The Scarlet Bride (24 page)

Simon shook his head. “There is nothing that cannot wait until morning.” He rose and rounded the table to take her hand. Laura stood too hastily, not realizing that her
hem was under her heel. She wobbled. Simon chuckled and settled her on her feet.

She looked into his eyes. He was standing dangerously close to her. He smelled of ale and sweat and perfume. It was an odd concoction that sent her senses reeling.

She swayed forward, her gaze locking on his damaged mouth. Simon dipped his head and took her lips in a hungry kiss.

A low moan broke from Laura as her hands rose to flatten against his chest. The rough homespun of the borrowed clothes added to the intensity of the moment. She kissed him most willingly, her tongue intertwining with his, while her body eagerly accepted his exploring caress.

The clock chimed midnight and Simon ended the kiss. His eyes were passion dark, his face regretful. “If I do not stop now, I’ll carry you up to my room and make love to you all night.”

Laura made a noise that sounded agreeable to his suggestion, but Simon shook his head. “I think you were right when you said you should remain chaste. We both have considerations that require clear thinking.”

She hated that reason was taking over her desire. She wanted to touch him intimately and be touched in return. But she’d vowed to save herself for her husband, if one ever came along, and save herself she would.

If only Simon weren’t so desperately attractive. “Your Lady Jeanette and my new life,” she muttered acerbically. She despised that her friendship proposal was now ruining a perfectly wonderful kiss. “Yes, we must keep our focus on the case and your hunt for an acceptable wife.”

If the matter was settled, why then did she feel so out of sorts? Perhaps it was her skin soaking up the heat from his body as they stood close together. Perhaps it was the memory of his mouth on her breasts, his lips tugging her hardened nipples. Whatever was leaving her feeling terribly restless, she had to extricate herself now or do something she’d regret.

Like fling her body against his chest and beg him to make love to her, as he said, all night.

So she pushed away, shoving the chair backward with her shins, clutching the heavy table for support as she awkwardly stepped out of reach.

“I am dreadfully tired,” she said, her voice thin. “Perhaps you should show me to my room.”

Simon didn’t move to take her arm. His gaze was thoughtful. It felt as if he were trying to read her thoughts. It would be a difficult task, as they were jumbled into a confusing tangle.

The walk to her room was very long. Simon would touch her back or shoulder as he guided her along, and she struggled to ignore the heat of his hand through her clothing.

By the time he stopped in front of her door, every inch of her was warmed and wanting him. She knew she should step inside the room and lock the door, but in a momentary lapse, she foolishly peered up into his eyes.

She wasn’t certain if it was a squeak or a whimper that left her throat at the moment she launched herself against his chest, only that she forgot propriety and vows as she felt his arms close around her.

Somehow the door was kicked open and she was nudged backward across a candlelit room. The single candle flickered as her skirt caught the writing table and wobbled the candlestick. Simon managed to catch it before it toppled over and without breaking their kiss.

Laura smiled under his lips as he pushed her without preliminaries down on the bed and slid a hand up under her skirts. She felt a moment of reservation.

“Don’t think,” he said as his hands found her core. “I promised I will not take advantage. This is for you.”

He played with her body, his expert fingers moving between her legs until she couldn’t think. Somehow he loosened her bodice and kissed her breasts before tugging a nipple between his teeth.

Small sounds escaped her as she writhed like a wild thing in his arms. Her release came swiftly. She cried out, the sound muffled by his kiss.

As she smiled sleepily, he pulled down her skirts and
reached to caress his thumb across her jaw. “As promised, you are still untouched.”

Laura narrowed her lids. “Not entirely.”

He grinned. “I promised not to make love to you. Pleasuring you with my hand was never part of my promise.”

“You are a cad,” she said as he pulled her to her feet. “A handsome, arrogant, and seductive cad. I must learn the skill required to resist your seductions.”

Simon led her to the door and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I hope you never do. Now lock the door and sleep well, sweetheart. We have much to do tomorrow.”

S
imon left Laura at the door, thankful to put some distance between them. He’d shoved his hands into his pockets during the walk upstairs to keep himself from reaching for her. Her seductive scent that had tickled his senses, the feel of her soft skin under his searching hands, and her big beautiful eyes, all together had left him undone.

And when she’d kissed him, it had taken every ounce of will inside him to leave her largely untouched.

He wanted her with a measure of insanity. Yet he knew that no matter how much they ached for each other, had he allowed himself to take her fully, she’d have regretted it in the morning. She was unsure of herself, her future, him. And he could promise her nothing. Even their friendship would end once he took a wife. Selfish desire would only be a temporary release. And he cared for her too much to press his intentions.

Damn chivalry.

He walked to his room on the far end of the hall. He shook off images of Laura undressing for bed and thought instead of the merchant. The horrific murder was the only thing that could distract him from his lustful thoughts.

The crime had been brutal. He envisioned the man lying among the rubbish, a death gurgle rattling in his slashed
throat. As Crawford had bent over him, he’d tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t form. He’d expired too quickly.

Had Smoot tried to name his killer?

If only their arrival had been better timed, they might have been able to save the man. But once the blade cut his neck, he was doomed.

Whoever killed the merchant had the strength no half-starved whore would possess. No, the killer was male; of that, Simon had no doubt.

He blew out the lamp, plunging the room into shadow, and walked to the window. He looked out into the darkened street. A light fog was settling over London, giving the city an eerie air. He had the sensation of being watched, though he couldn’t see anyone lurking.

