Page 120 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, trying to keep the pleading from her voice.

“Of course.” Tipping up her chin with his finger, he placed a soft kiss on her lips, then grinned. “This bed is more comfortable than the one in the other room.”

Gah! The cad!She should have known he couldn’t be serious. The thought was sobering. Why should she expect anything else from him? Theirs was not a love match like Honoria and Drake, or Nash and Adalyn. And although she admitted her feelings for her husband had changed—softened to affection—at the moment, she was grateful she didn’t love him.

To love him when he would never return that love would be unbearable. She’d endured enough rejection to last a lifetime. It was bad enough to think of the other women—Joy and Hester Pace no doubt only two among many unnamed ladies—Simon had lain with.

“How does Honoria stand it?” she whispered.

Simon pulled back, meeting her gaze. “What?”

“Thinking about the other women Drake has been with.” It had to be infinitely worse when one loved the other person.

“Honoria doesn’t have to worry about that.” Muscles inSimon’s arm grew taut, and his gentle strokes ceased, belying the casual tone of his voice and leaving the unspoken wordslike you dodangling between them like a sword of Damocles.

A weed of jealousy sprouted in her chest, thinking about the intimacy of the act, the closeness, the sharing of each other’s bodies and that Simon had given himself to other women.

He gave her side a little tug. “Thank goodness you don’t love me.”

Odd, even though she had said practically the same words to herself moments before, hearing him utter them cut through her.

With a heavy heart, she lifted the armor she’d just discarded and put it back in place. Where it belonged. “Quite. And thank goodness you don’t love me. But perhaps we’ve crossed a bridge and have reached peaceful coexistence.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but he cast his gaze away so quickly, she might have imagined it. “A truce,” he said. “All weapons to be left outside the bedroom.”

“And around the family,” she added. In the short time she’d known them, she’d begun to think of Simon’s family as her own. Even if she couldn’t—wouldn’t—love Simon, she would love his parents and sisters, and possibly be loved in return. Warmth spread through her at the thought, and she snuggled closer to Simon.

“Yes.” With his unfocused gaze directed at the dark ceiling, he resumed stroking her arm. “Thank you for your kindness to them. To Georgie in particular. It means a lot to me that—if something happens to me—you will look out for them. They couldn’t have a fiercer ally.”

“And we must work on providing an heir and securing their future.” And hers.

His grin returned. “I object to the word work, as it is no hardship at all to make love to my beautiful, wanton wife.” To prove his point, he kissed her with such fervor, he made her head spin—almost enough to erase the wordlovefrom her mind.

But not quite. Her heart pinged. “You said make love.”

He stilled, his eyes flaring slightly. “If I recall, you seem to object to the other words used to describe the act.”

Of course he meant nothing by the word. It was only a way to protect herdelicatesensibilities. How naïve of her. “Well, since I’m wanton, you are permitted to use more appropriate words to indicate your true feelings toward”—she waved her hand over their bodies and rumpled bed linens—“what we did. If nothing else, let us promise to be truthful with each other.”

Heavy silence stretched between them, ominous and portentous.

What else had he been keeping from her?

The ridiculous grin vanished.

“Charlotte,” he said, his tone so serious, sograve, her stomach knotted, and bile rose in her throat.

Light scratching at the door drew her attention away, and she sat upright. “Trifle! Where is she?”

“She raced out when I came in. Stay there. I’ll let her in.” He bolted from the bed, giving her a full view of his glorious backside and muddling her mind again.

As Simon opened the door, Trifle raced in, her little body shivering.

“Oh, the poor baby,” Charlotte said, holding out her hands and motioning Simon to give her the kitten.

“What mischief have you been up to, little miss?” He scooped up the kitten and placed a kiss on its head before settling her in Charlotte’s hands. “Although I must catch some fresh fish to reward her for not interrupting us at a crucial moment.”

Climbing back into the bed next to her, Simon gave an exaggerated yawn. “Shall we all try to get some sleep?”

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