Unused to such intensity at the breakfast table, Rowena squirmed in her seat. Suddenly the thin muslin was too hot for comfort. Warmth spread through her belly. She wanted to touch him.
What on earth was wrong with her? They were sitting across the breakfast table, yet she could feel a throbbing in her sex. She had to force herself to look toward the window and take a breath.
She was about to make an effort to rejoin the conversation, when she was distracted by Simon, who took a bit of honey, then licked the spoon. It was completely inappropriate. Almost scandalous. Her sensitive nipples twinged and pressed tightly against her chemise and stays. Shifting her legs, she tried to ease the tension in her thighs.
Never had Paul looked at her so intimately over the morning repast. His face had been buried in a book or his news or a myriad of other things that typically had little to do with her. Not once could she think of him looking as if he’d rather devour her instead of a piece of buttered toast.
Rowena was so distracted, she lost track of the conversation again. She blinked and tried to focus on what was being said. It seemed they were discussing Simon’s travels in the East and his journey home, but Rowena could barely keep up. When she felt Alice looking at her, she forced herself to concentrate and listen again.
“Oh, I am adjusting quite well,” Simon responded. “For certain the climate is vastly different, but I find there is something to be said about the cool English nights…over the hot Indian days.”
Rowena dropped her fork. He had to be goading her. The scorching look he sent her had nothing to do with the weather.
All eyes turned toward her, even that of two servants. She smiled nervously. “Please forgive me.” With slow breaths, she tried to calm herself. Simon smiled wickedly. There could be no other word for that look.
“And, you found no woman of quality to interest you there?” Delphine asked, though Rowena was sure she was being polite. Delphine could not imagine any society more interesting or elevated than the haute ton.
“No. I did not find any lotus that could compare to an English rose.”
Rowena tapped her foot. Her leg could not settle itself. Simon was enjoying himself at her expense. Her mind wanted to scold him for daring to enter her room at night without her permission and yet her body wanted him to do far more than he had last night. The conflicting feelings overwhelmed her. She dared not look at him.
For six years, she’d lived comfortably. She’d resigned herself to the life of a viscountess. She’d learned to accept the gentle embrace of her husband, Paul. While never a truly passionate man, he had been kind and easy to live with. When he had developed consumption and died after only three years of marriage, she’d reconciled herself to being a widow.
She’d never allowed herself the luxury of thinking she would love anyone the way she’d loved Simon. When she’d met him at twenty, she’d barely known the kiss of a man. The passion she’d felt had been new and exhilarating. The two months he’d courted her had been beyond her imaginings. He’d awakened things she had never presumed possible. Then, he’d left her and she never felt that kind of raw intensity again.
Until now. Seeing him again renewed her ardor in full force. He was dangerous, though. This was dangerous. A simple look and a chat over the morning table made her want to throw off all caution and behave as a wanton. It made her want to climb across the table and kiss him passionately, never mind their audience.
Paul had always described Simon as wild, impetuous, a storm of energy that could not be escaped once you were in the midst of it. Perhaps he was right. Because her feelings made no sense.
Here was this man who had abandoned her, left his friend to pick up the shattered pieces of her existence, and then rejected them both with barely a by-your-leave. And now, without the slightest bit of effort, he had seduced her into a lascivious woman desperate for his embrace.
In a matter of hours, Simon had destroyed her sense of comfort, her sense of place. He shattered her resolve to live as a perfectly respectable lady. And, now, it was worse than before. If she gave in and he broke her heart a second time, she might not survive it.
“What a pity. I can imagine that companionship must have been difficult in such a society. And, now that you have returned? You shall find your English rose?”
Simon sipped from his cup, then smiled. “I will have no other.”
He teased, nothing more. She should know better than to succumb to his charm. Because he was a rake, through and through. Last night was—well, it was….It was heaven—no, it was just another confirmation that Simon wanted nothing more than a tryst. A means to pass the time until he found his perfect ‘English rose’. Or a very vivid dream. No. he wouldn't be behaving so if it were only a dream.
Thick, dry coughs overtook her. Rowena strained to breathe. Goodness, she was making a spectacle this morning. All over…over…what, exactly? A subtle flirtation?
Alice stood up to signal a maid, and a girl quickly brought her a glass of water. Alice’s soft hand touched Rowena’s shoulder. “My dear, are you feeling well? Perhaps I should have Mrs. Pennyworth take you upstairs to lie down?”
Rowena sipped the water, if only because she needed something to do. It might not be a bad idea to retire at this point. It would give her some time to prepare her mind before she was forced to speak to him again.
Thinking clearly in Simon’s presence was near impossible. The years apart had dulled the memory of how intensely he affected her. Despite yesterday’s warning of his impending arrival, she was unprepared and unsure of how to handle him. Last night it had been so easy to give in because she could blame her acquiescence on the dream. One could give into a fantasy without consequence.
Now that her sensual dream was almost certainly reality, Rowena was afraid. Of her yearnings, of his easy charm, of all of the things left unsaid between them.
Rowena decided to accept Alice’s suggestion to retire. “Under the circumstances, an excellent suggestion,” Rowena mumbled. She dared not look at Simon.
