by Lydia Dare
“Miss Hawthorne, what a surprise,” Will said, bowing over Prisca’s hand.
“Indeed. I felt certain you had turned tail and left forever, William.”
“Wishful thinking,” Will answered.
At that moment, Lily and the duchess entered the parlor. Simon could sense Lily even though his back was to the door. He inhaled deeply, her sweet scent tantalizing his nose. If he thought about it, he would be able to taste her on his lips. He finally turned to look at her. Simon gaped at his bride. She was resplendent in her green gown, the gold sash lifting the tempting swells of her breasts for Simon’s eye to feast upon. The necklace he had given her rested right above her cleavage. His mouth went dry.
Will cleared his throat and clapped a hand to Simon’s back. “Time enough for that later, mon frère.”
Simon crossed the room, took Lily’s hand in his, and pressed a kiss to her gloved knuckles. Very soon, he’d strip the gloves from her hands and have her bare skin touch his. Very soon, he’d strip her of everything except for the necklace and finally sink into her. “You look beautiful, Lily.”
A pretty blush stained her cheeks, and Simon couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. He hooked her hand on his arm and led her to the other side of the parlor, where Mr. Bostic was waiting for them.
The vicar had them repeat their vows, though it was all a blur to Simon until he heard the words, “Your Grace, you may now kiss your bride.”
Twenty-Five
LILY STILL HAD DOUBTS, RIGHT UP TO THE MOMENT he kissed her. Standing in front of the vicar, Oliver, her new mother-in-law, and Will and Prisca, Simon pulled her hard against him and pressed his lips to hers. What could have been a simple seal of their marriage wasn’t simple at all. It was much more.
It was very nearly carnal in its intensity. His arms wound around her waist, his fingers splayed wide to pull her to him as his lips descended to touch hers. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t proper. He was Simon. And she reveled in his desire for her.
Lily pushed up onto her tiptoes as her arms rose to clasp his neck, her fingers touching the hair at the nape of his neck. She gasped against his lips when his hands snaked down toward her bottom.
“Your Grace…” the vicar tried to interrupt and then coughed behind his hand. A very distant part of Lily’s mind heard him but paid him no heed.
And Simon obviously didn’t hear him at all. The vicar didn’t steal Simon’s attention from her for even a moment. He continued to plunder, to assault, to worship her mouth. And she kissed him back. She forgot all the other people in the room. She forgot where she was. The only thing that was important was that she was in Simon’s arms.
But then Oliver finally got her attention. “Aunt Lily?” He was the one who broke through. She pushed Simon’s chest until he finally stepped back. Simon reached for her again, but she evaded his grasp.
Simon’s eyes sought hers, dark and brooding. His breath heaved from him in small gasps. She laid one hand over his heart and smiled.
“Patience,” she whispered, unable to keep from smiling at his bewildered expression.
She left her hand on Simon’s chest even after she turned toward Oliver. Simon covered her hand with his own and pressed it to his heart.
“Congratulations, Aunt Lily,” Oliver said quietly. He tilted his head and smiled slowly at her. Despite his growth over the past few months and his surliness, he still was the little boy she’d raised.
Lily hugged him close with her free arm, as Simon refused to relinquish the other. She was about to let Oliver go but stopped when he whispered, “Be careful, Aunt Lily.”
Lily looked over at Simon, who’d obviously heard the comment, if the scowl on his face was any indication.
“Oliver,” he warned, his eyebrows scrunching together in frustration.
Oliver turned and walked away.
Lily cast a questioning glance at Simon. “What was that about?”
Simon slid closer and wrapped his arm around her waist. The boy was a menace. He would have to talk to him. Again. He was obviously scared Simon would devour Lily whole when he took her to bed. He had to admit he’d planned to do a little of that, but not the way Oliver was afraid of.
“Just boy stuff,” Simon said as he looked down at her. “I’ll talk to him. Tomorrow.”
