Page 44 of Loving Mister Stratford
How dare those women say such things about Simon? They didn’t know him. They didn’t know his brilliant mind and his soft heart. They judged him only by their own standards and very likely knew absolutely nothing more about him than his name and family. It was so vastly unfair that Odette believed she might be ill from the injustice.
Less than two minutes later, Meredith returned with Simon. His dear, concerned face set off a new wave of enraged, frustrated tears as Odette stood and immediately walked into his open arms.
“What happened?” he demanded in a harsh whisper.
Still unable to speak, Odette shook her head and buried her face in his cravat as he held her, supported her when her legs were weak.
Meredith could only watch in awe as Simon cared for and cherished his wife in a manner she’d never witnessed from him before. To say Simon could be perceived as cold was a plain way to put it, but this scene before Meredith was far from that. The tenderness and caring was of a depth that actually made her avert her eyes.
“Come, I’ll take you home,” Simon murmured into Odette’s hair.
“You stay here with her,” Meredith interjected.“I will have your carriage brought round and let the family know you’ll be taking your leave. We will handle the excuses for you.”
She turned on her heel to carry out the task when a deep, hoarse,“Thank you,” came from behind her. Simon’s blue-green eyes met Meredith’s over Odette’s hair and she inclined her head in understanding.
Only once they were safely ensconced in the dark closeness of the carriage did Odette release a final torrent of emotion. And Simon simply held her and allowed her to vent her frustrations. Her throat was tight and her face burned from the salt of her tears, but she couldn’t stop. Each time she tried to stop, a new red haze washed over her vision, the women’s cruel words echoed in her skull and her fists clenched. They were nearly home when her sobs finally calmed and she stilled in his arms. Simon crooked a finger and turned her puffy face to his.
“Will you tell me what happened?” His voice ached for her.“Did someone say something to you? About you?” She felt Simon tense around her and she shook her head.
“Aboutyou,” she rasped from her raw throat. He sat back, clearly perplexed by her admission.
“I’m used to people saying things about me,” he admitted evenly.
“That is the problem,” Odette snapped.“That is precisely why I am so mad. You don’t deserve it. No one deserves to beusedto criticism. It isn’t fair,” she sniffled the last words. Simon said nothing. Instead, he cupped her cheek and pressed her close to the thumping of his heart. They sat together and rocked along in silence through London until she spoke again.
“I fear we may see a lessening in our invitations after the things I said.”
And Simon laughed, a real, unbridled laughter from deep in his chest—a sound she’d never heard from him before—and then pressed a kiss to her lips, his mouth smiling broadly against hers.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the St. James’s Place townhouse and Simon jumped down before helping Odette to the walk. He guided her inside and deftly told the butler that nothing would be needed for the rest of the evening before leading her up the stairs to the bedchambers. Odette’s heartbeat picked up its pace as he shut the door behind them and turned the lock. A shiver of anticipation traipsed up and down her spine.
Chapter Seventeen
Much, much later, Odette and Simon padded barefoot together down to the kitchens. His stomach had released a ferocious growl after their second bout of lovemaking and Odette rose from the bed, tossed him a pair of breeches and pulled her nightshift over her head. The only solution to their problem of missing supper at the ball was a midnight trip to the larder.
The foray took twice as long to accomplish because they kept stopping to steal caresses and kisses in the shadowy halls, but they eventually made it back to the bedchamber, re-secured the door, and leapt onto the bed, their bounty spread out between them.
“Poor Cook will believe we have a thief,” Odette giggled as she surveyed the array of bread and fruit.
“Or a very large rat,” Simon added, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. Odette barely stifled a burst of laughter with her hand over her mouth. She removed it when Simon held out a bite of cheese for her and she gladly accepted it, her lips grazing the pad of his thumb. The dark pools of his pupils widened.
“Look what I found,” he said, revealing a small wooden bowl of fat, ruby-red strawberries where he’d kept them hidden behind his back.
A low hum of appreciation emanated from Odette’s throat. She adored sweet late-summer strawberries.“Those were intended for tomorrow’s dessert.”
“I can think of a much better way to enjoy them,” he murmured dangerously. He selected the ripest one and held it between his long, elegant fingers by its leafy green cap. He nipped the tip of the berry with his teeth and held the rest out to her. She parted her lips for the morsel, but, instead, he surprised her by tracing her lower lip with the berry, spreading its sweet juices and filling her senses with the heady scent of lazy summer afternoons. Unable to resist, her tongue darted out for a taste. The berry was quickly replaced by Simon’s lips and tongue. He kissed her deeply, but, before she could sink into it too much, he pulled back and gave her a taste of the strawberry. Seeing him lick his lips as he watched her eat was one of the more erotic experiences of Odette’s existence.
He set the strawberry cap aside and plucked one more from the bowl.“Another?” he asked, his voice so low she felt it in her chest more than she heard it. She could only nod mutely and part her lips again.
They took turns feeding one another until the caresses and kisses began outweighing the actual sustenance. It wasn’t long until Simon rolled Odette beneath him, tearing off her nightshift and reverently licking and trailing his fingers across every petal-soft hill and valley of her body.
Only when he had her mewling and thrashing beneath him did he finally sink his thick, throbbing member deep into her quivering body, gasping as she pulled him deeper, cradled him with her body.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he ground out and she immediately obliged, hooking her ankles together and canting her hips to accept every stretching, insistent inch of him.
He surged forward again and again, bathing in every cry of ecstasy, every bite of her nails on his shoulders, every graze of her teeth on his throat. This was like nothing he’d ever experienced before—it was more than just the bedsport. This feeling of closeness so intense it felt as if they were a part of one another heightened everything. Made it better. Made him feel so much more alive.
He finally understood…
