by Lydia Dare
“Just overprotective,” Simon growled. Irritating little pup.
Lily cupped his face. “No reason for that.”
None that she knew about anyway. “Don’t be so sure, love. I can be quite dangerous.”
She giggled again. “You’re not frightening in the least. I think that persona you wear like a cloak is all for show.”
Simon nuzzled her neck. “Naïve wench.” She was so soft and pliant beneath him, and he could easily take her again. He longed to do so, but it was too soon.
Lily caressed his back, and Simon groaned, not yet wanting this to end. But the time had come. He lifted his head and dropped a very chaste kiss on her cheek. “Get dressed, Lily, and go see about Oliver.”
He slid from the bed and ran his fingers over her naked form. She was a vision, her hair tousled, her hazel eyes darkened with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses. God willing, he’d see this same vision every day of his life… with, of course, a few exceptions.
He picked up her rumpled green dress and inhaled her sweet floral scent. “I should take you to London with me.”
“London?” she asked with a frown, sitting up and clasping the counterpane to her breasts.
“Yes, London,” he replied. Why wouldn’t she want to go to Town? “Do you not like it there?”
Lily shrugged. “I’ve not been that many times, Simon. But after…” her voice trailed off, and she looked away from him.
Concerned, Simon sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his hand down her bare back. “What is it, love?”
She worried her bottom lip and then tentatively turned to face him. “All the columns about your exploits… Well, I just thought we might stay in Hampshire for a while.”
Simon bit back a smile. She was worried he’d return to his debauched haunts and forget her. That wasn’t even a possibility. The only woman he wanted was her. The only entertainment he sought was her. He had no need of anyone else. Though he didn’t know how to convince her of the fact. “Lily, I only thought I’d take you to Town so we could enjoy it together.”
Her innocent frown lightened only incrementally.
He dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. “Let me show you off, Lily. Let me shower you with gifts. Let me order you an entirely new wardrobe. Let me drape you in jewels…”
Lily’s hand moved to the delicate chain around her neck. “Thank you for the necklace, Simon. It is beautiful.”
“Will you let me give you more?”
Again, she innocently bit her lip. “I don’t need anything.”
Simon’s smile widened, and he pushed her back to the mattress, hovering over her. “Of course you don’t need anything. That’s why it’s fun.”
“Do you really want to show me off?”
Simon nodded his head and tugged the counterpane from her hands, once again baring her breasts. “But this is all for me,” he murmured before closing his mouth around one peaked nipple.
Will closed the door to Simon’s study and sat down across from Oliver. The boy had frowned the entire day thus far. In fact, when Simon kissed Lily after the ceremony, Will had been forced to keep his arm on the lad, as Oliver nearly charged Simon at that point. Perhaps, Will thought belatedly, he should have waited a while before giving the boy his books on Lycan lore. Of course, at the time, he hadn’t thought Simon would marry Lily. At the time, he hadn’t thought Simon would ever marry anyone.
“Maberley,” he began in his most stern voice. “You are out of your league. If you’d like to keep your tail, you’ll take a step away from Simon. He isn’t going to put up with your insolence for much longer.”
The boy’s nostrils flared. “But Aunt Lily—”
“Is his wife. And there’s not a thing you can do about it.” Certainly not now. The marriage had been well and thoroughly consummated, Will had no doubt.
Oliver slumped back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. Anger rolled off him in waves. “I can protect her from him.”
Lily was a saint to have raised this child. She must have the patience of Job, which she could probably use in her role as Simon’s duchess. Will sighed, rubbing his brow. “She is his territory, Maberley, and you will respect that.”
The young earl snorted.
Will narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to help you, but if you keep up this unwarranted animosity toward Simon, no one will be able to help you.”
Oliver glowered back at him. “May I be excused now?”
Will nodded. “Remember what I said.”
“How could I forget?” Oliver grumbled as he stormed out of the study.
Will let his head fall backward, and he looked up at the ceiling, vowing to himself never to father a child. He hadn’t realized what a trial they could be. Of course, he never spent any time with boys Oliver’s age either.
“Your mother is worried about Benjamin,” Prisca’s melodic voice said from the doorway.
Will instantly rose from his seat at her presence. For some reason, God had cursed him. Every time he saw Prisca, she was more beautiful than the time before. He schooled his features to reveal nothing of his inner torment. “The dolt has apparently been sending Mother multiple letters every week. Then when he holes himself up,” probably with some buxom widow, “and doesn’t send word, he gets her all upset.”
“It is strange,” Prisca said, stepping further into the study. “Benjamin is such a regular correspondent. Her Grace says he was going to take a sojourn to Scotland, but none of the letters he sent me mentioned the trip.”
Will’s blood began to boil. He must have misheard her. “Are you saying Ben has been writing you?” He hoped he’d managed to keep the jealousy out of his voice.
“Why shouldn’t he?” Prisca clasped her hands behind her back, raising her tempting breasts for Will’s perusal. Did she do that intentionally? He believed in his heart that she did such things simply to torture him. “Ben has never forgotten me.”
“For the love of God, Prissy, I did not forget you.”