Dread filled him. Laura was in trouble. He’d thought her unease was simple worry that the Runners would find her. Now he wasn’t certain she wasn’t being watched.

She’d seen nothing the night of the murder. But did the killer think she had? Or was he merely obsessed with her, as Simon suspected?

A coach plodded past the house. Simon watched it vanish into the fog and let his mind turn to Westwick. He wasn’t confident Westwick’s story would fade away once the newspapers found another scandalous happening to intrigue readers.

Yes, the earl would eventually be forgotten as years passed and the courtesan-suspect would vanish into obscurity. However, the killer would always be a danger to Laura. She’d never feel entirely safe with him roaming free.

The door opened behind him. Dunston stepped into the room, his eyes squinting in the dim light. “Would you like me to help you undress, sir?”

“No, thank you. I am not ready for sleep.” He turned back to the window. “Could you set a footman outside Miss Prescott’s room? I have an uneasy feeling tonight. I’d rest better knowing she is guarded.”

Simon caught Dunston’s reflection in the glass and knew
the valet had questions. Though the servant had worked for him for eight years and kept his secrets, he didn’t feel Laura’s story was one to share. The valet would do as he asked without question.

“Yes, sir.” Dunston withdrew.

Alone again, Simon watched the street for what seemed like hours before finally dropping, fully clothed, on the bed. Sometime during the night, tired of staring at the ceiling, he dozed. What followed was a nightmare of Laura, fleeing a madman with a heavy blade.

L
aura awakened to a sound from the street and startled up on the bed. It took a second to realize where she was and she slumped back on the pillow.

The Harrington town house. Simon was near. Still, as she lay in the quiet, buried under soft sheets and a floral coverlet, she found sleep elusive. Her mind was awhirl over Simon’s tale of the merchant’s murder. She felt that he’d kept something from her. Perhaps he didn’t want to worry her, as she was already unsettled. The fear of being watched hadn’t abated within the safety of this town house.

It was streaming moonlight that finally drew her from the bed. A chill had come with the dying fire. She pulled a blanket off a chair and wrapped it around herself as she padded barefoot to the window. Pushing back the curtain, she discovered a fog had taken over the night and blanketed the city.

She stared off across the empty garden and shivered. Two murders followed her, mocking her, perhaps connected, perhaps not. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was closing in on her.

Pressing her open palms against the cool glass, she sought confirmation of her fears, her heart beating a little faster. She saw nothing but fog and the dark shapes of trees and shrubs. The creaks and groans of the old house added to her uncertainty. Was she truly safe here?

Unable to summon up a desire to return to the bed, she let the curtain fall back into place and quickly crossed the room.

Peering into the hallway, she saw a young, strapping footman sitting outside the door. His head bobbed forward, then jerked back upright with a snore-snort. Laura smiled as she slipped out of the room and tiptoed down the hall.

It didn’t take long to find Simon’s room. The house was empty but for the servants, so she needn’t worry about stumbling onto Simon’s sister or parents. The last sputters of a dying lamp outside the door assured her that she was in the right place. She made very little sound as she slipped into the room and crossed to the bed.

He lay on his side on the coverlet. Quietly she slid in beside him, and snuggled close to his back. He rolled over and wrapped her in his arms.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

She shook her head. “There are too many sounds in this house and the fog can hide many dangers. I feel eyes watching from the darkness.”

Simon pressed his mouth to her forehead. “The doors and windows are locked. You are safe here.” Suddenly, he frowned. “How did you get past Webster?”

Laura shrugged. “I learned to move stealthily about Westwick’s bedroom. The longer he slept undisturbed, the less time I had to spend fending off his advances.”

“You are quite a resourceful woman.” There was admiration in his voice. She brushed her face against him.

His warmth comforted her. She rolled over and pressed back against his chest. He snuggled her close. “Would you mind if I slept with you tonight?”

She felt sure he smiled. “If you must, though there are only two hours until daylight.”

“Then two hours it is.” She rubbed her cheek against the coarse hairs on his forearm and closed her eyes. For the next few hours, she slept more peacefully than she had in weeks.

T
he sound of a crow squawking outside the window awakened Laura. She rolled over expecting to find Simon sleeping beside her. The bed was empty. There were female voices in the hallway that Laura assumed were the maids going about their duties. She stretched on the bed, wondering where Simon was and how she could explain her presence in his bed to the maids.

Luckily the women moved on and she hurried from beneath the warm covers. The floor was cool beneath her feet as she crossed to the door and eased it open. A peek outside confirmed that the hall was empty. She quickly hurried back to her room.

After washing up with tepid water from a pitcher and doing her best to detangle her hair with her fingertips, Laura pulled it back into a loose braid. With her toilet completed, she wriggled out of the borrowed nightdress and into her clothes. Slipping into her stockings and shoes, she made her way from the room.

At the top of the staircase, she stumbled upon a maid, who directed her to the breakfast room.

“Good morning,” Laura said as she walked into the
pretty yellow room. The curtains were open and she could see that the fog was dissipating, with sunlight creeping through the remaining mist. The sun was welcome after several mornings of light rain.

Simon lifted his face from the newspaper and smiled. “Good morning.” He met her eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you.” She cast him a sidelong glance as she walked to the sideboard to examine the breakfast offerings. He was impeccably dressed, without even a hint of stubble to mar his perfect jaw. “And you?” She reached for a plate.

“Decently enough,” he said from behind her as she loaded the plate with creamed eggs, bacon, and pastries. A maid poured her tea as she joined Simon at the table.