A Certain Wolfish Charm (18 page)

   Lily looked down at him; he was at least five inches shorter than she was, and she could see a bald spot appearing on the top of his head. If she remembered correctly, they were close to the same age. At the rate he was losing hair, he would be bald by the age of thirty.

   "You may do it now," Mrs. Bostic directed.

   The poor fellow dropped to his knee in front of Lily. "M-Miss Rutledge—"

   His speech was cut short when Simon strode into the room. "Bostic, off your knees if you want to keep them."

   Timothy Bostic scrambled back to his feet. "Y-your Grace?"

   Simon turned his irritated grey gaze to the vicar's wife. "Did my dear Miss Rutledge tell you our good news?"

   The woman sucked in a breath, her face starting to turn an unflattering red. "N-news?"

   Lily bit back a smile. Did Simon make everyone stutter?

   "Indeed," Simon replied, crossing the room and sliding his arm around Lily's waist. "I was going to have to pay you a visit later today, Mr. Bostic. But as you're here, you've saved me the trip. This amazing woman has agreed to marry me." He smiled down at her. "Once Lord William returns from Lambeth Palace, I'd like for you to do the honors."

   The vicar's eyes grew round. "A special license, Your Grace?"

   Simon nodded. "I find she has quite captured my heart, and I'd rather not wait for the banns."

   The man stumbled to his feet. "I-I-I… Of course, Your Grace. Whatever you require of me."

   Mrs. Bostic squeaked, and Simon flashed his eyes on her. "Did you say something, ma'am?"

   "But you were offering her a dowry—"

   "True. Miss Rutledge will still have it. I'll put the funds in trust for her."

   "I see." The woman frowned.

   "Well," the vicar said, rising from his seat. "I believe we will be on our way then. When you have the license, Your Grace, do let me know."

   Simon inclined his head.

   Once the Bostics left, Lily sighed deeply and rested her head on his chest. She wished the words he'd said to the vicar and his family had been true, that he'd really lost his heart to her. "I had no idea money turned people into such terrible creatures."

   Simon chuckled and then dropped a kiss on her brow. "Mrs. Bostic has always been a terrible creature, Lily. I am sorry you had to endure her."

   Lily tipped her head back, gazing at his ruggedly handsome face. He did seem happy. More so than he had this morning. "Is Oliver all right?"

   He nodded. "The little monster is fine for now. You should have come to me years earlier. I don't know how you ever managed him alone."

   For years, Oliver had the sweetest disposition. Something Simon would have known, if he'd ever showed the slightest bit of interest in the boy. How long would his interest last in Oliver, or in her? How long before his lifestyle called to him? What did that even mean? Did he intend to return to the hoards of women he'd left in London? She wasn't certain her heart could take it.

   "Lily," he said softly, interrupting her thoughts. "You look so sad."

   She forced a smile to her lips. "Just woolgathering."

"About what?" he pressed.

   Lily sighed. Should she tell him of her concerns? Would it matter? "I suppose I don't know what to expect from our marriage," she hedged. "What it will entail."

   A slow smile lit his face. "Ah, well, let me show you."

   Lily batted his hands away from her person as he reached for her. "You know that's not what I meant."

   Simon took another step toward her and she backed up, but she couldn't hide the smile that erupted, no matter how hard she tried.

   "Oh, but it's what I meant," he said, his grey eyes twinkling. She'd never actually seen the man laugh before. He was handsome even when he was sour, but when he laughed, he completely captured her heart. "You wanted to know what to expect from our marriage, and I want to show you."

   He stepped toward her again. She put a chair between them.

   "Will every room in my house be left a shambles because of you and Maberley? Before you arrived, I had quite a lovely home," he said as he slid the chair over. Lily ducked behind a second chair.

   "You are the one who keeps making messes of the furniture, Simon. Not me," she said, shaking her finger at him. Then she laughed and ran as he casually flipped another chair. They seemed to be nothing more than playthings to him.

   "When we're married, you will no longer be able to rearrange the furniture. I won't have it." She tried to look stern and unforgiving. She failed miserably.

   He simply smirked at her and pushed the final chair out of the way.

   Lily squealed as she turned to run, but his hands snaked around her middle. He pulled her to himself, her back to his front, and leaned forward to say quietly in her ear, "Got you."

   Lily couldn't hide from the sudden warmth she felt as his body pressed along the length of hers. One of his hands splayed on her belly, pulling her into the cradle of his hips. The other brushed the hair away from the nape of her neck.

   When his lips touched the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder, she thought her knees would buckle. Thank goodness for that hand on her belly that held her tightly to him.

   "Simon," she sighed. "This is quite improper."

   "It's not nearly as improper as what I did to you last night," he reminded her. She felt the heat creep up her face as she remembered his hand in her drawers, his mouth on her breasts, and that sweet, sweet release.

   He must have sensed her hesitation because he simply said, "When we're married, I'll be able to kiss you here." He pressed his lips to the skin beneath her ear. "And here." He kissed her shoulder and spun her around.

   "And here," he said as his lips hovered over hers.
Oh, please kiss me, Simon
, she wanted to shout. But he didn't. He simply stayed close to her. She finally gave in and reached for him, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him close enough to touch her lips to his.

   When she finally allowed him to lift his head, he simply smiled and said, "Forceful little thing, aren't you?"

   "I am not little, Simon," she gasped as his hands ran

up her side slowly, moving closer and closer to her breasts. Her heart beat like she'd just run up the stairs.

   "Compared to me, you are quite small."

   "You're the exception."

   "I had damn well better be the exception. There will be no comparisons to other men."

   "I have nothing to compare you to."

   "And it will stay that way."

   Lily nodded, quite unsure of what to say next. She bit her bottom lip.

