Chapter Thirty
Penelope
A large chestnut tree stood at the bend of the road, and this was where Simon turned the gelding.
“If we were to continue that way,” he said, jerking his head to indicate the path they were veering away from, “we would eventually come to a small village and the lake that this stream empties into.”
The trees became thicker as they rode along, and Penelope concentrated on guiding the mare as she followed behind.
It was a lovely ride, with wildflowers blooming in the sunny patches and deep-green moss blanketing the tree roots.
Birds trilled from leafy branches while butterflies danced amongst the blooms. It was not long after turning onto the faint trail that Penelope heard the unmistakable sounds of water rushing over rocks.
A few moments later, the trees thinned out to reveal a patch of thick grass and a wide stream of clear water splashing over rocks at the bottom of a gently sloping bank.
The scent in the air was rich and loamy, and the horses’ hooves sounded muffled by the thick earth.
A soft blanket was spread out on the ground of the clearing, a few pillows scattered upon it.
On the edge of the blanket was an upturned crate upon which sat an uncorked bottle of wine, a flask of water, two goblets, and a split, woven basket with a lid.
There was even a small stack of books on the blanket.
“What is all this?” Penelope asked, surprised to see the scene laid out before her. She glanced about the clearing, thinking they might be intruding upon someone’s privacy.
Simon dismounted from the bay gelding and stepped forward to swing Penelope down from Artemis’s back.
“It is a picnic, mouse. I instructed two of our servants to come here earlier and set it up for our enjoyment.” Capturing her against his own body, he gazed down at her with a half smile tilting the corners of his mouth.
He held the reins for both horses in one hand while snaking his free arm around her waist.
“You did this for me?” Penelope’s voice trembled. The unexpected show of his thoughtfulness melted her heart. Tears pricked at her eyes as she studied the small tableau laid out on the forest floor.
“Yes,” Simon replied just as softly, his eyes searching hers.
“Of course, it’s for you, Penelope. I do have ulterior motives, however.
You see, I fully expect to see you smile this afternoon.
I want you barefoot and splashing in the water alongside me.
I want to watch you sleep in a patch of sunlight, your eyes drowsy and your skin warm.
Then I want to kiss you and caress you until you sigh with contentment and ask me for more.
That is the payment I envision for this small act of kindness. ”
Happiness swelled inside Penelope until she thought she might burst into tears. “Thank you, Simon.” Standing on tiptoe, she braced one hand on his wide chest and hesitantly brushed a kiss across Simon’s firm, full lips. “It truly is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever had done for me.”
“If that is true, then surely I deserve a far better kiss than that,” Simon murmured, his arm tightening around her.
“Perhaps you are right, my lord,” she whispered in a bold challenge. Tilting her head back, she silently dared him to take what he wanted.
His mouth swooped down upon hers, swallowing her gasp of surprised pleasure.
Their tongues tangled and fought as Penelope did not simply submit but actively returned the fierce kiss.
Over and over, Simon kissed her, alternating between deep plunges into the depths of her mouth and nibbling bites to her lips.
It was only when Merlin stomped a hoof with impatient eagerness, pulling at the reins to grab a few bites of the lush grass that Simon finally relented.
“I suppose I must mind the horses,” he muttered, a scowl pulling at his face. “But don’t worry, I intend to do much more than kiss you this afternoon, wife.” Jerking his head toward the blanket, he instructed, “Go pour us both a glass of wine.”
He released her then, turning away to secure the horses to a low-hanging branch. Penelope hurried to the blanket spread out on the soft grass, her heart racing as she watched him from beneath the delicate sweep of her lashes.
He tugged the set of saddlebags free from Merlin’s back, his movements confident and assured.
Rather than allow herself to be caught staring as he sauntered toward her, she focused intently on unbuttoning her Spencer jacket.
Folding it neatly, she set it aside, then quickly stripped off her riding gloves.
It took a minute longer to remove the hat, but she managed to pull free the pins anchoring it to her head and laid the fanciful creation on top of her jacket.
