amy appeared to swallow before she answered, “In the hall, waiting for us.”
Simon swore.
“Bloody hell! You mean they went to your room?”
“I--ah--I heard them outside my door, trying to decide who would wake--ah--they thought...” she didn’t finish.
Simon groaned once more. Now the whole household would know Amy slept alone, and in her own room. And, where was Dora?
She hadn’t left the house, had she? He’d made it clear that until he had Harold in his grasp none of the women could leave the house or garden without protection.
He glared back at the exasperating woman.
“We need to find out what is going on. Come on.”
He threw open the door and stomped into the hall. Well, bloody hell. Aunt Agatha stood in the hall across from his room, her eyes wide with concern.
“What is going on here?” she started toward Simon.
“It seems we have another missing sister,” Simon said through gritted teeth. Was it possible that Agatha had only now come from her own bedchamber? That she didn’t know he’d gone to a lonely bed on his wedding night?
He felt no need to enlighten her if she hadn’t yet gleaned the facts. He did have some pride.
“Another sister missing?” Aunt Agatha squeaked. “Simon, this is too much. Who is it now?”
“Dora.”
“Well, I never...”
Simon finished buttoning the shirt he had slipped over his shoulders.
“I’m getting a little tired of this myself,” he said, just as Amy, now wearing her robe, appeared behind him.
“Oh, Amelia, dear, I’m so sorry to ah--ah--that is to say...”
Simon almost laughed. Agatha was speechless for the first time since she had arrived at the estate.
“Caro,” Simon demanded of the woman standing behind Agatha, “tell me what you know.”
“Well, actually, Ellie should explain, since she discovered Dora missing.”
Ellie stepped forward. Simon nodded encouragement and she told her tale, leaving out the part about where they found Amy. Agatha, having regained her voice, tsked through Ellie’s comments. Simon wanted to tell her to keep her noises to herself, but the other women never seemed to mind so he said nothing.
When Ellie finished Simon grunted, “Amy, alert the servants. I’ll get some men. But first I need to finish dressing.”
He glanced at the hall clock as it chimed the hour of three.
“Aunt, you and the women might want to order some coffee
and something to eat. I have a feeling we’ll be at this for some time.”
He spun on his heel and disappeared into his room.
Amy sighed with relief. She should never have come to his room. Once again, he had turned her into a mindless wanton. She’d forgotten all about her sisters standing in the hall waiting for them. She had even forgotten to tell him about Dora. She mewled against the pain. How could she have lost her reason after his kisses? Why couldn’t she remember why she had come to his room in the first place? What kind of a sister was she, that in the heat of his caresses, her mind blanked out all thought?
Simon's Brides Page 20
