St. Simon's Sin: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  Rosaline’s grin grew into a smile. “I know. A wise move on both your parts. We could spare a maid if you think it would help quell the gossip…”

  Tabby shook her head. “No, but thank you. Firstly, I don’t think you can spare a maid. And that’s an impertinent thing for me to say, but you are going to need more help over the next few months, Rosaline, and good maids are scarce. Plus, I doubt the addition would do anything to stop tongues wagging.”

  Simon sighed. “Well the unfortunate demise of Monsieur De Pontcarré will give those tongues something else to wag about for a bit, anyway.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Edmund. “Now I must send word about this to…oh Lord. I have no idea who should be handling this.”

  Tabby rose and moved to his side. “If you have pen and paper handy? I will be happy to give you the name and address of a gentleman in London who I believe should be apprised of this incident.”

  “A magistrate?”

  She paused, obviously choosing her words, then cleared her throat. “Of a sort.”

  Simon pushed his chair back and stood. “And I think, brother, we’ll leave it at that.” He raised an eyebrow at Edmund.

  “Agreed.”

  “Can you ride with me, Tabby? Share a horse? That way the carriage needn’t be called out again. And I think we should get back to the Vicarage. There are things Edmund needs to do.” Simon couldn’t explain it, but he wanted Tabby out of Ridlington, in the Vicarage, and safe with him.

  Which was completely absurd, he realized, as he watched her scribble that name and address for Edmund. She would be every bit as safe, if not safer, here at Ridlington Chase. But some sort of masculine proprietary instinct had formed within his mind. She was now his, to protect and guard and keep safe.

  That sense of possession stayed with him as he made sure she was comfortable on the saddle, sideways, held tightly against his chest as he sat on the horse’s rump behind her.

  “I might need to breathe occasionally,” she quipped as he adjusted his arm to band her waist snugly.

  “Yes, I suppose so. Just try and do it gently.” He refused to be rattled by her attempt at a jest.

  “I’m all right, Simon. Really.”

  “Of course you are.” He clicked up the horse. “Just sit still and I’ll get us home safely. You must allow me a few moments of concern, Tabby. You have a broken arm still, there was a dead man in a turnip field today, and Rosaline’s brother shot a prince.”

  “It’s almost like some sort of fantastical novel, isn’t it?” She leaned into his grasp.

  He smiled. “Indeed it is.”

  “What do you make of the DeVoreaux connection? Coincidence or design?”

  “At this point I haven’t a clue. There’s so little information and too many facts that could be combined in a number of ways. All different.” He caught himself frowning.

  Tabby chuckled. “Now you sound like many of the Whitehall crowd. That’s what they do, you know. Gather facts and information, then try to assemble them into a coherent design. Along the lines of completing one of those jigsaw puzzles, but not knowing what the original picture looked like.”

  “An excellent analogy, I would imagine.” Simon turned the horse down the lane leading to St. Simons.

  “Simon,” Tabby’s voice was…different. “Are you serious about us being engaged?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Why do you want everyone to think we’re going to be married? Is it to stop the rumors and protect my reputation? Because if that’s the case…”

  “Hush.” He couldn’t help a quick squeeze. “Our being engaged is the best possible scenario at the moment. And I’m sure you, of all people, recognize the strategic value of our situation. The fact that you have a fiancé, and a vicar, to boot, will go a long way to lessen any dangers that might threaten you.”

  “Because you’re a vicar? Really?” She threw him a scornful look over her shoulder. “Now I have the angels as protectors?”

  “One never knows,” he grinned. “Anyway, here we are. And just in time. Today’s heat is going to break soon, I fear.” He nodded at the thick bank of angry clouds looming on the horizon. “I’ll stable the horse if you can manage for a few moments? You know where the key is.”

  “So does Hecate and goodness knows who else. That will have to change, Simon.”

