“Maybe he figured out Ellie wasn’t his blood relation. After all, he’s only a step-brother to Patience.”
“Yes, I still remember how surprised Patience was when he arrived. She told me she hadn’t seen him for almost fifteen years. Poor Patience,” Amy murmured. “I wonder what she ate that made her so sick. She ate the same food as the rest of us. I felt so bad that I couldn’t help her.”
Caro reached over and patted her arm, “You tried. You stayed with her the whole time she sickened. You know, Amy, are you certain it was something she ate?”
Amy frowned. “I’ve thought about her a lot lately. But, I couldn’t believe that Harold would do something to his own sister.”
“Why not? Look what he tried to do to you.”
“But his sister?”
Caro grimaced. “His step-sister,” she said.
“That makes no sense at all. Patience called him her brother and I can’t believe he would harm her. Surely Harold couldn’t be that bad.”
“Don’t fool yourself. I think that man is capable of doing anything to get what he wants. I suspect he wants money and will do anything to get it.”
“Oh, Caro, I can’t believe that.”
Amy fought a feeling of desperation, “You don’t think he has Ellie, do you?”
“Not yet. At least, I hope not.”
“Oh, no,” Amy sank back against her chair. “What could he hope to gain by grabbing her? Simon is here now, and in control.”
“I can’t help but think it might have something to do with you.”
“With me?” Amy squeaked. Then she jumped up from the couch and began to pace, twisting her hands in front of her.
“He will gain nothing from me by kidnapping Ellie.”
“Maybe not, but his thinking is distorted. He intended to force you to marry him. I know Patience told him all about the will before she died. Married to you, he’d have your dowry and the estate.”
“But, why?”
“He’s greedy. Look at all the things he took and sold. Consider the horses. We know he got a fair number of pounds for them. He must have a desperate need for money.”
Amy sank back onto the settee, “Oh, I wish Simon would return with some kind of news.”
Caro rested her head against the cushion. “He’ll return as soon as he has something to tell us.”
Amy glanced at her sister. Caro always had been the calm one in the family. At the moment, Amy wished for some of her fortitude. Finally, she stood and began to prowl back and forth.
After a time Caro snapped, “Amy, sit down. You are making me nervous.”
“Can’t,” she replied. “At least while I walk, I feel like I’m doing something.”
More minutes passed as Amy paced. Caro nodded off once or twice and Amy took pity on her. Both of them didn’t need to keep a late vigil.
“Caro! Caro, why don’t you go upstairs? You’re falling asleep on the settee.”
“What--Oh, Amy, I’m sorry. I am so tired. This afternoon must have effected me more than I thought possible. And, I’m getting stiff. Perhaps I should go to my room.”
“You go to bed,” Amy suggested. “When Simon returns I’ll wake you. Surely, he’ll return before much longer.”
“We can hope,” Caro stood and stretched. “You promise to wake me?”
“You know I will.”
“Good night,” Caro murmured, trying hard not to yawn.
Amy watched her ascend the staircase then started pacing again. More than once, she stopped to examine the mantle clock. Minutes ticked away to become a half-hour, then an hour. It was almost two in the morning when Simon stalked into the parlor.
“What are you doing up?” Simon snapped.
“Waiting for you,” Amy informed him.
“It’s late.”
Amy glared at him. He didn’t know her at all, if he thought she would retire before she discovered what he know about the kidnapping.
“Ellie?”
Simon shook his head.
Amy gasped.
“You must have found some sign,” she whispered, her throat closing with fear.
“Not a thing,” he muttered and ran his hand through his disheveled hair.
“Oh, no,” Amy gasped and hugged her middle, as if to keep the pain from shattering her.
Simon stepped forward.
“Amy, we’ll find her. I promise.”
“You can’t promise such a thing.”
Simon reached for her. A sheen of tears gathered in her eyes.
“Don’t,” he whispered as he clasped her in his arms. He could have sworn he felt her fear as it sliced through her.
“He took her, I know he did,” she sobbed.
“I suspect he did.” He knew she was thinking about Harold Bottomsworth. Nothing else made any sense. “But, we’ll get her back, Amy. I promised, didn’t I?”
“I’ll have to marry him. Caro mentioned it. That’s what he wants...” She rested her head against Simon’s chest, his scent filling her with a tiny bit of strength. Not enough to keep her tears from falling.
“You will not marry that man. I forbid it.”
“He--he took her because he--he wanted to show me--”
“Amy,” he placed his forefinger under her chin and tilted her face so he could look into her eyes, “you will not marry him.”
“Oh, Simon, what are we going to do?” Her hands crept around his waist and she buried her head in his shoulder.
He smothered a sigh.
