The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(46)

Suddenly she tightened, held her breath. He groaned, “God, yes. Take your pleasure, Mags.” She let out a shout and her silky walls milked his shaft. Pressure built in the base of his spine, spread through his bollocks, and he withdrew in time to spill himself on the sheets. The release went on and on, waves of incredible euphoria that wrung him dry. When it finally finished, he flopped down on the bed, shaken by the intensity and roughness with which he’d taken her.

He closed his eyes, gathered her against his side. He tried to catch his breath along with his sanity. Had it ever been like this with any other woman? If so, Simon couldn’t remember it. Feminine fingers dragged over his chest, exploring and soothing, and for once he remained silent. He didn’t trust his voice, didn’t want her to suspect how raw he felt. The emotions coursing through him had no precedent. She’d reached in and flipped him inside out, and he wasn’t at all sure what to do about it.

“I should go back to my room,” she said, starting to pull away.

“Do not dare leave this bed.” He tightened his arm around her, pressed her close. “I am not finished with you yet.”

“Is that so?” She dragged the soft underside of her foot over his shin.

“Yes, that is so. Give me a moment to gather my strength.” And my wits.

“Hmm. So if I get up and leave, you are too weak to follow me.”

He shifted to stare at her. “I will always follow you, Maggie. You’ll not get away from me this time.” And he realized he meant it. He’d lost her once; he would not let her go. No matter the past, he wanted her, and tonight was proof of how satisfactory it could be between them.

She bit her lip, her cheeks turning a pale rose color. He could not decipher whether he’d embarrassed her or pleased her. Perhaps both.

“What did you say to Cora? How did you gain her cooperation and trust?”

He relaxed at the change in topic. No need baring his soul on their first night together. The first of many, he vowed. “I told her she would be safe here, that no one would force her to do a thing against her will.”

“And she believed you?”

His hand caressed her back, slid down to cup one of her buttocks. “I can be very persuasive. Have you not learned that by now?”

She gave him a wry smile, gestured to the bedroom. “Considering where we are and what just transpired, I am well aware of your skills of persuasion.”

“As if you did not enter my bedroom first,” he teased. “I believe you seduced me, madam.”

Deeper color on her cheeks this time. “It’s ungentlemanly of you to remind me.”

He rolled them until he had her pinned beneath him. “Darling, it is a fact I shall never let you forget.” Without giving her a chance to comment, he kissed her, long and sweet. Then he kept on kissing her until she moaned and begged him to take her.

After they’d exhausted themselves, she curled against him, an arm thrown over his chest. Her breath gusted over his skin rhythmically, and Simon had never felt more content. What did the past matter when he had the woman in his bed now? The other men, the scandal, the lies . . . all forgotten. Tonight was what mattered. And tonight, he’d found everything he ever wanted.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered into her thick mass of hair.

As he drifted to sleep, Maggie resting in his arms, he contemplated all the naughty things he’d like to do to her in the morning.

By the dawn, however, she was gone.




“My lord, a Mr. Hollister to see you.”

Simon sighed and carefully placed his knife and fork on the edge of his plate. He’d come down early with the intention of hurriedly breaking his fast so that he might pay a call on Maggie first thing. A number of questions swirled about in his head demanding answers, starting with why had she skulked out of his bed in the wee hours of the night. He’d learned from Stillman she’d called for a maid to help her dress around half past four, then departed in her carriage after checking on Cora once more.

That she hadn’t stayed left a sour taste in his mouth, one not washed away by the morning’s flavorful coffee.

And now the Runner had arrived. Simon still planned to find Lemarc, of course, but he had other issues on his mind that were more pressing than hearing Hollister’s report. “Tell him to come back this afternoon, Stillman.”

His butler bowed and left, and Simon snatched his cup for a deep, grateful sip. Newspapers littered the table, unread. He’d stared at the pages, unseeing, while trying to make sense of Maggie. Last night, she had crept into his chamber and left by the same means the instant he’d fallen asleep. Had she regretted it, then?

No, he told himself. Surely not. Perhaps she had, for once in her twenty-some years, shown a care for her reputation. Servants did talk, and likely she hadn’t wanted to be discovered in his bed. He rolled his shoulders, attempting to alleviate some of the tension that had taken up residence there in the last few hours. Yes, that had to be it.

What she did not yet understand was that he planned to marry her. The Winchester rubies were even now waiting in his study, the finely crafted set that had been in his family for five generations. Each Countess of Winchester had worn them on her wedding day, and Maggie would be no exception, despite her past.

Stillman returned, an unhappy expression on his face.

“My lord, I apologize but Mr. Hollister is rather insistent on seeing you.”