Simon's Brides (24 page)

He touched her fingers, slid his hand over hers and eased her toward him.

“You came,” he sat up and steered her into his arms. He placed his mouth against the curve of her neck and licked the flesh below her ear.

Simon smiled at her sigh. He swung an arm around her waist and another under her legs and lifted her into the bed next to him. He placed his lips against hers and thanked the Lord. She was here. She had come to him.

Never taking his mouth from hers, he slipped his hand into the front of her chemise, seeking the full breast he remembered so well. He brushed his fingers over the nipple, feeling it pebble beneath his attentions.

He fumbled with the ribbons and slipped the garment from her shoulders. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, the soft skin just behind her ears as he reached for the garment’s hem. Tonight he wanted to see all of her, from her head to her toes.

Before he had the garment stripped from her body, a loud knocking stopped his actions. He groaned.

“Bloody hell,” he swore.

Amy must have heard the knocking as well for she jerked away from him.

“Oh, no,” she whimpered.

“What’s going on here?” Simon demanded reaching for her.

“Dora,” she murmured and pushed him away.

Simon stared at his wife. She’d backed to the end of the bed, now sat on her legs, and her expression, even in this dim light, indicated horror. Even in his aroused state he knew that passion was not why she had come to his room.

“What is it? What about Dora?”

“Dora’s missing. I came to wake you,” she whispered.

Her voice shook and Simon wondered if she expressed fear or shame or a bit of both.

Bloody hell! Now what was he to do?

He threw off the covers and stood. He heard the gasp from behind him and fought a grin. Amy had gotten her first real look at her new husband naked as the day he was born and in all his aroused glory.

Well, he couldn’t worry about that now. He grabbed for his trousers and buttoned them with fingers that didn’t want to cooperate. He tossed a shirt over his shoulders.

“All right, now tell me what this is all about.”

Amy bounced off the bed, fumbling with the ribbons of her chemise and moved away from him.

“You’ll need to ask my sisters.”

Without another word Simon started for the door. He turned once, before he reach for the knob.

“Where are they?”

Amy appeared to swallow before she answered, “In the hall, waiting for us.”

Simon swore.

“Bloody hell! You mean they went to your room?”

“I--ah--I heard them outside my door, trying to decide who would wake--ah--they thought...” she didn’t finish.

Simon groaned once more. Now the whole household would know Amy slept alone, and in her own room. And, where was Dora?

She hadn’t left the house, had she? He’d made it clear that until he had Harold in his grasp none of the women could leave the house or garden without protection.

He glared back at the exasperating woman.

“We need to find out what is going on. Come on.”

He threw open the door and stomped into the hall.
Well, bloody hell.
Aunt Agatha stood in the hall across from his room, her eyes wide with concern.

“What is going on here?” she started toward Simon.

“It seems we have another missing sister,” Simon said through gritted teeth. Was it possible that Agatha had only now come from her own bedchamber? That she didn’t know he’d gone to a lonely bed on his wedding night?

He felt no need to enlighten her if she hadn’t yet gleaned the facts. He did have
some
pride.

“Another sister missing?” Aunt Agatha squeaked. “Simon, this is too much. Who is it now?”

“Dora.”

“Well, I never...”

Simon finished buttoning the shirt he had slipped over his shoulders.

“I’m getting a little tired of this myself,” he said, just as Amy, now wearing her robe, appeared behind him.

“Oh, Amelia, dear, I’m so sorry to ah--ah--that is to say...”

Simon almost laughed. Agatha was speechless for the first time since she had arrived at the estate.

“Caro,” Simon demanded of the woman standing behind Agatha, “tell me what you know.”

“Well, actually, Ellie should explain, since she discovered Dora missing.”

Ellie stepped forward. Simon nodded encouragement and she told her tale, leaving out the part about where they found Amy. Agatha, having regained her voice, tsked through Ellie’s comments. Simon wanted to tell her to keep her noises to herself, but the other women never seemed to mind so he said nothing.

When Ellie finished Simon grunted, “Amy, alert the servants. I’ll get some men. But first I need to finish dressing.”

He glanced at the hall clock as it chimed the hour of three.

“Aunt, you and the women might want to order some coffee and something to eat. I have a feeling we’ll be at this for some time.”

He spun on his heel and disappeared into his room.

Amy sighed with relief. She should never have come to his room. Once again, he had turned her into a mindless wanton. She’d forgotten all about her sisters standing in the hall waiting for them. She had even forgotten to tell him about Dora. She mewled against the pain. How could she have lost her reason after his kisses? Why couldn’t she remember why she had come to his room in the first place? What kind of a sister was she, that in the heat of his caresses, her mind blanked out all thought?

