A Certain Wolfish Charm (19 page)

   "Who needs to hear from you? You're in all the society rags, all the time. Besides you can't compare yourself to Benjamin. In fact, the three of you are all very different from each other."

   He raised his brow at that. The three of them were all too similar in the most important of ways.

   She continued with a frown. "If I ever received a

letter from you, I'd be worried. But Benjamin writes me several times a week. This isn't like him."

   Several times a week? Simon bit back a smile. He had no idea his youngest brother was such a mama's boy. He couldn't wait to tell Will. Ben would never live it down. "For God's sake! He's a grown man, Mother."

   A light knock interrupted their conversation. "Come!" Simon called.

   The study door pushed open, and Lily tentatively peeked around the corner. Simon's smile grew. His lovely bride-to-be always stood toe to toe with him, never backing down. But she was intimidated by his
mother
? A strong wind would blow the duchess away. His mother couldn't be all that scary. She was tiny and old, the only member of the Westfield family no one of sound mind should fear.

   "Ah, Lily love." He gestured to the seat beside his mother. "Sit, please."

   She gracefully slid into the wingback chair he'd indicated, worrying her bottom lip. The movement made Simon long to dismiss his mother, wipe his desk clean, and finally claim his bride-to-be.

   His mother coughed delicately. "Simon?"

   He shook his head, hoping to clear his lustful thoughts and bring his attention to the matter at hand. "Um, Mother, you remember Miss Rutledge. She's been keeping a watchful eye on Daniel's son for me."

   "Indeed?" his mother asked, raking her grey eyes across Lily's form. Hmm, perhaps Lily did have a reason to be frightened, after all. "Do you really intend to marry my son?"

Lily gulped but nodded slightly.

   "I do hope you're not always so meek, Miss Rutledge. My son can be quite the bully, and he needs a wife who will bring him to heel."

   Simon's mouth fell open. "Mother!" Lily didn't need any help standing up to him.

   She spared him only a glance. "Don't interrupt your mother." Then she refocused on Lily. "Stand up to him
now
, or it will never get any better for you."

   Lily's eyes widened. "I don't let him bully me, Your Grace."

   His mother's eyes began to twinkle. "Glad to hear it. Now what date have we planned on?"

   Simon shrugged. "Whenever Will returns with the special license."

   The duchess' mouth fell open. "Special license! You should wait for the banns. Don't you know what people will say?"

   They were already saying it, not that he could tell his mother that bit of information. It was better she not know, at least not yet. He'd like to get his paws on Prisca Hawthorne for thrusting them into this situation. "They'll say I'm impatient to marry my bride. That won't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me."

   His mother pursed her lips and turned in her seat to focus on Lily. "Do you know what you're getting yourself into with my son?"

   Lily shook her head. "No, but we'll make it work," she replied, echoing his earlier sentiment.

   The duchess exchanged a meaningful glance with Simon. Lily hadn't really answered the question his mother was asking. She silently berated him for keeping Lily in the dark. However, he'd never let his mother intimidate him, and he wasn't about to let her start.

   Distraction had often worked when he was a lad.

   "So, Mother, Will tells me that Benjamin's in Scotland. There's no need to worry about him. You should probably return to Hampton Meadows and wait for his mountain of letters to arrive."

   His mother narrowed her grey eyes at him. Distraction hadn't worked at all. "I'll leave Westfield Hall when I'm ready, Simon. Thank you for making me feel so comfortable." She touched Lily's hand. "Do tell me Oliver's here. I'd so like to see him again."

   Lily nodded. "Indeed, Your Grace. I'm certain he'd love to see you, too."

   Simon held in a snort. Oliver couldn't care less about meeting ancient duchesses. He'd have to make certain his mother didn't become too attached to Lily or let anything slip that shouldn't.

   "Oh, and, dear, please call me Alice. We're both to be duchesses very soon. There's no point in being so formal."

   Simon nearly groaned.