“All right.” Lily snuggled deeper into his side. He loved the way she fit him, her curves matching up with his body. Her height was a blessing. Her slender form his curse. All he wanted to do was strip her right there. But he imagined that he would offend his guests if he ripped her clothes from her body, pushed her against the wall, and surged into her. He grew hard at the thought.
Simon pulled Lily to stand in front of him, his arms sliding around her waist. “How long until we can retire?” he whispered to her.
She shrugged and smiled at him over her shoulder. “I think I heard your mother say she had a day full of events planned for everyone.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth.
“Even my mother isn’t tenacious enough to keep me from you now that you’re mine.” He brushed a loose curl from her shoulder and kissed it quickly. He couldn’t wait to get her to his room so he could remove the pins from her hair and run his fingers through it.
“Yours?” she asked quietly.
“All mine,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“Not yet, Simon,” his mother broke in. “You will endure a celebratory breakfast before you cart her away.”
Simon simply sighed when Lily followed his mother into the breakfast room. All he could do was follow like a faithful puppy chasing her skirts.
The sway of her hips had his total attention until Will clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Simon. I hope the two of you will be very happy together.”
“If I can ever get her alone, I’m sure we will be,” Simon growled. Will simply laughed. Simon was caught in a lustful hell, and Will could only tease him. Oliver glared at him from across the room.
“What’s wrong with Maberley? Do you know?” Simon asked.
“He’s still worried about Lily,” Will said, coloring slightly.
There was no reason for him to worry. Simon would never harm her. He’d sever his own arm first. “Damn you for giving him those books!”
Will shrugged. “There’s a lot of information in them that he should know.”
“But not about the claiming, you fool.” Simon hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. “That’s what’s wrong with him. He thinks I’ll devour her on sight.”
Just the thought of claiming Lily made his blood run hot. He watched her as she talked with his mother. She lifted a spoon to her mouth, and her full, pink lips slid off the end of it. He wished it was him. That her lips were on him at that moment.
“I’ll talk to Oliver again,” Will sighed.
“I’ll never be able to claim Lily, so you can assure the boy she’s safe.”
Will’s eyes narrowed. “Never claim her?”
“Oh, I’ll have her. But never when the moon is full. Never when I might be out of control. Never when there’s a chance I could hurt her.” Simon fought a bit of melancholy at the thought of it. But then the spoon slid from between her lips again. She smiled at him.
Simon had to adjust his trousers. One more look from her, and he would cross the room, pick her up, and carry her upstairs. Then she pressed her fingertips against her lips, kissed them, and blew a soft kiss to him. He was immediately lost.
Twenty-Six
LILY HAD NO IDEA WHAT MADE HER DO THAT, WHAT made her blow a kiss to him from across the table. But he looked so serious as he sat there with Will. His forehead was marred by lines of worry, and his body was tense, his movements terse and choppy.
She simply wanted to soothe him. But what she didn’t expect was for him to slide his chair back with a scrape against the hardwood floors, the noise of which was loud enough to make every head turn. He strode quickly across the room and stopped at her side.
“Lily,
” he said softly, as though something pained him. He took her hand in his and pulled her to her feet. And before she knew it, he’d scooped her up and was striding out of the breakfast room.
“Simon, put me down,” she squealed as he started up the steps, taking them two at a time. “This is highly improper.”
“Then I get to be your improper husband, and you’ll just have to be my improper wife, won’t you?” He smiled wolfishly at her, his eyebrows wagging at his own joke.
He strode through the door of his bedchamber, and she expected him to place her on her feet. But he didn’t. He unceremoniously tossed her into the middle of the bed, where she hit so hard that she bounced.
“Simon!” she shrieked a she reached out to steady herself. But he was lost in his chores. He closed the curtains, nearly drenching the room in total darkness. Then he turned and lit a candle, which cast soft shadows about the room.
The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down and began to remove his boots.
