Certain Wolfish Charm

by Lydia Dare

  Emory was oblivious to the fact that his life was in jeopardy. "Miss Rutledge, I would be honored if you'd allow me to escort you to the assembly room on Friday night."

  Simon growled.

  "Well, I—"

  Simon snarled, "If Miss Rutledge insists on attending a party, she will be escorted by me, Hawthorne."

  "I will?" Lily asked, one hand fluttering to land on her chest.

  If only his lips were upon that chest, Simon thought. He tore his gaze away from Lily's cleavage when Will said, "Why don't we all go together, Emory? We can meet you both at Langley Downs beforehand."

  "Oh, William," Prisca began, feigning sweetness. "If you wanted to escort me to the ball, you had only to ask. No need for an elaborate ruse to get me into your coach." She winked at Lily.

  Will muttered under his breath, "If it saves your brother's life, I would agree to take you to the altar." Simon's keen hearing picked up the words, though he was beyond caring.

  Simon stalked slowly toward Emory Hawthorne, who still stood too close to Lily for comfort. Emory paid no heed to the warning look he sent him, so Simon bumped his shoulder against the man.

  Emory stumbled to the side.

  "Pardon me, Hawthorne," Simon said as he took Lily's elbow in his hand and prodded her away from the group.

  "Honestly, Blackmoor," Lily complained. "I told you I'll be along in a moment." She yanked her arm from his grasp. He allowed it, but only for a moment.

  "Now, Lily!" he said, grasping her elbow more firmly. He was prepared to drag her, if need be, though it would be better for the neighbors if she came willingly.

  "It's all right, Lily," Prisca said, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. "You'd best do as he says. He looks ready to devour you right here and now."

  Only Prisca would make such an incendiary statement in such a public place. Though Simon supposed his behavior warranted her waspishness.

  "I'll send a coach for you tomorrow, Lily, so we can prepare for the ball," Prisca continued as Simon pushed Lily around the corner.

  "Thank you," Lily called back as he led her into his study and slammed the door. Then she glared at him, her pretty, hazel eyes darkening. "Honestly, Your Grace!"

  "Simon," he said absently, running a hand through his hair in desperation, trying to rein the beast back under control, trying to figure out why it drove him to distraction to see other men fawning all over her.

  "Simon what?" she asked, confusion on her face.

  "I'm tired of you 'Your Grace-ing' me. You call Will by his name."

  "Is that what this is about? Why you manhandled me in front of your neighbors?"

  "I did not manhandle you."

  "You most certainly did. That had to be one of the rudest displays of temper I have ever seen." Lily rubbed her elbow.

  Had he harmed her? Simon looked over her person. Her chest was pink and rosy, a symbol of her anger. Her cheeks were bright red, and her breasts rose with every agitated breath.

  Her breasts. Her breasts rose with every breath. His gaze danced across her décolletage, willing the flesh to rise a little more so his eyes could greedily devour her skin. She noticed his stare and covered her chest with her hand.

  "Perhaps, Simon, you should just undress me and get it over with, instead of simply undressing me in your mind."

  Simon instantly hardened at the thought. He took two steps closer to her. "Perhaps I shall."

  ***

  Lily immediately forgot the pain in her elbow as he walked closer. What was he doing? She hadn't really laid down a challenge. She held up one feeble hand, as though that would hold him off.

  It didn't.

  Lily danced sideways, putting a chair between them. Simon pushed it over. As it thumped against the rug, she fled to stand behind his desk.

  "Simon, what has come over you?" she shrieked. Her voice sounded painful to her own ears. Though it did not affect his, not if his present conduct was any indication.

  "I want to see if I hurt your elbow, Lily," he said quietly, his voice no more than a low hum.

  "Then why are you stalking me?" she asked, happy that the desk was still solidly between them.

  He laughed mirthlessly. "What an odd thing to say, Lily. I am not stalking you."

  However as he advanced toward her, all Lily could think was that she was about to become his dinner. What a silly notion. Though at times, Simon did remind her of a wild animal. Now was no exception.

  He reached one hand across the desk and said

  quietly, "Let me see if I hurt you." Did a bit of guilt cross his face?

  Lily extended her elbow, pointing it at him as she rolled her eyes. "You really should have worried about this before you grabbed me in front of everyone. In fact, you shouldn't have grabbed me at all," she rebuked him.

  Simon took her elbow in his hand and regarded it quietly, noting the redness of her skin where his brutish hold had clasped her so roughly. He lowered his lips to the spot and touched it gently.

  His dark eyes rose to meet hers, and she saw remorse in their depths. But she also saw… hunger? She batted at his hand. "That's enough, Simon. I'm fine."

  His gaze never left hers as he said, "Never pull away from me, Lily. I can't bear the torture."

