Regency Rakes 02 - Rescued By A Viscount (24 page)

He stood with both hands pushed deep in the potted soil on the opposite side of a tall, narrow table. Head bent, he was inspecting a small green plant.

“Simon, I’m sorry, but your aunt told me to come here. She said I would love the smells.” The words rushed from Claire’s mouth. “I have no wish to intrude, so I will leave at once.”

He didn’t move, just lifted his head and gave her a long, cool look before speaking. “When I have a lot on my mind, I do this.”

She moved to the other side of the table. “Put your hands in soil?”

“It calms me, somehow. The feel of the earth sifting through my fingers gives me clarity.”

Claire slowly pulled off her gloves. “Did you often need to feel calm, Simon?”

He expelled a breath through his teeth at her question.

Claire located a sturdy box and dragged it closer.

“What are you doing?” he questioned as she stood on it.

“Joining you.” Pushing her hands into the earth, her fingers touched the tips of his briefly before she curled them into fists and broke the contact. He watched her as she played with the earth–sifted it, patted it, and dug through it.

“My parents were not easy people and expected perfection in their son.”

Claire didn’t speak, just kept her hands in the soil and her eyes on his face.

“I struggled with perfection, so they pushed me harder, and my failures became bigger and bigger as I strived to achieve the goals they set.”

Pain was there in his eyes as the memories took him back to his youth. Pushing her fingers deeper, she rested them on top of his.

“The only moments I remember that were happy were the rare times my aunt and uncle visited. They would take me to the garden and teach me the names of plants and flowers.”

“What did your parents do to you, Simon? Did they hurt you?”

His laugh was harsh as he turned his palms over and gripped her fingers. “Nothing that caused pain, Claire. They simply locked me in the nursery until I had memorized every task they set me. Sometimes I was to spell. Others, recite Latin. The lists were varied but all were long. I was then to answer their questions as they stood before me, each one directed at me one second after I answered the first. If I failed, they locked me in again until I succeeded.”

Dear lord, they may have not hurt him physically, yet they had hurt him. He carried the scars deep inside. She could see it as his shoulders hunched instinctively to protect himself from the memories. “How old were you?”

“They died when I was a child.”

Too young to have suffered at the hands of the people who should have provided his care, loved and protected him.

He turned his hands over once more, releasing her fingers to dig deeper in the soil. Claire couldn’t keep still. She had to sift, pat, and smooth, now that she was no longer anchored to him. “You must constantly have dirt under your nails,” she said aloud when the silence became uncomfortable. It was a silly thing to say, yet she was nervous in his company. They had spent days together, yet now he seemed like a stranger to her.

“Men like dirt under their nails.”

“Some men,” she qualified thinking of Lord Pepper and his white hands and neatly shaped nails.

Claire sighed as once again, he fell silent. “I’m sorry, Simon, for getting you into this mess, but it is done, and now we need to discuss how to break our betrothal.”

He looked at her, his emotions hidden by his unreadable expression.

“We will wed.”

“You are not thinking clearly, Simon.”

“I think the fact that I have slept the past few nights and you have not, qualifies me as the one who is thinking clearly, don’t you, Claire?”

Claire knew he had not meant to hurt her by bringing up her own failings, yet he had. Lifting her hands, she shook them briskly. “I have managed to make rational decisions with little sleep before, my lord, I’m sure I can do so again.”

“Claire–”

Ignoring him, she stepped off the box, and, picking up her gloves, she then

walked away, leaving him standing there with his hands in the dirt, eyes burning like hot embers into her back.

Claire did not see Simon again that evening. She bathed a reluctant Louis, who had suddenly found his voice and was cursing like a French sailor. She persisted, and finally, a clean little boy emerged.

“Surely you feel better now, Louis, with all that grime washed from your body?” Claire rubbed him dry and then dressed him in the old nightshirt a maid had given her. She wondered if it had belonged to Simon.

“Non.”

She laughed at his belligerent expression and then began to brush the tangles from his hair, producing more curses, which, she pointed out gently, were not nice to say at any time. Soon he was clean, and she tucked him into bed. They ate on trays, and Claire sat with him, telling him some of the stories she remembered from her youth until his eyes grew too heavy, and he fell asleep. Tonight they would both miss Simon and his big presence sprawled out below them on the floor.

Her room was next door, so she bathed and pulled on her nightdress, too, and then lay on her bed. There was little chance of any sleep tonight. Memories of her nights spent in Simon’s arms made her sad. She would never have them again, so she pushed the thoughts aside and made plans.

She would leave for London early, without anyone knowing. She would confront her brother and tell him of her faux engagement, and that it was her fault entirely that Simon had offered for her. She would then come here and gather up Louis and make their home at her brother’s estate. Mathew would not force her from his home. She knew him well enough for that, yet he would never welcome Louis to London, and neither would their mother. Therefore, her life would be in the country from this day forwards. She would not wed, nor live in society, and although she would miss her friends, she would not miss many aspects of the life she now led.

She let the thoughts come and go as the hours ticked by until she was sure the household was asleep; only then did Claire leave her bed and pull her shawl around her shoulders. Taking her candle, she made her way to the end of the hall, where Simon’s aunt had told her the library was. There was a chill in the air that made her wish for slippers, but if she kept to the rugs, it was not so bad. Studying the books upon reaching the library, she found a section on gardening and smiled, wondering if Simon had read each one. Thinking of him made her chest hurt, so she moved on to the next shelf.

“If I may suggest
Health and Good Will to Your Roses
. I’ve always found that excellent bedtime reading.”

He was leaning against the doorframe, looking rumpled and handsome. However this time, he had thankfully pulled on a shirt, although his large feet were bare and the shirt buttons done up wrong. Claire forced herself to ignore the flutter in her chest and turned to once again look at the books. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to steady herself before speaking. “Go back to bed, Simon.”

