Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

A few days passed with Octavia and Simon glaring at one another every time they passed in the halls. Nobody had said anything to her, including Mrs. Farley, yet Octavia knew that all the servants were on edge whenever she and the Duke were in the same room.

Sighing contentedly, Octavia came up straight and dusted her hands together, looking around the gardens. She had enlisted the help of Willy and the rest of the young men who assisted the gardener.

“Where would you like this bush of yellow roses, Your Grace?” Willy asked with a giant smile as he carried an uprooted rosebush.

The servants had grown fond of her ever since the incident with the fiddle, helping her where and whenever she needed.

“Goodness, I asked for a few cuttings for grafting; I didn’t realize that people would be sending entire bushes!” Octavia laughed and placed her hand against her cheek.

Willy chuckled again and nodded toward the rest of the young men who were carefully carrying rose bushes of all colors. “You might want to brace yourself, Your Grace. There are two more carriages waiting at the back of the estate. Not to worry, though; I’m sure we will be able to salvage the bushes—whoever uprooted them had enough good sense to keep the soil around the roots.”

Octavia shook her head in amusement as Willy walked past her, carrying the bush to a bed of soil that had been tilled. Several different colors had already been placed among the rows of white, giving the garden or more vibrant feel.

“What the devil is going on now?” Simon swore under his breath, making Octavia turn to see him storming toward her like a bear with a sore foot.

Rolling her eyes, she took a deep breath and braced herself for yet another argument. “I am gardening, Your Grace; you may not recognize it because the plants aren’t bound in leather like your ledgers.”

Simon stopped in front of her and narrowed his eyes.

“I know what gardening looks like; what I do not know is why you are doing it. And what in God’s name is going on in the garden.” He clenched his jaw in frustration and eyed all of the rose bushes suspiciously as young men carried them past. “How much is all of this costing?”

Cocking her head to the side in triumph, Octavia smiled at him.

“Nothing, Your Grace; not a single penny was spent on any of these bushes. And to answer your question, I am attempting to add some color to the garden. As lovely as the white roses may be, I thought a bit of color would really spruce things up.”

“Spruce things up? Where did these roses come from if you didn’t spend any money? Have you been out all night pilfering the gardens of London?”

Giving him a look of exasperation, she placed her hand on her hip and glared at him. “Yes, Your Grace, I wore a dark cape and went under the cover of night, uprooting rose bushes and dipping my hands into the ton’s jewelry cases.”

Simon looked her up and down, settling on the spot on her cheek where her dirty hand had been resting. “You shouldn’t jest like that; you look the part of a criminal,” he said reproachfully.

She was about to open her mouth with another snarky quip when the rest of the men came into earshot.

“Not here,” Simon looked over his shoulder. “I will not have any more bickering in front of the servants.

“Then where would you like to bicker, Your Grace? Should we set up a schedule with a time and place? I would gladly plan my remarks ahead of time if that would suit you.” She smiled at him.

Looking over her shoulder, Simon narrowed his eyes before reaching for her hand.

“What are you doing?” Octavia’s heart skipped a beat when he began to pull her along behind him.

The heat from his hand seeped into her skin when he tightened his grip, bringing her to silence.

“Away from the rest of the servants, we can discuss this matter in the orchards. The apples aren’t ripe yet, and nobody will be there,” Simon muttered to her so that nobody else could hear.

Lifting her dress in an attempt to stop herself from stumbling, Octavia allowed herself to be led out of the garden and over a small bridge that led to the orchards.

“Will you slow down now? Nobody can hear us!” she practically yelled at him when they had reached what looked like the middle of the thicket.

Rows and rows of large apple trees filled the earth as far as the eye could see. Nothing but a light breeze rustled the leaves when Simon finally stopped and faced her.

“I told you that I do not like arguing in front of the servants. Our marital problems are to remain private at all times. Now, if you would kindly stop with the remarks and explain yourself,” he hissed at her through his teeth.

Taking a moment to glare at him, Octavia cocked her head to the side and frowned. “Why is it that you have such a problem with arguing in front of others?”

She recalled what Mrs. Farley had said about his childhood and wondered if whatever had happened to him had shaped his behavior.