  "What has come over you?" One moment he was standoffish, offering to pay her dowry to the first available man who would take her off his hands. Then he was trying to devour her. And what of his comment about undressing her? It was best left forgotten.

  Lily jumped as Simon suddenly leapt over the desk, the contents of the desktop scattering to thud onto the rug. Within seconds, he was mere inches from her. How had he moved so quickly? And so quietly?

  "Allow me to apologize properly," he said as he lifted her elbow again and graced the inside of her forearm with his lips. Was that a question? He certainly wasn't waiting for permission.

  Lily was still peeved. "And if I choose not to accept your apology?" she asked, trying to tug her arm from his hand.

  "Then I shall have to convince you of my sincerity. Let me kiss it and make it better," he said. With the last, his eyes met hers, a bit of boyishness dancing in the depths.

  "I think you have kissed me quite enough, Your Grace," she sighed.

  His hands dropped her elbow, moving to cup her face. Gentle thumbs played around her jawline as his fingers splayed toward the back of her head. His glance dropped to her mouth just before his lips touched hers. "Never enough, Lily," he growled.

  Ten

  Simon knew the moment Lily accepted his advances. She reached up to place her hands flat against his chest, nearly igniting him. Initially, he thought she intended to push him away. But she simply curved into him and returned his kiss as fervently as he offered it.

  Forgotten was the elbow that had begun this encounter. In fact, what had started this tryst were Emory Hawthorne and his desire to accompany Lily to the local assembly hall. Simon would wipe all thoughts of Emory from her mind. He would be sure she had very little mind left, except for thoughts of him and what he could do for her, what he could make her feel.

  Simon's arms snaked around her waist, drawing her closer to him, as though he could pull her right into his body. Her arms inched up around his neck, pulling his head down as she pressed even more firmly against him.

  Simon was amazed he still had his wits about him, but he realized how much he liked her height as she returned his kisses. Most women were diminutive in comparison to him, but not Lily. She fit against him as though she was made to be there. Her breasts pressed against his chest, hard nipples grazing the fine lawn of his shirt, the pinpoints in stark contrast to the bounty of her chest.

  Simon used one hand to play around her bodice, teasing the sensitive skin. She arched into him. She gasped against his mouth, a quick intake of air, as he moved his hands down to cup her bottom and then picked her up and turned to sit her on the edge of his desk. But she didn't pull away.

  Simon pressed her knees apart so he could settle his body th
ere. She gave no resistance, opening willingly to him as he pulled her to the edge of the desk so that he could seat himself as closely as possible to her heat.

  Smelling her desire, Simon grew harder than he'd ever thought imaginable. His lips trailed down the side of her throat, weaving a gentle path across her tender flesh. Gentle. Be gentle, Simon.

  "Gentle?" she whispered. Had he spoken aloud? "I don't want gentle. I want you," she breathed.

  But she had no idea what she was asking. She wasn't aware of what firm control it took for him to stay sane. She didn't have any idea how close he was to devouring her like a sweetmeat before dinner. It took every bit of his humanity to remain in the moment.

  No matter, he wasn't ready to stop. He would push his control a little farther. And test hers at the same time. As his lips moved across her flesh, he pressed her back until her arms were forced to leave him to hold her weight up. Her new position brought her breasts forward, pressed against the fabric of her gown, calling to him.

  Simon cupped one breast in his hand, testing the

  weight of it. She inhaled sharply, her head falling back so that her throat was exposed, her eyes closed in sublime pleasure.

  His thumb grazed her nipple as his other hand rose to cup her other breast. Lily's eyes closed tightly as she absorbed the sensation and reveled in it.

  She broke his trance when she suddenly sat forward, taking his hands in hers and removing them from her body. Her chest heaved, her breath coming in great gulps.

  "No," he ground out.

  "Do you hear that?" she asked, looking toward the door.

  Her heartbeat? Yes, he heard it. It was nothing to be ashamed of. "Quite normal," he said softly.

  "Simon, would you listen?" she said more loudly.

  That was when he heard the angry stomp of footsteps in the hallway. Then he heard Billings tell whomever it was, gently but forcefully, that the duke was unavailable.

  But Lily was already pushing him away. She dared to straighten her clothing? When he wanted nothing more than to tear it off?

  A voice called from the hallway, "Aunt Lily, are you here?"

  The Earl of Maberley had finally arrived.

  Lily flew from Simon's study, nearly barreling right into an overgrown adolescent boy. Simon managed to keep his mouth from falling open. Looking at Oliver York was like staring into the past. The young earl was definitely his father's son. He had Daniel's chestnut hair and dark chocolate eyes and the build of a man

  instead of a boy.

  Oliver barely spared him a glance, holding tightly to his aunt. "Why did you leave like that? I thought you were only going to be gone a day."

  Lily kissed his cheek and backed away from the lad. "My plans changed a bit, Oliver."

