Chapter Fifteen
Simon had been married for eight hours. Though the service was small, with only the vicar and their families in attendance, somehow the day had still stretched long. He and Meg had never been alone, dragged from one duty to the next.
But now, as they stood in the parlor, after-dinner drinks in hand, Simon was beginning to see a light at the end of this very long tunnel. And the light was going to bed…with his wife.
He shivered at that thought, of having her after so many days apart. Of having her when she was truly his and he was truly hers. There was meaning in that, even if he wanted so desperately to deny it.
James was talking, and for the first time in several moments, Simon actually took in the words coming from his friend’s mouth. “—back to London in two days,” James said.
Simon blinked. “I’m sorry, I must have been woolgathering. Why return to London so soon?”
Emma tilted her head and her gaze slipped between him and Meg. “James believes that returning to London as a family group, rather than hiding in the countryside, will show the world that we give full-throated support to your marriage. It will encourage acceptance no matter what level of scandal remains.”
Simon pressed his lips together. He could well imagine the level of scandal was high, indeed. Unless someone else did something truly horrifying, he and Meg would be the topic of conversation for what was left of this Season and likely all of the next.
“We must go on with life,” Meg said, her tone falsely bright. “I agree that a return to London will give us the opportunity to do so.”
She shot him a glance and he caught his breath. They were married. When they returned to London, she would move into his townhouse in the city. They would truly live as man and wife.
He cleared his throat and tried to find some focus. “Yes, well, I suppose it is all we can do. Now I find I’m very tired. It was a long day.”
Meg set her drink down and moved toward him. “I’ll—I’ll join you,” she said, her cheeks flaming a little.
He swallowed hard and offered her an arm. Together they said their goodnights and then he guided her toward the parlor door. They had only taken a few awkward steps toward the staircase when his mother stepped out of the room behind them.
“Simon,” she said.
He turned, drawing Meg with him and barely contained a sigh. The now-Dowager Duchess of Crestwood looked just as sour and judgmental as she always had. This was clearly not to be a supportive moment between them. Not that he could recall one from before, either.
“Yes, Mother?” he ground out, focusing as much as he could at the gentle feeling of Meg’s fingers against his arm. They were tightening a fraction now, a buoy against what was to come.
“Because I have little choice, I shall support you as best I can in public,” the dowager said. “My going against you will only make it harder for me.”
He shook his head slightly. “Well, I’m sure Meg and I appreciate the support no matter for what reason it is given.”
He moved to go, and his mother snapped, “I am not finished.” Meg tensed at his side as they returned their attention to the dowager as she continued talking. “You have always been a disappointment, Simon, so I ought not to have expected more from you in this. But I want to be perfectly clear that my public support in no way reflects a private sentiment. Your ridiculous decision to act on your heart rather than with your head shows me what kind of fool you are. Straighten up, or you shall lose all your allies. Including me.”
Simon gritted his teeth. He’d heard some variation of this speech from her over the years. Today it hit home, for he remained raw over all he’d done to bring them to this place. He opened his mouth to reply when Meg slid her hand from his arm and stepped forward.
“Your Grace, Simon and I are infinitely aware of all the damage we have done to ourselves and those around us, both socially and in terms of emotional damage. No one needs to tell us, for aside from the Duke of Northfield, I do not think anyone is suffering as much as we are. Not that you offer comfort, but there we are.”
“Margaret—” his mother began, her eyes flashing.
Meg held up a hand. “I am not finished. The fact is that Simon will need support, not just publicly, but privately, as we work through this difficult time. If you are not equipped or inclined to provide it then I offer a solution: stay away from us.”
His mother’s lips parted and she gasped in a breath that seemed to echo in the hallway. “How dare you? What right do you have to speak to me in such a way?”
“I married your son today,” Meg all but growled. “Which makes me the Duchess of Crestwood now, and responsible for the appearances we choose to uphold. I will make myself clear—if you ever again speak to my husband in the manner you just did, I will cut you out of our circle so fast, you will not know what happened.” Meg smiled, but it wasn’t the usual warm and welcoming one that graced her lips. “You and I can be allies, or we can be very public enemies. It is your choice. But choose wisely, for I know how much appearances mean to you.”
They all stood for a moment, both Simon and his mother shocked by Meg’s statement. At last, the dowager stepped toward him. Simon tensed, ready for another attack or set down or demand.
Instead she met his eyes. Her nostrils were flaring with upset, her eyes flashing with anger, but to his utter shock she said, “I apologize, Simon. I spoke out of turn. Of course you have my full support.”