  He sighed. “I know. Take it inside with you. We’ll talk about what to do with it from now on.” He slid from the horse’s back and helped her dismount, taking a brief delight in the sensation of her body slipping past his hands. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Do not try and lift anything heavy.”

  “Yes, Papa.” She rolled her eyes at him cheekily, then walked down the path to the front door.

  He guided the horse around the corner of the Vicarage to the stables, the scent of her lingering in his nostrils. He was glad she hadn’t asked about his plans for the future of their engagement.

  He wasn’t sure how she’d react if she knew he fully intended to make their union a permanent one.

  Over any and all of her objections.

  *~~*~~*

  There would need to be changes made, realized Tabby as she let herself into the Vicarage. It was sad to be thinking about such things here, the need for good locks and window catches. She sighed, realizing that no matter where one lived, there came a time when the less pleasant things in life intruded and changed the landscape.

  She lit several candles and dispelled the gloom of the oncoming storm.

  It was a pleasant home, at least. Simon, in the way of most men, hadn’t given a lot of thought to his living accommodations, but the two chairs by the fire were comfortable, and a thick rug cushioned the aged floor, covering some of the undulations caused by time.

  She could only guess at how old it was, since it bore signs of having been remodeled and added to over the centuries. Picking up a candle, she walked to the kitchen and lit another there as well, thinking that if Simon saw it, he’d probably come in that way instead of going back around the house to the front door.

  The stove contained a few embers and she stoked them up, adding some small pieces of firewood, and settling the half-filled kettle on top. At least they could have a cup of tea.

  Pleased that her arm was no longer in the sling, Tabby still favored it. But lifting was no longer difficult, provided she made sure to use her right hand. So much for Simon’s worrying.

  Caution made her double check the lock on the front door, and then return to let Simon into the kitchen. His tap alerted her to his presence and she nodded as she slid the bolt open. “The front is locked tight. And this is a sturdy bolt, so I believe we’re snug enough.”

  “The windows?” Simon walked over and tested them. “Not as strong as I’d like, but again…we’d hear if someone tried to get in that way. They’d have to break the glass.”

  A distant rumble foreshadowed the storm, and Tabby sighed. “Looks like it might be quite a noisy evening.”

  “You put the kettle on, I see.” The disapproval in his tone was obvious.

  “Your visual acuity astounds me.”

  “Did I not tell you not to lift anything?”

  She glared at him. “Simon. I am almost healed. I have one good arm, which I am quite capable of using, having the intelligence to understand that it would be stupid to use the injured one. Kindly stop behaving like a bloody tyrant about this.” Spinning on her heel, she stalked into the parlor.

  She heard him take the kettle off the stove, and then he was right behind her. “I am trying to make sure you heal quickly.”

  She lifted her chin. “So you can send me back to the cottage with a clear conscience?” Her eyebrows rose as she turned to face him.

  “No.”

  “Then why, for God’s sake?” She put her hands on her hips.

  He took two steps and ended up right in front of her, making her look up into his face. “Because of this…”

  Seizing her face, he pulled her to him, kissing her h
ard—demanding she part her lips for him. Stunned, Tabby’s breath left her and she gasped, allowing him entrance as she did so.

  “Simon,” she moaned as he let her breathe then returned to probe her mouth with his tongue. Her hands moved of their own volition, sliding around his neck and holding him right where he was. It felt right, as if these were the shoulders that had been designed with her hands in mind.

  His mouth devoured hers, and she matched him, delving into his sweet heat, tasting him—not for the first time, but as a woman grown, one who understood such things, such desires.

  There was some lingering familiarity from long ago, but he held her with strength and urgency, something more than the untamed ardor of a boy finding his way around a girl. His hands slid from her face to her body, surrounding her, finding her back and more, her buttocks were grasped and she turned to molten lava inside as he pressed their bodies together, finding her parted thighs a convenient spot for the hardness within his breeches.

