The Desires of a Countess (25 page)

“And you hated me for it.” Reaching out, he ran his
hand along her cheek.

She smiled as she just resisted the urge to lean
into his touch. “No. I lo-”

With a gasp, she stopped. What was she doing, nearly
admitting she loved him? Even Simon’s eyes grew wide with amazement
at the sentence she’d begun.

Taking a step back, she said, “All I’m saying is
that you aren’t like your father. You don’t have to keep chasing
him.”

Though his stare still burned into her, Simon shook
his head. “Actually, I don’t chase him anymore.”

She wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean? You still
go out on your ship.”

“Part of that is love of the adventure and my
responsibility to my company.” His voice grew tired. “But it isn’t
to chase my father anymore. Because my father is dead.”

***

“Your father is-dead?”

Simon didn’t blame her for her shock. The fact that
his father was dead still surprised him sometimes, too. In fact,
when he thought of the old man, it always made him lurch. Just as
he had at the beginning of this conversation with her.

“Yes, he died early last year.”

She took a step toward him and reached her hand up
to rest her palm on his cheek. He leaned into the warmth.

“Oh, Simon,” she whispered as she shook her head.
“What in the world happened?”

With a sigh, he reached up to remove her hand. But
instead of pushing it aside, he tangled his fingers with hers.
Looking down, he examined their intertwined hands. His, rough from
work and weather. Hers, soft as satin and pale. But perfectly
matched nonetheless.

“You told me about Henry’s abuse,” he said as he
took a step away to lean against the terrace wall. “Even though I
know it was difficult to trust me with that painful truth.”

“Yes, it was.” He heard her slip up behind him and
turned to face her. She smiled softly. “I understand if you don’t
want to share this with me.”

“No.” He shook his head. He cleared his throat and
found that with her, the words somehow came. “Last year I came upon
an island in the West Indies. I’d heard my father might have gone
there, so I took a shipment of supplies to a colony near there in
order to seek him out.”

He shook his head. “Oh, I told myself at the time
that I was only going to further my business, but in my heart I
knew the truth. I was going to see if he really existed.”

Ginny stared at him evenly. “What did you plan to do
when you met him?”

He laughed, an empty, hollow sound. “That’s just it.
I had no idea. But it didn’t matter anyway. I asked my questions
and showed the miniature my mother had given me years ago, just as
I had a dozen times before. But this time was different from all
the others. Some of the natives actually recognized him and pointed
me to a small village outside of the main port town.” He paused as
he briefly relived the joy that moment had brought him. Hopes he’d
believed to be long dead had awoken in him, only to be dashed.
“When I reached the place, I found out they were right. The man
they spoke of was Edward Webber, my father. But he was on his
deathbed.”

She winced, but didn’t interrupt. He drew in a long
breath as the memories flooded back. He could see his father’s
gaunt face and wasted body lying before him. The emptiness in his
eyes, the man who was just a shadow of the father he’d
remembered.

“Did you tell him who you were?” Ginny’s soft voice
brought him back to the present.

He nodded. “Yes. But he didn’t know me.” His mouth
turned down even farther. “Even when I said my name.”

At that, Ginny made a soft sob in the back of her
throat. In a few long steps, she closed the distance between them.
Without warning, she took him in her arms and held him tightly. She
smoothed her hands through his hair. He was shocked at how
comforting her embrace was.

Before he’d always felt lust when she was near, and
while his body still acknowledged the way she pressed against him,
this time what was more prevalent was a comfort he hadn’t known
existed. Like he belonged with her, or that perhaps, with time, she
could take away that long-nurtured pain.

“Simon, that must have broken your heart,” she
whispered as she drew back a fraction to look up into his face.

He was shocked to find tears streamed down her
cheeks. Here was a woman who refused to cry for her own pain, and
yet a tale about his made her weep. He brushed away a few of her
tears.