Lily muttered to herself as she walked through the garden. All she'd wanted was to coerce the duke into spending more time with Oliver. Yet here she was— ruined, engaged to the scoundrel, and still just as confused about Oliver as she had been
before
she made the trip.

   Lily kicked a stone in her path, sending it skittering into the grass. She wished it was Simon's head.

   She'd just spent a perfectly horrid afternoon and evening with the duchess. For all intents and purposes, the duchess was probably a splendid woman. But Lily felt grossly inadequate around her. It wasn't even that she felt inferior to the woman. It was because she obviously knew something Lily didn't.

   Throughout dinner, every time the duchess began to talk about the marriage, Simon had efficiently changed the subject. It was almost as if there was something he didn't want her to know.

   She stopped and kicked a bench beside the path. Once again, Simon was her target, but this time she imagined the chair leg to be his shin. "What am I missing?" she muttered to herself.

   Lily paced back and forth along the pebbled path, wracking her brain, trying to find the missing piece of the puzzle that was Simon. She kicked the bench again.

   "Do I need to step in and save that piece of furniture from your wrath, Lily?" Simon said as he stepped from the shadows.

   "Don't be silly, Simon." She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

   "I do believe my furniture will be much worse for wear once you're a permanent resident. The pieces indoors seem to have a hard time staying upright, and now I find you beating the poor bench into submission. Poor thing," he crooned to it. "And she seemed like such a wonderfully docile woman just a few days ago."

   This time, Lily wasn't able to stop the rolling of her eyes, nor could she avoid the frustrated sigh that escaped her lips.

   Simon's eyes narrowed. He caressed the back of the bench. "Don't worry. I won't let her hurt you," he said to the furniture.

   "I have no plans to attack your furniture, Simon," she snapped, one hand fluttering in the air as she dismissed his complaint. "You, on the other hand, may not be so lucky."

   "Lily love, I'm not at all sure I know what you mean." The look of innocence he tried to feign was far from genuine. He took her fingertips in his hand and tugged her over to the bench. "Come and let the poor bench do its job." She flopped down much more heavily than she knew was ladylike. "It will think you don't appreciate its talents, since you were determined to do it harm."

   Lily found it difficult to concentrate on her conundrum with his thumb drawing little circles on the sensitive skin between her forefinger and thumb. His thigh touched hers, and she felt the heat of him all the way to her toes. And everywhere in between.

   "Are you trying to distract me, Simon?" she asked.

   "From your pursuit of the poor bench, which you seem bound and determined to torture? Of course, I am. What did it ever do to you?" His grey eyes twinkled, and the corners of his mouth twitched up.

   Lily groaned. Insufferable man!

   "Simon, stop teasing me."

   "But I do enjoy it so much."

   "Yes, I can tell." She could tell how much he liked annoying her. As though it were a sport. Perhaps that was the reason for the subterfuge she could sense in the background. Did he simply think she was something to play with? To entertain him?

   He sobered. "What's bothering you, Lily?"

   "Nothing." She stared into the garden.

   He leaned close to her, his breath blowing across the sensitive ridge of her ear, and said softly, "Liar."

   Lily sniffed and pulled her hand from his. He immediately reached to capture it again. And didn't let go.

   "One thing we need to be very clear about is that you are never to pull away from me. I might annoy you to the end of time, but you mustn't take yourself away from me. Not any part of you. From your hands to your feet. In fact, I believe we should solidify this rule right now."

   Lily's heart jumped in her chest. "Rule?" she was able to choke out.

   "Yes. You may beat my furniture. You may even strike
me
when you're so frustrated with me you just can't tolerate any more, but you will never take away what's most important to me. And that's you."

   Where was all this coming from?

   "You say this to all the women, don't you?" she countered. "That's how you earned your reputation. By wooing unsuspecting females."

   "I have never set out to
woo
a woman until now. Before I met you, I just wanted to bed them." Lily felt her heart expand.

