Regency Rakes 02 - Rescued By A Viscount (19 page)

She woke suddenly, sitting upright in the chair, eyes wide and unfocused as she looked up at him. Blinking several times, she then looked around the room, as if to remind herself where she was, and then back at him.

“Simon.” One word but it sounded wrenched from deep inside her.

“Follow me outside, Claire. If you don’t, I will throw you over my shoulder and make a scene bigger than any you have ever witnessed.” Simon picked up her luggage and walked towards the door instead of following his impulse and scooping her into his arms. He knew she followed, because he heard her apologizing as she passed people.

“Simon, please…”

He ignored her, instead making his way outside and then starting back down the road towards where his carriage awaited. She surprised him by cursing, but still he did not stop. Walking into the stables, he located his carriage. “Load these, please, Merlin.” Simon handed Claire’s luggage to him and then opened the carriage door.

“Why won’t you at least listen to me, Simon?”

She now stood beside him, looking up at him from under the brim of that ugly black bonnet. Her brown eyes were wary, and he knew she was scared, yet she didn’t back down.

“Get in,” Simon said, pointing inside the carriage.

“No.”

He wouldn’t laugh. He was too angry for that, even if she looked delectable defying him. “Claire, the pain in my body is not making me amiable. Therefore it would be in your best interests to do as I say and do it quickly.”

“It is best I go alone, Simon. Surely after last night you can see that? This is my problem, not yours.”

“For the love of god,” he muttered, picking her up. He stepped up into the carriage and threw her on the seat with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. Sitting near the door, he slammed it shut, trapping her inside. “I’ve told you I want to come with you, I’ve told you it is my choice, and still you take the foolish notion into your head to flee in the middle of the night, thus, in your eyes, protecting me.”

“It was for the best,” she said defiantly, crossing her arms.

“For whom? Did you think I would wake to find you gone and think, well that’s that, then. Claire’s gone–I shall now return to London and enjoy the season?” Simon’s voice was a furious growl as he glared at her. “You thought I wouldn’t worry what had become of you? That I would not wonder if you’d made it to Liverpool to collect the child? And what if trouble had befallen you? Who would have known where you were? Certainly not your family, as they believe you are safely nestled at Stratton with your dearest friend.”

His words made the color leech from her face.

“Think with your head, Claire. Think rationally before doing anything else rash, I beg of you.”

Tears fell silently down her cheeks as she looked at him. “I don’t want you hurt anymore, Simon. I couldn’t bear it. I thought if I reached Liverpool and collected the child, I could be back in London before you caught up with me.”

“Do you know what would hurt me more than these?” he asked, lifting a hand to the bruises on his face.

“No.” Her voice was husky as she wiped away tears with her gloves.

“Hearing that some man had hurt you, or that you were lost and alone with no one to turn to. Those things would hurt more than any pain a fist could cause.”

She pressed her hands into her eyes to try to stem the flow of tears.

“I have been cold with fear since I woke. Had the proprietor’s wife not been beside him this morning when I confronted him, I would have, in all likelihood, killed him for letting you leave alone.”

“You sh-should not be involved in this, Simon.”

He blew out a loud sigh that made his ribs ache.

“I am involved, Claire. Why can’t you see that?”

She started to say something, but instead, her words turned into a sob.

“I’m not leaving you. I will see you and the child safely back to London and it would be in your best interests to accept that,” Simon said.

She wanted to talk, but every time she tried, another sob came out.

“Come here, Claire.” Her tears were undoing him, causing his own eyes to itch. “Please,” he added, holding out his arms to her. Suddenly, she flew at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close as she wept. And he, for the first time since she’d left him, felt peace. Nestling her into his body, they sat that way until Ben knocked on the door. Only then did he put her on the seat beside him. Opening the door, he took the food, and soon the carriage was once again on the road to Liverpool.

“Remove that offensive coat and bonnet, Claire. You look like you’re in mourning,” Simon said as he bit into a pie, the warm meat and gravy doing admirable things to restore his spirits.

She was too tired to fight him, so she first took off her gloves, then the bonnet, and finally, the cloak.

“Eat this now, and then you can sleep.”

Taking the pie, she looked at him. “Are you finished ordering me about?”

“No.” Simon didn’t smile as she rolled her eyes.

They ate in silence, then he grabbed her cape and bundled it into a pillow before placing it behind his head. Easing back against it, he let out a relieved sigh. “At least I have found a use for it.” She tried to resist as he reached for her, but Simon simply wrapped both arms around her and settled her against his chest, where he knew she fit perfectly.

“Henry sang to me last night,” she said when her head rested under his chin.

“Who’s Henry?” Simon pulled the ribbon from her plait, and then he then slowly unraveled it.

“The innkeeper’s son. He had the voice of an angel.”

Her words were sounding slurred now, as if she had been overindulging, and he knew in seconds, she would be asleep. “Let’s hope he has his mother’s brains, as well.”

She snuffled into his chest. “It took me ages to plait that.”

“I’ll re-plait it. Now sleep, Claire.”

“Will you sing to me, Simon?”

“No.”

She gave a tired sigh and placed one hand over his heart. Minutes later, she was asleep. Simon smoothed her hair out and then, kissing the top her head, he joined her.

That night was spent at another inn. This one was very quiet, and the proprietor was happy to accommodate all of Simon’s needs. Simon had a bath ordered for Claire and left the room to give her some privacy, although the maid had placed a screen around it. When he opened the door a fair bit later, he felt his heart sink. The room was empty. “Claire!”