Simon could only stare. In all his years on this earth, his mother had never apologized to him. He had certainly done so to her dozens of times, but never had that act returned. Now he hardly knew what to do.
Not that it bothered Meg. She gave another tight smile and leaned in to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Your Grace. Now my husband and I will retire. Come along, Simon,” she said, taking his arm again and turning him toward the stairs.
He followed her, almost blindly, his ears still ringing from what had just happened. What she had said and done.
The fact that she had championed him, which no one had really ever done in his life. As they reached the door to his chamber, he turned toward her.
“Meg,” he whispered.
She lifted her face to his, dark eyes clear and focused on him. He caught his breath, knowing she was his and still hesitant to let that be.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?” she asked, lifting a hand to touch his face.
He shook his head. “You know what. What you said to my mother.”
A shadow crossed her expression. “I know it was speaking out of turn and normally I wouldn’t be so blunt, but I am tired of the way she treats you, Simon. And I will not stand for that in my house, not while I am duchess.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “You have been duchess all of eight hours and already you lay down your rules.”
She nodded and reached around him to open his chamber door. “I do. Now come inside and we can—”
She cut herself off and he turned to look at whatever had caught her attention in the room. When he did, he caught his breath. The chamber was lit with dozens of candles, there were flowers adorning each table, and a fire burned. There was a bottle of wine at the table next to the bed and two glasses.
Meg shook her head. “Emma.”
Simon lifted his brows. “You think so?”
“Yes.” She moved into the room, walking around to smell the roses closest by. “This will be the first time we’ve done this where we weren’t sneaking around.”
He shut the door behind him and turned the key in the lock slowly. “Yes. And since all the other guests are gone and my mother has been put in a chamber on the family side of the house, no one will be able to hear us, either.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes now lit with desire. “That sounds very promising,” she whispered.
He frowned as reality began to edge in. “Meg,” he said.
She moved to him in a few long steps. “Stop,” she ordered. “You will have a lifetime to tell me how wrong this is. How terrible you feel. How much we deserve to suffer. Tonight, just touch me. Please.”
She caught his hand as she spoke and gently lifted it, pressing it to her breast as she maintained focused eye contact. He looked at his fingers against the lacy pink gown, closing them around the globe of her breast beneath. Her breath caught and he smiled.
“Are you seducing me, Your Grace?” he asked.
She nodded. “Indeed, I am, Your Grace.” She turned her back to him. “Now unfasten me.”
His hands shook as he lifted them to the tantalizing row of tiny buttons that ran from the top of her gown all the way to where her bottom swelled beneath the fabric. One by one, he loosened them, his fingers fumbling in his haste to see her without the beautiful dress. His fingers brushed her chemise beneath and she jolted like an electrical charge flashed between them.
He smiled as he leaned in and gently kissed her neck. “I feel it too,” he whispered.
She rested her head back against his chest, pushing her body into his, grinding her backside ever so slightly against his cock. He caught his breath, for she was quickly becoming versed in what he liked, how to make him wild with desire. Of course, she always had, without even trying. Her effort only made it more intense and powerful.
He stripped the last few buttons open, but before he could push the dress off, she stepped away from him. Facing him, she met his eyes as she slowly shimmied one arm free, then the other. The silk glided down, inch by inch, until she was free of the dress and stood before him in just her chemise.
He could hardly breathe. The undergarment was the same soft pink as the gown, but it was so thin it was almost sheer. He saw the shadow of her hard nipples beneath and the triangle of her sex even lower. With a shuddering sigh, she pushed the chemise from her body and stood before him naked. He froze, just staring, just taking her in and reveling in how beautiful she was.
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered, her voice shaking.
He arched a brow. Somehow he’d never pictured Meg taking control like this. But he found he liked it. He watched her as he shrugged out of his jacket, then lifted his hands to his cravat, untying and unlooping the long sash of white silk until it dangled from his fingers.
“I have an idea about what to do with this,” he whispered.
Her pupils dilated. “So do I.”
He found himself grinning despite the heat between them. “What would you do?” he asked.
She swallowed. “You’re too…big.”
He wrinkled his brow. “You stopped complaining about that almost immediately, if I recall.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was laughing and suddenly everything was easy between them again. Even this. “Not your cock, Simon. You. It’s too easy for you to take over when we do this. And I want to…explore. So I suppose if you gave me that cravat, I would use it to tie your hands so you couldn’t take over.”
