Chapter Twenty-Nine
Simon
“Shall we ride to the stream today?” Simon asked as one of the dining room footmen poured more tea into his cup. “It’s not very far from the house, and if things have not changed over much, it is a lovely spot to spend an afternoon.”
Penelope nibbled on a piece of toast. “I would like that very much. Although I must confess that I am not a very experienced rider.”
Simon waved a hand in silent dismissal at the servants who persisted in hovering about the dining room.
Much of the staff was new, hired not long after his marriage to Penelope.
He’d left the necessary selections to Mister Phelps, the steward, and Willow Hill’s housekeeper, Mrs. Conner.
The elderly woman had been in her position for years, and Simon trusted her judgment in the matter.
“I remember that detail very well from the times you visited my sister at Thorne Park,” Simon said with an indulgent smile.
He folded the investment reports his solicitor had sent him and laid them aside.
Noting Penelope’s avid interest in the papers, he bit back a grin and continued.
“Although I suppose there are not many who could keep up with Emily when she’s racing across the fields. ”
Penelope giggled. It was an enchanting sound, and Simon found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the fetching visage his wife presented this morning.
They had not made love the last two nights since arriving at Willow Hill.
The journey from London to the estate was tiring for Penelope because of her unfortunate travel sickness, although she assured him that she fared better than usual with Simon to distract her.
He had shared stories of his childhood and sanitized versions of his adventures with Lucien and Wylder during the coach ride.
Her rapt attention, the way she gazed up at him as though he hung the moon and stars, left him eager to keep her entertained.
He found it disturbing, however, that his wife either had no desire to share amusing stories from her own childhood, or more likely, had none to speak of.
At one point, Simon fell silent as Penelope nodded off to sleep with her head resting on his shoulder.
Rather than awaken her, he simply shifted his body, bracing his back against the corner of the coach and gathering her close as she slept.
Her sigh of contentment twisted his heart until he found it difficult to breathe.
Her sleepy exhaustion brought out an unexpected tenderness in Simon.
Upon arriving at Willow Hill, he had quickly dismissed Sally and his valet after unloading the trunks and tended to Penelope himself, helping her with a warm bath.
They shared an intimate dinner with a roaring fire to warm the chill of their bedchambers and retired to bed soon after.
Settling in behind her, Simon lay awake for a long time, watching her sleep and marveling over how unusual the experience was for him.
He could not recall a time when he’d merely slept with a woman without sex occurring first.
“If Emily had not fallen off her horse, she might not have ever captured Lord Wyldewood in marriage.” Penelope cocked her head, a mischievous smile curving her lips as she drew him out of his reverie.
“And had she not actually suffered a rather serious injury, I might have suspected she took that tumble on purpose. She was, after all, very determined to entice the earl to declare himself and propose marriage.”
“You may be right about that, mouse.” Leaning back in his chair, Simon removed his glasses and allowed his gaze to travel over Penelope.
She was so incredibly lovely, dressed in a sunny yellow morning dress adorned with emerald-hued ribbons.
Her hair was pulled back into a simple braid, a jaunty bow of the same green shade tied around the end.
Two nights of sleep, free from the erotic demands of her husband, left her with a fresh countenance, her cheeks glowing pink, and green eyes sparkling like the ocean waves reflecting the sunshine.
“Returning to my question, however, are you up for a ride today? I shall select the calmest horse in the stable for your mount, so there is no reason to be afraid.”
“I am apprehensive, of course, but I am not afraid.” Her smile was sweet and shy. “I trust you, Simon.”
Hearing those words from Penelope’s lips caused a strange ache in Simon’s chest. That she should place any faith in him at all was miraculous.
He’d done so little to warrant it. He’d been selfish and demanding, and perhaps most egregious of all, he still held the niggling suspicion that this girl might be involved in an ill-conceived plot to kill him.
And while that scenario was likely far beyond the realm of possibility, it could not be completely discounted.
“When you are finished with your breakfast, run along upstairs and have your maid help you dress in your riding habit.” Simon took another sip of tea, hoping it would conceal his desire to be the one undressing and redressing his alluring new countess.