  “Tabby,” he whispered against her neck. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No,” she answered, finding her voice rough with need. “No, Simon, you’re not hurting me at all. Quite the contrary…”

  A wave of heat spread up from her toes to her eyebrows. Daringly, she slid her hands inside his jacket and urged it away from his arms. He cooperated willingly, tossing it on a chair, and then kissing her face with gentle pecks and licks as she unfastened his waistcoat, his shirt, and finally found his warm and solid flesh.

  The touch of her fingertips against his bare skin thrilled her anew. She wanted more.

  She wanted everything.

  And when he ripped off his shirt and reached for her gown, tugging it away from her breasts…she knew she would get her wish.

  Chapter Eleven

  The sensation of Tabby’s breasts against his chest inflamed Simon to the point of madness. Firm round globes tipped with tight nubs, warm, womanly and pressing into him without hesitation.

  She moaned, a tiny sound in the back of her throat, and he pulled back, always aware in the recesses of his admittedly unfocused mind of her arm and his need to be careful.

  “Turn around, Tabby.” He eased away and helped her, reaching for the ties at the back of her gown. “I want to see you. All of you.”

  She leaned her head back against his shoulder as his hands cupped her breasts for a moment. “I want that as well. I want you, Simon. I can’t fight it any more. Ohhh…”

  He teased her nipples, gentle flicks of his thumbs, sending shivers over her that he felt traverse her skin. She was so lovely, lit only by candlelight, half-naked with her back toward him. He indulged himself by rubbing his chest against her softness, while easing her gown and her undergarments away from her.

  “We have all night.”

  His whisper made her turn back to him. “I know.”

  Her eyes were wide, her color heightened and her lips shone red and full where he had kissed and nibbled them. His desire damn near choked him, but he fought for control, determined to show Tabby what passion could be.

  Never a harsh or hasty lover, Simon believed in prolonging the magic of lovemaking. To him, every time was a gift. He wasn’t inexperienced, and after his first few times, he’d learned what he liked. And that was to make love on his own schedule, leisurely and with thoroughness.

  Now, with Tabby, the one woman he realized he’d always wanted more than any other, he was going to damn well take all night. And the rest of the week if necessary.

  Her gown drooped and he pushed it away from her, letting the chemise follow to pool around her feet. She stood nude but for her shoes and stockings, an erotically beautiful picture of wanton sensuality. There was no hesitation, no shame. Just a need burning in her eyes that he knew reflected the one slowly consuming him.

  He lowered himself, kneeling before her, and reaching for the ribbons tied above one knee. As he released the bow, he leaned forward, kissing her thigh.

  She sighed, a long sound of delight and pleasure.

  Lifting her leg with one hand behind her knee, he eased the flimsy cloth free and pulled her shoe off as well. That was followed by a lingering caress down over her calf to her ankle.

  “Oh, Simon,” she sighed again, as he repeated the process with the other leg. Now she was completely bare, a pale candlelit figure of perfection. Her scent grew stronger, a blend of Tabby and desire. He licked her knee and let his tongue trace its way upward, to where a nest of dark curls hid her secrets. He was eager to see if it was as soft as he remembered.

  Some things had burned their way into his mind all those years ago. Tabby’s womanhood had been one of them. But again, he returned to her other knee and once more licked his way north.

  A hand reached down and grabbed his hair. “Simon, you’re teasing me beyond anything imaginable.”

  “I know.” He whispered the words against the delicate skin of her upper thigh, knowing the warmth of his breath would add to her arousal.

  The fragrance of her juices permeated the air, and he allowed his tongue to flick along the groove between her thigh and her woman’s folds. She twitched, whimpered and then parted her legs a little in a move he read as encouragement.

  So he repeated it on the other side with much the same result, only this time the hand holding his hair tightened a bit. He just hoped he’d have some left when he continued his upward journey.

  “God, Simon…aahhh.” His Tabby purred as his mouth found her wet flesh beneath the curls. He moved his hands to her buttocks to cup them, squeeze them and make sure she didn’t move while he feasted on her sex. She was wet and sweet, tangy and all woman.