His eyes went wide at that idea, that Meg would be so bold as to tie him to the bed to have her wicked way with him. It was almost too erotic to bear. Slowly, he moved forward and looped the cravat over her, draping it down around her waist. He tugged, drawing her forward with the reins he had created.
When she was flush against him, her body trembling in his arms, he whispered, “Then do it.”
He leaned in to kiss her, drinking of her lips for what felt like an eternity. Then he stepped away and lifted the cravat up to her neck, leaving it there, the tails hanging down over her breasts and all the way to her thighs.
Seeing her dressed in only that thin scrap of silk made his cock throb. He made quick work of his shirt, then leaned on the bed to remove his boots and trousers.
When he stood, she caught her breath as she stared at him. “I shall never get used to seeing you like that,” she murmured. “Not for a hundred years.”
“I hope not,” he teased as he backed toward the bed. “I always want to see that look of pure adulation on your face when you see my hard cock.”
Her eyes went wide and then she laughed. The musical sound filled the room, and once again everything was easy between them, as it had been in all the years they had pretended to be just friends. In that moment, he saw how beautiful their marriage could be. Or could have been if it had not started so very badly.
But he didn’t know how to repair it now. How to fix what was already done. How to make what they’d done be acceptable in any form.
“Stop thinking,” Meg whispered with a slow shake of her head. “And get on the bed.”
He stared at her closely. “How do you know I’m thinking?”
“I know you. And you’re getting a wrinkle in your forehead. Just…let tonight be about this and us. The rest will come, the rest will be faced as we get to it.”
He said nothing, but did as she asked and climbed onto the bed. He settled onto the pillows and smiled at her. She was right that tonight he didn’t need to think. Everything would come rushing back tomorrow just as it always did. Tonight he wanted to steal this moment, to make her his wife in every way.
Tomorrow he could suffer the consequences. As he should.
“Now you have me, Your Grace,” he purred. “So what exactly will you do with me?”
Meg’s mouth felt very dry as she stared at Simon, naked on his bed, waiting for her, watching her with a half-smile on his face. In that moment he was her whole world, her whole heart, her everything.
And she wasn’t ready to say that, so tonight she had to show him. This was the only way he would surrender to her, so she had to use that against him. She had to use passion to open his heart.
But when it came to seduction, she had very little knowledge to go from. Her statement that she’d tie him down to allow herself the freedom to explore had been said in haste, and now, in a little more leisure, she regretted it.
“You have the cravat,” he said gently. “So tie me up.”
She nodded as she came across the room. She grabbed one end of the cravat, hissing out pleasure as she dragged the silky fabric across her skin to remove it.
His eyes widened. “Better do it fast, Meg, or I’ll do exactly as you fear. I’ll flip you onto your back, tie you down with it and make love to you until you’re weak from me.”
She swallowed, for that kind of punishment didn’t exactly sound like something she wanted to avoid. But she still leaned in, looping the long white tie around his wrists again and again until his hands were pressed together. She still had quite a bit of length left in the cloth, so she looked around for what to do with it.
The bed had an elaborately carved headrest, one with little grooves and holes in the dark surface. Without hesitation, she darted the ends of the cravat through a hole and tied the ends firmly, leaving him tied to the headboard.
When she stepped back, she found him staring up at her. His cock had somehow gotten harder as she did her work and his breath was short, making his toned stomach lift rapidly. “You are a natural,” he growled. “Now you have me, so what will you do?”
Her hands shook as she lifted her fingers. “Take my hair down,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “So it is to be torture. I can handle torture.”
“I hope so,” she teased as she glided her fingers through her elaborate hairstyle and brought pins clattering to the floor around her. Long locks bounced around her bare shoulders as she did so and he stared at it all, licking his lips like she was a treat he was about to savor.
She felt the same way, of course. Staring at this man, this powerful man, now tied to a bed and laid out for her pleasure, she was almost overwhelmed by what she could do. The freedom she had to play any game she wished.
The power of that was both heady and terrifying.
“You can’t do anything wrong,” he reassured her, as if he could read her mind just as she could read his. “Just do what you’d like.”
She crawled up next to him on the bed, emboldened by his suggestion. Being with him, it had always been him taking and her receiving. Now she wanted to take. She wanted him to receive. She leaned over him, her hair falling across his chest, and kissed him.
