by Lydia Dare
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 there. 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.”
“I don’t want to stay without Aunt Lily.”
Neither did Simon.
Eleven
LILY FOUND HERSELF SEATED BETWEEN OLIVER AND Simon at dinner. Her nephew was unusually quiet, and Lily was anxious to talk with him privately. Simon was also quiet, and Lily couldn’t keep herself from wanting to see him privately as well. They needed to sort out what was going on between them.
Simon seemed to be clutching her to himself at the same time he was pushing her away. He was a dichotomy. Though she also was having a difficult time coming to terms with her own feelings.
Lily wasn’t sure what had come over her in the last few days. Until now, she’d never considered the possibility that she’d find a man she could care for. There hadn’t been a point in wishing for something that wasn’t likely to happen. However, circumstances had brought her to Simon’s door, and Lily had never felt so confused. Her heart seemed to beat only for him, but she wanted much more than he seemed willing to give.
She sent a sideways glance toward Simon, only to find him staring back at her with an intensity that stole her breath. He felt it, too, whatever this was, and she couldn’t understand why he wanted to send her away.
Across the table, Will stabbed a carrot on his plate with a frown. “Irritating chit,” he grumbled.
Lily furrowed her brow. “I do hope you’re not speaking about me, Will.”
He looked up from his plate. “Oh, I didn’t realize that was aloud. Apologies, Lily.”
“What has you so upset?”
“I’m not upset,” he snapped.
Simon touched her hand, sending a jolt of awareness through her. “My brother and Miss Hawthorne love to annoy one another. They’ve been doing so for years. Quite successfully, I might add.”
Lily had noticed that. “Why?” she asked innocently.
“Indeed?” Simon quirked a grin at his brother. “William, do tell.”
“I’d rather not.” Then his icy blue eyes flashed to
Lily. “But watch yourself over there tomorrow. She’s crafty and—”
Lily giggled. “I hardly think she wants anything from me.”
“Where are you going?” Oliver demanded beside her, making Lily jump.
Simon squeezed her hand. “Don’t bark at your aunt, boy.”
“What do you care? You’re the one sending her away.”
Lily sucked in a surprised breath. Oliver was getting more belligerent as the days went by. Her sweet nephew would never have said such a thing a few months ago. She slid her hand from Simon’s and turned in her chair to focus on Oliver. “I’m only visiting a neighbor’s home tomorrow. I’m not leaving.”
“But he said—” Oliver began, glaring over her shoulder at Simon.
“Nothing’s been determined,” she assured him. “My place has always been with you, Oliver. I have no intention of leaving you.”
“Lily,” Simon growled, though he was drowned out by Will’s laughter.
“Good for you, Lily. Stand your ground.”
Anger rolled off Simon, and Lily turned her head to see him glaring daggers at his brother. “Mind your own affairs.”
Lily looked at the trunk of clothes lying in the middle of her chamber. Thank heavens, Oliver brought nearly her entire wardrobe with him. She’d been wearing the same two gowns for days and was anxious for a change.
She washed, slid into her yellow cotton nightrail, and closed her eyes. It felt so nice to have the soft material against her skin.
There was a light knock at the door, and Lily slid her arms through the sleeves of her matching robe. She tied the sash around her waist and called brightly, “Come.”
Oliver poked his head inside the room, frowning when he saw how she was dressed. “I didn’t know you were ready for bed, Aunt Lily. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She shook her head, walking toward him
. “Don’t go. I want to know how your conversation with His Grace went.”
Oliver opened the door wider and stepped inside. “I don’t want to stay here. I want to go back to Maberley Hall with you.”
Lily crossed the floor to him and took his hand in hers. “I won’t leave without you, Oliver.”
“Why does he want you to go? If I have to stay, why can’t you stay, too?”
Good questions, ones she would find answers to. Lily led him to a pair of chintz chairs near her window. “Don’t worry yourself, dear. I’m certain I can make His Grace see reason.” Simon couldn’t really want her to leave, not with the way he looked at her, the way he touched her.
“I won’t stay if he makes you leave,” Oliver vowed.
A loud knock sounded on the door, which made Lily nearly jump out of her skin. She patted Oliver’s hand and then quickly crossed the room to the door. She pulled it open to find Simon standing on the other side, his grey eyes dark as he took in her state of dishabille.
“You shouldn’t have Oliver in here with you.”
Lily blinked at him. “I beg your pardon.”
“It’s too dangerous,” he said quietly, before pushing the door wider. “Maberley, it’s time for you to retire to your own room.”
Oliver frowned. “I’m just talking to my aunt.”
“And you can continue your conversation on the morrow. It’s late.” He inclined his head toward the door, a subtle hint of authority.
But, of course, Oliver balked. Oliver balked if she asked him to do something. Of course he would balk if someone else spoke to him with a tone of authority, especially someone with whom he was unfamiliar.
“I’m no longer in leading strings, Blackmoor. I’ll decide when I’m ready to go to bed. Right now, I’m speaking with my aunt.”
Lily was unable to choke back her gasp. What a disrespectful tone to take with the duke! She covered her mouth and watched Oliver return to his seat in the chintz chair.
Lily raised her finger, planning to scold him, but Simon pushed her hand back down to her side. That made her want to scold Simon as well.
“Oliver, I think you need to apologize to His Grace,” she said. Despite the glower her comment received from Simon, she continued, “You may not know him well, but the man is your guardian.”