  He found her folds and parted them, licking, sucking and nuzzling her, learning her, finding those places that made her whimper or moan. Again he took his time, relishing each new spot, each new texture, each new sound she made.

  Her leg rose and moved aside—he lifted it to rest on his shoulder while he continued to explore her thoroughly. Wet and on fire, her soft flesh swelled as he caressed it, inspiring him even further.

  When he thrust his tongue deep, she cried out and shattered around him, her body taut, her muscles hard and her flesh thudding as it spasmed.

  Satisfied that he’d begun the evening well, he moved back and looked up at her. Her breasts were full and moving with her release; and her head tilted backward as she gasped for air.

  It was a picture that burned itself into his mind. He knew, at that exact moment, that there would never be another woman in his life.

  Tabby was his one and only—his destiny. And there was now no question or digressing from the reality of it. She was going to be his wife.

  *~~*~~*

  The orgasm staggered Tabby as she found herself in the most erotically charged position she could ever have imagined.

  Standing nude in front of Simon with one leg over his shoulder while he buried his face in her sex and licked her up and over the crest…it was outrageous. And the most wonderful experience she’d ever had.

  She was a widow, and thus not sexually ignorant. But nothing in her past had prepared her for the sensations Simon was creating with the touch of his tongue. Her late husband had tried just such a thing, but with an uncomfortably brief effort. They’d both felt awkward and it had not been anything more than a moment’s experimentation.

  Michael had brought her to her release, but this? All of her married intimacy could not have prepared her for the blinding onslaught of emotions buffeting her with Simon.

  A flash of lighting lit up the room and a consequent crack of thunder rattled the rafters.

  Simon stood…and laughed, lit by another flash through their windows. He looked wild, savage, fierce…a Viking conqueror taking his prize.

  Lust threatened to choke her and her hands went to the fastenings of his breeches, fumbling with the buttons as need robbed her of control.

  He covered her hands with his. “Let me.”

  “All right.”

  She stood, watching, a
s he toed off his boots with a struggle, then pulled off his breeches and drawers. His cock—oh what a beauty. She reached out, but he backed away.

  “Come, Tabby. Here.” The long sofa beneath the window beckoned, lit now with brilliant flares of lightning. It was a fierce storm, but still not as fierce as the one low in Tabby’s belly as she stared at Simon’s cock.

  Kicking off his stockings, Simon walked away and threw himself into a sprawl on the couch. Then he held out his hand. “I’m here. If you want me.”

  Hah.

  Heedless of her nudity, Tabby hurried to his side and this time it was her turn to fall to her knees beside him. He reached for her, but she dodged his arms. “My turn,” she whispered, tentatively touching his chest and running her hands over it. “My turn.”

  She heard him swallow, but ignored it, intent upon learning him as he had learned her. He’d certainly filled out in the years that had passed since she last touched him. Now he had a man’s body, a man’s dips and valleys.

  She found a flat disk with soft hairs scattered around it. It begged to be touched, teased, maybe even…nibbled a little. She delighted in his sounds, his soft groans as she sucked on the tiny bud.

  Mimicking his actions, she also took her time, moving to the other nipple and treating it to the same teasing caresses. She let one hand drift down over his belly, pausing to ring his navel with a tickling scrape of her fingernail and smiling at his shudder.

  Bypassing the hard length thrusting from its nest of light curly hair, she touched his thighs, again teasing him by copying his touches. His hair was different here, softer, and more sparse. She rubbed up and down and then inside his thigh, as if soothing a nervous stallion. The blend of textures fascinated her, as did the feeling of his muscles moving beneath the surface, powerful and barely held in check.

  At last she knew she could wait no longer—and she did something she’d never done before.

  Bending to him, Tabby licked the tip of Simon’s cock; an experiment that she discovered was most arousing. He obviously enjoyed it as well, since it elicited an unexpectedly sharp grunt and exhalation.