When the housekeeper came for her, she gladly took the woman’s arm and tried her best not to run from the room.
It was only when her maid, Molly, freed her from her gown and she could lay in bed in her chemise, unencumbered, that she began to feel better. Molly wet a towel and sprinkled lavender water on it and washed her neck and arms. Then she rinsed the towel again and washed Rowena’s face. The gentle ministrations eased the tension from her body.
Her eyes opened and closed several times as she resisted the urge to drift into sleep. She needed to decide what to do about Simon. Should she rebuff him, which would be the sensible to do considering his previous abandonment? Or, should she give into the desire that had never dissipated, despite the six years of separation?
Molly massaged her head and Rowena sighed and relaxed. The business with Simon could wait an hour. Her body wanted nothing more than to get the rest she’d been denied last night when Simon had roused her.
****
Simon had to force himself not to laugh when Rowena lost her composure at breakfast. He knew quite well why she should wish to go up to rest. After their interlude of passion, he couldn’t wait to explore her body more thoroughly. He would have to think of clever ways to get her alone this week. Luckily, she’d been able to feign illness and retire. He could not depart so easily.
After spending a requisite amount of time with his sister and Delphine, amusing them with exotic tales of India, Simon was able to make his escape. When Alice and Delphine suggested a walk to the old church for the afternoon, Simon excused himself, telling Alice that he suffered from exhaustion after the long journey.
Now he had only to ensure that he and Rowena would truly be alone for an hour or two. First, he made sure Mrs. Pennyworth was well occupied and slipped a crown into the pocket of his valet to ensure that ladies’ maids would be kept away and that no one else would ‘disturb’ them.
Feeling lighter than he had in months, he climbed the stai
rs two at a time, anxious to see Rowena again. He thought of her supple skin and imagined running his hands over it, letting his mouth kiss and lick every pore. Just the thought stirred his blood.
He managed to calm himself by the time he opened the door to her room. She was abed, her dark tresses falling in satin waves over the pillow. Her long lashes and soft lips begged him to kiss them. It was as if he had stumbled upon the sleeping princess of a children’s tale.
With reverence, he ran his fingers over the side of her face. “Rowena.”
Her lids fluttered open. “Simon.” She looked around the room. “What are you doing here? Why are you not with the others?”
“I am here to join you, my love. I only wish I could have come even sooner.” He smiled. “But do not worry, since the weather cleared up this morning, Alice has taken your sister on a walk and will not return for two or three hours.”
She sat up and looked at him with wide eyes. “No. You should not be here. Do not think to distract me with charm.” She pulled the covers up over her chemise. “Anyone could come—”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips over hers, coaxing her mouth open to accept him. He moved to trail kisses along her jaw and her delicate earlobe. “Everyone is gone. And the servants...are occupied.”
She backed away. “And you naturally presumed that I would want to have an escapade with you in the afternoon.”
“If that is what you should like to call it,” he said, holding her waist and letting his hands slowly run up her sides. “I would call it much more than that.” He planned to love her for as long as the afternoon permitted. Hell, as long as every day of her visit permitted.
Since last night, his hope had blossomed from a tiny seedling into a tree. Rowena would not have kissed him and allowed him to make love to her if she did not still have feelings for him. He was angry with himself even now for waiting so long after Paul’s death to reunite with her.
He still had no idea as to why she’d chosen Paul, but Simon wanted to believe she could love him just as much, if not more than his friend. She’d loved him all those years ago, and he wanted her to love him again.
He continued stroking her arms, relishing in the feel of her soft skin. It entranced him. He cupped her breasts through the fabric and let their weight fall on his hands. Even without the covers, they were more than a handful. “Perfect,” he said, before leaning in to nip her ear.
She shivered and closed her eyes. “Maybe we should stop,” she said, her voice soft and breathy. Her arousal was evident, so he continued his ministrations and was rewarded when she rested her hands on his shoulders, allowing him greater access. The covers fell to her waist.
Be tender. Take your time, he told himself. Rowena was lovely, delicate. He doubted that she’d taken another lover after Paul. Alice had hinted on two occasions that Rowena had turned down the advances of other men. Yet even if she’d known another man, Simon wanted to be the only one she remembered. I will make her mine.
Rowena’s mouth found his and he loved the way she explored him with her tongue, the way she pressed her breasts into his hands. The kiss stoked the coals of his desire. So much for his intention to be tender and unhurried. Already his hardened cock begged for release from its confines. He wanted to press his hand down to ease it, but the delectable breasts teasing his fingers felt too wonderful.
Their wild kiss scorched a path across his chest. The fast, throbbing beat of his heart pounded in his own ears. With a groan, he broke off the kiss and inhaled deeply.
Pressing his body over hers, he said, “It has been too long. I have waited and waited to have you, exactly like this.” He ran his hands from the hollow between her breasts down to her belly. He shifted so that he could press his palm firmly against her open slit. Rocked it hard against her.
“God.” Her breaths became pants and her eyes rolled back. “Simon. What do you m—”
He leaned over her and took her mouth before she could say anymore. His tongue delved in, licking and stroking until he felt her body soften. “I want you.”