Simon held back for a moment, passing his tongue over his lips before speaking again. The look of pain that flashed in his eyes almost made her regret asking the question. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to keep marital affairs between a husband and his wife.”

Octavia shook her head and rolled her eyes again out of frustration.

Her reaction seemed to anger Simon again as he raised his voice. “Now, will you please explain where you got the money to purchase all of the roses you now have littering my gardens?”

“Your gardens, Your Grace? Did you not just finish stating that we are a married couple? Not that you have warmed my bed, yet in name alone, I am your wife and therefore entitled to the use of the gardens.”

Octavia stood her ground and glared at him when he came closer and narrowed his eyes.

“I will not ask you again, Octavia, where did the roses come from?” His lips were dangerously close to her as he growled.

Feeling her breath catch in her throat, Octavia took a step back and found herself blocked by the trunk of a tree. The sound of her name on his lips had caught her off guard, causing the sarcasm at the back of her mind to wither like a flower.

“I did not purchase any of the roses, Your Grace; I asked my godmother if she could give me a few cuttings for the gardener to graft. I woke up this morning to carriages full of rose bushes and a note stating that my godmother had asked a few friends to gift me some roses.”

Simon advanced on her once again, placing his arm above her head on the tree before glaring down at her.

“Am I to believe that all the women in London saw it within their hearts to uproot their precious roses and send them to you in carriages?” His voice was dangerously low when his breath teased her lips.

“Yes, that or if you find it easier to believe that I am leading a double life as a thief, I will not dictate your thoughts, Your Grace.” Her voice was soft and breathy as her eyes dropped to his lips, forcing her to recall their sudden kiss in the study.

The corner of Simon’s mouth hooked into a smile, exposing a wolfish grin that tugged at her heart. His hand suddenly moved up the side of her body, caressing her skin through the fabric of her dress before moving up her arm. Placing his finger under her chin, he tilted her head toward him, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Do not tempt me, Octavia; I will make you obey me if you continue on this path.” His lips parted slightly when his breathing deepened.

Octavia almost gasped when he pressed his thighs against hers, revealing the bulge in his breeches. A shiver of desire ran down her spine when he continued to look into her eyes, fully aware of the feelings he was eliciting in her body.

The pit of her stomach knotted deliciously with desire when he shifted his body further into hers. He used his knee to gently part her thighs, pinning her in place against the tree.

“How do you intend to make me obey you, Your Grace?” she whispered, feeling her lips graze his with every word.

Her body melted into him, yielding to his touch when his fingers grazed the curve of her hips through her dress.

Simon’s breathing seemed to deepen, and a dark look of hunger fell over his eyes.

“I think you know, Duchess…” He slipped back into the formal address, caressing her ear with his hot breath when he shifted his head.

Octavia gasped audibly when he used the back of his knuckles to caress her cheek, dripping his head to her neck. A light layer of bumps spread over her skin when his lips brushed her skin, softer than the wings of a butterfly yet more urgent and demanding.

The tips of his fingers brushed her skin beside his face, tracing a path to her chest and stopping right before the swelling of her breasts.

Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession when she leaned the back of her head against the tree and exposed the tender flesh of her throat.

Dipping his head a little further, Simon pressed his lips against her neck, taking his time to savor the delicate flesh before using the tip of his tongue. The hot sensations of pleasure that shot through her body and forced Octavia to respond in kind as she lifted her hands and pulled his head closer to her body.

Simon growled from deep within his throat and began to ravage her neck, kissing and nibbling her flesh until her breaths turned into soft moans.

Something dormant awoke in her soul as her body pressed into his, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her corset.

“Simon…” she whispered his name for the very first time, making him double his efforts as he kissed over the tops of her breasts.

Bringing his hand down to her chest, he cupped her breast and squeezed, eliciting a loud moan of pleasure from her lips. He flicked a path over each breast before he hooked his fingers into her neckline and tugged on the fabric.

Opening her eyes, she looked down at his mop of thick hair when he buried his face between her breasts and kissed her cleavage.

I want you.

Her body began to respond in a way that she hadn’t anticipated when she tangled her fingers in his hair and gently pushed him down. Her core fluttered with a strange sensation, building the heat that was growing between her thighs.

