Chapter Twelve
Simon
Simon handed Penelope up into the carriage before sinking onto the seat beside her.
Frustrated anger boiled inside him. As it had every day for the past two weeks.
His fury was directed at the marriage itself, not the despicable reason for it. Simon constantly reminded himself that the young woman beside him had not intentionally trapped him. Rather, she was a victim as well. But still, the inevitability of his prison weighed heavily upon him.
“My lord?”
Penelope’s voice was small and sweet. He despised the fact that it sent a pang of lust streaking throughout his entire body.
Briefly closing his eyes, Simon clenched his jaw and forced himself to glance at her.
She was a vision today, dressed in a pale-peach gown with matching gloves and a wide-brimmed hat adorned with ostrich feathers dyed to match her dress.
It was one of her new gowns, just recently finished in time for the wedding, and had likely cost him a fortune.
She’s incredibly lovely in that color. And I can only imagine how beautiful her nude body would be covered in those pretty feathers.
“Yes, Miss True?” His voice came out harsher than he intended, and he covered it by clearing his throat.
“Have I displeased you in some manner?” she asked quietly, her gaze skittering away from his heated one when she realized he was staring at her.
Watching the street traffic as they headed toward Hyde Park for a very public outing, she kept her face turned from his.
“If a turn around the park is objectionable, please understand that I have no desire for such a spectacle either. I know this must be very embarrassing for you and your family. After all, you did nothing to cause our current situation.” Penelope’s gaze fell to her gloved hands, which rested quietly in her lap.
Her fingers were twisted upon themselves as if to restrain her emotions from breaking free.
Simon grunted in frustration. The reticence with which she spoke to him, the uncertainty and tiny note of fear he detected in her tone, needled him.
He did not want nor need a wife who was terrified of him, but then again, it was because of her that this ridiculous situation even existed.
She should not escape his wrath simply because she was apprehensive of him and their impending marriage the following week.
“The ton expects to see us. And I will not feed into any speculation that we should be ashamed or hide away from curious eyes.” Simon fixed her with an indifferent stare. “We shall not scurry away, as you are wont to do, little mouse.”
Penelope’s lips tightened. “How much longer will you persist in calling me that?”
Simon relaxed against the seat, a pleased smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “Do you not find it endearing?”
“No. It…it somehow takes on a demeaning quality when you utter the words.” Penelope sighed, fiddling with the trim of her gloves.
From beneath the brim of her hat, she glanced at the back of the carriage driver.
The man was intent on directing the vehicle through the park gates, guiding the two matched bays past a jam of carriages and coaches just entering as well.
With the driver’s attention focused elsewhere, Penelope lowered her voice while tilting her head closer to Simon. “May I ask a question of you, my lord?”
Simon nodded, curious about what his unwanted betrothed might say next.
Inhaling a deep breath, Penelope’s chin lifted as she steadfastly met his stern gaze. “When we are wed, will you hurt me physically?” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, her eyes so green the color was rivaled only by the yew trees lining the gravel path.
Simon’s trousers grew tight, abrupt arousal racing through him with such force that it left him breathless for a moment. Gathering his composure, he met her stare and hoarsely replied, “No one has told you what to expect that first night?”
A huff of exasperation escaped Penelope, but despite her obvious embarrassment, she pressed on.
“My mother cannot be bothered with such things, and now that she is no longer welcome at Blackthorne Manor, there will be no opportunity to press her on the subject. It seems too sensitive a subject to discuss with your own mother, although Lady Blackthorne would indulge my curiosity.” Cocking her head, she nibbled her lower lip and said slowly, “I suppose I could ask Emily to explain certain aspects. As a married woman, she has experienced what I shall soon face.”
Simon nearly choked on his own spit. Under no circumstances did he want or need his sister’s elaborations on the various activities the Rakehells indulged in.
“You will not discuss this with Emily, mouse. I forbid it.”
A flash of stubbornness crossed Penelope’s features. “As you are not my husband yet, I am under no obligation to obey you.”
Every nerve and tendon in Simon’s body grew taut with anticipation.
