Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

R estrained. Suffocating. Charlotte struggled to free herself and breathe. Heavy bonds wrapped around her shoulders and hips. A dark figure loomed over her. "Let me go!" the voice of a child cried, echoing as if it were in a long tunnel. Charlotte realized it was her own. Not real. It's not real . She clawed her way to consciousness and safety.

Her heart still racing, and her breathing labored, she opened her eyes.

A bare arm wrapped around her upper body, the hand cupping her breast, and a muscled thigh draped across her hip, the blanket that had once been their barrier tangled in his feet.

Pressed up against her, Simon nuzzled against her neck, his unshaven face now scratchy from a day's growth. "Mmm."

She turned and shoved him away. "Get off me, you oaf!"

"Ough," he groaned, rolling over on his back.

"Eeek!" She hated that her cry sounded like the childish persona from her dream. Why wasn't he under the counterpane? She grabbed the blanket and tossed it over him.

Simon stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Is it morning?" He smacked his lips and stared at her through heavily lidded, groggy eyes.

She hated the fluttering in her stomach at his dopey grin.

"Put some clothes on!" she said, her words snapping like a bowstring pulled too taut. "And when did you pull down our barrier?"

As if finally gaining consciousness, he looked upward at the canopy, then down at the blanket covering his nakedness. "Oh. Sorry. I assure you, it was quite by accident, and I did mention I was a restless sleeper."

Carelessly ignoring her presence, he pushed the blanket off of him, swung his legs over the edge, and stood.

Unbidden, Charlotte's traitorous gaze followed, fascinated with the way his muscles bunched in his rounded derrière. A sigh slipped from her lips as he stooped to retrieve his trousers from the floor.

Casting her a look over his shoulder, he said, "What did you say?"

Quickly, she jerked her gaze away. "Nothing. You're hearing things."

As he tugged on his shirt and boots, she eased from the bed and threw a dressing gown over her nightrail.

"I'll request some warm water for washing and shaving. Would you like me to fetch Rose for you?"

She blinked at his consideration, then nodded.

Simon gave her privacy as she washed and dressed, returning only when Rose left. "You're welcome to remain here while I bathe and dress, or you can go downstairs with Rose for breakfast, and I'll join you shortly."

"Rose has already eaten."

"Well, have her accompany you anyway. Don't go down alone."

Although his tone was not demanding, she bristled nonetheless. "If I want to go to breakfast alone, I will do so. "

He hung his head, shaking it and sighing. "Charlotte. Charlotte. Charlotte. I'm trying to look out for you. There were a few unsavory characters downstairs earlier. But if you feel the need to face them rather than stay here with me . . ." He waved a hand toward the door. "Be my guest."

Torn, she debated which of his dictates to defy. Her need to control the situation waged war with her instinct to protect herself. "I think I shall stay."

When Mr. Brown knocked, Simon admitted him, explaining to his valet that his wife would remain during his ablutions. Like most well-trained servants, Mr. Brown made no comment other than, "Very good, sir," and proceeded to lay out Simon's clothes while Simon stripped down and washed himself.

Charlotte pretended to read her book, sneaking glances over the edge when Simon wasn't looking. Once or twice, he caught her, and although he grinned, he remained blessedly silent.

As Mr. Brown sharpened the razor, Charlotte addressed Simon, "Would you like me to shave you?"

Mr. Brown's eyes widened, his jaw dropping as his gaze darted between her and Simon. "Sir?"

"Don't let her anywhere near that razor. She'd as soon cut my throat as scrape my whiskers."

"And here I thought you liked adventure," she muttered and returned to her book.

Once Simon finished, they both went downstairs for breakfast. When an unkempt man made a lewd comment upon seeing her, she knew she'd made the right decision to wait for Simon.

Simon shot the man a glare—a rare expression for him, except when it came to her. "If you wish to keep the remaining two teeth in your ugly head, keep your mouth shut about my wife."

"Oooh," the man said, lifting his hands in mock horror. "Like this dandy has it in him to take me down. "

His equally filthy friend threw back his head and laughed as he pounded the table.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me," Simon said. "It's my wife who will gut you like a fish." He leaned in, scrunching his nose at the stench, and whispered. "She's already killed three men in the last week just for failing to tip their hats. Slit them from throat to tip with a shaving razor."

"You lie!"

Simon gave his signature shrug, then eyed the man up and down. "On second thought, she'd probably just cut it off and stuff it down your throat. She's especially good at emasculation." With that, he gently tapped Charlotte's arm, guiding her to a vacant table.

"What on earth were you thinking?" she hissed at her husband.