   "What's bothering you?" he asked as he lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

   "Well, you have mentioned your lifestyle more than once. If you don't plan to share me, then I don't plan to share you, either." She winced and closed her eyes, waiting for callous words to flood her ears.

   "Done," he said.

   "What about this lifestyle you keep referring to? The one you want to maintain."

   "It doesn't involve wenches, woman," he growled softly.

   Lily's heart leapt. That was the one hesitation she had about marrying Simon. But he'd acquiesced so easily. Almost too easily.

   She would worry about it later, because Simon was taking all her attention. His hands stroked her as if she were a cat just waiting to be petted. She looked into his eyes.

   Oh, now she was in big trouble, because his dark eyes reminded her of a predator. And that meant she was the prey.

Simon could hear her heart thumping in her chest, beating a rhythm as old as time. "Can we get back to what we were doing before you started the marriage negotiations?"

   "It wasn't a negotiation," she said. He really should do a better job of seducing her so he could take her mind off all that.

   "And when we're married," he said, reminding her where they'd left off. "I will kiss you here," he whispered as he pressed her back against the wall. His lips touched the skin above her bodice before he lowered his head and found her nipple, aching and waiting for his touch. He very gently nipped it between his teeth, through the fabric of her dress.

   Simon smelled the evidence of her desire. It was the scent of sweet Lily and her flowers. But now it contained something else, something wild and free. As her body warmed to his touch, more of her fragrance reached his nose.

   "You go too far, Simon," she said, her voice a throaty whisper.

   "Yet you want me to go farther," he countered. He certainly hoped she did. He had never gone so long without a woman. It had been days since she'd arrived. It felt like a lifetime.

   She didn't deny his statement. Her fingernails dug into his biceps as she clutched his arms. He reveled in the sensation. She had sharp claws, and he would enjoy every minute he spent teaching her to use them on
him.

   Simon tugged the shoulder of her gown, but this one didn't give as freely as the one the previous night. He wanted to press his lips there, to cup her breast in his hand and lift it to his mouth. He could always just rip the dress off her. But he imagined that might scare her. It wasn't the only thing about him that would scare her. Compared to his other secrets, his desire to rip her clothes off was a minor issue.

   Simon spun her away from him and began to work the laces of her gown.

   "What are you doing?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

   "Taking this thing off you so I can show you how it will be once we're married." His fingers couldn't work fast enough. He needed her to be out of that gown.

   But a voice broke his concentration on his task. Lily gasped and stood up straight and tall. They both saw the interloper at the same time.

   "Simon, get rid of the light skirt. We need to talk."

   Simon sighed deeply and pulled Lily to him in a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry," he said to her. He wished he could apologize profusely and was, in fact, already planning what sorts of flowers to buy for her as his penance for what was about to happen. "Hello, Mother."

Mortified, Lily clutched her sagging gown tightly to her chest. Perfect! Her future mother-in-law thought she was a light skirt. Not that she could blame her. She must look like one. Lily didn't think she would ever be able to carry on a conversation with the woman, not after this.

   Lily closed her eyes to avoid gazing at Alice Westfield, the Duchess of Blackmoor. If she didn't know better, it would be hard to believe the frail, old woman was Simon's mother. All that they shared were their grey eyes, eyes that seemed to burn a hole in Lily's skin.

   Simon kissed her forehead. "Be brave, love." Then he stepped in front of her, shielding her from the duchess' view. "Mother, why don't we wait in my study? Miss Rutledge will join us shortly."

   Lily cringed. Was it possible to delay the interview all together? She didn't need to postpone the meeting for long. Only forty or fifty years or so. She watched as Simon steered his mother from the room, preventing her from looking back at Lily and her embarrassing state of dishabille.

   He closed the door behind them, and Lily sank into the last upright chintz chair. She released a sigh and the tight grip on the top of her bodice.

   Heavens! Lily looked around at the disheveled parlor. No wonder the duchess thought she was a light skirt.

   The door creaked open, and a little chambermaid bustled inside. Dark curls escaped her cap. "Billings said you needed assistance, miss."

   Assistance. That was the very least of what she needed. A place to hide would be better. However, Simon had asked her to visit with his mother. It wasn't something she could really refuse.

   "Indeed," Lily replied, resigned to her fate. She stood up and beckoned the young maid forward. Hopefully the girl could right her clothing, and she could get this over with.

"What do you mean 'marry her'?" his mother asked, her brow furrowed.

   Simon sat back in his chair grinning widely at his mother. Over the years, he and his brothers had tried their best to surprise and shock her. They were rarely triumphant. He had to admit, however, that he'd finally found success today with this endeavor.

   "I don't know how to be more clear, Mother. I do wish, however, that you'd refrain from referring to Lily as a light skirt. I'm certain she didn't appreciate it. I
know
I didn't." He said that last bit in an attempt to embarrass her. Even if Lily had been a strumpet, his mother shouldn't have said so in her presence.

   "Then perhaps you shouldn't treat her like one, Simon," his mother rebuked him.

   He frowned at that. How he and Lily spent their time was really none of his mother's concern. "Why don't you tell me why you arrived at Westfield Hall completely unannounced?"

   She snorted. "What would be the point in writing to you with my intentions? You never pay any attention to your correspondence. It's a waste of time, ink, and foolscap."

   Apparently, he did need to employ a secretary. Or perhaps Lily wouldn't mind taking over those duties as well as the more intimate ones he would be expecting from her very soon. The image
those
thoughts brought to mind made him smile.

   "…Simon!" his mother's irritated voice interrupted his daydream.

   "Yes, Mother?"

   "I'm worried about Benjamin," she admitted, her frown darkening. "I haven't heard a word from him for far too long."

That was what had led to this visit from his mother
? "I never send you letters. Does that mean you're worried about me all the time?" he asked, trying to charm her.