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He swallowed a hiss. Surely he was bewitched against his good senses because Simon wanted nothing more than to taste her again. One more time, he foolishly told himself. The desire was too urgent and desperate, so he made to step away. Her eyes flared, and slender hands clasped his shoulders and stretching up, she took his mouth with hers.
Their mouths teased each other with soft nips and hot, urgent kisses. Then their actions slowed, and their tongues twined with lazy sensuality. Simon groaned, holding her around the waist and bringing her body closer to his. Her soft moan was warm, like honey. His cock hardened, and Simon had to resist the need to carry her to the carpeted grass and ravish her. Her eager sensuality only enflamed his lust. The force of his need shocked him and allowed him to pull his mouth from hers.
She pressed trembling fingers to her swollen lips and stared at him with large eyes bright with lust and an emotion he could not identify. He was the veriest fool that ever lived. How could he have deceived himself even for a second that one more taste of Fanny Fairbanks would ever be enough? No, her sweet, lush mouth merely fanned the flame of his hunger and drew him impossibly deeper against his will and his honor.
“I am a man engaged,” he said tightly, a heavy press of regret against his gut. “That should never have happened, and I—”
She kissed him again, hard and furious. The damn hellion bit his lower lip hard enough where he swore she drew blood. She wrenched away from him and spun around, her shoulders lifting on her harsh breathing. Simon pressed a finger at the erotic sting then looked at it. There was no blood.
“To kiss me is not dishonorable.”
“It damn well is when I have made promises to another,” he snarled. “I want you. I admit it. You stir my blood unlike any other woman has ever done. But I will not keep a mistress. I am not the kind of man to be unfaithful, and I damn well will not start to be.”
“Did you ask Lady Katherine to marry you?” she demanded, fisting her hands at her side.
“Yes.”
Fanny spun around. “When?”
Simon scrubbed a hand over his face. “Before I went to war. Perhaps after our liaison ended.”
She marched over to him and slapped him against his chest. “Lies.”
He fucking hated the torment and pain in her eyes. Simon felt as if he wanted to slay everyone who had placed that hurt there, himself included. “Fanny—”
“Do you recall asking her to marry you, or were you told you asked her?”
“There is no reason for Lady Katherine and my family to scheme to deceive me, Miss Fairbanks.”
She drew away from him and stiffened her spine. “I suppose since you cannot recall me, I am the liar.”
“No. However, there might be some misunderstanding.”
Her lips curled in a sneer. “So you are suggesting that you would propose to a woman while you were engaged to another?”
He recoiled from the very idea. “I would never do that,” he said coldly.
With shaking hands, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the letter. “Here,” she said, her voice cracking. “Read this letter from my lover. Should you walk out with Lady Katherine…dance with her…kiss her…” She paused, her expression pained as if she could not bear the idea of his lips against another. “It is to me you will be unfaithful.”
She released the letter from her hand, and he caught it before it fell to the ground.
“Do not follow me to the cottage,” she said, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I am feeling upset and would like several moments to gather myself. When you collect this evening’s hamper from your estate, I would like roasted quail and a lemon cake.”
Simon blinked. Then to his surprise, she took a deep breath, dipped into an elegant curtsy, and walked away toward the cabin. It perplexed him to find his mouth curving into a smile. There was something incredible about Fanny Fairbanks.
Simon hesitated, almost afraid to open that letter. He went over to the boulder she had been sitting on, lowered himself to the stone and opened it. Immediately he recognized his own handwriting. This letter had been written nearly three years ago, and it was no forgery. Of course, the lover she wept over was himself.
My beloved Fanny,
Your news in your last letter has filled me with such happiness and joy and aching regret. The keenest regret I feel is for not rushing you to Gretna Green and marrying you at once before I returned to the frontline.
His hand trembled so fiercely, Simon lowered the letter and lifted his face to the sky. He blew out a deep breath and returned his attention to the letter.
I will put in for additional furlough immediately. I will also make the necessary arrangements to procure a special license to marry upon my return. There must be no delays, my love, so wipe away that frown from your face. This letter has taken almost two months to reach me, and remembering the blissful day we loved each other so passionately, you should be now around four months with our child. I am to be a father and our marriage must not be postponed. I so want to be there with you and miss you and your kisses so much. As soon as I can return, we will marry, and you will be able to bear our babe under the protection of my name. I was utterly at fault to leave you carrying my child and I must make up for that lapse. Please forgive me for being such a cad.
Simon shot to his feet, his heart thundering. Hurriedly, he devoured the rest of the words.
I know I promised you a lovely wedding with all our families in attendance and a procession through the village because Miss Lydia Sinclair must see that you are gloriously wed. Still, we must make haste, so there is no gossiping or stains upon your reputation.
