Simon's Brides (23 page)

“I need a cloak. It’s cold this time of night. See you,” Dora started up the steps.

Amy watched Dora for a second, then took a deep breath and continued toward the back of the house. She gritted her teeth and mumbled as she walked, practicing what she would say. She had already decided that she would not address her reasons for her words. Those were hers and hers alone. Besides, she suspected Simon would laugh at her fears, despite her evidence.

No, she resolved as she made her way down the hallway, he only needed to know that they would not share a bed. And, she would have to make that crystal clear. This was not a decision made recklessly, or without great thought. He would have to understand that and honor her decision.

She stopped before the door to his office and took a deep breath. Raising a hand, she knocked timidly.

He must have been busy for he didn’t answer at first.

Finally, the response came.

“Enter,” the deep voice rolled through her.

She pushed against the wood and peeked in. Simon had no lingering visitors.

She sighed with relief and entered.

“We need to talk,” she said without preamble.

“What do we need to talk about?” Simon asked grinning up at her. He was seated behind his desk and that position pleased her even more. She would say what she had to say and be out the door before he made it around the desk.

She took another breath, “My Lord.”

“‘Simon’ will do, Amy.”

“All right. Simon, you know I had no desire for marriage.”
Blurt it out,
she castigated herself. Again, she took a deep breath.

“I will not sleep with you.”

“You what?” Simon growled.

“I will not share your bed. We are married, but as far as I’m concerned this will be a marriage in name only.”

“Now, wait a minute,” he stood, his voice raising in volume.

“I will not share your bed. And, I am not moving into the master suite.”

She turned and rushed from the room. Gone was all pretense of trying to impress him with her reasons. She only wanted to escape to her room and solitude.

From the shocked look on his face it would be several minutes before he tried to follow her. By then she would be safe, locked in her room.

Fourteen

Amy locked the door and spun around. She stared at the chamber that had been hers for as long as she could remember. Something was different about the room.

As she surveyed the chamber she realized her things no longer sat on her dressing table. It held nothing of hers.

She glanced at the closed door. Her robe was missing from its hook. She rushed to the armoire and opened the drawers. Someone had removed her clothes! The entire room looked as if it had never been occupied.

There was an emptiness about it that chilled her to the bone. She wanted to scream. However, tonight, it didn’t matter. Tomorrow, she would see her clothes returned, but tonight, she would sleep in her chemise.

Something told her that any minute now Simon would bang on her door and demand she explain herself. She glared at the door then began to pace the floor. She had said all she intended to say. She had no intention of sleeping with him, in fact, she would retain this room. The master suite was Simon’s, not hers. He might have gotten a bride, but he didn’t have a wife. She had told him as plainly as she could.

The more she paced the more upset she became. Where was he? Had he understood what she’d said? Surely, she couldn’t have made it more clear.

She paused and wondered if his reason for not approaching her had to do with his pride. Perhaps, he didn’t want the rest of the household to know she’d rejected him. Yes, that had to be it. He intended to pretend everything was fine between them.

But, what would she do if Agatha came to prepare her for her wedding night? She could only hope Simon’s aunt had decided that after discovering them in Simon’s room, she wasn’t needed. If Agatha came Amy would have to think of something. If she came!

Time passed slowly. But, neither Simon nor Agatha appeared. She heard her sisters moving toward their rooms and wishing each other good night. Next, the door across from hers shut. Even Agatha had retired for the night. A deep sigh escaped Amy and she fought a touch of disappointment.

She sank to her bed and frowned. They must think she was still with Simon. And, obviously, they were not going to interrupt a newly married couple. But, she wasn’t ever going to be really married. Somehow she held back the sobs that threatened to choke her.

She slipped from her ivory gown and pulled the hair pins from her tresses. She muttered a prayer of disappointed thanks and crawled between the sheets. Thumping her pillow, she reminded herself she had no reason to feel let down. What she had to do was stay away from her husband. And, that was what she was doing.

She lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes. But, her mind replayed this day. She remembered the look on Simon’s face as she descended the stairs to the parlor. Nor could she dismiss the stunned look when she told him she would not come to his bed.

She tossed and turned, desperate to make her mind a blank. Still, slumber eluded her.

She must have dozed for a short time because she heard the door knob of her room turn and rattle. She lifted her head.
Simon?

When whoever stood at the door realized she had locked herself in, that person tapped on the door. Amy stiffened. One of her sisters? Agatha? She tried to ignore the second series of taps.

“Amy,” Simon’s deep voice rolled through her.

“Go away,” she pulled the pillow over her head. Oh, yes, it was Simon and he wanted into her room.

More taps.

“Amy,” he sounded frustrated.

“Go away,” she sat up.

“We have to talk,” his voice was louder now.

“I have nothing to say to you. I’ve had my say. There is nothing more to discuss.” She threw herself back against her pillows, praying he wouldn’t wake the rest of the household. No more questions, not tonight.

A thump sounded against the wood, as if he slammed his fist against the door, but, though she listened intently, she heard nothing more.

Surely he hadn’t given up. She felt crushed.

She wanted... She didn’t know what she wanted. However, it seemed he would leave her alone--tonight. She wiped a drop of moisture from her cheek. She gritted her teeth and reminded herself, this was the way it had to be. But, would he come to her room each night he was here? And, why was she so attracted to him? No other man had this affect, so why Simon? And, why did resisting him hurt so much?

She groaned and rolled over, ignoring the tears forming in her eyes. She knew crying never accomplished a thing, but somehow, the tears seemed to come from her soul. She had to convince him theirs must be a marriage in name only then she wouldn’t feel such pain.