Her violet eyes pierced him, and he felt it in the depths of his soul. “Then that’s worse.” She took a steadying breath, never looking away from him. “I won’t have this argument again, William. There’s no point to it. That’s not why I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
“What then?” he whispered.
Prisca took a step away from him and began to pace a path in the study. “I find myself worried about Benjamin. I’d talk to Blackmoor, but I believe he’ll be occupied with Lily, at least for the next little while. But you…”
“But I what?” he asked, knowing full well what she wanted of him. She wanted him to travel to Scotland, to yank Ben out of whosever bed he was in, and march him back to Hampshire, so she could see he was safe. And, fool that he was, Will was considering it just to see Prissy smile in his direction again.
She stopped mid-pace. “He is your brother, William. Aren’t you the least concerned?”
He had been a bit concerned, but only a bit, right up until he realized his younger brother had been carrying on a correspondence with Prisca for God knows how long. Now he’d like to get his hands around Ben’s neck. Disloyal mutt! “Ben is a grown man. He can take care of himself.”
“But what if something’s happened to him? It’s not like him not to write at all.”
Will’s vision turned nearly black. Ben had better stay hidden for a very long time, if he knew what was good for him. What was he doing writing to Prissy?
She walked toward him, and, with each step she took, Will’s heart pounded faster. Prisca laid her hand on his chest, tilting her head back to look at him. Will’s fingers twitched, aching to touch her again.
“Please,” she whispered.
Will tightly closed his eyes before opening them again. He was still a bloody fool where she was concerned. He stepped away from her, not able to look upon her any longer. Then he strode out of the library and down the corridor toward the terrace doors.
Billings stopped him before h
e could make his escape. “Lord William, are you all right? You don’t quite look yourself.”
Will didn’t quite feel like himself either. “Tell His Grace that I’ve gone to Scotland.”
The butler quickly masked his surprise. “Scotland?”
Will nodded tightly. Then he strode out the doors and down the path to the stables before he had the chance to come to his senses. When he found his younger brother, there was a very good possibility that he’d strangle him.
Twenty-Eight
“BILLINGS!” LILY CALLED LOUDLY FROM OLIVER’S ROOM.
Simon was already in pursuit of her when he heard her call. He stepped into the room and immediately knew something was amiss. She paced from one side of the room to the other, chewing on her fingernails. Simon crossed the room and plucked her hand from her mouth, then kissed the back of her knuckles.
“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, his hand trailing up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her. What he really wanted to do was drag her back to bed.
“Simon, Oliver’s g-gone,” she said. A tear pooled over her lashes and fell onto her cheek.
“I’m sure he’s here somewhere,” Simon said as he wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t fret.”
Lily thrust a piece of foolscap into his hand. “No, Simon,” she nearly wailed. “He’s gone.”
He took the paper from her hand and read it.
Dear Aunt Lily,
Please do not be mad at me. I hate that you married the duke, but there is nothing I can do about that. Though I do not have to stay at Westfield Hall and watch your unholy union. Please be careful. If you ever got hurt, it would kill me. I love you so much.
Oliver
It was all Simon could do to keep from baring his teeth. The little bugger had turned tail and run. And had the nerve to try one of the oldest tricks in the book. Guilt.
Lily took the paper back from him and asked, “What does he mean by all that, Simon? What does he think is going to happen? Why on earth would he be so distrustful of you? He barely knows you.”
Lily resumed her pacing. Simon scratched his jaw and wondered what the best way to answer would be. Because he’s afraid I’ll forget how to treat you in a fit of lust and claim you as a Lycan mate, he almost said. No. He couldn’t say that.
The boy did know how to ruin a perfect day. He’d had Lily under him and planned to do it again before the day was over, but now she was worried about her nephew. She wouldn’t stop pacing long enough to look at him, much less let him have his way with her.
Lily wore torment on her face like an uncomfortable mask. “You’ll wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up,” he said, attempting to lighten the situation.
“Do be quiet, Simon,” she snapped, never ceasing her back-and-forth movements across the room. He had to admit he liked the fact she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him. She had a strength he would never have expected.
Simon held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Where do you suspect he’s gone?” Lily asked, her voice only showing a tiny bit of whininess.
The boy had only lived one place in his whole life. “My guess would be Maberley Hall,” Simon answered.
“But that’s so far away, and he’s all alone!” Lily cried, her voice finally cracking under the strain.
“Don’t worry, love. We’ll find him,” he assured her. And then he was going to kill the troublesome little wolf.
Luckily, Lily let him wrap his arms around her for comfort. Simon held her close, silently vowing to find the young pup and give him a tongue-lashing he would never forget for upsetting his aunt. “We’ll go talk to Dorn and see what he knows.”
Lily sniffed and then nodded her head in agreement.
Simon led his bride to the stables, where he grilled the head groom about Oliver’s whereabouts.
The color seeping from his face, Dorn looked shocked to learn the young earl had run off. “Honestly, Your Graces, if I’d known ’e was gonna do somethin’ like that, I’d’ve never saddled Erebus for him. I thought he was just goin’ for a ride around the property.”