Their mouths joined again and he didn’t stop kissing her until she gripped his neck and shifted their bodies so that she was atop of him. Her boldness surprised him. Even though she had caught him off guard last night with her passionate response, never had he expected Rowena to be so responsive and forthright in her sensuality.
With a measured, tantalizing stroke, she licked his lips. She parted a moment to lift the bottom of her cotton chemise. He caught a glimpse of her dark curls and then her smooth belly.
Tight, strained, his cock pressed against his trousers, ready to explode. Far too quickly, his control was unraveling. He watched as she lifted the chemise to the round underside of her breasts. The sight was enough to cause a drop of semen to pearl over the tip of his shaft.
“Your body is magnificent,” he said. “You have no idea how arousing it was to find you in bed last night, writhing in sleep, saying my name.”
He eagerly awaited the revelation of her sumptuous body, but Rowena paused. She gave him a hard look. Before he could ask what was wrong, the fabric fell down over her thighs, covering everything from view.
“We cannot do this now,” she said. “I cannot do this.”
Bloody hell. His cock was aflame and she’d worked him into a frenzy, kissing him and climbing on top of him. Why on earth would she want to stop?
She started to lift up, but he took hold of her wrist. God help him but even the small movement of her body brushed her derriere against his cock. It burned with lust.
If he wasn’t a gentleman, he’d shove her down over his erection. But the look in her eyes told him that would be a mistake.
“Let go of my hand, Simon.”
Chapter Three
The hunger in his eyes was evident, but he released Rowena’s hand. She’d let things go way too far.
What was she thinking, letting Simon come into her room again? In the light of day. This time, she did not even have the excuse of the dream. Because when he’d awoken her a few minutes ago, she’d known exactly where she was and what he was doing. Still, she’d wanted him. Wanted to taste the passion in his arms as she had last night.
Foolish, foolish, foolish, she reminded herself. He had given no explanation for his cruel abandonment and she was going to let him back in so easily? Let him charm and seduce her and then discard her as he did before? This time, there would be no Paul to protect her. She’d be heartbroken.
“You should not be here.”
His jaw hardened. “It seemed quite clear this morning that you wanted to feign illness and get up to your room so that we could be alone. And you had no protest when I kissed you.”
He was right, of course. She’d done far more than let him kiss her. Even now, she could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against her. Despite the fact that he was a rake and only intended to slake his lust because she was present and available, her body was hot and aroused for him.
“Well, I am protesting now, Simon. This is the wrong time. The wrong place. The wrong everything. I cannot allow you to ravish me here.”
“Ravish you?” A dark look crossed his face. “You make it sound as if I am some dissolute reprobate who would pressure a lady against her will.”
How easily he forgot the circumstances. “This is the second time that you have entered my chamber uninvited. The second time that you have kissed and caressed me in a way reserved for my husband.”
“Paul,” he said, a hard edge to his tone.
What? “Yes, Paul was my husband.”
Rowena didn’t understand why he would be upset at the mention of Paul’s name. They’d been best friends for ages and after her marriage, when Simon had refused to speak to her, he had still corresponded with Paul.
Simon’s icy gaze made her tremble. “Even now, you choose him over me.”
It wasn’t a choice. Simon had left her. “You left. You moved far from me. You threw me aside like a soiled handkerchief! I did n
ot choose Paul. You did not choose me!” How dare he? She lifted off of his body and moved to the other side of the bed. Despite the fact that her sex ached and she was still wet with desire, she couldn’t bear to touch him right now. Her anger won out over her trembling body.
“I am not the one who abandoned you.” Simon stood up. He pointed at her. “You left me for my best friend. You seduced both of us and played hot and cold until you could get what you wanted.” He shook his head. “Now you’re doing it again. Playing me. Pushing me until I’m feverish for wanting you and then you deny me. Why did I ever think that maybe you had matured and grown out of your spoiled ways?”
How dare he say such things. “The pot calling the kettle black. You are every bit the rake Paul said that you were. You speak to me now as if I were the one who climbed into your bed and made love to you. You are the worst kind of man. Preying upon a woman in a weakened state, pushing your advantage.”
She could not allow herself to be used by him again. It had crushed her the last time. While he was away at war, various scenarios of him lying injured in an infirmary or dead on the battlefield had consumed her thoughts. Months passed with no word until Paul had received a letter from him. A letter in which Simon denied any feelings of affection for her. She’d spent weeks in bed crying.
It had devastated her when Paul told her the truth. All of the time that Simon had courted her, that the three of them had laughed together, attending parties and the Opera had meant little to Simon. She was merely a way for him to pass the time, an amusement and no more.
“Do not dare try to blame me,” Simon yelled. “I am the one who got replaced by my best friend when you thought you could find a better match. When I sent you a proposal, you did not even do me the courtesy to tell me no directly. Instead, you had your imbecile brother send the letter for you because you could not bear the burden of telling me yourself.”
“What?” she asked incredulously. He must have lost his mind. There was never any proposal. “Do you seek to make fun of me?”
Lady Northam's Wicked Surrender Page 3