“What are you doing, Simon?” she asked.
He finally turned toward her. “I have every intention of making love to my wife,” he said slowly, his eyes dancing from the top of her head to the soles of her slippers. “Unless you have an objection?”
“None,” she squeaked, cringing when she heard the sound of her own voice. “None,” she repeated with more conviction. “But you’ll have to show me what to do. Because I fear I may be really bad at it.” She swallowed hard.
“Not possible,” he breathed, before his lips claimed hers.
His touch didn’t start out rough, but it certainly wasn’t soft. His lips slid across hers, pressing hard enough to steal the air from her lungs. His hands stole into her hair, pulling the pins out one by one until her auburn locks fell freely about her shoulders.
His fingers threaded into the hair around her temples as he consumed her. She tried to pull back, but he growled against her lips and held her tighter. She whimpered when his teeth nipped her lip a bit too hard.
The sound of her whimper brought Simon back to his senses. For a moment, he’d allowed his basic instincts to take control. But Lily was an innocent. He pressed his forehead into hers and drew in great gulps of air.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed.
Her only answer was her hand sliding across his jaw to cup his face and bring his lips back to hers. Tentatively, she kissed him, testing his control. Her eyes were wide open, staring into his own.
He pressed softly back against her, his tongue sliding between her lips to caress hers. This time she moaned. He must be doing better.
Simon sat back and said, “I think you have entirely too many clothes on, Your Grace.” He picked up her foot and slid her slipper off, the tips of his fingers dancing across the sensitive skin of the bottom of her foot. She giggled.
He couldn’t help but smile. Laughter wasn’t the sound he’d hoped for when he thought about bringing her to bed, but it beat the fear that had escaped her moments before. He repeated the motion with her other foot. She tried to tug her leg from his grasp. He held firm.
“No pulling away,” he reminded her.
She simply nodded, a smile hovering around her lips.
Simon walked up the bed on his hands and knees until he was behind her. His hands moved to unlace her dress. As he exposed her shoulder, he replaced the fabric with his mouth. Her freckles were illuminated by the candlelight, and he planned to kiss each and every one before the day and night were over. He smiled against her skin, his fingers still working at her laces.
“What’s funny?” she asked quietly, reaching back to touch his hair.
“Nothing,” he murmured. “I’m just happy.”
“Really?”
“You doubt it?” he asked as he moved in front of her. She clutched her sagging gown to her chest.
“I know you didn’t want to marry me, but I’ll try to make you happy.”
“You already do,” he said as he pushed her back to lie on the bed. She gasped as he pulled her hands from her bodice and tugged to expose her breasts. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze traveling over her flesh. To have her breasts exposed tested his control. But he reined the beast back, determined not to scare her, no matter how aroused he was.
His erection strained against his trousers, aching to be free. But not yet. Not until she was ready.
Simon tugged her gown down over her hips. Lily lifted to help him pull it from her body. The ribbon that tied her undergarments hissed as he tugged the knot free, allowing him to pull them from her in one swoop.
Lily moved to cover her breasts, her face coloring under his gaze. But he captured her hands, laced his fingers with hers, and pressed them to the bed beside her head as he leaned over her, sliding one knee between her thighs. She instinctually adjusted to make room for him.
“Mine,” he growled as he took a hard peak into his mouth. Lily gasped beneath him, arching to meet his mouth. Her hands moved under his, her fingers opening and closing, as he toyed with her, his tongue flicking out to tease the turgid flesh of her nipple.
Her heart beat heavily beneath him, thumping faster and louder as he moved from breast to breast.
Her fingers opened and closed again. “Let me touch you, Simon,” she said softly, her voice catching as his mouth lifted from her nipple with a pop.
His hands released hers, and she immediately brought them to his shirtfront to loosen his cravat and then to unbutton the tiny buttons at his throat. Her delicate little hands tugged frantically at his shirt, yanking it from his trousers. She wasn’t happy until they were flesh to flesh, man to woman, beast to beauty. Only then did she sigh with contentment.
