Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

It might as well be on the other side of the Atlantic, for all the good it did them. They'd never make it in time. He shook his head. "It's too dangerous to travel these roads at night, Miss Rutledge. We'll stay in Haslemere."

Will chuckled. "My brother thinks

everything

is too dangerous."

"Be off, you dog," Simon ordered.

Will smiled at Lily. "His bite is much worse than his bark, my dear. Keep that in mind."

"William!" he roared.

Will tipped his hat, then pressed his heels to the side of his gelding, and raced down the road.

Simon was surprised when Lily laughed against his chest, her warm hazel eyes twinkling in the fading light. Having her close, smiling at him, made him wish for things that could never be. A pang of regret pierced his heart, and he urged Abbadon on. "What could you possibly find amusing, Miss Rutledge?"

"The two of you. Emma and I used to bicker like that… Well, not exactly like that, but close enough."

"He's infuriating," Simon huffed.

"You're very close," she said. "It's easy to see you adore each other."

"We're connected," he amended.

Lily rested her head against his heart and closed her eyes, an endearing smile lighting her face. For a moment, Simon thought he could stare at her for hours, for days, and never tire of the sight. Then he snorted and shook his head. When had he become a fool?

Lily's brow furrowed as she opened her eyes and lifted her head. "Are you feeling all right, Your Grace?"

Simon nodded. "I've never felt better," he lied.

Lily's frown deepened. "Are you certain? Your heart is racing, and you're nearly burning up through your shirt."

He and his brothers were warmer than most other men. By the time most women realized it, they were too caught up in the passion of the moment to mention it. No one had commented about the beating of his heart, however. Perhaps it was because

she

was sitting across his lap. Or perhaps it was simply something no one had ever noticed before.

Lily gently cupped his jaw and then pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. "You

are

feverish, Your Grace."

"It's nothing to concern yourself with, Miss Rutledge."

"I can't even believe you can stand up, let alone ride."

Simon heaved a sigh. She was persistent. "You have a terrible habit of not listening to me. I'm neither injured nor ill. Now let it be."

She pursed her lips, and Simon wished he didn't imagine kissing them. Ignoring Lily Rutledge would be easier if her every gesture wasn't innocently seductive. She had no idea the precarious position she'd put herself into with him.

Why hadn't she married some country squire or local vicar or… someone respectable? Her mere existence tempted him to do things he knew he shouldn't. He couldn't be the only man to find her so… intoxicating. Firmly on the shelf, she'd said. It was ridiculous.

Lily Rutledge should be somewhere in Essex raising a brood of children and tending to some decent man's needs. Not draped across

him

in the middle of nowhere, making him want things he couldn't have.

"You are very grumpy," she said quietly. "Are you certain you're not ill?"

Simon ignored her. He didn't need someone worrying about him and trying to coddle him. Besides, answering her hadn't done him any good up to this point. She kept asking the same questions, unsatisfied with his responses, and he could never tell her the truth. But he had to admit he did enjoy her attention, no matter how poorly advised it was.

***

Lily sighed a breath of relief when she spotted Haslemere in the distance. Blackmoor had stopped talking some way back, and her head throbbed. Every time she adjusted her seat, trying to get comfortable, the duke either flinched or grunted. He would tense, and then it took moments for him to relax again.

Her thoughts went back to Oliver. She hadn't planned to be away from Maberley Hall for so long. Hopefully, he was all right. What would he think when Blackmoor's servant arrived to transport him to Hampshire? And why was the duke so adamant about bringing Oliver to his estate?

Lily looked up at Blackmoor to ask him. The question died on her lips, however, when she noticed the intensity of his stare, which was focused on her. She nearly lost her breath.

"We're here," he said, his voice low and gravely.

Lily shook her head, bringing herself back to the present, but the motion caused the throbbing pain to reoccur. Sure enough, they were in front of a quaint inn, two stories tall with a good-sized stable.

Lord William strode toward them, his dark hair windblown and a charming grin on his face. "Ah, there you are. I was starting to think my brother had absconded with you."

Lily smiled. What a ridiculous thing to say. "He's been ignoring me for years, Lord William. I hardly think he wants anything to do with me at all."

"I would beg to differ on that point, Miss Rutledge," Lord William said as he walked closer to the duke's mount.

Blackmoor growled.

His brother clasped his hand to his chest, feigning insult. "Lord William? My dear Miss Rutledge, we are practically family. Call me Will."

Behind her, Blackmoor grumbled something unintelligible.

His brother roared with laughter. "So charming, Simon." He lifted Lily from the horse and placed her on the ground, offering his arm. "Come on, my dear. Dr. Albright will be along shortly. I do hope you'll let me call you Lily."

She didn't have much of a choice, not that she was fussy about that sort of thing. She nodded. "Of course."

"Brilliant," Will gushed, escorting her into the taproom, which was much brighter than the frightening establishment they'd been to earlier.

A bosomy barmaid rushed to Lily. "Oh, you poor dear, his lordship said you'd been injured."

"Indeed," Will said with a frown. "Do you have Her Grace's room prepared, Molly?"

Her Grace!

Lily took a surprised step back. A strong hand

squeezed her shoulder, and Lily turned her head to see Blackmoor behind her, a deadly frown on his face. "I would like for my wife to lie down until your doctor arrives."

Lily's head began to pound, and she thought she might faint. Apparently Blackmoor did, too. Before she knew it, the duke had scooped her up in his arms. What was it with these men who felt the need to lift and carry her from place to place?

"Right this way, Your Grace," the bosomy girl said in a panic.

Blackmoor carried Lily up a flight of stairs at the back of the taproom, depositing her in the middle of a small bed. He waited until the tavern wench shut the door before sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

Lily gaped at him. "What was that about?"

The duke shook his head. "I do wish Will had warned us, but he is right. It wouldn't do for someone to know that an unmarried lady traveled with the two of us. This is for your own good."

"My reputation?" Lily closed her eyes, wishing the pounding in her head would subside. There were so many more important things to worry about. Like the fact that he was sitting on the end of her bed, with the door closed.

"Yes, your reputation."

Either she was slightly addled from the knock on the head or he thought she was an idiot. She wasn't sure which.

"Surely you can do more than just repeat what I say," she said as he fluffed a pillow and placed it under her head, urging her to lie down. She batted his hands away.

Blackmoor scowled at her. "If it was found that you traveled unescorted with us by coach, tongues would wag and you would have to marry one of us."

"Twenty-three years and no one has ever offered for me, so it might be quite a novel experience. One I would have to turn down, of course."

She had to admit he looked quite dashing with his hair tumbled over his forehead. But the vee between his eyebrows was slightly unattractive.