“Have you slept at all?”

“Please, go back to bed, Simon,” Claire tried again.

“Surely you know by now that I am not good at taking orders, Claire.”

She knew he was getting closer because somehow she could feel him. “There is no need for both of us to be tired in the morning, Simon. Besides, I am used to the condition. You are not.” Claire made her tone light, when inside, she was suddenly tense and nervous. So much had changed between them today–in the last few days–and now she was uncertain around him.

“Actually, I have already had several hours’ sleep.”

Surprised, she faced him. “You could sleep with all those thoughts rolling around inside your head?” Claire was jealous. She had often wanted to somehow stop her thoughts for just a few hours–long enough to get some sleep. It seemed the only time she could truly do that was in this man’s arms.

“One thing you should know about me, Miss Belmont, is that I can eat and sleep no matter what is rolling around inside my head.”

He didn’t sound angry anymore, and he was so close now his scent reached her. The air around her had suddenly changed, almost as if it was alive with something magic. “Simon, go back to bed, and we will decide the best course to break our betrothal in the morning.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you today. I should not have dismissed your sleeping problems so lightly.”

“It matters not. You were remembering your youth and were still angry with me over what you’ve been forced to do.”

“I was angry with the circumstances that were forced upon us, Claire, not with you, and I should not have spoken as I did.” He moved closer, his bare toes brushing hers. It was the briefest touch, yet she felt it as if he had wrapped his hands around her feet and stroked them. “I sometimes need time to sulk and run things through in my head, and I did not get that time until I arrived here. It is childish of me, I know, but unfortunately, I have always been that way.”

“Go to bed now, and I will follow soon, Simon.”

“Liar.”

He leaned forward slowly, and Claire could not pull away. She was mesmerized by the look in his grey eyes. Gone was the emotionless man, and in his place was danger. Heated eyes roamed her face and her body, and Claire felt a sudden hunger sweep through her that robbed the breath from her lungs. “What are you doing, Simon?”

His lips touched her neck, brushing over the skin softly.

“S-Simon.”

“I can think of nothing but how you were in my arms that night, Claire.” He moved to her chest and kissed the skin above the neckline of her nightdress, stopping when he reached her buttons. His fingers released the first one and then the next. His movements were slow and torturous, and Claire could hear the rasp of her breath as he reached the last button and slipped it through the hole. Her breath caught in her throat as he opened the bodice wide, exposing her breasts.

She couldn’t speak as he touched her. A long finger traced the outside of one of her breasts as his eyes held hers. She couldn’t pull away or do anything to stop arching towards him as that finger touched the sensitive tip of her nipple. Dear god, she felt that wonderful ache build between her legs again, that sensual heat begin to mount inside her once more. He kissed her then, seeking, teasing, and searching out her response, which she willingly gave. His large palm cupped her breast, and she shuddered beneath him. Claire had no idea how long he kissed her for–minutes, hours. She lost every thought but for the man who held her. Where one kiss stopped, another started until finally he pulled back, his breath ragged as he looked at her. Fire blazed in his eyes and was answered in her own as she reached for him again.

“I won’t stop this time, Claire.”

He pushed her back slowly to the bookshelf, then lifted her hands to wrap around the wood. “Hold the shelf.”

She did as he asked, a puppet that was his to control. Her body needed him.

“Sweet Christ, you are beautiful,” he rasped before placing his lips on her again. Claire was awash with sensual pleasure as he ran his mouth and tongue over her, caressing each curve and peak, laving and stroking until she was arching towards him again, eager for more.

His hands slid beneath the hem of her nightdress, and, placing his palms on her skin, he moved the garment slowly up her body, and then she helped him pull it off her head and throw it to the floor behind him.

“Just feel, Claire,” he whispered, kissing her ribs. “Focus on the sensations, sweetheart. I want to hear your cry of pleasure.”

“Y-your family?”

“Are sleeping and the door is shut.”

Closing her eyes, Claire rested her head on the books behind her and felt his mouth on her stomach, kissing the smooth skin and then moving lower. Biting her lip, she fought back the cries she wanted to make.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

She was a maiden; surely this should horrify her, yet it did not. She delighted in the sensations as Simon taught her body how to respond to his wicked hands and mouth.

“Your scent, Claire–so sweet yet spicy–it drives me wild with need.”

His hands parted her thighs, and she felt his hot breath between them. His tongue stroked the soft folds, and his teeth took the small hard bead, and she could do nothing to stop the moan that came from her lips. Her fingers dug into the wood, her knuckles white as he brought her to the brink. The pressure built and built until she was begging him to release her, and then he once again bit gently into that secret place and pushed his finger inside her dewy folds, and she was lost. Crying out his name, she shuddered as waves of ecstasy rolled over her.

“Sweet Claire,” Simon whispered, regaining his feet.

She knew he was looking at her, but she had no strength to open her eyes. He kissed her, and her body stirred to life. He left her briefly and Claire heard him blow out the candle, and then she was in his arms.

“Simon?”

He brushed another kiss on her lips. “Sssh, Claire. We are safe from detection, and I have your nightdress.”

She didn’t speak again, just laid her cheek on his chest and let him carry her through the quiet house. Tomorrow there would be questions to answer and futures to discuss, but for now, there was just them.

His door was open, and he walked inside and closed it with his foot. Carrying her to the bed, he lowered her onto the edge and then moved away to pull off his breeches and shirt. He’d left his curtains open, so she could see him as he approached her, see the hard muscled planes of his stomach and long legs. He was the beautiful one, and she wanted to touch him again, feel all that strength in her hands.