She had to learn to stay out of his reach. She had to stay away from him, even though just his look could turn her blood to a hot liquid, that a glance created a desire that insisted on being satisfied, no matter what her intellect told her would happen if she gave in. She would have to remind herself to stay away from him, until the thought was cemented in her mind, so much so that she would never forget.

The bedroom door opened and he rushed past. She shook her head and recalled his directions.

“Caro, wake the servants. Beth, take Aunt Agatha to the parlor. Ellie, see to Cook and tell her to prepare some food. And, be your most charming, because she hates to begin her day this early.”

Amy rushed back into Simon’s room and donned a simple gray day dress, then hurried to the lower level of the house. Soon the household was alert. Candles and lanterns blazed from many of the windows.

Amy joined the other in the parlor as Simon entered.

“I’ve sent for the Foleys--again. All of you stay here. And, listen to me.
Do not
venture outside until we figure out what is going on.” He glanced at Amy, nodded, then gazed at the other women.

“You might want to dress. This may take some time. At the moment, there is no sign of Dora. We have no idea when she left the estate, or if someone took her.”

Amy groaned and glanced at the group. Only she and Caro had avoided being kidnapped and of course, Caro had been hurt when her horse threw her.
So, this must be more of Harold’s work.
She put her thoughts into words.

“Harold must be the one responsible. Don’t you agree?”

She directed her question toward Simon.

He nodded but said nothing as he left the group. Agatha stirred and started for the hall. “Girls,” she ordered, her voice a bit strained, “We’d best dress. No telling how long it will take before they find her. And, let this be a lesson to all of you. You must not leave this house, not for any reason. Do you understand?”

Amy stared at Simon’s aunt. She sounded upset and concerned. Had Agatha grown fond of them in the short time she had been at Kirkley Manor? Amy bit her lip. If the truth be known, Amy had grown fond of Simon’s aunt. And, Simon had come to mean a great deal to her as well. What would she do if he was injured by Harold or one of his minions?

She shivered and Agatha must have seen. She stepped closer to Amy and whispered, “Don’t worry, dear. Simon will find her.”

“I’m also concerned for Simon,” she muttered. “What if something happens to him?”

Agatha smiled. “He’s a good-sized man, Amelia. He’ll look out for himself. Nothing will happen, you’ll see. Besides, he has those ruffians of his with him. They won’t let anything happen to him.”

Amy glanced away as a tremor raced down her spine. How could Agatha be so certain? The sailors had no idea who or what awaited them as they began their search. Why, Harold could have hired a group of cutthroats and given them instructions to murder anyone they saw leaving the house.

She fought the panic that threatened to break from her. She motioned to Caro who was about to leave the room.

“Why don’t you stay with me until the others return?”

“Amy,” Caro whispered, “Everything will be all right. After all, Simon found Beth and he would have found Ellie, if she hadn’t escaped herself. Dora has plenty of mettle. Harold won’t be able to hurt her.”

“But, what about Simon?” the words slipped passed her lips before she could stop them.

“He is not searching alone. He has his sailors with him. He’s sent for the Foleys. The other men from the village will join him as soon as they know Dora is missing. He’ll manage. But, I’ll stay here with you until the others return.”

“Thank you,” Amy mumbled, and started to pace.

Caro grinned at her and Amy snapped, “This is no time for humor.”

“Look at yourself,” Caro said and then chuckled. “You are pacing in the exact same manner as your husband, with your hands clasped behind your back.”

Amy jerked her hands to her sides and grimaced. “I guess it’s catching.”

When the others returned Caro went to dress. Cook arrived with chocolate and tea and some biscuits from the day before. She looked discomfited and Amy realized she was also upset. All of the servants were as troubled about the kidnapping as she and her sisters.

“I’ll send word as soon as we hear a thing.”

Cook murmured her thanks, and wiped her eyes on her large spotless apron before she left the room.

Caro returned dressed in a day gown of sprigged muslin. The soft colors did nothing to improve Amy’s spirits. In silence they consumed the chocolate, while Agatha fixed a cup of tea. No one, not even Agatha, had a word to offer to break the building tension.

Amy stood and strayed to one of the windows facing the eastern part of the garden. Dawn was nothing more than a hint of peach against the horizon. Minutes passed and she watched as a watery sun tried to shine through an oppressive overcast.

As Amy continued to study the sky, a soft drizzle began to fall. The heavens were weeping for them, she decided, then winced at the poetry of her thoughts. She turned away from the window as someone knocked on the door.

“Yes, Caleb,” she addressed the youngest Foley standing at attention in the entryway.

“Lord Kirkley told me to tell ya, we ain’t heard nothing yet. He wants some victuals fer the men and he’ll be in to eat himself, in about an hour.”