She felt so good in his arms. He pulled her against him, relishing the feel of her warm body pressed against his. He scolded himself. He should be thinking of Ellie. How to find her, but all his attention was centered on Amy, how she felt in his arms, how her fragrance teased at him, how her breasts, breasts he had already kissed, burned against the fabric of his shirt.
Somehow he found the strength to say, “Time for bed.” His voice sounded husky even to him. He lowered his arms and forced himself to step away. She stumbled against him and he scooped her into his arms.
“You should have retired,” he commented as he started toward the stairs. “You’re exhausted.”
“No, I’m not. You can put me down,” she wiggled in his arms.
“And let you fall? You are dead on your feet. I’ll set you down when we reach the top of the stairs.”
She relaxed and slid one arm around his neck. Simon stood for a second, the feel of her, the heat from her body, the warm breath against his neck, all sending waves of desire pulsing through him.
He fought with himself before he started up the stairs. His promise to let her go at the top coursed through him. Heaving a sigh, he let her slide down against him and he felt an immediate reaction. He wanted her and he wasn’t going to deny it.
To his surprise, she didn’t step back. She stood next to him, her heat, her scent, her essence, stirring his soul.
“Just hold me,” she murmured, her warm breath caressing his neck, sending shards of pleasure through him.
“I am holding you,” he whispered.
“Don’t let me go,” she breathed, “Not for a moment. I’m so afraid.”
“I won’t let go,” Simon replied and knew he spoke the truth. He wasn’t going to be able to let her go. However, he couldn’t go on standing in the hall holding her against him. Her sisters, or God forbid, his aunt might walk into the hall. His room was a step away. In the privacy of his room, he could hold her close and not worry about someone getting the wrong idea.
He moved forward taking Amy with him. He fumbled with the door knob and pushed the door open. He took several slow steps into the room then closed the panel with his foot. They were shrouded with darkness. She must have lifted her head, for he could feel her breath on his face. Afraid to destroy the mood, he lowered his head.
A quick brush, a tiny taste, that was all he wanted. And, then he would send her to her own room.
As soon as Simon’s mouth touched hers, Amy began to argue with herself.
Ellie was missing. Enjoying Simon’s attentions was wrong, wrong, wrong! Still, she didn’t want to think, to feel the panic that thinking about Harold’s promise to sell her sisters forced through her mind.
One kiss. She would allow Simon one kiss then she would retreat, go to her own room. Surely that couldn’t be that wrong. Besides, she needed his reassurance that Ellie would be all right, that she wouldn’t have to wed Harold Bottomsworth.
As his lips touched hers her ability to think dissolved like sugar in hot tea. She pressed herself next to his firm body, needing his warmth to ease the chill her missing sister had left. The taste of his mouth tantalized, but it was not enough. With something close to desperation, she clung to him. She could never wed a reprobate like Harold.
He raised his arms and she felt his tension. Instinct told her he was about to push her away. She couldn’t allow that, so she leaned into him, pressed herself closer. She ran her fingers through the soft silk of his hair while she nibbled at his lips, demanding another kiss.
She didn’t want him to stop. He couldn’t stop. She would not permit it. He was warmth, comfort, pleasure and the feel of his mouth on hers erased all the pain of the last few days. She pressed closer, needed him to know that she wanted this attention, that she would not accept being pushed away.
As if he read her intent, he placed his hands on her shoulders and she mouthed “Yes,” against his lips. She remembered the excitement she’d felt when he touched her lips with his tongue. Imitating his action, she opened her mouth and traced his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.
He groaned and murmured against her mouth, “Do you have any idea what are you doing to me?”
That was enough of an invitation. With his mouth open she slid her tongue over his bottom lip and into his mouth, enjoying the arousing sensations flowing through her like hot, liquid cravings. She touched his lips, felt the soft gasp that escaped his mouth and bathed her own. He would not desert her now.
And, he did not.
A tiny particle of memory pierced her thoughts. She remembered the night of the ball, the exquisite pleasure when he had touched her. The need to caress him, as he had her, swamped her. Before she could consider her actions, she yanked at his cravat and pulled his shirt free of his trousers. She slid her hands under the silk, needing to feel his flesh beneath her fingers.
His skin felt warm, no--hot, and his male scent, spice and man, almost overwhelmed her. She tore at the silk sending buttons scattering over the floor. Then she laid her head against the hot flesh, tasting him with her lips, with her tongue.
He groaned in what sounded like true agony and she jerked away.
“No, don’t stop,” he whispered as he kissed her neck.
She felt his fingers at the buttons of her bodice and she remembered the intense thrill she had experienced at his hands the night of the ball. Would he do to her again what he had then?
