Chapter Ten

S imon came awake with a start, for once more there was the sensation of something not quite right. Apparently, the snow from the night before had changed over to a steady rain that droned against the window glass, and there was a chill in the air that reminded him winter was still very much present. Possibly in the hour just before dawn, he became aware of someone poking him in the back.

"Simon."

Then he remembered who it was in his bed and what they'd shared earlier that night. Scrambling for his eyepatch, he grabbed it off the bedside table, and after he'd fit it over the empty socket, he rolled over and encountered his wife's pale face in the shadows, for the candle had burned itself out within the last few hours.

"Hattie? Is all well?" Worry tightened knots in his gut. "Are you ill?" Or worse, did she regret the coupling?

"Not ill, but perhaps apprehensive in the mind." Yet there was a trace of fear in her tone that had him instantly on alert.

"What has occurred?" When she remained silent, he tamped down on the urge to huff. Instead, he hooked a hand about her hip and pulled her into his arms. "Tell me." He found her gaze in the darkness. "It is obviously upsetting to you."

"It was, but then, I should be used to such dreams by now."

Damn. As much as he tried not to feel annoyance, it stabbed through his chest anyway. "You dreamt about Mr. Toppin again?" Directly following consummating their wedding?

"No, no!" Hattie shook her head, and the faint fragrance of lilies of the valley wafted to his nose. "I dreamt about you , actually."

"Me." It wasn't a question, to say nothing for the glimmer of pride that danced over his heart. "Why?"

"There is never a rhyme or reason for the dreams. They just come." The warmth of her breath skated across his cheek and chin. "Even if I wake during the night and then drift off again, I'm right back in the same dream."

"I'm sorry." Needing to do something with his hands to distract him from how good her naked body felt pressed against his, Simon slid a hand up and down her back, and then was immediately distracted by the silkiness of her skin. "Tell me why you are afraid."

The tremble she gave into transferred to him. "It was about you."

"Oh?"

"The first part of it was quite lovely."

"Meaning?" Why was she so reticent to discuss it?

She rested a palm to his chest. "Uh, well, the first part was delicious. You and I were, well, suffice it to say we were having a lovely time in bed, and just at the important pinnacle of the act… the dream shifted."

At least he'd made an impression on her earlier that night. "And?"

"Suddenly, your form changed into that of a lion." The drag of her fingers through the hair on his chest sent streaks of need into his shaft. Which he ignored in favor of comforting her. "You snapped and snarled at me as if you'd never seen me before. I wasn't immediately concerned, until you growled. That sound was terrifying with you so close."

When she trembled again, Simon trailed his hand up her back to bury his fingers in her hair and cup her skull. "Don't be afraid. Nothing from the dream world can harm you."

"Oh, but it can. In the dream, you were a lion! Simon, you and I might have met because of the Lyon's Den, but that is naught but a gaming hell, a gentlemen's club. In these dreams, everyone is quite real, just as you and I are right now." In her upset, she lifted onto an elbow to peer down at him. "I was trying to get away from you, which is odd… unless you and I don't know each other in my imaginings."

"In your dreams, do you often interact with people you know in real life?"

"Sometimes."

"And when you've dreamed of lions before, did they change into people?"

"A few times."

"Did you recognize those men?" He cleared his throat. "I assume they are men."

"I hadn't up until the day I married you. The only clue I had was the blue eyes of the lion, the same lion I always see."

"And I have a blue eye, so you assume it was me?"

"Who else? Lions don't have blue eyes." When she tried to pull away, he held her ever closer. "Anyway, in this most recent dream, there was blood on your paws. I didn't know where it came from; there was no one else around."

"Perhaps I was there for protection."

"I don't know." Tears shone in her eyes as the sun just barely started to rise. "I was afraid, and then there was someone else there."

"Was the threat a man or a lion?"

"It was difficult to tell, but I could feel the tension. There was darkness and mist." She shook her head then gasped. "I think you are in danger, Simon. That dream was a warning, that something or someone is coming after you and means to harm you."

"How, though? I have never met, let alone seen, a lion in my life." But the thought she was concerned tightened his chest.

"I don't know, but something in my dream is stalking you, and what's more, I am there with you when he finds you."

"He?"

She shrugged, which caused the sheet to brush along her breasts and bared one. That globe was perfect in the dim light. "I assume, but I can never see through the mist. Unless you have an angry mistress somewhere who wants revenge?"

"I do not." When she flipped the blonde waterfall of her hair over her shoulder to cover the breast, he breathed easier, but his shaft was well on its way to giving her a full salute. "And if you were curious, I haven't had a mistress for over a year."

