Jacquie D’Alessandro - Touch Me

Simon nodded gravely. “Excellent. England needs good sailors. And what is your name?”

“Benjamin Paxton, sir.” The boy thrust out his none-too-clean hand.

Simon shook it. “Simon Cooper. And my friend, Mrs. Ralston, who helped me pick out Beauty.”

Benjamin nodded at Mrs. Ralston. “A fine job you did. Got her from the blacksmith’s litter, did you? I saw he was selling pups.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Ralston said. “Are you going to buy one?”

The boy scuffed the toe of his boot on the ground and shook his head. “We can’t have a dog. They make my little sister sneeze and cough something awful.” He ran his fingers over Beauty’s fur. “Dogs don’t make me cough and sneeze, though.”

“Perhaps not,” Simon said, “but it is a brother’s duty to look after and protect his sister. I’d wager you’re a very fine one.”

Benjamin drew himself up then nodded. “Yes, sir. Rufus Templeton said mean things to Annabelle and I bloodied his nose for him.”

“Good man. I’ve bloodied a few noses myself to defend my younger sister.”

“It’s what we men must do,” Benjamin said gravely.

Just then Beauty awoke, and, as predicted, immediately looked for something to lick. Benjamin’s fingers provided fertile ground.

“Would you like to hold her?” Simon asked.

Benjamin’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, sir.”

Simon transferred the squirming bundle to the boy who dissolved into giggles when Beauty’s busy tongue laved his chin. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle and when he glanced at Mrs. Ralston, he noted her broad smile.

“She’s certainly energetic,” Benjamin managed to say between bouts of laughter.

“Yes. I think she needs a good run and I’m rather tired. Are you up for the task?”

“Yes, sir.” Benjamin carefully set Beauty on the ground and fisted his hand around her lead. “I’ll be very careful with her.”

“I’m sure you will be.” Simon pointed to the large clock mounted to the church tower on the opposite side of the square. “Why don’t you bring her back here in about a quarter hour’s time?”

“I’ll do that, Mr. Cooper, and thank you, sir!” Benjamin trotted off, an eager Beauty prancing at his heels.

“I stand corrected,” Mrs. Ralston said.

Simon turned and found her looking at him through amused eyes. “Regarding what?”

“I’d said I’d never seen anyone fall in love quite so quickly as you did with Beauty…and then little Benjamin came along and proved me wrong.” Her low, husky laugh made Simon wonder if she’d make that same delightful sound in bed. “Asking that boy if he wanted to hold her was rather like me asking Sophia if she’d care for a rasher of fish.”

“I take it Sophia likes fish?”

“It’s merely her most favorite thing in the world.”

Simon shook his head. “I’d wager you are her favorite thing in the world.”

“Only because I am the one responsible for providing her with fish. As far as Sophia is concerned, the cottage belongs to her. I may remain as her guest only so long as I cater to her every need.”

“I see. And if you don’t?”

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “I fear I’d be cast aside with nary a thought.”

“I disagree.” Before he could stop himself, Simon gave in to temptation and propped his elbow on the back of the bench, allowing his fingertips to lightly graze her shoulder. Heat sizzled up his arm, a ridiculous reaction to such a whisper of a touch-to her clothing , no less. “It would be impossible to cast you aside.”

She froze and Simon stilled as well at the unmistakable pain that flashed in her eyes. Clearly someone had cast this woman aside, someone she’d cared for deeply, and Simon’s guess was Ridgemoor. Earlier, he’d wondered if, in spite of the information he’d gleaned that Ridgemoor had ended their affair, if perhaps their arrangement had ended at Mrs. Ralston’s behest. But based on that look in her eyes, he doubted it. And he once again questioned how Ridgemoor could have tired of such an exquisite, intelligent, witty woman. Perhaps like many men, the earl had decided he preferred a woman who didn’t present any intellectual challenge. Or perhaps Ridgemoor had suspected his paramour had secrets? Had those secrets cost the man his life?

“I’ve learned that nothing is impossible, Mr. Cooper,” she murmured.

“Please, call me Simon. All my friends do.”

She shifted, moving so his fingers no longer touched her, and lifted her chin. For the first time he noticed the tiny flecks of gold in her blue irises. Her eyes reminded him of a sun-dappled sea. And bloody hell if he didn’t feel as if he were drowning.

“You consider us friends?” she asked.

“I’d like to. Certainly I consider you a friend to me. After all, you helped me choose my dog.”

“You and Beauty chose each other without any assistance from me.”

“Yet I wouldn’t have known where to find her if not for you. Besides, you are the only person I know in Little Longstone.” He dropped his chin and sent her an exaggerated woebegone look.

A whiff of amusement ghosted over her features. “Heavens, that is the saddest face I’ve ever seen. Do you practice that look in front of your mirror?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Is it working?”

“Not a bit. I’m made of much sterner stuff than to fall victim to-”

“The saddest face you’ve ever seen?” he broke in, attempting to make his expression sadder still.

“Correct. And I’m not the only person you know in Little Longstone. You know Baxter.”

“Yes. And if glares were knives, I’d have bled to death in your foyer yesterday, long before ever meeting you.”

“And you know Benjamin.”

“True.” He arched a brow at her. “And I’m guessing that if I invited him to call me Simon, he’d accept-and ask me to call him by his given name.”

She arched a brow right back at him. “I’m guessing that as Beauty’s owner, you could have invited that child to call you Penelope and he would have obliged you.”

Simon couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re no doubt correct. And he would have taken great joy in teasing me about it. He had a bit of mischief in his eye, that lad did. Reminds me of my nephew, Harry.”

“How old is Harry?”

“Eight, although there are times I would swear he’s eight and twenty.”

“You mentioned a younger sister-is Harry her child?”

“Yes. Marjorie-my sister-also has a daughter. Lily is three, and if I may say so, the most beautiful child in the entire kingdom. When the time comes, her father is going to need a dozen brooms to sweep the suitors off his porch.”

“Of course, you’re not the least bit biased.”

“Not the least bit,” Simon agreed with a smile, his body relaxing a bit now that the conversation wasn’t so steeped in sexual innuendo and he was no longer touching her.

“Do you have siblings other than Marjorie?”

“A younger brother. Robert’s wife is expecting their first child this winter.”

“You sound…wistful?”

Did he? Yes, he supposed he did. Robert and Beatrice had married ten months ago and were very much in love, a fact which pleased Simon for his brother’s sake, but one that had left him examining his own life-and discovering that in spite of all his good fortune, his work for the Crown, he still felt unfulfilled. Which perhaps explained the discontent he’d been unable to shake the last few months.

“Perhaps a bit wistful,” he conceded. “Both my siblings are very happy in their respective marriages. It sometimes makes me, well, envious, even while I’m delighted for them.”

“Then perhaps you should marry.”