"Shut him up, didn't it? Did you see how wary he became when he looked at you? Excellent work sending him your iciest glower. I think it topped the one you reserve for me."

"I—" Her mouth snapped shut. Had she glowered? "You buffoon. Why did you antagonize him? He could have killed you."

He lurched back. "Careful, Charlotte. I might think you cared."

"I . . . you . . . don't be ridiculous," she stammered.

"Honestly, I know men like him. All bluster and nothing to back it up. And don't worry about me, I can take care of myself." He delivered a pointed look. "And you, if the need arises."

Out of sheer instinct, Charlotte prepared to deliver her setdown, telling Simon she could take care of herself, thank you very much. But the softness in his eyes, the way he caressed the word you , halted the words on her tongue. Discomfort from the unexpected and unfamiliar—yet not unwelcome—concern tightened her around her chest, squeezing and rousing her dead and buried heart back to life .

If Simon wasn't careful, she might think he cared.

As they ate their breakfast, she paused, considering her husband. Did he care? Had what she believed to be manipulative tactics to take advantage of her been gestures of genuine concern for her well-being? Care for her as a person?

Preposterous! The idea unnerved her. So much so she pushed it aside, promising to examine it later.

Safely aboard the coach, they continued their journey to Swindon. Mercifully, Simon seemed more content to sit still, only changing his seat and position seven or eight times and only tapping on the carriage roof to stop and perform his ridiculous running ritual once.

Most of the time, Charlotte caught him looking at her intensely. Then he would wink and turn toward the window.

Having slept fitfully, she found her eyelids drooping, the rocking motion of the carriage like a mother's lullaby.

Next to her, Simon said, "Put your head on my shoulder."

"And have you toss me to the floor when you decide to jump up and move across to the other seat?" She laughed. "No, thank you."

"Think of it as punishment for whatever offense I've committed. For I promise, I won't move."

The thought had a certain appeal. Settled against him, she drifted off to a dreamless slumber.

"Charlotte. Charlotte."

Confused and disoriented, she bolted awake. She rubbed her eyes and gazed around her. Oh, the carriage. Simon as her pillow. "Have you reached your breaking point of sitting still?"

"No. Well, not exactly. We're here!"

As the last dregs of slumber left her cobwebbed mind, comprehension dawned that the carriage had stopped.

The door opened, and rather than allow her to exit first, Simon hurried out and stood before the door. "Close your eyes, Charlotte. "

"Don't be ridiculous. I will not close my eyes!"

"Please? Humor me. I won't allow you to fall."

She shouldn't trust him. He hadn't earned that, which to be honest was a difficult feat for anyone. Yet, Honoria's words took that very moment to seep through Charlotte's stubbornness. Give him a chance.

"Very well. But I warn you." Closing her eyes, she fumbled for the frame of the carriage, rose, then stretched out her hand.

"Trust me." Simon grasped her hand. "One step ahead. Move your foot a little more forward. That's it. Now, one more and you'll be on the ground."

Annoyed, she huffed. "How long must I keep my eyes closed?"

Gently grasping her shoulders, he turned her a quarter revolution. "You may open them now. Welcome to Rosehaven Park."

Prepared for a dingy little house, possibly surrounded by pig styes or cows chewing their cud, she opened her eyes.

Not to be left out, her mouth joined in, dropping in awe. Charlotte wanted to laugh, to cheer, to spin around like a child. Like a flash of understanding, she knew how Elizabeth Bennet felt upon seeing Pemberley.

Simon placed his hands on his hips, holding in the grin he wanted to release. He gazed out at the expanse of a well-manicured lawn, neat groupings of spring flowers, and best of all, the magnificent house that rivaled the finest in the county.

"This is the main house. What do you think?" He really didn't have to ask. Her expression spoke for her. She was impressed. But would she admit it? Why did he desperately need her to?

When her hand slid around his forearm, he darted a glance, first to her hand—not quite believing she had touched him voluntarily—then to her face. She lifted her other hand to her mouth.

Oh, she loves it. Pride swelled in his chest.

"Well? I'm waiting for your discerning assessment." He tempered his impatience with a soft chuckle.

"It's . . . adequate." Yet, even with her lips pressed together so tightly they became a sliver of pink, he could make out the slight depression of her dimple as she fought the smile.

"Adequate?!" Before he could question her further, Georgie practically spilled from the front door.

"They're here! Hurry up!" She raced toward them, her skirts flapping around her legs so wildly, Simon worried she would trip and fall.

Arms outstretched then wrapping around his waist, Georgie connected with him so forcefully they both almost tumbled backward.

"Oomph! You've gained weight," he teased, patting her back.

