Page 41 of The Hellion is Tamed

A vision of Emma on her back, her lips parted, these husky mewling sounds slipping free, thundered through his mind. Took hold of his cock and said,remember that marvelous moment?Took hold in a way that had him halting to adjust his suddenly tight trousers.

He’d experimented with her during those short hours as he’d never experimented before. Watched, demanded,begged. He’d never been able, he supposed, or willing, to be so free. To whisper veiled desires into someone’s ear and have them react. Smile and laugh—thendo. The deed, one necessary to a man’s survival, had never feltrightwith anyone else even as he’d heartily agreed to doing it because he was, after all, a man.

But this time…

He caught his faraway reflection in a beveled mirror he passed and halted in place.

Obsessed. He was obsessed.

With a woman who’d left him, much like his mother had. A hurt he wasn’t sure he could recover from twice.

Emma’s scent lingering in his mind, the feel of her skin indelibly imprinted, like the wavering lines on his fingertips, ones a soothsayer in the League had recently told him signified the finding of his true love and a long life.

“What to do about your girl?” Henry asked from his place before the mirror, which he peered into, searching for a reflection that wasn’t there. “In my time floating around, life to life, I’ve seen many a man fumblethispart, let me tell you. But you’re the only bloke I could actually give me humble advice to, which is liberatin’, I have to say. I feel quite bold with my words this morn.”

“Lucky me,” Simon said and continued down the hallway, wondering why it was that the haunts were like shadows evaporating into the mist when you needed them, always around when you didn’t.

“Leave on good terms with the little filly, now, did ya’?”

Simon glanced into the first parlor he passed, finding it empty as a bawdy house on Sunday morning, wondering where Emma and the duchess could be. Delaney had invited him for tea, matchmaking, or possibly, considering the calling cards and flowers filling the townhouse,not. “Is it my fault Julian tracked us down at the Blue Moon and took her back to the duke’s posthaste? Looking worse for the wear, the both of us. The right decision, the proper move, getting her out of my gaming hell, my bedchamber in said establishment, I should discretely add. But then, you keep all my secrets, don’t you? We arrived two weeks after the ball, in the same year, thank God, but my family was frantic. They’d been combing London, looking for us the entire time.”

“But you waited three days once they retrieved her. Until this upmarket invite from the countess forced you against the wall, so ta’ speak. It don’t look agreeable, seeming as if you didn’t want to talk to the chit after entertaining her in that gambling den of yours for two long nights. Hiding, like.”

“Duchess,” Simon murmured, giving the elegant emerald and gold sitting room Delaney never used a swift scan as he passed it. Popping the violin case against his thigh, he blew an agitated breath through his teeth. “I have a fantastically successful enterprise to manage. Contracts to negotiate, a slew of workers to oversee, shipments to coordinate delivery of, account ledgers, multiple, that make my eyes bleed to look at them. The second son of a marquess intent on losing every shilling he has, and my brother, Finn, being so kind-hearted as to ask me to step in and talk the idiot out of it. Plus, Josie has a new rescue for me to locate a position for. This one is educated enough to pass off as a governess. Baron Digby needs one for his twins, now that his wife ran off with his valet.”

“Oh, the baroness was a wicked one. Naughty. The news of her even traveled to our side.” Henry clicked his tongue in ghostly judgment. “Right so, them children need a tutor. You’re doing fine deeds left and right, young Simon. Proud of you, I am. You protect and are protected.”

Henry’s words warmed him, though he struggled to hide his response. “A nifty situation ripe for the plucking, that’s all it is.” He spun the button between his fingers, the cool metal curve beneath his fingertips calming. “Taking advantage of an opportunity, which God knows, I’m good at. Quickest solution so I can get back to running my business.”