“It broke my heart when he left us. I was surprised
how little it hurt when he didn’t know me.”

She sniffed and pulled herself back together, though
she didn’t release him right away. “What did you do?”

He extracted himself from her embrace to pace the
terrace.

“I spoke to the woman he lived with. His ‘wife’, a
native woman. From what I could understand, he’d come to the island
ten years before and they’d been together ever since. They had
three children. My half brothers and sisters.”

She shut her eyes with a quiet gasp. “Oh.”

“I was angry he’d stayed with her
when he wouldn’t stay with my mother and I,” he admitted as he
clenched and unclenched his fist. “But the woman told me that
wasn’t true. My father had been feeling his wanderlust again, but
had fallen ill and wasn’t
able
desert his new family, no matter how willing he
was.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Before I left, he
died.”

He could see her ponder what he’d said and she
seemed to live the emotions he couldn’t bear to feel himself. He
saw the anger on her face, as well as the pain and the betrayal.
They were emotions he’d cut himself off from, but seeing her go
through them reminded him of his right to experience them.

“It must have pained you to see his other family,”
she whispered.

“I’ve sent them money to help them, but for all I
know he started even more families during the years between the
time he left my mother and the time he came to the island.” He
shrugged.

Her blue eyes widened with sudden,
shocked understanding. “Is
that
why you go out? To look for a family you don’t
even know exists? To make up for the failures your father
perpetrated?”

He frowned. He hadn’t ever shared this much with
anyone before, and especially not someone who seemed to read his
motives better than he did himself. “I go out to prove I’ll come
back. I go further each time, waiting for the moment when I won’t
want to return.” He nearly choked on his emotion. “Waiting for the
moment when I’ll transform into him.”

She shook her head. “Simon, if that hasn’t happened
in all this time, I don’t think it ever will. Tell me, did you
father ever come back to England after he left. Even once?”

“Not once.”

A smile was her answer. “Then you’ve already proven
you aren’t like him, for you’ve returned many times and done so
much for your family, even the Blanchards, when it’s obvious you
hold little more regard for them than I do.”

“Except for my mother,” he corrected with a
smile.

She laughed. “Well, we both hold
your mother in high regard.” Her smile faded. “What does
she
think of all of
this?”

He shook his head. “I never told her. I didn’t want
her to experience any more pain than my father already caused.”

“Simon!” Her shock was evident on her face. “I can
understand not telling her about the other family, but you haven’t
even told her that her husband is dead? Don’t you think she has a
right to know? Perhaps if she did, she could move forward in her
life and then some of this responsibility you feel would release
its strangle hold.”

His head ached from everything she’d said. There was
truth in it, all of it. Perhaps he should tell his mother after
all. And perhaps he didn’t have to keep chasing a ghost. Especially
if he had something to come home to at night.

Something like Ginny.

She touched his hand and his skin tingled from her
fingertips to every nerve ending in his body.

“If this story shows anything, it proves what I told
you in Westdale. Your father didn’t leave because of something you
did or lacked. He left because he was selfish. Death was the only
thing that could keep him anchored. And as much as you’ve taken
control of your life, you are not as strong as death. Stop
torturing yourself. Make a home if you’d like.” Her eyes darkened.
“Or choose the sea, but do it for the love and not to prove a
point.”

With a sigh, Simon tugged her against his chest.
Nothing had ever drawn him like this woman did. Not his ship. Not
the sea. Not even his quest to find his father.

Dipping his head, he caught her mouth for a long
kiss. But as the kiss deepened, the words they’d spoken melted away
to be considered later. All that remained was the desire he felt
for her, and the need to take the comfort he knew he’d find in her
arms.

When she responded to his touch by kissing him back
with fervor, he whispered, “Meet me upstairs.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away from his
lips as he drew them along the graceful curve of her neck.
“Now?”

He pulled back to look at her. “Yes.”

“Someone will see,” she protested, even as her hands
slipped under his coat and slid along his chest.