He could not stop touching her or thinking about touching her.
It was incredibly distracting, especially when she gazed at him with those huge, liquid eyes of hers.
“Yes, my lord,” she murmured obediently. Glancing at him from beneath the sweep of her dark lashes, she asked, “Shall I stop by the kitchen and have Cook prepare a few things for us to take along?”
Simon shook his head, already planning the items he would pack for their afternoon adventure.
There was a surprisingly naughty side to his wife.
She had learned rather quickly that continuing to use certain words or phrases would result in some manner of correction.
The little minx did it quite deliberately now, and the knowledge that she welcomed those highly charged moments between them made Simon as hard as stone.
“I shall handle it.” Simon noted the sudden darker flush on Penelope’s cheeks.
She knew her words and the reality of what he would do to her had aroused him.
It was obvious she was trying to provoke him into paying attention to her, but because she desired it, he would deny her.
At least for a little while longer. Rising from his chair, he moved to stand beside her.
“I have a bit of business to take care of this morning, so it will be a while before we can venture out,” he said in a stern voice.
“Come to my study in an hour, dressed in the appropriate attire. We will then walk to the stables together.”
Penelope’s full, pink lips formed a delicate pout, a subtle expression of reluctance that sent a spear of lust streaking through Simon.
With a resigned nod, she gracefully rose from her seat, her fingers sliding naturally into his as he politely helped her stand.
“Yes, Simon,” she said in a tone laced with unexpected mutiny.
Leaning closer, Simon’s lips barely brushed against the soft curve of her neck, savoring the way her body responded with a shiver.
The sweet, intoxicating scent of lavender and vanilla enveloped her.
With deliberate, almost reverent intent, he ran a thumb gently over the underside of her wrist, knowing that the warmth of his touch would transfer her perfume to his fingertips.
He would be able to inhale her during their short time apart.
Bloody hell. I am mad for her. Utterly and completely mad.
A soft chuckle bubbled up inside him as he reflected on his actions. If the other Rakehells ever discovered how obsessed he’d become over his wife, they would snicker and claim his fall from confirmed bachelorhood had been nothing short of inevitable.
Turning Penelope toward him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a hungry kiss to her parted lips.
“You have been angling for my attention, mouse, and this afternoon you shall have it. And while I suspect you are looking forward to that moment with as much anticipation as I am, I doubt you are prepared for the consequences of your actions.”
*
“Here you are, milady.” One of the new grooms pulled forth a sleek, cream-colored mare from the interior of the stable. The young man led the horse out into the courtyard and pulled her around to the mounting block. “Her name is Artemis.”
Penelope moved closer to the animal, her gloved hand stroking the mare’s velvety muzzle. “What a beauty she is. And her name…it is very pretty as well.” She smiled at Simon. “Artemis was one of the Greek goddesses of hunting and of the moon.”
“And a protector of young women, I believe legend has it,” Simon replied dryly. “Her name suits her. I’ve been assured that she is a calm, steady mount, Penelope. You should be quite safe upon her back.”
“Aye, she is that, milord,” the stablemaster said as he led Simon’s gelding out to him.
The horse tossed his head in a spirited display, his dark bay coat gleaming in the sunlight.
“She’ll not give milady any trouble, and you can be sure Merlin here, with his well-deserved reputation as an excellent hunter, will behave himself. ”
“Thank you, Darby,” Simon said as he placed a set of saddlebags over Merlin’s back.
After lashing the bundle into place, he turned to Penelope and watched as she climbed upon the mounting block, her hand gripped by the undergroom.
Jealousy was sour in his mouth at the sight of another man’s hands on his wife, but he swallowed it down.
It was customary for a groom to aid a lady in mounting her horse, but the young man helping Penelope appeared incapable of tearing his awestruck gaze away.
Understandable, of course, considering the lovely figure the Countess of Camden cast in her hunter-green riding habit.
A stylish hat, adorned with a plume of feathers and cream-colored lace matching the cuffs of the Spencer jacket, sat at a jaunty tilt on her upswept coiffure.