The ways he would teach this foolish little mouse the true meaning of obedience made him want to pin her to the carriage cushions.
He would extinguish that flickering flame of rebellion with his hands.
His teeth and tongue. She would learn just how foolhardy it was to defy him.
Instead, he tapped the side of the carriage and addressed the driver.
“Jones, take us to the Serpentine. The lady and I will walk a bit before heading to Rotten Row.”
Penelope frowned. “You are determined to draw even more attention to us, my lord?”
Simon flashed such a wicked smile that if Penelope possessed even a fraction of self-preservation, she might have realized just how much danger she was in. “I’ve a desire to speak privately with you, Miss True. So, we shall seek out a secluded spot in which we may exchange a word or two.”
The look Penelope gave him was so unexpected and so full of suspicion that Simon found himself amused. Smoothing the skirt of her gown, she grumbled, “You wish to ruin me even further, it seems.”
“You cannot be any more ruined than you already are. And even if it is only by word rather than by deed, the results are still the same. Ruined is ruined.”
She said nothing to that, but her tiny chin wobbled, and that one small motion sent shame swirling through Simon. Hardening his reaction to her distress, he turned his head, refusing to look at her as Jones followed the path until they reached the area of the Serpentine.
Upon reaching the shallow lake, the driver pulled the carriage to the side of the path and held the horses still. Simon descended from the carriage and held his hand out to Penelope.
She hesitated for a moment before accepting his assistance, her gaze locked with his. “Everyone is watching us, Lord Camden,” she whispered as she landed beside him on the gravel path.
It was true. The occupants of several carriages and a few gentlemen on horseback stared as they rode by. Simon was unbothered by their scrutiny, but it was easy to see that the close attention unsettled Penelope.
“Do not mind them, mouse.” Simon pulled her closer to his body, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm. He began walking with purpose as Penelope lengthened her stride to keep up.
There was a strand of trees ahead, and the bend in the path would conceal them from view.
Penelope followed without question, remaining silent until Simon stepped away from the path and into the thick shade of the walnut trees.
He now gripped her hand, keeping her tethered to him in case she decided to bolt.
“Could you not speak with me in the carriage, Lord Camden? Or even on the pathway?” Penelope’s voice held a note of irritation she did not bother to hide.
“I could have,” Simon smoothly agreed. “But I would not have given you answers to your questions.” Without warning, he whirled her around so that she faced one of the walnut trees.
Penelope’s gloved hands automatically braced against the rough bark, a small cry escaping her at the quickness of Simon’s actions.
“My lord?” Her voice trembled. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t you think you should begin calling me by my given name?
I’ve no objection when we are discussing certain matters.
” Simon moved closer, blocking her from turning around with his body.
Feeling the heat of his breath against her delicate ear, Penelope stiffened, her breath coming out in sharp gasps of panic.
“Now, this is what I am going to do, little mouse,” he murmured.
“I intend to make it very clear what you should expect as my wife, and you may ask your questions. I might not answer, but you may ask. Is this clear?”
“Y-yes.”
“Yes, what, Penelope?” He intentionally spoke in a sterner tone and was rewarded with the slight shudder that quivered throughout Penelope’s body. She was too innocent to understand her involuntary response, but Simon’s mouth curved with a pleased smile.
“Yes… Simon.”
“There’s a good girl. Now, let us begin before our privacy is intruded upon.
” Simon’s fingers traced the whorl of fine, dark hair at the nape of her neck.
Penelope’s skin was like silk and the color of fresh cream.
He caressed her as she trembled. “You asked if I would hurt you. The short answer is yes.”
If possible, Penelope grew even more rigid.
A distressed whimper escaped her throat as Simon continued stroking the nape of her neck, his fingers gentle but insistent.
As her skin heated with agitation, her perfume rose from her pores, swirling around them in a delicate mist of vanilla-infused lavender.
“I’m told it can be painful for a virgin the first time a man makes love to her.
So, you may certainly expect some degree of pain.
” His hand moved down the center of her back, feeling her spine through the layers of her dress.