"Interesting, and somewhat disheartening, for you are quite impressive. Both in bed and out of it." Then a sigh escaped her. "But I cannot help but think there is danger on the horizon for you, and I don't want that to happen."

The fact that she might care about him pulled a grin from him. "Why would that be, my lady?" When she didn't answer immediately, Simon easily tugged her body over his, and the press of her full breasts against his chest was far too distracting. "How often do you dream of me as a lion?"

"It varies, and as I said, I don't have control over it." The ends of her fragrant hair tickled his face and chest while his erect shaft brushed against the soft curve of her bottom. "But they are coming more frequently, and I can't help but worry."

He urged her to lean forward until her face was near to his own. "Never say you might be contracting feelings for your new husband."

"You know why that isn't possible." Her lips brushed his as she spoke. "I don't believe in love and romance."

"Yet you don't trust me enough to explain why?" Not that he'd told her everything about himself either.

She ran her fingers through his hair then eased the pad of her forefinger along the top of his eyepatch, tsking her tongue when he flinched. "Grant me a few more days in latitude? I was never the popular choice in society due to my being pleasantly plump, and…" He couldn't be certain, but he thought her chin might have trembled. "And after what happened with my previous engagement, I'm not in the habit of trusting men with pretty words."

"Fair enough." Then an idea popped into his mind. What if he spent the time between now and Valentine's Day courting his wife? Would it make a difference? Perhaps, but truly he wanted to bring them closer, because the glimmer of companionship was nearly in his grasp.

I must be halfway to Bedlam.

Hattie offered no objections when the captain kissed her. It wasn't the frantic embrace they'd shared earlier that night, but instead, it was sweet and gentle, almost as if he thought to soothe her frazzled mind, but she was still concerned about his safety.

Drat him, his lips were far too tempting.

And drugging.

And welcoming.

And with very little urging would make her do very naughty things to him.

Merely because she needed to breathe, Hattie broke the kiss before things grew too heated. There had to be more between them than that, and she had been led down a garden path once before, charmed by pretty words and lovely kisses.

"How much time do you spend at the Lyon's Den?" At least she could learn some of his history while she had his full attention.

Well, beyond the insistent erection rubbing against her backside.

"I go a couple times a week. Perhaps. But if you wish to know how long I've frequented the hell? A few years. That particular hell hadn't been on my list of places to tarry, but a handful of my friends had been going for years, and they dragged me there." His body tensed, and then seconds later, he'd turned them both over, trapping her between the mattress tick and the hard wall of his body. "I discovered that I was quite skilled at the gaming tables, and it had always been amusing when men fell to Mrs. Dove-Lyon's machinations."

"Until you were a victim of the same?" It was fascinating to peek into a man's domain.

"Yes, but then, I feel that I escaped the worst of a forced match since you are more interesting than I anticipated." When he pressed a line of feather-weighted kisses beneath her jaw, a shiver sailed down her spine. "And those dreams that plague you make you even more so."

"Believe me, if I could rid myself of them, I would, but I have always been bothered by dreams of some sort, and when they come true, that is when I worry." As she spoke, Hattie smoothed her palms over his shoulders and back. Oh, he was so solid and strong! "You resembled the marble of Greek and Roman sculptures I have seen in the British Museum," she whispered, and followed the announcement by pressing her lips to the side of his neck.

"Though that is flattering, if I went about my day without clothes, I would be arrested." He slipped a hand down her side to rest at her hip. "I might be persuaded to do such a thing for you around the house."

Flutters moved through her lower belly. "I will consider it, but you might wish to warn the staff." The man was far too tempting, and if she wasn't careful, she would lose herself in him. Then what would happen? She already didn't know who she was now that the need to chase scandal had been removed from her life. "Just promise me you will be careful when you go out."

"I will, of course, but I do know how to defend myself with my fists, and I'm not a slouch at combat with a blade either. A man learns how to do both—among other things—while onboard a naval ship." For long moments he treated her to light kisses and caresses before he spoke again. "Regarding your dreams, do you fear that you have done something in your life that warrants protection, or perhaps that is something you've always lacked in your relationships with other men? Why now are the lions in your dreams clearly offering you that?"

"It is certainly something I must ponder further, but to answer your question, no one has ever truly made me feel as if they would lay down their life for mine, and neither would I expect that of anyone."

Simon raised his head, and when their gazes connected, she was arrested by the intensity in his expression. "If you wondered, I will always protect you, come what may, and I will continue to tell you that until you feel safe."

