Lady Northam's Wicked Surrender (3 page)

This was not exactly how he had intended to make up with Rowena. While it was far better than any reunion he might have planned, he’d wanted to take things easy, flirt with her, make her smile. See if there was any lingering affection between them.

Though she had once chosen Paul, he still hoped she might come to love him again. After three years of widowhood, perhaps she was in a place where she could let another man into her life. Paul’s death had been a surprise to everyone and it could not have been easy for Rowena.

He looked down at her sleepy face. “I will see you in the morning, my love.” He squeezed her hand, then went to the door, listening for a moment and when he heard no more footfalls, he exited the room with a soft sigh. Good Lord, forgive him for taking such advantage of her in the middle of the night. He’d been helpless to her arousal, but it was a thin excuse.

Simon returned to his room. He would have to find a way to redeem himself. Because it was more than the Waverly title that had brought him here to England. For three years, Simon had debated on whether to come back.

When he’d inquired after Rowena two months ago, Alice had hinted that maybe she was finally ready to see him again. And considering everything else going on with his family, he could no longer make up an excuse not to return.

Finding Rowena here in the room next to his seemed like more than coincidence. Fate had turned in his favor and he would use it to his every advantage.

****

Rowena hesitantly made her way down to breakfast. She’d managed to arrive without encountering anyone in the hall. Though earlier she could swear she’d heard Simon humming in a nearby room. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. She had, after all, spent the entire night dreaming erotic fantasies about him.

A hot red crept up her cheeks now as she walked in and spotted Simon by the window. She froze. When had he gotten here? She didn’t remember hearing him arrive. Could last night have been real? Had Simon entered her room last night and attempted to make love to her?

The temptation to walk out of the room overwhelmed her. She did not want to see him. Fortunately, his back was turned. Did he know she was here? And, if he
had
been in her room last night, what must he think of her now? Seeing him in the light of day made her heart beat a jarring rhythm. He was here, in the same house, just a few feet away from her.

She didn’t know what to do. It was very possible that the heated kisses they’d shared were real. Which meant he had held her in the night, when she’d dazedly woken from her dream and thought she’d gone from one sensual illusion into another. It had been Simon, not her imagination, that had spread her legs open and caressed her in the most intimate place. It was Simon that had held her close and kissed her so deeply her very fingers trembled from it. She had to know for sure. How much was real and how much was fantasy?

 Lord Rutherford had indeed returned. Her worst fear, her deepest dream, was now her reality. And she had no idea what to do.

Should she pretend nothing had happened? If it was a dream, no one ever had to know. But, if it was real, she’d nearly let him ravish her last night. What were his intentions? It did not speak well of him to awaken a lady in the middle of the night and take liberties that should be reserved for a husband.

Agitated, Rowena squeezed and rubbed her fingers with her other hand. She stood there, unmoving, not sure whether to run or whether to pull Simon aside and reprimand him.

“Good morning,” Alice called to her.

She straightened her back and opted for cordial formality. She would be damned if she would let him think she was affected. “Good morning, Alice,” Rowena responded, her awareness still on the imposing man at the window. Though the room was large, he filled the space easily, commanding it with his very presence the way he commanded everything. Was it any wonder that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, even in her dreams?

Alice looked from her to Simon and back again. “Lord Rutherford is just returned from India.” She stood up. “Simon, you remember Lady Northam. She and her sister are staying with us this month.”

He turned and the light caught one cheek, while the other side of his face stayed in shadow. The darkness suited him and she couldn’t help but remember the way he looked last night, pinning her body to the bed.

“Hello. It is nice to see you this fine morning, Lady Northam. I trust you slept well?” He bowed.

Her chest flushed. The words were polite, but his gaze—it set her stomach ablaze. She looked down under the intense heat of his stare.

Her fingers fidgeted with the fabric of her gown. She studied the pattern of tiny cream diamonds on a green background. It was a last-minute choice as Molly had laid out a pink chambray morning gown. But Simon had always admired gowns that matched her eyes. Some part of her must have known she would see him today.