Her bodice fell open and he lowered her chemise. She stopped breathing, her anticipation sang through her veins. As he touched her breasts, she sighed with such pleasure she knew her legs would no longer hold her. She sagged against him. Suddenly, she was in his arms again. The softness of his bed comforted her as he stretched out beside her, his mouth on hers.
She dragged the silk from his shoulders and stroked his chest. She found the small nubs on his chest and at his gasp she realized he experienced pleasure just as she had. She arched toward him, begging for that same kind of attention.
His mouth trailed over her neck, her shoulders, the valley between her breasts.
“Oh, please,” she mouthed.
He feathered kisses over her taut skin. She wanted more, oh, so much more. And, he gave it to her, his hot mouth enclosing her nipple and drawing it into the wet cavern of his mouth.
A vague pounding sounded in the back of her head and she tensed. Pleasure deserted her and rational thought returned with a vengeance.
She recognized the sound. Someone was banging on Simon’s door. The strident voice of Agatha rang through the panel.
“Simon, are you in there? There’s more trouble. Amy’s missing. She’s not in her room.”
The door swung open and Amy gasped as Agatha and the lantern she carried cast a spear of light into the room and over the bed.
“Oh!” Agatha gasped.
Amy cringed.
“Well,” Agatha announced, “You won’t have to find a husband for Amelia after all, will you?”
Simon jumped from the bed and Amy watched as he struggled to close the front of his shirt searching for the missing buttons. Buttons! Oh, good Lord, her own bodice was unbuttoned and her chemise no longer covered her breasts. She grabbed at the fabric, yanking it into position.
“You are right Aunt. Amelia now has a betrothed.”
Amy stared at one and then the other. Finally, their words made sense. Agatha had just said Simon had to marry her.
“No!” Amy shouted. “I’m not going to marry anyone.”
“Don’t be foolish, my girl. You and Simon will be married as soon as Ellie returns. He can get a special license.”
“I will not marry. Simon knows that, you know that.”
“But you must,” Agatha pressed.
“No one knows you found me in Simon’s room. I won’t say anything. Simon doesn’t want marriage. He has ships to sail, a business in London. If you say nothing...”
Her words trailed off as Agatha began shaking her head.
“I woke the servants. I have your sisters looking for you. I even sent one of the servants to get one of Simon’s men. Everyone knows you were not in your room. No, I’m afraid, whether Simon wants a wife or not, he will marry you.”
“I cannot marry,” Amy protested.
Simon looked angry, but Amy couldn’t decide if he was annoyed because she wouldn’t marry him, or because he didn’t want a wife. Well, it mattered not. She had no intention of becoming a brood mare for any man.
Agatha stared at her and Amy felt her face redden.
“You must think of your sisters. Your behavior here is disgraceful. Simon, what were you thinking? Well, never mind. If you don’t marry, Amelia, you will disgrace your sisters. You have no choice.” She whirled, her white night rail flying out around her, her cap dancing on her white curls.
“Simon, you will accompany me to the study--this minute. I will give you a note to take to Bishop Worthington. It’ll cost you, but I know he’ll be happy to grant a special license.”
Amy cringed with disgust. Did this woman know everyone? Well, it wouldn’t do any good. She was not marrying Simon Warner and that was that.
Twelve
Amy fumbled with the top buttons of her bodice. She felt sick at what had just happened and she was loath to define her feelings for Simon. She had to admit the attraction she felt for him could no longer be denied. Just look at what she had allowed.
Oh, she would like to blame it on how tired she’d been, or how upset she felt over Ellie’s disappearance, even her fear of Harold Bottomsworth, but she was too honest with herself to blame either of those things. No, there was something about Simon that drew her to allow his touch, his kisses, and his pleasurable caresses.
The commotion in the hall dragged her from her thoughts.
Dora exploded into the room. “Oh, Amy,” she said, “What happened?”
“Did Simon find Ellie?” Beth asked.
“No,” Amy mumbled. “Ellie is still missing.”
“Then what are you doing in his room?” Beth asked.
Caro gave Amy a hard stare. “Well, that’s that.”
Beth turned to Caro, “What are you saying?”
“Oh, Beth,” Dora raised her hands in disgust. “Amy has been compromised. She and Simon will have to marry.”
“No!” Amy shouted at her sisters. “I will not marry. Not Simon, not anyone.”
Caro stepped to her side. “Amy, look, you have to say vows whether you like it or not. And, it won’t be too bad. Simon has a business in London a
nd one of his sailors says he often captains one of his own ships. He was gone when Father died. Remember? He won’t be here that often. It will be tolerable.”
“You don’t understand,” Amy held out her hands in supplication. “I don’t want to marry anyone. I had planned a life here at the estate. You all can find mates, but I don’t want one.”
“But, Amy, if you have been compromised,” Beth whispered, “and you won’t marry, then we won’t be able to marry either.”
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