Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

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."

Twenty-Two

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.

"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.