He made a soft sound in his throat and opened to her, holding back as she tasted him, traced his tongue, invaded him as she had been invaded so many times before. She felt the coiled tension of his body as he allowed her to rule the kiss, she saw it in the way his hands fisted against the lightly tied knot. She was under no illusion that he couldn’t just rend the fabric in two and have his way.
That he didn’t was a gift, and she knew it.
She eased down his body, tasting his throat, letting her hand slip over the angles of his collarbone and lower to his chest. Her mouth followed the trail of her fingers and she reveled in the taste of his hot skin, the way his muscles bunched beneath her tongue, and his breath caught.
Giving him pleasure was better than anything, and suddenly she knew exactly what she wanted to do to him. She lifted her gaze up his body as she stroked her tongue over his nipple, repeating an action he had taken so many times before. His body arched and she smiled.
The test proved her theory. What pleased her also pleased him. And that encouraged her as she dragged her mouth down his stomach, over the ripples of his muscles there. When she moved even lower, he lifted his head and stared at her.
“What are you doing, Meg?” he whispered, his voice rough and raw with desire.
She smiled as she brushed her lips against his hip. “When you kiss my sex, the explosion is so powerful. I want to test if it would be the same for you.”
He grunted out a curse she’d never heard before and struggled to sit up. “Meg, you don’t have to—”
She ignored him as she wrapped her fingers around his cock and stroked him gently. Now that she’d had him fitted inside of her more than once, now that she’d felt the pleasure that act could bring, she did not fear him anymore. She was simply fascinated by the thrust of him. By the silky feel of his skin. By the hard steel it covered.
She leaned in and darted her tongue out to trace just the head. He responded by flopping back on the bed, his hips lifting toward her of what seemed like their own accord as he let out a bark of incoherent pleasure.
“It seems the answer to my theory is yes,” she whispered, and licked him again, this time swirling her tongue around him slowly.
He pushed up, his cock passing her lips briefly, and her eyes widened. While he’d licked her with his tongue when he pleasured her in this way, he would likely find his pleasure differently. After all, when he was pulled into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, it was very much like thrusting into her sex. That would be what would give him release.
She gripped the thick base of his cock and wrapped her lips around him, drawing him in as deeply as her body would allow before she withdrew. He twisted below her, his eyes coming closed as he let out a ragged sigh that told her everything she needed to know.
She repeated the action, rubbing her tongue against his thick length as she did so over and over. When he moaned, she marked it. When her speed changed, she tested his reaction. Slowly, she began to learn his pleasure and the fact that she could make his legs shake, his heels dig into the mattress, was pure power.
“Meg,” he gasped at last. “God’s teeth, I’ll spend.”
She lifted her gaze at him with a smile. “That is the goal, isn’t it?”
“Not tonight,” he grunted. “Tonight I want to be inside of you. Please.”
Her eyes went wide at the please and she gently released his cock to stare at him. His face was taut with pleasure and tension, his eyes wide with both pleading and hot desire.
And on their wedding night, she couldn’t deny him any more than she could deny herself. She moved back up his body, kissing the same trail she had followed on her way down. When she reached his lips, she kissed him deeply as she positioned herself over him, straddling his lap, for that seemed the best way to take him.
He shifted, and she could see him wanting free of his bonds again. His arms strained, the muscles tight and his knuckles white from gripping fists against the fabric. She wanted those hands on her. She wanted him fully.
“If I untie you,” she asked as she brushed her lips against the harsh line of his jaw. “Will you flip me over on my back and take over?”
“Is that what you want?” he murmured, his voice dark now, dangerous.
She shook her head. “No. Well, yes, of course that would be lovely. But I want to…to…”
“Ride me,” he suggested.
She lifted her head and stared down at him. “Yes. I’ve already been claimed. Tonight is my turn to claim you. Will you let me if I untie you?”
He nodded, the movement jerky and swift. “I will.”
She leaned forward to unloop the cravat, her fingers fumbling with the knots she’d tied. He grinned up at her as she fiddled and he tugged hard, rending the fine silk apart and sending pieces of it fluttering around them on the bed as he freed his hands.
“My valet will despise me for that,” Simon said as he sat up, wrapping his arms around her. In this position they were now face to face and she shivered at the intimacy she so longed for. Intimacy of spirit as well as body.
“Do you care?” she whispered.
“Not a bit.” He angled his head and kissed her. She let her arms come around him and held tight, memorizing the sleek strength of his body, feeling his cock hard and ready between them.
At last he lay back, sliding his hands to her hips. “I promised I wouldn’t dictate this. So tonight I’m yours, Meg. Take what you want.”
