A Certain Wolfish Charm (22 page)

   "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 stoked 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.

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?"

   "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 writin
g 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 he 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.

"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.