“Oh!” Delphine exclaimed. “Good morning, Lord Rutherford,” she said, entering the breakfast room. “How do you do, my lord?” She curtseyed.

Rowena looked up to see Simon greet her sister. “I am thoroughly spent from traveling.” He glanced at Rowena.

Once again, her face grew warm. She did not know if he intended to tease and discomfit her or if she only imagined it. She turned to walk to the sideboard, ignoring the stares she knew were following her.

They cannot know anything
, she reassured herself. She swallowed. Presumably, Alice and Delphine were merely curious as to how she would respond to Simon’s presence. As far as anyone knew, she had not seen him in six years. Not since just after the wedding. Her alarm was for nothing. For all she knew she was overreacting to a fit of her own imagination.

“Welcome home, Lord Rutherford,” she said softly, gathering fruit onto her plate.

“Yes, welcome home, my lord,” Delphine said. “Did you have a pleasant journey home?”

Rowena was thankful that Delphine seemed in control of herself this morning. One never knew when she would forget herself and say something to embarrass everyone. Sometimes she wondered if Delphine did it on purpose.

“Let us say that I am quite relieved to be back on English soil.”

“And with excellent timing,” Alice said, stroking her round belly.

He smiled broadly and assisted Alice to the table. His affection was plain and Rowena was surprised at the pang of jealousy she felt. When had Rowena ever seen him smile so? Not since he’d kissed her so many years before. The day in the park was a well-worn path carved into her mind. She remembered his blue jacket and loose cravat and the way it felt to thread her fingers through his dark blond curls.

“Everyone will be so delighted to see you,” Alice said to her brother. “We didn’t tell anyone yet other than the servants.” She carefully glanced at Rowena. Her gaze lingered and Rowena forced a smile. “We wanted it to be a surprise.”

Yes, it certainly was a surprise. Not as much as finding Simon in her bed in the wee hours of the night. Her breasts tightened in memory of the dream—or the reality—of his hands and mouth upon them.

Had Simon known she would be here this week? Rowena wondered. She didn’t think Alice would plot to force a reunion, but she could not be entirely sure. In all likelihood, Waverly’s advancing illness had prompted Simon’s return. Given the distance he’d traveled, it was likely a coincidence that they’d arrived at the estate on the same day.

She sat down and took a sip of juice, but it did little to calm her. Her heart pitter-pattered like the wings of a canary. Carefully removing her gloves, she laid them in her lap. When she looked up, she found Simon’s gaze upon her again. His eyes appeared fixated on her fingers. Why? What could be so interesting to him in so simple a thing? Self-consciously, she lowered her hands into her lap.

He removed his own gloves, exaggerating the movement, prolonging it. All the while, he watched her. She could only guess he imitated her. The leather slid over his tawny skin, caressing it, revealing his hands inch-by-inch.

She released a breath. It was merely a glove, but somehow he had enraptured her with it.

When Alice’s chair fell back as she tried to get up, Rowena remembered that they were not alone and that they were being incredibly impolite to the others. She tried to cover up her utter lack of attention. “Shall I get another plate of food for you, Alice?”

“Oh, no please do not trouble yourself, Rowena. Simon, will you please bring me a glass of juice?”

Though he could have had a servant bring it, Simon rushed to oblige her, bringing juice and a small plate for his sister. As he stepped away from the table, she could feel his eyes on her. Rowena tried not to blush, instead turning back to her plate and taking a bite of her eggs and toast.

Delphine looked at her, giving her a brief once-over and smiling. This time, Rowena did feel her cheeks get hot. Had she and Simon been that obvious? Was everyone aware of the by-play?

Simon was more successful at pretending nothing was amiss. He chatted amiably with Alice and Delphine, all the while sending her suggestive glances when the others were not looking.

Unused to such intensity at the breakfast table, Rowena squirmed in her seat. Suddenly the thin muslin was too hot for comfort. Warmth spread through her belly. She wanted to touch him.

