“As you wish, milady,” he said agreeably. “But for today, will you settle for looking like a princess on your sidesaddle?” It was no less than the truth. Suzanne’s new riding habit was the dark green of the army’s rifle companies, and it was a perfect foil for her creamy complexion and green eyes.
“Flatterer,” she said with a laugh. “Shall we be off?”
He introduced himself to the waiting chestnut, checked the tack, then mounted. The Duke was a bit frisky at first, but it didn’t take long for them to reach an accord. “Behind the stables there’s a pleasant trail that follows the hillside. It’s good for a gallop when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now!” She set off in the direction he indicated at a canter. By the time they were on the trail, she and her moon mare were flying. If her riding was rusty, it didn’t show. He kept pace behind her, enjoying the speed and the memories of rides they’d taken together in the days before her wedding.
Eventually she slowed her mount from a canter to a trot. Suzanne was laughing and her face was flushed with pleasure. “How marvelous! Luna is the best horse I’ve ever ridden. Her gaits are smooth as silk.”
Simon pulled up beside her, matching her speed. “The Duke is another fine horse. As you said, Roper has a good eye for horseflesh and he’s delighted to spend my money.”
“He’s spending it well,” Suzanne said as she ran her fingers through Luna’s silvery mane. “I love White Horse Manor. I’d like to stay here forever, but I suppose we must go back to London and infiltrate the émigré community.”
“Yes, but I think it will be more pleasure than pain.” He turned to head back to the house. “I’m rather looking forward to it. It’s been a long time since I’ve moved in the sort of French society I knew as a boy.”
“Returning to that will be interesting,” she said as she turned Luna to follow Simon. “Though it’s been a wonderful ride, now I must tour the house with Mrs. Stanley.”
“We both have our responsibilities. I need to sit down with the steward and go over the books, which he is keen to show me. But tonight, we can once more indulge in the domestic fantasy of sitting together in front of a fire.” He grinned at her. “Simple pleasures, and then a good night’s sleep.”
Her return smile was intimate, as full of anticipation as his. He was a lucky man. All he had to do was control his unruly male desires.
That was all.
* * *
That night when they retired, Suzanne winced as she climbed onto the bed. “The riding was wonderful, but the sore muscles have arrived with a vengeance!”
“If you lie on your stomach, I’ll see if I can massage some of the pains away,” Simon offered.
“Thank you!” Suzanne responded by rolling over on top of the covers. Her nightgown fell softly over the curves of her back, bottom, and legs. After a moment of masculine appreciation, he drew a deep breath, then knelt beside her and began to gently massage her neck, shoulders, and upper back.
She sighed with pleasure and relaxed under his hands. “I don’t know if this will help with the sore muscles, but it feels wonderful,” she murmured.
Her soft body felt equally wonderful to him. Though her nightgown was heavy enough for winter, it was still only a single layer of fabric between his hands and her lithe body. He kneaded his way down her back, making sure no muscle was neglected. Her bottom was round and firm, her thighs and calves a tempting sensual delight.
He was ruefully aware that if they were lovers, this would be a splendid form of erotic foreplay. He would eventually raise the hem of her nightgown so his bare fingers would be touching her naked skin. His hands would work their way upward....
He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the sexual burn spreading through him. This massage would not be allowed if she didn’t believe that he’d lost sexual interest and was touching her only as a friend, a brother, might. If she looked at him, she might realize the damning truth.
But she was mostly asleep now, a contented smile on her lips. He gave her bottom a last gentle pat, then climbed from the bed and pulled the covers over her. After banking the fire, he lit the dim night candle that stood on a table across the room and joined her under the covers.
She had rolled onto her side with her back to him, her breathing slow and even. Since the pulse of desire still throbbed through him, he didn’t tuck his body around hers, only rested one hand on her hip as he lay on his back.
Closing his eyes, he slowed his breath and concentrated on relaxing, reducing his desire, telling himself he must sleep. And if he had carnal dreams of his wife, no matter as long as he didn’t act on them.
His lovely wife, whom he was pledged to treat as a friend . . .
Chapter 12
The night was cold and Suzanne instinctively wriggled back against Simon so that they lay spooned together. He was asleep, but even so, his arm came around her waist. He was so wonderfully warm....
Too warm. A bolt of panic shot through her and she came sharply awake when she realized that a hot, hard part of him was poking against her bottom. She gave a choked cry, jerked away, and stumbled from the bed. “Damn you . . . !” she gasped.“God damn you to hell!”
Her cry woke Simon and he jolted awake. There was enough light from the night candle to see the swift procession of emotions as he pushed himself up on one elbow: the instinctive reaction of a soldier reacting to possible danger. Confusion at her cry and words. Then horror as he realized what must have happened.
He swore, then said hoarsely, “Suzanne . . . !”
“You lied!” she exclaimed, on the verge of weeping. “You said you weren’t interested in sexual intimacy. I never would have married you if I’d known that wasn’t true!”