“Business to run.” Henry wiggled his pinkie in his ear, his whistle sharp with skepticism. “Woman to runfrom, ya’ mean. Although if you don’t want to run”—the haunt flicked his arm in the direction of the back lawn—“she’s out there. Flitting about in the gardens. All full of grace and charm. Looks like the kindest picture of a lady. One of our own, rising from the ashes.” He chuckled, the tattered lace on a Regency-era sleeve Simon had only seen in paintings dancing with the movement. “Don’t believe it, though. She spent the morning teaching the staff to play hazard. Loves the kitchens more than any other spot when no quality chit spends time amongstthosefolk. Servants liking her says quite a bit. A fine caster you’ve got on your hands, Simon, my boy. Quite fine, indeed. Rolls the dice like she were born to ‘em and nice, too. Nicked every soul who dared to play with her, but in the end, she returned the winnings. Earned over a pound, all told.”

Simon strode to the wall of windows lining the gallery, caught a flash of canary yellow mixed among the lush sea that was the duke’s expansive lawn. The Soul Catcher hummed to life in his coat pocket, recognizing Emma before he did. He leaned to the left, squinted. There, she and Delaney seated on a marble bench in the side garden, a sterling tea service settled on a table before them. Simon narrowed his eyes, his body tensing. Rounding out the group to a lovely trio was the Earl of Hollingmark, rather impressive when Simon wished he looked more like a toad. A man who’d made it known to all who would listen that he was open to marriage again, no immeasurable dowry required. His late countess had been a rare beauty. And a wealthy one. It seemed he was in the market for another gorgeous gem, much like the gem housed in Simon’s pocket.

Simon’s heart kicked in his chest, memories of his lost night with Emma circling his mind and snapping like a pack of wolves. The flood of possessiveness was disturbing for a man unaccustomed to ownership.Temper, he reminded himself. He’d been known, on multiple occasions, to make tactical errors under volatile duress.

He shoved the button in his trouser pocket and rounded on his haunt. “I can’t go out there withthisin my hands.” Thrusting the violin at Henry, he gestured to the sweeping staircase that led to the upper floors. “Deliver it to whichever chamber is hers, as I’m sure you know which one that is. Someday, my friend, we need to discuss your voyeuristic tendencies.”

Henry’s bushy sterling eyebrow rose, his lips pursing. Taking the violin with the tenderness one would reserve for a babe, he tipped his chin toward the hallway they’d traveled down. “All them flowers had notes. Poetry, even. If I leave this without tribute, she’ll think the duke sent it, being a musician himself.” Henry’s thumb snaked along a grove in the case, a rough caress. “How will that advance your agenda?”

“This isn’t a strategic military campaign; I don’t have an agenda.” Simon muscled through the terrace doors, the side garden down a short stack of stairs and to his right. A gust of wind flavored with the Thames, azaleas, roses…choices and fate…hit him square in the jaw. His gaze immediately found Emma, looking like cream topping a fairy cake in a gown the color of sunlight and possibilities. Goosebumps swept his arms, raised the hair on the nape of his neck until he shivered from the effect. His cock, willing, hungry since the moment Julian had dragged her away, rising at the sight of her. He denied the impulse to let his perusal take her in from head to toe.

In their hours together, he’d been unable to get enough of her. But in the most simple of ways. The brush of her knee against his, his ankle caressing her calf. Tracing the pale blue veins beneath her skin, the charming freckle on her cheek. Whispers in the darkness, hands clasped.

Laughter, joy, contentment.

Insignificantly significant connections he’d never made or needed before.

However, the point he couldn’t get past, something that, when he recalled it, made him stumble as he entered the duke’s lush garden, was that he’d almost told her he loved her. Felt the need in the quiet hush, after they’d made love a second time, to admit this, open the rusty chest that was Simon MacDermot.Mac. To admit he was considering forgiving her for leaving him if she’d forgive him for not waiting forher.

He’d been grateful she’d been asleep when the sentimental urge hit.

Mooning over her for years as a boy, only to find he was doing the same as a man, was marginally distressing.

He sneezed into his fist,goddamn roses, the sound interrupting the trio at an opportune moment.

Delaney swiveled on the marble bench, something murky in his expression lightening hers. She loved nothing more than romantic drama, he thought with a scowl.

“Simon, join us.” The duchess patted the empty spot next to her. He noted no empty spot next to Emma, moving into the center of the garden with a halting step. Hollingmark had claimed more than half of the bench she sat on, his arse crushing the trim of her butter-yellow gown.