  "Well, why did you bring me here in such a rush?" he asked, irritation evident in his voice. "The driver barely stopped to change horses. I'm sore and—"

  Simon stepped forward. "I brought you here, not your aunt." This was the child Lily would fight him for, tooth and nail? This young man lacked the innocent boyishness of youth. Simon couldn't imagine Lily rocking him to sleep or singing him lullabies. So, why was she so willing to give up her chances for a good match to spend time caring for this recalcitrant youth?

  He knew it must be difficult for the boy to keep his temper, especially with the changes that were taking place in his body, but Simon wasn't about to let him use a disrespectful tone of voice with Lily.

  Oliver's brown eyes flashed to him, and his brow furrowed angrily. "So you're him?"

  Lily stepped forward. "Oliver, please," she said softly. "This is your cousin, His Grace, the Duke of Blackmoor. Do be on your best behavior."

  The boy's scowl darkened. Simon mirrored his look, not understanding why the boy behaved with such impertinence. Full moon approaching or not, the whelp had no excuse for his conduct. He'd need to have a conversation with Oliver sooner rather than later, but he couldn't do so with Lily hovering. For a moment he wished Prisca Hawthorne hadn't left. At the very least, she could have distracted Lily.

  "Lily love, will you give me a moment with the earl?"

  "Why?" She blinked innocently at him, and he felt his desire for her mount.

  "I would like to have a word with my ward. We'll find you. Go make certain Will isn't still smarting from his encounter with Prisca, will you?"

  She nodded reluctantly and then started down the corridor. Simon pulled his eyes away from her disappearing form and gestured to his study. "After you, Maberley."

  The boy stepped inside but stopped, looking around the room and frowning. "What happened in here?"

  Simon winced. If he hadn't been so distracted by Lily's delectable form, he would never have brought Oliver into his study. Chairs were toppled over. His desk was wiped clean. Ledgers and several pieces of foolscap littered the floor. "I, uh, have a bit of a temper at times. It would be best for you not to bring it out in me." He shot the youth a subtle warning before he righted one of the chairs and pointed to it. "Sit."

  As Oliver took his seat, Simon walked around his mahogany desk and dropped into his own chair. "Your aunt is worried about you."

  "Why did you call her 'love'?" The child had the nerve to growl at him.

  The pup didn't know who he was dealing with. "I didn't bring you to Hampshire for you to ask me questions, but the other way around, my boy."

  Oliver shook his head. "I'm not your boy. Aunt Lily begged you for years to visit me. A little late for you

  to be interested now."

  Simon had never had a twelve-year-old chastise him before. Obviously, the lad was in serious need of a strong male in his life. He leaned forward in his seat, leveling the young earl with a serious look. "You're still a boy, Oliver. It's not too late for anything. In fact, it's the perfect time. Now tell me what's been going on with you."

  "Nothing. Certainly nothing that would warrant a summons from you," he grumbled.

  Simon tried a different approach. There had to be some way to get a pleasant response from the young earl. "Did you know your father lived here for a while as a boy?"

  Oliver shrugged. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

  Simon rubbed his jaw, amazed Lily wanted to keep the brat. He hoped the boy's transformation was to blame and that he didn't act like an unruly scamp for Lily on a regular basis. For the time being, Simon was giving Oliver the benefit of the doubt, but his patience was quickly fading away. "Let me explain something to you, Oliver. I understand you are experiencing some changes. You don't feel the same. You don't feel like you're in control of yourself, not your thoughts nor your body. You feel different on many levels, and that has to be frightening."

  For the first time in their conversation, Oliver looked vulnerable, like a child.

  Simon breathed a sigh of relief. "What you're experiencing is normal. Well, normal for us. Me, my brothers, your father, you, and handful of others

  out there."

  Oliver frowned but didn't say a word.

  "There are ways you can control these feelings, these urges you don't understand. I brought you here to help you, to train you."

  "Train me?"

  Simon nodded. "You can live a normal life, for the most part. A few days out of the month will be completely out of your control, but I can help you learn how to live with the rest of them."

  "You make me sound like a monster."

  How many times had Simon thought the very thing? "Not a monster, just different."

  "But you said it was normal, and now you say it's different."

  "Normal for us, Oliver. Other people aren't like us, and they can't understand the changes and turmoil. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you sooner. I should have been."

  Oliver's expressions danced between relief and anxiety. "Aunt Lily said—"

  "Your aunt doesn't know. It needs to stay that way." It was easier to focus on what should be done with Lily when she wasn't in the room, he realized. "In a few days, I'll send her back to Essex, but you'll
stay here."

  "No!" Oliver shot out of his seat. "If she goes, I do, too."

  "You're not the one making decisions, my boy," Simon said calmly, hoping that when the time came, he could let Lily go. It was best for her, regardless of what he wanted for himself. "Your father left me as your guardian because he trusted my judgment. You'll have to do the same."