She uncorked the wine as Simon sank down onto the blanket beside her.
The rich aroma filled the air as she poured two glasses, the liquid glimmering like garnets in the sunlight.
His eyes never left her as he set the leather bag down beside her with a gentle thud.
Slowly, he removed his own riding gloves and then flung them aside.
“No doubt your insatiable curiosity is aroused by what I’ve told you lies inside these bags.
” Simon reached for the wine that Penelope offered him, nodding for her to drink from the glass she kept for herself.
“You’ll be far more relaxed about all this once we’ve made a bit of headway into that bottle. ”
Penelope obediently took a sip of the dark, velvety liquid, savoring the decadent fruitiness as it danced on her palate.
“I’m relaxed now. You needn’t have me inebriated to do whatever you have planned, Simon.
” Her gaze locked onto his, steady and sincere.
“I trust you, remember? You. My husband.” The words “the man I love” trembled on her lips, a confession she dared not voice aloud for fear it would shatter the fragile moment stretching between them.
“Your husband,” Simon echoed in a low voice.
Tilting his head, he regarded her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.
“Damnit, Penelope. I cannot begin to pinpoint when or how it happened, but you’ve wiggled your way under my skin.
” His brow creased as he took a sip of the wine, his gaze darting away from hers as though he were ashamed to admit any weakness.
“And I suspect I am unworthy of the title granted to me by virtue of our marriage. Only time will tell.”
Penelope sat silently. Her heart pounded with such ferocity that she felt dizzy.
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that last statement, but why did it seem as though Simon hovered on the verge of confessing a terrible, dark secret?
“You’ve been patient with me, Simon. Generous and even kind on occasion.
Considering the circumstances of our marriage, I am fortunate to be your countess. Even if I am an unwanted one.”
His harsh laughter hung in the air. “But you are wanted, Penelope. I want you more than I have ever desired anyone or anything in my entire life, and that’s the damnable misery of it.
” He tossed back the last of his wine, the rich liquid swirling in the glass before it vanished.
Setting the glass aside, he reached out and cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing gently against her skin.
His gaze was intense and unwavering. “I cannot put into words what I am feeling for you, mouse. But it frightens me to my core.”
Penelope’s cheeks flushed under his penetrating stare as she whispered, “I feel the same, Simon.” Though she was acutely aware of the thorny exterior her husband presented to the world, she dared hope that beneath it lay the seeds of something deeper.
The idea that he might harbor even the slightest hint of affection for her filled her with warmth.
If she could unlock even a tiny portion of his heart, she would be content as his wife.
“I’m goddamned obsessed with you. I cannot sleep.
Cannot eat. Cannot fucking breathe. Nothing holds my attention.
” Taking her glass from Penelope’s suddenly nerveless fingers, Simon set it on the crate.
With quick fingers, he pulled the pins from her hair, releasing the simple bun until the glossy brown waves tumbled over her shoulders.
He then reached for the bag and unfastened the straps while continuing to speak.
“The only thing I think about is you, Penelope Blackthorne. I think about you reading your books and the little smile of pleasure that curves your beautiful lips. I think about you dressing for a ball and putting on your silk stockings and the jewels I gave you. I think about you sitting quietly at my desk, examining the household expenses with that damned cat curled on your lap, hiding the fact that you also pore over the financial reports from the ’Change, manipulating numbers and wishing you could make your investments a reality.
All of which, no doubt, is a product of my sister’s influence.
I think about you playing the piano and how you bite your bottom lip as you concentrate on the notes.
And I think about how soft and warm you are as you slumber beside me in our bed.
How you nestle into my arms when I hold you. ”
A length of rope emerged from the bag, along with two cravats and a scrap of silk.
Penelope’s stomach clenched in the most delicious way as she stared at the items. Her mind raced with images of what Simon would do with these things.
How he meant to tie her up. To use her. Pleasure her. Possess her.