Georgie raised a dark brow, reminding him of Charlotte. "In two days?" Not that Georgie needed any tutelage exhibiting offense.

"Simon, it's rude to comment on a lady's size." Charlotte turned her attention to his sister. "Hello, Georgie."

Like a row of ducklings, the rest of his family filed from the house, led by his mother.

"Darlings!" his mother said, rushing forward with less exuberance than her youngest child, thank goodness. And unlike Georgie, she greeted Charlotte first, pulling her against her well-endowed bosom. "Did he drive you mad on the journey, my dear? How many times did you have to stop for him to stretch his legs?"

Charlotte sent him a smug look. "I lost count. But suffice it to say, I'm glad we have arrived and he can run willy-nilly without disturbing me. "

Frannie cracked a burst of a laugh. "I knew I liked her. Simon, you best treat her well so she doesn't leave your sorry a?—"

"Frannie!" Amusement in his father's eyes softened his admonishment. After giving instructions to the carriage driver to proceed to the cottage with their trunks, Brown, and Rose, his father waved them toward the house. "Let's get you two inside for some refreshment."

Gently taking Charlotte's arm, Simon leaned down and whispered, "After my parents coddle you, would you like a tour of the estate before I take you to the cottage?"

Eagerness shone in her dark eyes. "That would be lovely. Just to acquaint myself with it, of course."

He bit back the smile. "Of course. Wouldn't want you to get lost. Frannie would have my head."

So quick, had he not been looking, he would have missed it, but the dimple dented her cheek in full measure as she laughed. He promised himself that dimple would be next on his list of places to kiss.

He only glanced at the clock on the mantle seventeen times as his parents and sisters enquired about their journey and asked Charlotte what they could do to make her more comfortable during their stay.

"I've had the servants air out the cottage," his mother said. "You're welcome to say here with us in the main house, but newly wed couples need their privacy."

Georgie made a gagging sound, and Charlotte's dimple popped again.

He would really have to kiss it soon, and as he envisioned the tour of the property, he knew the perfect place to accomplish his mission.

"Simon. Simon?" his mother's voice jolted him from the enticing daydream.

"I promise I will, Mother. "

Georgie giggled, Rebecca's eyes widened, Beth cast a glance toward Charlotte, Frannie groaned, and Kate rolled her eyes.

"What?" he asked.

The gleam in Charlotte's eyes indicated whatever had been said, she was about to make good use of it at Simon's expense. "Your mother was saying you become so distracted at times, racing from one thing to the next, she hopes you won't abandon me in the hedge maze."

"Oh. Um." An unexpected burst of heat crept up his neck to his ears. He was thinking about the hedge maze, but abandoning Charlotte was the last thing he'd imagined.

"Which is why you should take me along," Georgie said. "When I was five, Simon left me in there. It took me hours to find my way out. After that, Papa went with me, and I learned every exit possible."

"It's true," his father said. "If there were a race to find a way out, Georgie would win every time."

Everyone laughed at the memory—except Charlotte. Knives shot from her murderous glare, aimed straight for his heart. But when she turned toward Georgie, an unfamiliar expression crossed her face. Compassion. Concern. The urge to defend and protect.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" It was wrong of him, of course, but explaining his reason to Charlotte was out of the question.

"You left a child alone!" The ire in Charlotte's voice made the hair on his arms stand at attention.

Sitting next to Charlotte, Georgie placed a hand on Charlotte's arm. "Don't be angry with him. He didn't mean to. I've forgiven him, and it helped me overcome my fear of being alone."

"Georgie gets that ability to view things from the bright side from Simon," Rebecca said.

"Hmm." Charlotte clearly still had reservations. The prospect of stealing that kiss became a little more challenging. But that wouldn't stop him.

He waited precisely seven more minutes to allow Charlotte's anger to cool. "Shall we take that tour? We can end at the cottage and get settled."

Georgie popped up from the sofa. "Let me come along!"

"Georgie, your brother and Charlotte prefer to be alone." The gleam in his mother's eyes spoke of something entirely different from what he'd seen in Charlotte's—no doubt visions of grandchildren took center stage.

"We would love to have you with us, Georgie," Charlotte said.

"Charlotte's being polite." Simon rose and met his wife's gaze, knowing full well she was being nothing of the sort. "We absolutely would not love to have you with us. You can show Charlotte your favorite haunts later." He held out his arm to his wife. "Shall we?"

As he led Charlotte from the drawing room, a feminine sigh rose from behind. Either his mother, or possibly one of his older sisters, expected the tour to culminate into something amorous.

Simon merely hoped to keep his head on his shoulders.

At least long enough to get that kiss.