She seemed so…fragile. Breakable. She’d lost weight since this scandalous mess had begun, and he didn’t like it.
But he buried that surprising burst of sentimental concern and focused instead on his boiling resentment.
“Will it be like that every time?” The question stuttered between her lips.
“It’s hard to say. Some women do not enjoy the act, but know this, little mouse.
When I make love to you, I won’t stop even if you scream.
I won’t stop if you beg. I will be as gentle as possible the first time, but because this pain is unavoidable, I will fuck you through it and enjoy every minute of it.
” Bringing one hand to the front of her throat, Simon curled his fingers around the slender column as he continued stroking her back with the other.
His voice remained steady and low. He was being intentionally cruel, but he carried too much anger inside him to temper it.
“You will accept my cock when I make you my wife. You will do as I command and not deny me in any form or fashion. Once our wedding night is over, I will begin your training in earnest.”
“Training?” Penelope asked breathlessly.
“Yes, training, little mouse. You must learn how to accept whatever I wish to do to your body.” As he spoke, Penelope arched back against him, trying to escape the pressure of his hand on her throat.
Her action pushed her curved bottom firmly against Simon’s groin, and he nearly groaned aloud from the sensation.
Had she been any other woman, he would have already tossed her skirts and buried himself inside her.
“If I desire to fuck your mouth, your cunny, or your arse, you will properly present yourself and thank me for using you. If I wish to tie you up and stripe your back with my riding crop, I do not doubt that you will cry and plead for mercy, but you will not tell me no. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She nearly sobbed the word while at the same time, her bottom swayed back against him again and again. Her hands gripped the trunk of the tree with such force that some of the bark crumbled off and dirtied her gloves.
“Excellent. I believe we shall get along quite well,” Simon muttered.
Damn, but her movements and his own imagination were playing havoc on his own body.
His cock was hard and stiff, and while contemplating how he would address that particular problem came the realization that his quiet, little mouse of a fiancée was aroused by his words.
She whimpered when his hands tightened, her body sagging against him as if her bones were melting into his.
Snaking an arm around her slender waist, Simon abruptly jerked her away from the tree she gripped so desperately.
He held her upright against his body, not caring in the slightest that he might be crushing the breath from her lungs.
One hand stayed wrapped around her throat, his thumb pushing her chin high as his mouth hovered at her ear.
“Does my little mouse like hearing how her husband will use her body for his pleasure?” he whispered low in her ear.
Penelope trembled almost violently in the circle of his arms, her breath escaping in little pants, but she remained stubbornly silent.
“Do you like it when I touch your breasts? Like this?” Keeping his arm around her waist, his hand slid up to cup the underside of one plump breast. Penelope jolted forward, but there was no escape from Simon’s attention.
His thumb slid back and forth over her nipple, and even though her half-stays and layers of silk and lace lay between his fingers and her bare flesh, he could feel the tiny nub contracting into a tight little bud.
“Your body does not lie, Penelope. I know you like it. And I suspect you will enjoy every depraved thing I do to you. One more week, little mouse. One more week and I shall have my revenge.”
He whirled Penelope around to face him then, his fingers gripping her chin so that she could not jerk away.
Staring down into her wide, green eyes, Simon recognized her arousal and how it mingled with apprehension and uncertainty.
Her pouty pink lips parted in surprise, and Simon could not resist their lure.
With far more tenderness than he felt capable of, Simon claimed those lips, swallowing her shocked gasp and molding his mouth to hers as she moaned in half-hearted protest. He explored her mouth, sweeping his tongue against hers until she mimicked his actions with awkward curiosity.
He could feel her heartbeat clamoring for mercy, and he was oddly willing to grant it.
She melted into him as the kiss turned more gentle, searching rather than demanding.
Ah, dammit. This girl is far more dangerous than I ever anticipated. I’m going to want more and more of her. So much of her that there may not be anything left when I’ve finished taking my fill.
He was drowning in her, and he never wanted to come up for air. Penelope True was sweetness and light. Honey and vanilla. Fire and softness.
And he was a rakehell steeped in sin and depravity.