She wanted to give him everything as she reached behind her back and undid the ribbons that held her dress in place. The sweet release that her body yearned to field could only be met with Simon’s hands on her flesh.

Simon suddenly looked up and shook his head before reaching behind her back and stopping her hand with his own. His fingers applied the slightest amount of pressure to hers until she yielded.

Confusion and hurt filled her mind when he took a step back and motioned for her to do the same. Her lips parted in shock when he spun her around and tied the ribbons of her dress. She was about to ask him why he had stopped when a voice suddenly made her look up.

“Your Grace, are you out here?” Mrs. Farley called out through the orchards, causing a flock of birds to take flight in the distance.

Turning her back around, Simon quickly fixed her hair and removed a few slivers of bark before whispering to her.

“I will go the long way around. Nobody else knows these orchards as well as I do. Follow Mrs. Farley back to the house to avoid getting lost.” He looked past her as if he couldn’t stand looking into her eyes before turning away and disappearing behind a tree.

Octavia stood stunned for a moment, rooted to the spot as she watched him disappear.

Is he ashamed of being seen with me?

Her heart suddenly ached as she wondered if his refusal to lie with her had anything to do with siring an heir, or if he simply didn’t want her. They were married after all; being found together in an orchard by their housekeeper wasn’t exactly cause for a scandal.

Her chest ached with every breath as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Your Grace, are you out here?” Mrs. Farley called out again, her voice echoing in the depths of the orchard.

Sighing heavily against the sudden and confusing feelings of betrayal, Octavia bit her lips before answering, “I am here Mrs. Farley.”

It didn’t take the housekeeper very long at all to find her, appearing from behind a tree. “Goodness, Your Grace, you shouldn’t be out here alone. These orchards are vast, and many a new hand has gotten lost out here. It’s better to ask me or one of the maids to accompany you if you wish to walk.”

The housekeeper was friendly as she came forward and breathed a sigh of relief.

At least one person is happy to see me.

She let out a shaky breath as she fought against her feelings. Why did she suddenly feel so rejected when he’d made it perfectly clear to her that their marriage was nothing more than duty? He’d never once professed to want anything more or even hinted at enjoying her company.

I don’t dislike his company…

Octavia thought back to every time they had bickered in the past week since their wedding. She had never once despised their arguments. Realizing with a start that she enjoyed their sparring matches, she lifted her fist and pressed it into the pit of her stomach.

“Is anything the matter, Your Grace?” Mrs. Farley came forward with a concerned look in her eyes.

Regaining her composure, Octavia forced a smile. “I am well, thank you. I’m afraid that I may have overdone the gardening a little. I am quite parched.” She came up with a lie to hide the confusion in her chest.

The housekeeper tutted like a mother hen. “You mustn’t overdo things, Your Grace; it is fine to oversee the work, but you should leave all of the labor to the gardener and his helpers.” She fussed about Octavia and dusted off her dress.

Allowing the older woman to tidy her appearance, Octavia stared into the line of trees where Simon had disappeared.

Who is he really?

She wondered about the Duke and the way he’d touched her. It was almost as if he wanted her, yet he didn’t want anyone to see them together. Was he attracted to her or not? She pushed the feelings aside and shut her eyes. A marriage built on an agreement alone was never supposed to be this difficult.

“There now, you look more presentable although I think we had better get you inside for a bath and change of clothes.” Mrs. Farley patted her hand gently as if she were a small child.

“A bath sounds wonderful, Mrs. Farley; I wouldn’t mind a nice cup of tea either.” Octavia appreciated that the older woman’s care reminded her of her own mother and the way she used to fuss over her.

“That can certainly be arranged, Your Grace.” The housekeeper’s eyes softened as she began to lead them from the Orchards.

Giving herself over to the situation, Octavia once again allowed herself to be led by the hand. She looked over her shoulder at the tree where Simon had held her captive.

He was holding me captive, yet I was willing.

She suddenly recalled his words with a start.

Do not tempt me, Octavia; I will make you obey me…

She had willingly obeyed him without so much as a moment’s hesitation, but what did that mean?

Her breathing deepened when she suddenly realized that she didn’t know how she felt about her husband.