She caught her breath. Hers. How she wanted it to be true, but she feared it wasn’t. The passion between them often felt completely separate from the rest. But she would still try, she would never give up on making this man her husband in every way she had secretly fantasized about since she was little more than a girl.
She shifted, reaching between them to align their bodies. When she glided him into place, taking him inside of her the first few inches, they both shuddered in pleasure together. When she flexed her hips, he slid easily to the hilt and she shut her eyes briefly. His fingers tightened against her skin and he rocked her gently.
Now her gaze flew open at the riot of sensation that rocked through her body. He grinned and said, “Yes,” in answer to a question she hadn’t the power to ask out loud.
She moved with him as he guided her, rolling her hips, grinding her pelvis to his and drawing him deeper and deeper until she couldn’t find a place where she existed and he didn’t. Pleasure built in her as she took him, pleasure in her body, pleasure in her very soul, and judging from the twisting tension on his handsome face, he was finding the heights of it too.
And then she was soaring, flying off the edge of a terrifying cliff as her body rocked with release and she cried out his name. He sat up once more, one smooth motion, and dragged her mouth to his as he lifted up into her. He grunted out her name against her tongue and she felt the hot spurt of him inside of her as he crushed her sweaty body to his.
They remained like that for what felt like a blissful eternity, legs and arms tangled, bodies intertwined, his mouth brushing across hers. She clung to him, joy swelling in her that they could have this kind of connection, a glimpse of a future that she so desperately wanted.
But at last he drew back, staring into her face just inches from his. And she saw the transformation from a man who was wrapped up in passion to the man who would put walls between them.
But he didn’t get up. He didn’t abandon her. He simply wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. She clung to him, tears stinging her eyes, hope swelling in her chest. She was too afraid to speak, lest the spell be broken and so she just lay there, as her eyes got heavier and her breath got deeper until sleep stole her fears.
Simon stared down into Meg’s face, as beautiful when she was relaxed in sleep as it was when she laughed or talked. Now he knew that. Because she was his in every way. And yet, he didn’t feel unfettered joy at that fact. When he looked at her, he saw Graham’s crumpled expression, heard his friend’s harsh voice. He saw the damage he had done.
The feelings washed over him and overwhelmed him. Gently, he set her aside and got up. He stoked the fire and then grabbed for a robe that was draped across the settee near the bed. As he covered himself, he heard her catch her breath.
“What are you doing?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t wanted to have a confrontation with her tonight of all nights. He hadn’t wanted to let her see just how broken he was by what he’d done. But now it felt unavoidable.
“I think it might be best if I slept elsewhere,” he croaked out.
There was a long hesitation and the next time she spoke her voice was strong. “We are married, Simon.”
He took a deep breath and faced her. She was sitting up now, her body covered by the tangled sheets. Her expression was unfiltered though. Pained and full of fear. He hated that he did that to her.
“Yes, I was there,” he whispered, thinking of his happiness in that moment where they were declared man and wife. Where they could never be parted again. Except by his own tangled emotions.
She shook her head. “You tease without any joy in your tone, but you know what I’m saying. You and I are bound now, by the law and in the eyes of everyone in Society. It cannot be undone.”
“What do you want from me, Meg?” he asked, more frustrated with himself and the situation than with her. “You seem to think that now that we’ve said vows, it erases the past. But it doesn’t. Right now Graham is back in London, despising us both. Anyone who attended the party is telling everyone who will listen about the scandal, which means you and I will enter a firestorm that will perhaps leave your reputation in tatters. Am I supposed to smile about that? Pretend that both those things aren’t true, just because I—”
He cut himself off and she pushed to her feet, going to him without a thought for her nakedness in body or in spirit. “Because you what?” she pressed.
He stared at her and swallowed hard. “Because I want you.”
How much more he wanted to say. How he wanted to tell her the rest. That he loved her and had always loved her. That he wanted the chance at a future, but that the idea of it made him despise himself. And that he feared that he would fail her even more than he already had.
She reached for him and he dodged her hand, stepping toward the door to the adjoining chamber.
“Please don’t,” he said softly.
Tears filled her eyes. “Why? Must you be determined to destroy yourself?”
He was silent for what felt like forever and then he said, “I have destroyed everyone else, Margaret. Why shouldn’t I also burn in this fire I created?”
He said nothing else, nor did he wait for her reply. He just turned away because he could no longer hide from her. And what he had to show was nothing short of monstrous.