Erebus! Simon winced. The gelding was one of the wildest in his stables. He’d like to berate the groom on the spot for giving the unruly beast to the boy, but he didn’t want to alert Lily to the danger. She was worried enough as it was.
“How long ago did he leave, Dorn?”
The groom shuffled his feet, looking at the ground. “A couple o’ hours. I was just startin’ to get worried about the lad.”
Simon made a note to have a long conversation with Dorn once he returned to Westfield Hall. In the meantime, he gestured toward the main road. “Prepare Abbadon,” he commanded.
The groom nodded at the same time Lily called after him, “And a mount for me as well.”
Simon’s eyes shot toward his wife, and he shook his head. “Lily love, I’ll find the lad and bring him home.”
She furrowed her pretty brow. “I have to be there, Simon. I have to know why he would do this.”
“And those questions will be answered when I return with Maberley.” He had a few things to say to the young pup first, things Lily didn’t need to hear.
With a stubborn tilt of her head, Lily glared at him, her hazel eyes boring angry little holes into his skin. “Simon Westfield, I am going. And don’t you even think about keeping me from it.”
Simon heaved a sigh. At least he could use a coach ride to his advantage. Having Lily beneath him instead of Abbadon did have its merit. “All right, love. Dorn, ready the carriage instead.”
Lily’s frown deepened. “We can go faster on horseback.”
Simon returned her scowl. He wasn’t accustomed to someone challenging his every edict, and he didn’t enjoy that one bit. “Lily, I am allowing you to go with me, but you’ll follow my direction. I believe this very day you vowed to do that exact thing.”
A blush pinkened her cheeks at his words, and, for a moment, Simon felt like a cad. But only for a moment.
Once they were under way, Simon put his arm around Lily’s shoulders and pulled her to him. She sat stiffly against him, unyielding in her anger. Even the gentle rocking of the coach didn’t relax her into his side.
He brushed a lock of hair from the side of her face. “You’re beautiful even when you pout, you know?” he taunted her. She rose to the bait, as he’d expected. If there was one thing he was learning about Lily, it was that she didn’t back down from a fight.
“I am not pouting,” she said, following the comment with a harrumph noise. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. That only served to push them up where he could better see them. Simon found that he rather liked the display.
“Oh, yes, you are pouting,” he said quietly, his lips touching her cheek briefly. He would tease her out of this mood if it was the last thing he ever did. “But I think it’s quite attractive.”
“I can’t believe he let Oliver take off for God-only-knows where. He’s twelve, Simon. Twelve!” She scooted out from under his arm and across the seat to stare out the coach window.
“Believe me, love, when we return to Westfield Hall, Dorn and I will have a long chat. In the man’s defense, he had no reason to think Oliver would bolt.”
She sniffed and turned her attention to stare out the window.
“With luck, we’ll find him before he even reaches Essex,” Simon reminded her. Then she would have Oliver back clinging to her skirts, which was exactly where he wanted to be, except he preferred to be under them.
“I just don’t understand why he thinks so poorly of you. Is there something I don’t understand? Did you hurt him in the breakfast room the other day? Or in one of your heated exchanges?”
Not in the slightest. Oliver was just as tough as any other Lycan. The boy wasn’t even afraid of him.
Simon frowned. He didn’t need Lily to distrust him. “If anyone should be angry, Lily, it’s me,” he said, changing tactics.
She gasped and swung her gaze to him.
“And what reason, please tell me, could you possibly have for being angry?”
“Don’t you think the fact that my wife is sitting as far from me as she possibly can is enough? I hadn’t planned to spend my wedding night in exile. I had planned to spend it wrapped up… in… you.”
She flushed at his comment, just as he’d hoped. Having her once wasn’t nearly enough.
Yet she still put her nose in the air and turned back to the window. If that pup ruined his chances of staying in Lily’s good graces, he would make him sleep with the hounds.
Lily watched the Hampshire countryside pass by her window. With the way Simon was looking at her, it was really quite difficult to stay angry with him. He settled deeper into his seat and looked at her, his eyes half-closed. Lily’s heart jumped when he licked his lips.
“Come here,” he said quietly.
Oh, dear.
“No,” she answered, fully aware that her voice cracked. She hated her traitorous reflexes for responding to him.
“I didn’t ask you.” He crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”
With a conscious effort, she turned to look out the window again. But then she felt the brush of his hand against the side of her breast. She closed her eyes and sighed, unable to deny how pleasurable the sensation was.
“Your body wants me,” he taunted her.
“Well, of course it does,” she sighed.
“Yet you want to deny it.”
“Yes, I do.” She very nearly caught a smile erupting. But pushed it back.
“I think I’ll let you sit there and simmer,” he said as he placed his hands in his lap.
She immediately felt the loss. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m going to wait. Until you ask me for it.” He smiled a greedy little smile. “Or until we reach the next coaching inn. Whichever comes first.”
Twenty-Nine
LILY COULD BARELY WAIT FOR THE NEXT COACHING inn. She felt like a violin that had been strung too tightly. She had been worried that Oliver was in danger nearly the entire day. But now she was worried that she would simply erupt if Simon didn’t touch her some time soon. When he’d said “come here,” she’d nearly climbed into his lap and begged him to take her.