This was how he wanted her always. Her face flushed with heat. Her body warm and pliant beneath him. Simon adjusted his body so he could remove his pants and then settled himself, entirely naked, in the cradle of her thighs.
“Please,” she whispered.
Lily could feel the length of him between her thighs, touching her center but not entering her, not even pressing against her. He was content to lie there, to torment her. His breath brushed heavily against the side of her face as he asked, “Please what?”
He smiled when she arched against him. She didn’t know what. She just knew she needed. She needed him.
His hand moved between her thighs, one finger swiping across her heat. She couldn’t keep from crying out. Her center throbbed, like a fire waiting to be stoked. Like a pot that simmered, just before the steam.
“So wet,” he breathed against her ear. She closed her eyes tightly, and he stopped the movement of his hand.
“What’s wrong?” she nearly begged. Surely he wouldn’t stop now. Surely he would ease this torment.
“Open your eyes,” he said. She did, only to find his eyes, dark as night, staring into her own. “Know that it is me who takes you.”
Lily’s hand trailed down his chest, her nails raking his belly as she reached lower. And lower still. She took the heat of him in her hand and pressed him to her center. She rocked against him, but he didn’t move. He didn’t answer her thrusts. He simply looked at her. He watched her torment.
Lily wrapped her legs around him, her heels at his buttocks, pressing them insistently to pull him into her. And finally he did. He entered her slowly, inch by inch.
His arms shook on each side of her as he held himself above her, slowly sliding farther and farther inside. There was a moment of discomfort as he pressed forward. He slowed and kissed her eyelids, pulsing inside her. She bumped his buttocks with her heels again, and he pressed forward, seating himself fully inside her.
“I am inside you,” he said softly.
“I know,” she gasped out as he began to slowly withdraw. “No!” she cried. But he quickly surged back into her. He set a rhythm as old as time, moving in and out of her in quick strokes. Grasping her hips, he tilted her and went farther. He consumed every inch of space inside her and still asked for more. She graciously gave it.
He stoke
d the fire within her, taking her up and over the place where he’d taken her in the garden, making this oh-so-much-better simply because he shared it with her.
When she finally erupted, she called his name. He pressed his face into her neck, his arms sliding under her, holding her closer than she’d have ever thought possible, and then he joined her.
Twenty-Seven
LILY STIRRED IN HIS ARMS, AND SIMON PULLED HER closer to him. With her eyes closed, she gently kissed his chest and then tried, once more, to pull away from him. “Stay where you are,” he ordered softly, intertwining one of his legs with hers.
“Simon,” she giggled against his chest. “Shouldn’t we return to the others?”
He rolled her onto her back and pressed his lips to hers. “We could just stay here forever.”
“We could,” she agreed, grinning at him. Lily’s gaze drifted across his naked torso and stopped. Her eyebrows drew together. She lifted one finger to touch a mark below his shoulder.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Birthmark,” he said quietly as he nuzzled her neck.
“Oliver has one that’s similar.”
“As do Will and Ben, and even Daniel had one. Family trait.” He lifted his head to look into her eyes. “Does it bother you?”
“Why would it bother me?” She looked puzzled. Then she did the unthinkable and lifted her face to press her lips to the moon-shaped mark. “I think it’s quite handsome.”
The warmth of her lips pressed against the very thing that marked him as a beast made him pause. Simon closed his eyes tightly and savored the moment. Never before had he felt so accepted.
“I believe Oliver’s is on his thigh.”
“Then he will be a very lucky man the day he finds a woman to kiss it, won’t he?” Simon laughed.
“Oh, Simon,” she punched his shoulder. “We should get up,” she sighed, a contented smile hovering about her lips.
“You’d like to see about Oliver?”
Her smile vanished. “He seemed worried, didn’t he?”