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Even singing with a whispering voice, Simon was aware of the luxurious tones of her song. When she spoke or sang in French, her voice became lower, more alluring. As she sang to him softly, he felt his whole body responding with desire.
Her eyes were softly closed and he could see the long length of her eyelashes, dark and curling. Her lips moved gently, and he noticed how, when she smiled, there was a slight dimple in her cheek. He couldn’t help but be aware of the warmth of her body, so close to his, and how much he was overwhelmed by the base and urgent desire to stop her sweet singing with his mouth, to lift her up and take her on the lid of the piano. He clenched his hands into fists in his lap, berating himself internally.
Do you not love Stella with your whole heart? How can you think such eager, lustful thoughts?
But then a second voice grew inside of him, sounding louder and building on what Nathan had told him about letting feelings grow.
She is my wife now. Our mission together is to secure the estate for the future. Is it so wrong to desire her? To feel filled with lust at the sight of her lips?
Simon took a deep breath, controlling himself with a great effort as he listened to her song. She finished softly, playing the final notes.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, swallowing heavily, aware that his voice was hoarse with desire. “What does it mean?”
“It is about me, that I am her little girl, her little rose and she loves me—infinitely.”
A small tear rolled down Marion’s smooth cheek and she sniffed.
“Please don’t cry,” Simon murmured, instinctively reaching out to hold her hand on the keys of the piano. He wondered if she would think it was too impudent, but her fingers squeezed his. Emboldened, Simon interlaced his fingers with hers.
“It was beautiful, Marion,” he said in a gravelly voice, his stomach flipping as he felt her soft pulse through her wrist. He could feel it jumping. His own must be, too. Her touch was like a flame to him, he felt as if he was being set alight.“Thank you for sharing it with me.”
Marion nodded, biting her bottom lip as tears trickled down her face.
“I am sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t expect to be so emotional!”
“It is quite alright.” Simon reached up and brushed the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, unintentionally cupping her cheeks with his palms. Her shining eyes looking up into his. “Please don’t cry.”
Before he knew what he was doing, he tilted her face towards his and kissed her softly, warmly, on the mouth, catching her breath and feeling her mingled tears against his face.
I should not be doing this, I should be careful.Thoughts ran through his head as the moment stopped entirely and his heart hammered away.She’s emotional, she’s innocent—
The thoughts stopped circling the moment that Marion’s hands reached up and clutched the lapels of his jacket, not pushing him away but pulling him closer. He heard, no, he actually felt, a sigh of desire shimmer through her enticingly.
Simon felt himself groan, fitting his mouth more completely over hers and kissing her more deeply, unconsciously pushing his fingers into her dark curls, feeling the feather softness of her hair. Her own insistent but delicate fingers found their way up to his shoulders, wrapping around him so ardently. Simon felt himself tipping her backwards, as if he would lay her down on the piano bench and lift up her skirts, taking her in a moment of madness.
No!He commanded himself.Not like this!
He pulled away, breathless and straining, feeling dazed as he took in her cherry-red lips and dark, whirlpool eyes. He felt he could drown in them at any moment.
“I - I am sorry,” he gasped, “I didn’t mean to—”
Marion pressed her fingers over his lips. Simon shivered at her touch and resisted the urge to kiss them.
“Husband,” she said, her voice soft and as alluring as velvet. “Shall we go upstairs?”
Simon swallowed hard, wondering if this was truly what he wanted. Then he looked at the pink flush where her breasts strained against her bodice with her breathless gasps, and knew he was a lost man. She was his wife, and he wanted her.
“Yes,” he pulled her to her feet, gathering her close to him and kissing her thoroughly, letting all of his desire and need pour out.
“Come upstairs, wife.”
Chapter Twelve
Marion could barely breathe as Simon took her by the hand and led her upstairs to their chambers. She couldn’t stop a million thoughts rushing through her mind as they moved through the grand house, their footsteps echoing lightly on the wooden and stone floors. Was it really going to happen? Was this the time that they would finally consummate their marriage?
Her knees were weak from their kisses in the music room, her lips tingling and swollen from his insistent mouth, her heart pounding from the roving, delicious touch of his fingers against her neck and in her hair. Simon held her hand tightly, walking steadily, guiding her as if she was a weak little lamb back to the flock. She wondered if they would go to her bedchamber or his.
She was eager to see the inside of his bedchamber, but also started to wonder what he might think of hers, of her nightgown and personal items laid out around it. Would he be bothered that she had made his wife’s old room her own? But Simon pushed open the door to their parlour with one hand and drew her gently inside.