She brushed at her damp cheeks. If only she hadn’t thrown herself at him. She had given him the wrong impression. She shivered. She’d gotten herself into this situation. She would have to figure a way out.

~ * ~

Simon stalked toward the master suite. He’d sat in his office for a long time trying to understand what had prompted Amy’s actions.

Was she afraid? That was the only reason that made any sense. Well, he could deal with that, couldn’t he? After all, he felt certain she was still a virgin.

He paced the bedroom floor, his hands behind his back. Women were a puzzle, one he didn’t believe he would ever solve. Of course, he’d never been in a situation like this before. Nor, could he remember a time when he’d tried to bed a virgin.

She did like to be kissed. He knew she had enjoyed the intimacy they had shared the night of the ball and the night in this same room. So, what had brought on tonight’s panic? Perhaps he should talk to his aunt. She might offer some kind of explanation.

The thought of telling Agatha his bride of a few hours refused him didn’t sit well. Talking to Agatha had to be about as bad as having a crusty bunch of pirates maroon him on a desert island. He wouldn’t have allowed the latter without a fight to the death, and he couldn’t attempt the former and keep any pride. Talking to Agatha was out.

How about one of the sisters? Caro seemed to be the closest. Could he talk to her? It would be most inappropriate and Amy would suffer a great deal of humiliation. He couldn’t do that to her even if she wouldn’t explain herself. Somehow, he would have to convince her that coming to his bed would be pleasurable for them both.

That thought triggered the remembered pleasure of having her in his arms. At that thought, his body reacted and he let loose a string of curses. This was a poor way to spend his wedding night--trying to figure out why his bride had herself locked in her old bedchamber.

He turned and faced his empty bed. This was not what he’d planned for this night. A drink. He needed something to dull the pain, and it was pain.

He poured a touch of brandy from his decanter. Then he paced the floor. Oh, he didn’t love her, even though he had just promised to cherish her, but he was attracted to her and he knew he’d enjoy her passion. He’d already been given a taste, something he wasn’t about to forget. And, she thought to deny him? He wouldn’t allow it.

But, what could he do? He had never forced a woman in his life. He wasn’t about to start now. Somehow, he’d have to seduce her. He grinned. After all, he had always enjoyed a challenge. He knocked back the liquor, set the glass aside and prepared for bed.

He crawled between the cold linens and groaned.
Bloody hell! Some wedding night.

~ * ~

Amy sat upright in her bed. What had disturbed her this time?

Voices! Outside her room. She strained to her what was being said.

She identified Caro’s voice, “Well, someone has to wake them.”

Beth mumbled something.

Amy slipped out of bed and hurried to her door. She pressed her ear against the panel.

“I still think we should wake Aunt Agatha. She can wake them.” This from Beth.

Hurried footsteps and a breathless Ellie responded, “Bolton’s out of the question. I couldn’t wake him up.”

Caro again. She sighed and then muttered, “I guess I’ll have to tell them.”

What was this all about? Why had they tried to wake Bolton and why did Beth think Agatha should be awakened? What was their quiet discussion about that they needed to wake Simon or Amy, or both of them? And, for heavens sake why?

She twisted the key and opened her door.

“What’s wrong?”

For an instant they looked startled, then Caro’s intent gaze surveyed Amy, and the door to the room she occupied. “What are you doing in your own room?”

Amy ignored her question. “Tell me why you have to wake me.”

“Dora,” Ellie exclaimed, the candle in her hand weaving strange shadows against the wall.

“Dora? Where is she?” Amy looked past the three of them. Dora wasn’t behind her sisters.

Caro clarified, “Dora hasn’t returned from her walk.”

Amy gasped.

“That was hours ago. I told her not to go far. She should have returned by now. Wait! How do you know she isn’t here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ellie explained. “So, I slipped out of bed and decided to get a book to read. I went to the library, but I couldn’t find the book I wanted. I remembered Dora saying how much she liked it. We’d talked about it--”

“Ellie, get on with it,” Amy snapped.

“Well, I went to her room, but she wasn’t there and her bed has not been occupied. I went back to the library, but she wasn’t there. In fact, no book’s out of place, so I went to the kitchen. It was empty. I searched the other rooms downstairs, but she’s not there. So I woke Caro and Beth.”

“I’ll wake Simon,” Amy whispered, her heart sick with apprehension. Dora should have returned long before now. Dora was adventuresome but not reckless.
Knowing her, Amy was certain this sister would not have strayed far from the house.

“Wait here,” Amy rushed into her room, grabbed the candle on the stand by the bed, lit it, then started toward the master suite.

She had thought to avoid Simon at all costs, but this spelled more trouble, serious trouble. As the oldest, she had to be the one to tell him that yet another of her sisters was missing.

She knocked on the door and slipped into the room, pushing the door closed behind her. For a second, shadows from the candle played against the bed curtains, and masking the objects in the room. She raised the light and as her eyes adjusted, she could make out the bed and the man in the middle of it.

The sheet rested at his waist below the broad expanse of his naked chest. She stepped to the side of the bed, her hand outstretched, her heart in her mouth.

The memories of the last time she had been in this room rushed up to swamp her. Once again she felt the intense burning of his lips, the caress of his fingers on her hot flesh, the heat of his mouth as he kissed her breasts. Again, she felt his warm flesh under her own fingertips along with the beat of his heart. All other thoughts vanished with those memories.

She felt her own heart race as hot blood rushed through her body.

Suddenly, Simon rolled toward her and opened his eyes, eyes full of knowledge and heat. And desire! Desire for her!

She stared at him. Waves of longing crashed through her. As she gazed at the hand stretched out before her she realized it as her own.