Page 127 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

Lord, he needed to get her back to the cottage as fast as possible. After a quick goodbye, he escorted Charlotte from the room, calling to a footman to bring his curricle around.

As they waited at the front door, he pulled her close. “I can’t believe you drove over here yourself.”

Charlotte squared her shoulders, and he kicked himself for possibly offending her. He needed to be in her good graces.

“And why not? I’m just as capable as any man.”

“Well, if you drive like you pack a punch, I would say not only as capable, but more capable. I only meant you seemed to dislike fast vehicles.”

“Only because I’m not in control. Once I got used to it, I found it most exhilarating.”

With the carriage awaiting, he handed her up. “Did you drive fast?”

When she nodded, he climbed in beside her and handed her the ribbons. “Then, by all means, take us back to the cottage posthaste.”

A quick snap of the ribbons, and Charlotte had the horses taking off so quickly, Simon had to hold on to his hat.

He liked this marriage business, and he liked his wife.

No. Scratch that. He loved his wife.

CHAPTER 34

The two weeks before the May Day celebration passed in a blur. Charlotte’s days were filled with committee meetings, creating the decorations—she did more overseeing than creating them herself—and planning the food items. Everyone on the committee listened to her opinion with rapt attention, eager to have their modest celebration rival that oftongatherings.

As for her nights—and sometimes her afternoons and mornings—she spent them in Simon’s arms. He continued to be a generous and giving husband, providing her time alone or giving her his undivided attention as she needed it. Their lovemaking continued to surprise her—often gentle, with whispered words and tender caresses, but at times more vigorous—as Simon described it. Once he didn’t even wait to get her to the bed, but braced her against the door of their bedroom, lifting her body and rucking up skirts so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

Surprised to discover she rather liked such spontaneity, Charlotte concluded her perspective had changed because shetrusted her husband. When she rewarded his impromptu expressions of affection, he vowed to surprise her often.

And with each passing day, she grew to care for him more.

Instead of seeing Simon as a rake who used his smile and easy manner to manipulate and control others, she acknowledged his genuine joie de vivre. Simon simply loved life and lived it to the fullest. Rather than constantly annoy her, his sunny disposition became contagious, and she found herself laughing frequently. Being married to Simon Beckham had changed her.

For good.

The day before the May Day celebration, Charlotte sat at the escritoire in the parlor of their cottage, poring over the last-minute food changes she had suggested. Lost in her task, she startled when hands pressed over her eyes and warm breath brushed against her neck.

“Guess who?” Simon whispered in her ear.

“John. I thought you’d never arrive. Quick, undress! We must hurry before my husband returns!”

Simon’s hands dropped from her face, and she held her breath. When she turned to face him, he stared wide-eyed, his mouth gaping open like one of the fish he would catch. Had he misinterpreted her joke and taken offense?

Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Minx!” He pulled her from the chair and enveloped her in his arms, kissing her soundly. “As if I don’t keep you busy enough.” He kissed her again, his lips traveling down her neck to skim the bodice of her gown. “But if you ever decide to take me off guard like that again, please give me fair warning. My heart nearly stopped.”

“Where would be the fun in warning you?”

He laughed, the sound vibrating against her skin in sensual ripples. “Who are you and what have you done with my prim and proper wife?”

“You don’t like this side of me?” She sent him a saucy grin.

“I love every side of you. Which speaking of”—he hooked afinger in her bodice and pulled it down. “Since you were expecting a rendezvous with our footman who, I should mention, is old enough to be your father, let it not be said I don’t aim to please my wife.” He turned toward the open door. “John! My wife wants?—”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and tugged up her bodice. “You wouldn’t dare!” Her face flamed as John appeared in the doorway.

“Yes, sir?”

Simon only grinned at her before saying, “My wife wants a bit of privacy. If you would ensure we’re not disturbed.”

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