He heard splashing and gasping from behind the screen. Relieved, he pressed a hand to his chest, where it thudded uncomfortably.

“I fell asleep, Simon.”

“You sound surprised by that,” he said, making his way to a chair. He sat down and began pulling off his boots. He’d thought she’d run from him again.

“I… Yes, I am. I have never fallen asleep anywhere during the day.” He heard the wonder in her voice. “Of course, I cannot vouch for my infant years.”

“Perhaps after a few nights’ sleep, your body and mind have begun to enjoy the state of slumber, and a habit is forming.”

He could hear the sound of her rising and imagined the water running over her lush curves.

“Please ask the maid to bring you some hot water, Simon. I fear this is quite cold now.”

Glad to leave the room with his heated thoughts, he did as she asked, only to return to find her sitting in her nightdress on the edge of the bed.

“Your face is a myriad of colors now, Simon. Is it painful?” She was attempting to brush her hair, which fell in damp coils to her waist. God, she looked like heaven, sitting there in that prim white nightdress.

“Simon?”

“Uh…yes, much better now, thank you.”

The maids arrived and refilled the tub. Relieved, he slipped behind the screen to undress. Then he stepped into the water and began to scrub himself thoroughly, using a cloth. His skin was nearly raw by the time he stepped out, and his bruises ached, but he was no longer aroused.

“You take the bed, Claire. I will lay a blanket on the floor.”

“But your body is still sore. Surely you would be better on the bed.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, Claire.” Rubbing the drying cloth over his head and body, Simon then pulled on his breeches and stepped out from behind the screen.

“Then we will share a bed once more, Simon. I know you are a gentleman…for the most,” she added, blushing.

He watched her rise from the bed and move to the side, where she pulled back the covers and climbed in. Simon wasn’t sure he could do the same. He knew what she felt like in his arms now, and that had only made him want more. Part of him had always felt an attraction for Claire Belmont, but now it was a fire in his blood. Could he sleep next to her without reaching for her?

“If you sleep on the floor,” she continued, “then we shall both have no sleep.”

“How so, when you have the bed,” Simon said, moving to the opposite side. He then doused the lamp and pulled back the covers. He could do this. He was a grown man who had control over his passions.

“I will worry about you, and that will keep me awake.”

He settled himself and then turned onto his side to face her. However, she was facing the wall. “So this gesture of yours is not actually because you fear for my comfort–it is because you fear for your own?”

She snuffled. “Oh dear. It seems I have been found out.”

He smiled into the dark and thought that perhaps he could do this if it meant she would sleep. It was a nice feeling that she was relaxed enough in his company now to sleep, especially considering what they had just endured.

“Good night, Simon.”

“Good night, Claire.”

Simon woke to an elbow in his already sore ribs. Struggling through the waves of sleep, he tried to establish what had happened.

“You should support me!”

“What?” Turning on his side, he blinked several times to clear his eyes.

“How can you do this, Mathew?”

Lifting up on one elbow, Simon looked down at Claire. In the moonlight, he could see she was lying on her back, body rigid, arms waving around above her head. She still slept but was giving her brother a piece of her mind while she did so.

“Be there for the child, if not for me. You were never there for me. So many long, dark, and lonely nights.”

“It’s all right, Claire. It’s just a dream. Come on, wake up now.” Simon cupped her cheek, turning her to face him.

“Simon?”
“Are there other men you use for a pillow?” He said the words softly, as slowly she focused on him.

“I was dreaming.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t usually dream.”

Simon pushed the hair off her face so she could see clearly. “Do you remember what your dream was about?”

“Mathew.”

“You were angry with him.”

She turned her face into his palm, and he heard her sigh. “Go back to sleep now, Simon. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No.” Just the one flat word, which Simon knew meant don’t probe. He would, however, as soon as they had the child. Mathew Belmont would be made to face the reality of his brother’s child if he had to beat him into submission.

Lying beside her, Simon slid his arm beneath her shoulders and turned her onto her side so she faced him. He then cupped her head and drew her closer for a kiss.

Claire curled her fingers into his chest and kissed him back. She’d wanted this since the last time their lips had touched. Every time she looked at him, she felt his strength pressed against her and remembered the softness of his lips against her own.

“We can’t do this, Claire–not all of it.” His words were hoarse and Claire heard the need in them, the need that matched her own.

“Make me feel what you did at your cottage, Simon, please.”

Lowering his head, he kissed the skin above the neckline of her nightdress as one of his hands slid beneath the hem. His hand moved up her leg. His fingers stroked and caressed every inch of her skin. “Undo your buttons, Claire.”

Her fingers fumbled, but she finally managed what he had asked, and then he was kissing the top of her breasts. Her body was a furnace; need pooled inside her. Pressure built and she ached to have it released. He licked around her nipple as his hand reached the top of her thigh, hot strokes of his tongue driving her passions higher.

“Open your legs for me, sweetheart.”

She did as he asked, and then his hand was there, stroking the curls and easing into the damp folds below. Claire had never guessed she could feel like this. No one had told her what could happen between a man and a woman. She moaned, her body arching beneath his hands and his mouth, which now closed over her nipple as he touched the small, hard bud between her thighs.

“Soon, Claire–not long now.”

She had no idea what he spoke of, knew only that if he stopped, she would surely die. And then he pushed his fingers inside her as his teeth continued to torment her nipple, and she felt it, the beautiful burst of pleasure that left her shuddering and weak seconds later in his arms.