Twenty minutes later, freshly shaved-with only two nicks-and cleanly dressed-although wearing one boot that bore a row of tooth marks and looked decidedly more worse for the wear than the other-and carrying the note he’d written to the magistrate, he reentered the kitchen. To his surprise Baxter placed a plate on the table before him along with a cup of tea.
“Best I could do with wot were here,” the giant muttered.
“Thank you, Baxter.” He tasted the ham, eggs and thinly sliced potatoes and nodded. “Delicious.” He was tempted to ask Baxter if he’d started the fire in the hearth with the flames that seemed to shoot from his eyeballs every time he glared at Simon, but as it didn’t appear that a sense of humor was one of the giant’s better qualities, Simon decided silence was the wiser strategy.
He watched Genevieve as he ate, unable to pull his gaze from where she crouched by the hearth, petting Beauty. Simon noted that she once again wore gloves, and he determined that today would be the day he’d find out why. Beauty flopped onto her back, paws dangling in the air, in a shameless petition for belly-rubbing. Sophia observed the proceedings from the windowsill through narrowed eyes.
Genevieve laughed at Beauty’s antics and tickled her gloved fingers over the dog’s belly, much to the canine’s delight. Simon’s own abdomen tingled, recalling the feel of Genevieve’s hands exploring him-touching, stroking, caressing, pushing him to the brink of madness. Whatever ailment or injury her hands might suffer from, their touch was pure magic.
As if she felt the weight of his regard, she looked up and their gazes met. Laughter still lurked in her eyes and for several seconds Simon simply couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything save stare. Bloody hell, she was lovely. And damn if his heart rate didn’t quicken at the prospect of spending the entire day with her.
“I’ll be on my way,” Baxter said. Simon pulled his gaze away from Genevieve and watched the giant man untie the apron from around his waist. Baxter looked at Genevieve. “Anything I can get for you before I leave?”
“No, thank you. But if you could bring back a fresh gown from the cottage, I’d appreciate it.”
“Done.” He turned to Simon and scowled. “If any harm comes to her ye’ll be answerin’ to me. And I can promise ye won’t like doin’ so.” With that he tossed down the apron, snatched up the note Simon had written, and stomped from the room. Seconds later the front door slammed shut.
Simon cleared his throat. “He certainly knows how to make an exit.”
“He’s very-”
“Protective. Yes, I know. Should I be foolish enough to forget, I’m certain they’ll be finding pieces of me all over Little Longstone. I don’t believe I’ve ever met such an…outspoken servant.”
A bit of a chill entered her eyes. “That’s because he’s much more than a servant. He’s my friend. More like a brother actually.”
“Yes, I can see that.” The spy in him-the one concerned with saving his neck from the hangman’s noose-coughed to life, demanding he grab the opening she’d so neatly handed him. This was his chance to question her regarding her relationship with Baxter, find out all he could about her. But as it had from the first moment he’d seen her, the man in him, the one who desired her to the point of distraction, won out. He wanted her. Needed her. Now. Everything else could wait.
Setting aside his napkin, he stood and walked toward her, trying to ignore the little voice inside his head chanting You’re alone with her. She rose as well, her gloved hands lightly clasped in front of her. He halted when less than an arm’s length separated them. He tried to resist touching her, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he could, but he failed utterly. Reaching out, he cupped her face in one palm.
“I was worried when I awoke and discovered you gone.”
“Baxter is an early riser, and given last night’s occurrence, I knew he’d tap on my door to make certain I was all right. I thought it prudent to return to my own chamber before he did so.” Her lips twitched. “Lest we should find pieces of you all over Little Longstone.”
“Not to worry. He may outweigh me, but I’ve a few tricks of my own.”
“Yes, I know.” Her gaze flicked to his mouth. “You demonstrated them last night.”
Bloody hell, she might as well have set a match to him. “Not all of them,” he murmured. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lush lower lip and spoke the simple truth. “It was an incredible night.”
“Yes, it was.”
“One I’d like to repeat.” Another simple truth.
Her gaze searched his for several seconds, then she nodded. “As would I.”
He released a breath he hadn’t even realized he held. Only a few hours had passed since he’d held her, kissed her, but it suddenly felt like years. And as if he would suffocate if he didn’t touch her.
Stepping forward, he erased the distance between them and drew her into his arms. He brushed his mouth over hers, half amused, half irritated that such a feather-light touch ignited him so. Her lips parted and his tongue slipped into the silky heat of her mouth. He felt as if he were sinking into that same dark pool of pleasure in which he’d drowned last night. His hands roamed her back, molding her soft curves to him. Need, hot and urgent, swamped him, vibrating a groan in his throat.
“Genevieve…” Her name came out in a husky rasp as he broke off their kiss to drag his open mouth down the fragrant length of her neck. He wanted her. Now. In the light, where he could see her. Bending his knees, he scooped her up and walked briskly toward his bedchamber.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed. Given how badly I want you, I considered the table in the kitchen, but since I’ve no desire for either of us to suffer splinters in the backside, I’ll find the fortitude to wait until we have the comfort of my mattress beneath us. But rest assured, the thirty seconds it’s taking us to get there is sorely taxing my patience.”
13
EVERYTHING inside Genevieve turned icy with dread. She had to put a stop to this. Immediately. “Simon, please put me down.”
“Gladly.” He shouldered through the bedchamber door then strode to the bed where he set her down with a gentle bounce. He started to follow her down, but before he could cover her body with his, she rolled away and stood up. She quickly walked to the fireplace, to put as much space as possible between her and his bed. He approached her slowly, his eyes questioning, even more so when she backed away from him. He halted several feet away, and to her vast relief he made no move to touch her again. “I thought you said you wanted more of what we shared last night?”
“Actually, I said I wanted another incredible night. And I do.” Her gaze shifted briefly to the window where a bright stream of sunlight spilled into the room. “It isn’t night.”
His gaze searched hers with such intensity, she had the disconcerting sensation he could read her every thought. Finally he said, “You only want to make love in the dark.”
“Yes.” Although she prayed he’d accept that without any further questions, she knew he wouldn’t.
“Why?” To her alarm, he stepped closer, until less than two feet separated them. Her dismay grew when reached out and lightly clasped her shoulders. Dear God, the warmth of his hands felt so good, the heat of them almost melted her resolve. And that could not happen. She could only, would only, give herself to him under the cover of darkness. To do otherwise would only leave her open to rejection.