He shut his eyes with a quiet groan. “We’ll go
separately as to not draw attention. Lady Hornsbey has many extra
rooms where we could find privacy for a little while. Please.” He
looked her in the eyes and bared his soul to her one last time. “I
need you.”

She blinked as sudden, strong emotion flashed on her
face. “Yes.”

With a grin, he kissed her, then backed toward the
terrace door. “Meet me in the West Wing hallway in a quarter of an
hour.”

She nodded as he turned and reentered the ballroom.
There was a spring in his step he hadn’t felt for years. Could
Virginia Blanchard have freed him from a prison he’d built around
himself since he was nine? Maybe not in one short night, but he
felt as if she’d offered him the key to his release, and all he had
to do was grab it.

Chapter Nineteen

One more time.

What harm could come from one more time in Simon’s
arms? Especially if he needed her, and judging from the painful
story he’d told her outside, he did. If she were honest with
herself, she needed him just as much. Tomorrow she could find a way
to put him aside. She would ask for Harriet’s help… again.

Harriet. Where was she anyway? Even though the
carriage taking Harriet and Adam had left for the ball before
theirs, she hadn’t seen either of them all night.

“Ginny!”

She turned at the sound of her name coming across
the crowd to see her brother and his wife waving at her. With a
smile, she headed over to them. Marion looked beautiful in a spring
green gown with a satin bodice and Noah looked dashing as ever in
his evening garb. Ginny had to admit she’d never seen a more suited
pair, or one more in love. The newlyweds could hardly keep from
staring at each other and they never stopped touching, even if it
was just the simple act of holding hands. Ginny was happy for them,
but something about it also stirred the tiniest flash of jealousy
deep inside her.

“Have either of you seen my friend Harriet Percy?”
she asked over the din of the teeming ballroom.

Marion shook her dark head as Noah used his superior
height to peer over the crowd. “I’m sorry, Ginny, we haven’t seen
her all night.

“That’s odd. I expected her to come find me when we
arrived.”

She glanced around once more and just caught sight
of Simon disappearing up the long staircase to the west wing. Her
throat constricted. In just a moment, she would follow and within
the hour she’d be basking in the warmth of his touch. She shivered
with the thought.

“Are you all right?” Noah asked with a touch of her
arm that brought her back to reality. “You are a little
flushed.”

She felt hot, but not for the reasons her brother
thought.

“I’m fine. It’s just so crowded here. Very different
from that breath of fresh air on the terrace.”

“The crowd is probably why you can’t find your
friend,” Marion said. “I swear, I never see half my acquaintances
at events like these. Too many people to tell who you’re near.”

“I’m sure she made it fine,” Ginny agreed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the
staircase, but Simon was gone. A giddiness filled her. Now it was
her turn. She only hoped she’d find him with no trouble.

“Well, if you two will excuse me, I should see if I
can find her. I’d like to speak to her.”

With a quick nod for her brother and his wife, she
moved off through the crowd. But if felt more like floating as she
weaved her way around men and women. She hardly heard the buzz of
conversation that nearly drowned out the music. All she was focused
on was Simon. She could almost feel his mouth on hers already.
Almost taste his skin and feel his hands skimming down her
body.

“Virginia.”

She froze and the delicious thoughts of making love
to Simon fled her mind. Turning slowly, she faced her
mother-in-law. She nearly jumped when she saw Cordelia had her two
daughters in tow. Felice and Rowena had their mother’s looks,
though their cruel green eyes often put Ginny to mind of their late
brother. Felice was the prettier of the two, neither one had
especially nice faces. But it was their attitudes that had kept
them from finding husbands in the four Seasons one or both of them
had been out in Society.

But then, none of them had snubbed her. Ginny was a
bit surprised, but apparently Simon’s threat had hit home. The
expressions on their faces didn’t exactly say familial love, but
they were somewhat accepting.