What on earth was wrong with her? They were sitting across the breakfast table, yet she could feel a throbbing in her sex. She had to force herself to look toward the window and take a breath.

She was about to make an effort to rejoin the conversation, when she was distracted by Simon, who took a bit of honey, then licked the spoon. It was completely inappropriate. Almost scandalous. Her sensitive nipples twinged and pressed tightly against her chemise and stays. Shifting her legs, she tried to ease the tension in her thighs.

Never had Paul looked at her so intimately over the morning repast. His face had been buried in a book or his news or a myriad of other things that typically had little to do with her. Not once could she think of him looking as if he’d rather devour her instead of a piece of buttered toast.

Rowena was so distracted, she lost track of the conversation again. She blinked and tried to focus on what was being said. It seemed they were discussing Simon’s travels in the East and his journey home, but Rowena could barely keep up. When she felt Alice looking at her, she forced herself to concentrate and listen again.

“Oh, I am adjusting quite well,” Simon responded. “For certain the climate is vastly different, but I find there is something to be said about the cool English nights…over the hot Indian days.”

Rowena dropped her fork. He had to be goading her. The scorching look he sent her had nothing to do with the weather.

All eyes turned toward her, even that of two servants. She smiled nervously. “Please forgive me.” With slow breaths, she tried to calm herself. Simon smiled wickedly. There could be no other word for that look.

 “And, you found no woman of quality to interest you there?” Delphine asked, though Rowena was sure she was being polite. Delphine could not imagine any society more interesting or elevated than the haute ton.

“No. I did not find any lotus that could compare to an English rose.”

Rowena tapped her foot. Her leg could not settle itself. Simon was enjoying himself at her expense. Her mind wanted to scold him for daring to enter her room at night without her permission and yet her body wanted him to do far more than he had last night. The conflicting feelings overwhelmed her. She dared not look at him.

For six years, she’d lived comfortably. She’d resigned herself to the life of a viscountess. She’d learned to accept the gentle embrace of her husband, Paul. While never a truly passionate man, he had been kind and easy to live with. When he had developed consumption and died after only three years of marriage, she’d reconciled herself to being a widow.

She’d never allowed herself the luxury of thinking she would love anyone the way she’d loved Simon. When she’d met him at twenty, she’d barely known the kiss of a man. The passion she’d felt had been new and exhilarating. The two months he’d courted her had been beyond her imaginings. He’d awakened things she had never presumed possible. Then, he’d left her and she never felt that kind of raw intensity again.

Until now. Seeing him again renewed her ardor in full force. He was dangerous, though.
This
was dangerous. A simple look and a chat over the morning table made her want to throw off all caution and behave as a wanton. It made her want to climb across the table and kiss him passionately, never mind their audience.

Paul had always described Simon as wild, impetuous, a storm of energy that could not be escaped once you were in the midst of it. Perhaps he was right. Because her feelings made no sense.

Here was this man who had abandoned her, left his friend to pick up the shattered pieces of her existence, and then rejected them both with barely a by-your-leave. And now, without the slightest bit of effort, he had seduced her into a lascivious woman desperate for his embrace.

In a matter of hours, Simon had destroyed her sense of comfort, her sense of place. He shattered her resolve to live as a perfectly respectable lady. And, now, it was worse than before. If she gave in and he broke her heart a second time, she might not survive it.

“What a pity. I can imagine that companionship must have been difficult in such a society. And, now that you have returned? You shall find your English rose?”

Simon sipped from his cup, then smiled. “I will have no other.”

He teased, nothing more. She should know better than to succumb to his charm. Because he was a rake, through and through. Last night was—well, it was….It was heaven—no, it was just another confirmation that Simon wanted nothing more than a tryst. A means to pass the time until he found his perfect ‘English rose’. Or a very vivid dream. No. he wouldn't be behaving so if it were only a dream.

Thick, dry coughs overtook her. Rowena strained to breathe. Goodness, she was making a spectacle this morning. All over…over…what, exactly? A subtle flirtation?