Page 62 of The Trouble With Titles
“And I …” Madeline hesitated, a fresh blush warming her face. “I look forward to … later this evening.”
CHAPTER 17
“The god of love stood before her, radiant and divine, yet humbled by the strength of his love for her.”
Lucius Apuleius, Metamorphoses
Her lady’s maid unbuttoned her bodice while Madeline huffed in impatience. Simon was in the next room, and he was sure to be disrobed far sooner than she. Finally, the gown was loose, and she wiggled out of it so that it dropped to the floor. It was quickly retrieved to be rehung.
Banking her frustration, she waited for her stays to be loosened, leaning down to untie her garters and remove her stockings. Miss Moreau brought over her best night rail, and helped her put it on. Soon the servant brushed her hair out and cleared all her things away, departing the bedchamber to leaveMadeline fidgeting nervously as she tried to decide what to do next.
Mama, Henri, and Uncle Reginald had remained in the family drawing room downstairs. They wished to chat over tea, they had said, but Madeline was grateful to realize her mother and sister were delaying their retiring to their bedrooms in order to afford Simon and her some privacy, and Uncle Reginald was taking advantage of some leisure time with Mama.
A knock on the door made her flinch, startled at the loud interruption. She licked her lips, realizing the moment of truth had arrived and discovering she was unexpectedly reluctant to take this final step.
“Madeline?” His deep voice sent a shivering thrill chasing along her nerve endings to settle as a quivering sensation in her lower belly.
“One moment, please?” She winced at the alarm evident in her shrill tone. She had imagined this moment for longer than she could remember, but now that the moment had arrived, she?—
A low chuckle emitted from the other side of the door. “Let me in, fair Psyche. This will be easier if we are in the same room.”
Madeline bit her lip. She had not anticipated how nervous she would be. Perhaps waiting for this night for such a long time had built it up to agonizing levels. But Simon was her best friend, so perhaps she should let him in.
She crossed over, reaching out to turn the handle, then flinched at the crack of the latch disengaging. Cracking the door open, she peered up at him. He was dressed in a colorful banyan with loose-fitting trousers, the column of his throat and clavicle bared to reveal that he wore no shirt beneath the robe.
Simon’s gaze dropped with appreciation to take in the curve of her bosom, returning to stare deep into her eyes. The bluenessof his irises drew her in as she drowned in their depths. How was it he had his mother’s eyes, but his were so warm while Isla’s had been as icy as a glacier?
Madeline shoved the memory of the murderous baroness aside. The terror of Lady Blackwood had passed, and she was determined to be present in this moment with Simon, as soon as she recovered her courage.
“I have dreamt of this night.”
It took a moment for Madeline to realize it was not her own thought, but something Simon had declared out loud in a mellifluous baritone.
“Me, too …” she admitted in a tremulous voice.
“Then … may I come in?”
She swallowed hard and stepped back to allow him in before shutting the door. “I was not expecting to be so shy.”
Simon flashed a wide smile, revealing a pearly slash of teeth. He approached her slowly, bending his head to brush a kiss against her mouth. Madeline exhaled in sweet pleasure, her fears dissolving as she drew in his male fragrance of shaving soap, coffee, and leather. A muscled arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her in so that her soft curves were pressed against his hard body before his lips found hers again in a drugging kiss. His tongue found hers and tangled in hungry abandonment.
He was firm and hot as her arms stole up to encircle his neck, her head falling back to accept his ardor. Sensation fired up, rising from between her thighs to engulf her in flames as she kissed him back with all the love she had for him, had always had for him. Their kiss continued as Simon reached down to swoop her into his arms, striding over to the canopied bed.
Lowering her onto the counterpane, Simon dropped his knees to the floor so that they were at the same height when he raised his head to gaze at her with adoration.
“Is this real? Am I dreaming? Will I wake up to learn you are still in Scotland?”
Simon gave a crooked smile.“I am here and I am never leaving. I regret how much time I wasted.”
Madeline reached up, her amber eyes enchanting him despite the desire raging through his starving body. She touched his cheek. “You are here now. We are together.”
“Thank you for waiting for me. I thought I could let you go. Watch you marry another man, but I think—I think it would have killed me.” It was the truth. Madeline was his best friend. How could he have considered a lifetime of estrangement? He was a fool to have allowed his parents to convince him to leave her behind.
She stared up at him, biting her lip and reaching up to clasp the back of his head. Pulling him back into a kiss, she whispered, “It is in the past.”
Their mouths fused together, and Simon drowned in the vortex of fantasy realized, breathing in the scent of orange blossoms, savoring the taste of fruit upon her tongue, while he settled his touch on her waist. Slowly it glided up until he cupped one of the full breasts that had tantalized him these past years. He growled in approval at the firm roundness against his palm, as Madeline’s head fell back. She moaned, arching into his palm in invitation as he glanced down to be nearly unmanned by the sight of his tanned hand plumping the cotton-covered globe.
Without conscious thought, he released his grasp so his mouth found its way to the hardened pink jutting against the thin fabric. Painting her with his tongue, he lost all sense oftime as she undulated against him, keening as she gripped the counterpane in agonized pleasure.