Was that the crux of her dreams, then? That she didn't feel safe, or she didn't feel she belonged with someone after the disaster of her engagement?

Interesting.

"Thank you," she finally managed to whisper, then she remembered something from earlier that night, something she'd seen in the light of the candle before he bedded her. "You have a tattoo on your back." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I acquired it shortly before I left His Majesty's service." His voice was guarded, as if he waited for her protest.

"I didn't have the chance to see it fully last night before we were carried away, but I find such things fascinating. Will you let me see it in the full sunlight?"

"If that is what you wish."

"Oh, I do. What does it depict?" It had been drawn between his shoulder blades and took up a fair portion of his back.

"A mermaid sitting on a rock with a large lion beside her with his head resting in her lap." His eyebrows rose. "I'd forgotten about the lion part."

"What does it mean?" She never met anyone with a tattoo, but it was quite thrilling to see, and it somehow suited him.

"The mermaid represents my love for the sea, that it will always be the siren that calls me back… that sometimes I feel as if I am nothing without the identity that I had in the Navy."

"It's beautiful." That made odd sense to her. "You are still a captain. Nothing will change that, and at some point, I want to hear your stories."

He snorted. "Some of them are quite grim."

"That is life, is it not? Everything can't be happy and lovely."

"True, and it's surprising to hear from you."

"Believe it or not, Captain, I am capable of deeper thoughts that go beyond gowns, chasing men, and sneaking into places in breeches."

"Somehow, life would be a bit dull if you didn't."

Heat went through her cheeks from the unexpected compliment. "Thank you. Do you believe the mermaid tamed you?"

"Perhaps, for no man has been able to tame the sea."

"Or perhaps you are in love with the mermaid?" As a new thought occurred, a tiny prick of pain went through her chest. "Or perhaps she represents a woman you are in love with?"

"Don't be silly. I have never been in love."

Fair enough. "Or perhaps she represents someone you will love in the future. Art is very subjective, as is the subconscious, and if love is a state you have wanted for some time…"

He put a fingertip on her lips to halt her words. "Hattie, she is the sea."

"Very well." She nodded and moved her head away. "The lion is you?" Why did everything important revolve around lions?

"I hadn't thought on it, for I'd considered the lion my pride or my will that will always fall to the temptation of the water." When he frowned, she touched a fingertip to his lips. "I'd thought I would grow old in the Navy, live the bulk of my life in service, and when I grew weary of it, I would see the remainder of my existence through in a cottage with a view of the sea."

"Only your injury disrupted those plans, made you into the man you are today."

"My injury forced my hand in many ways, and changed as many plans." A trace of bitterness wove through those words. "I swore to the men in charge that having one eye wouldn't prevent me from carrying out my duties, but they were adamant I leave the Navy, that my convalescence would take too long." A scoff escaped. "Of course, the whole of the British Navy was annoyed they'd been beaten so soundly by the Americans, so everyone was on edge during that time."

"Do you wish to continue talking?"

"If it's about my tattoo or my injury, not particularly."

So it seemed they were both unwilling to dig deep for each other. At least right now. Not knowing what else to say without blurting insensitive questions regarding his eye, Hattie drew a hand down his chest, maneuvered it between their bodies so she could cup his impressive equipage. "There are other ways to communicate."

He hissed out a breath. "Ah, Lady Hattie, have you just thrown down the proverbial gauntlet?" One of his hands stole to her breast to tease the nipple.

"I believe I have." She gave his stones a light squeeze, and when he shifted to give her more room to work, she grinned. "Will there be an argument?" Slowly, deliberately, she curled her hand around his impossibly hard shaft as excitement buzzed at the base of her spine.

"None that I can fathom." As soon as he kissed her, that heated attraction that had been present between them from the first flared into an inferno that would soon consume them.

At some point, as the dawn fully took hold and Simon hovered above her body with this tip teasing her folds, she squirmed, for he had already done great work. "Do hurry, Captain, because I'm ravenous. Oh, and when you order breakfast, make certain they include cream and honey. I know a powerful urge to lick those things off your navel… and various other parts of your person."

"It seems as if I've caught a tigress by the tail," he quipped seconds before he thrust his hips and penetrated her body as deep as he could go.

"Or a lioness…" Pleasure pinwheeled through her body. What had happened to her? It was as if she were obsessed, addicted to him for no other reason than he was gorgeous and hard in all the right places, and she finally had the freedom to do wicked things to a man.

Perhaps not chasing scandal was a good thing after all.