Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

She strode purposefully down the hall and around the corner to her nephew's room. She knocked lightly and then pushed the door open. "Oliver," she began.

"Aunt Lily!" When Oliver leapt off the bed, a book thudded to the floor at his feet.

"What's that?" she asked, stepping forward.

Looking more guilty than she'd ever seen him, Oliver shrugged. "Just one of my father's books. I found it in the library."

Lily shook her head. Oliver wouldn't feel guilty over a book. He was far from studious. She must have misinterpreted the expression. If he wanted to study some of Daniel's old books, she'd gladly welcome the activity. "I suppose it's too much to hope that it's Latin."

Oliver nodded his head vigorously. "There is some Latin text, Aunt Lily."

Now she didn't believe him at all. But old tomes belonging to the late Earl of Maberley were not her highest concern at the moment. "Oliver, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he answered, dropping back to his spot on the bed and kicking the book under the counterpane.

Lily took a spot beside him. "Why did you run off?"

***

Oliver hated to lie to his aunt, but the duke had made the rules very clear. Blackmoor had told Oliver what to say, and he hoped he'd be able to carry it off.

"I was jealous," he repeated his contrived response.

"Jealous?" Aunt Lily echoed, a crease marring her brow.

He nodded while guilt consumed him. "Well, when I arrived at Westfield Hall, Blackmoor seemed to demand all of your attention. And you seemed taken by him."

"Oliver York," she said quietly, "you have always been my life."

He shrugged. "Not anymore. I'll be going off to school, and you have the duke, and…"

Aunt Lily kissed his cheek, just like she always did when she was trying to soothe him. Oliver swallowed his guilt about deceiving her. He did want her to be happy. She deserved all the happiness in the world. Knowing what he was, what the duke was, wouldn't bring that to her. So he squeezed her hand and continued his ruse.

"I am sorry, Aunt Lily. I shouldn't have run off. I suppose I thought you'd be so consumed in your new life, you wouldn't miss me."

"Oh, Oliver!" she said, brushing tears from her cheek. "I was so worried about you. How could you think that? When you go off to Harrow, I will miss you more than you will ever know."

He hugged her then. Fiercely. "I love you, Aunt Lily."

Thirty-Five

Lily was a tad bit disgruntled the next morning when Simon shook her awake. "Time to get up, love," he said briskly. "I thought we could travel to Harrow today and give Oliver a tour of the school. I'd like to show the boy my old stomping grounds."

"When did you come to bed?" she asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"It was late." He simply shrugged. "I don't remember the time. I did like finding you in my bed, though," he said and winked at her.

After dinner, Simon had mentioned that he wanted to look through the steward's reports to be sure Maberley Hall was being cared for properly. Of course, he received quarterly statements, but he wanted to tour the grounds himself and see if any issues might need his assistance. When he'd taken Oliver with him, Lily certainly hadn't been able to complain, since he was finally spending time with the boy.

He'd kissed her quickly before he walked out the door with Oliver and said, "Back soon."

She'd watched as the sky grew darker and darker. Then she finally put on her nightrail and went to Simon's room to wait for him.

"What kept you out so late?"

"I wanted to show Oliver some of the places Daniel and I used to go. That's all." He turned away from her.

Lily was quickly learning that Simon tended to turn away from her when he wanted to avoid directly answering her questions. She slowly sat up and regarded his profile as he looked down at the lawns below.

She had two options. She could travel to Harrow with the two of them and try to figure out what was going on. Or she could let them go on without her, and she could return to Westfield Hall alone. Feeling slightly uncharitable, Lily was leaning toward the second option.

If Simon couldn't be honest with her, if he couldn't tell her what was in his heart, if he couldn't even be bothered to wake her when he returned in the middle of the night, she wasn't certain she wanted to spend a day with him.

"Well," she began carefully, "I think the two of you will enjoy your time together tremendously. I can't wait to hear all about it."

He spun on his heels to face her. "Why do you make it sound as if we're going without you?"

Lily swung her legs off the bed and slowly started toward the door that connected her chamber to his. "I don't really see why I'm needed for the excursion, Simon. The two of you will get along fine without me."

His grey eyes darkened, and a chill raced down her spine. However, she wouldn't let him know that, and she continued toward the connecting door.

"I want you with me," he growled.

Lily shrugged, hoping he couldn't tell how he affected her. "One certainly wouldn't know it."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Simon asked, stalking toward her.

She took a calming breath and raised herself to her full height, refusing to be cowed. "Exactly what I said. Ever since we arrived in Essex, you have found one excuse or another to abandon me. It will be much easier for you two to carry on without me being in your way."

"Lily." He frowned, planting himself in front of the connecting door.

"You can tell me all about Harrow when you return to Westfield Hall."

He folded his strong arms across his chest. "I don't find pouting to be an attractive trait."

Lily plastered a fraudulent smile across her face. "Indeed?

I

find boorish behavior to be particularly distasteful, myself. You are in my way, Simon."

"Have I behaved boorishly?"

"In more ways than I can count. Now, please remove yourself from my path."

"Lily."

"You and Oliver really should get a start on the day. Do excuse me." She tried to brush behind him and escape into her own chamber, but she found him more immobile than an elephant with a mule's disposition.

He grasped her waist and pulled her flush against him. The intensity of his stare left her nearly breathless, which was infuriating. After putting up with his ill treatment the previous day, she didn't want her pulse to race when he held her. She didn't want to notice how lovely and strong his lips were. She didn't want to feel his muscles and sinew through the thin material of her nightrail.

"You are my wife, Lily." His dark voice warmed her and settled in her belly. "And you won't escape me."

"Ha!" she shot back, hoping to regain her composure. "You're the one who has been escaping me, Simon Westfield. Now unhand me."

"I've not been escaping you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "As soon as we arrived, you took off. Then yesterday you made it seem as if you wanted my attention while you bathed, but then you pushed me away. You kept yourself apart from me the remainder of the day, except for dinner, as I'm certain you couldn't find a plausible reason to avoid me, and then…" She poked his chest with her finger. "Then you stayed away all night and didn't even wake me when you returned."

Simon frowned. "I'm not accustomed to having to answer to anyone, Lily."

"I'm not just anyone, Simon. I am your wife, which I suspect you are now regretting."

"I told you my lifestyle wasn't conducive to marriage. You're going to have to be patient with me."

Lily didn't feel like being patient. She wanted answers—and sooner rather than later. "What are you hiding from me, Simon?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, Lily. Whether you believe me or not. I don't know how to convince you."