   "You don't want to just bed me?" She felt like a ninny. But she was finally getting closer to having answers to her questions, so she wanted to take advantage of the moment.

   "Oh, no," he chuckled, his gaze sliding over her like a caress. She shivered. "I most certainly do want to bed you."

   "You know that's not what I meant. How will I be different from any of the thousands of women you've been exposed with in the society rags?"

   "Thousands is exaggerating just a bit, Lily."

   "Not by much." She was finally able to yank her hand from his and stand. She stood in front of him and put her hands on her hips. "
Why
are you marrying me, Simon?"

   Simon leaned forward and grasped her hips, pulling her to stand between his spread knees. She tried to take a step back. "No pulling away," he said, looking into her eyes.

   "
Why
, Simon?" she insisted.

   "Because I want to protect unsuspecting yard

furniture around the world from your wrath. You can simply abuse mine, and the rest of the world will be safe." He pulled her closer, his hands snaking around her thighs to clasp just below her bottom.

   "Oh, you…" she groaned. She'd never wanted to hit anyone so much in her life.

   "All right," he sighed. His hot breath stole right through her dress, he was that close. It touched her belly like a gentle rub. "One: you're ruined. And it's my fault. So, there's a bit of obligation there."

   Lily felt tears choke her and tried to push them back.

   He must have noticed because he said, "Wait," and held up one finger. "That's not all."

   Lily sniffed and swallowed hard.

   "Two: you're Oliver's caretaker, almost a mother to him, and he's going to live with me. So, having you live with me, too, will serve a dual purpose."

   Lily had never heard such a poor excuse for marriage. She clasped his wrists in hers and tried to pry his hands from the back of her thighs. He didn't budge. The man had really strong arms, which infuriated her.

   "Three: there's the fact I
really
want to bed you," he said quietly as he looked up at her again. He trailed slow kisses across her belly, his hands sliding up to grip her bottom through her dress.

   Lily gasped and immediately felt a flip in her belly.
Don't let him distract you, Lily
. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Well, of course you want to sleep with me. You want to sleep with everyone."

   "Not any more. I haven't even thought about another woman since you walked through my door."

Simon knew how dangerous it was to bare his soul to the woman, but he could sense she needed a bit of reassurance. Despite the fact that he truly did want to marry her, he also wanted her to be happy and feel secure in the situation. As safe as she could be with someone of his ilk.

   "You haven't thought about anyone else?" she croaked. He almost had to grin at her discomfiture.

   "How could I when you're right here, taunting me with your charms all day?" He gathered her skirts and put his hands below them, grasping the back of her thighs, pulling her closer to where he still sat on the bench.

   "I don't taunt you."

   "Oh, yes, you do." The woman had no idea how sensual she was. He would just have to show her. "And you don't even intend to do it, which makes me want you even more."

   "Simon, I'm almost twenty-four years old. No one has ever wanted me."

   "I want you," he said, removing one hand from her skirts to clasp her own and bring it to press the front of his trousers. Her fingertips skittered across the fabric, testing the feel of him. He bit back a groan.

   "That's…?" she asked, a question in her voice.

   "That is how much I want you." And much, much more, he thought. "I want to be with you." He punctuated the sentence with a kiss to her belly. "I want to be on top of you." His hand slid beneath the legs of her drawers to knead her bottom. "And I want to be inside you."

   The scent of her arousal caught his nose, and Simon felt like he could devour her in that moment.

   She broke him from his concentration when she shook his shoulder. "Simon," she nudged. "Simon," she whispered vehemently. "Someone is coming."

   "No. That comes later, love."

   "Simon," she nearly shrieked, pushing his arms from beneath her dress. Or trying to. She wasn't very successful. Thank God, she was such a little thing, he thought, or she could win by sheer strength of will.

   "Simon," his mother's voice rang out from the edge of the garden. "I think I told you to stop treating Miss Rutledge like a harlot."