Page 16 of Kiss the Scoundrel Farewell
“May we continue this inside, Kitten?” he said against her neck.
Margaret pushed him away and scrambled up. “Where are we?”
“My home. I have a small place on the outskirts of Mayfair. Respectable but not grandiose.” Simon was proud of his townhouse. It had been his first purchase from his early investments, and it provided a haven when he needed privacy or time away from his family.
She shook her head. “No, we both know what will happen if we go inside. Could you take me…” Margaret hesitated.
Was she thinking of an alternate direction, so he wouldn’t know where she lived? He hated the suspicion settling in his belly.
“I’ll take you anywhere,” he said, “but we must go inside. This is my father’s coach, and I must send it back. I have my own here.”
Margaret nodded and gave him a small smile. They disembarked, and he spoke to the driver, telling him to inform Lord Tarlton of his son’s departure—alone—then slipped some coin into the man’s gloved hand. The driver slapped the reins with a grin, and the carriage disappeared into the night.
“Shall we?” he asked, his hand pressing her lower back as he guided her along the walk, up the several steps, and onto the portico. Three stories of sand-colored stone rose before them, pillars flanking the entry. The door was opened by a solemn butler who moved aside to allow them entry.
Simon thought he saw appreciation in her eyes as she took in the marble floor of the hall, the sweeping staircase, and the chandelier above. They entered his parlor, and a footman hurried in to start a fire.
“We won’t be needing that,” Lady Drake objected.
“Yes, we will,” countered Simon.
CHAPTER 8
Meg was torn between wanting to run as far away as possible or wrapping her arms around this man and never letting go. But she knew staying was dangerous. Lord Hayward remained an enigma from her past. Removed from the dim garden and the dark interior of the carriage, reality quite slapped her in the face.
Would he expect her to become his mistress now? Could she do it? With a shaky breath, Meg faced him. “I know what you must think of me, and I probably deserve it. However, I do not know if I could go through with an affair.”
His dark head tilted, a smirk curving his lips. He began shaking his head as he strode toward her. “An affair? Is that why you think we’re here?”
The question took her by surprise. “What do you want then?”
“I want you in my bed for always.” She took a step back as he stopped in front of her. He advanced. “I want to know you again, learn your favorite food, what makes you laugh, where you are ticklish.”
She sucked in a breath as he gripped her shoulders.
“I still remember that last though,” he whispered, his fingers grazing her side, just under her arm.
She giggled. Such an unfamiliar sound to her ears. It would be so easy to give in to him. Her body craved him, her heart needed him, and her mind longed for a man to share clever conversations with and make her feel worthwhile again. But…
“Your family is just climbing from the ashes of scandal. How do you think they will react to a disgraced widow?” She knew Lady Tarlton would be horrified.
“My family doesn’t matter. I make my own decisions.” He took another step, and she fell against a wingback chair.
“We all like to think that.” Meg knew better.
The leather was soft and plush, and before she could say another word, he reached over her and pulled a bell rope. “We’ll have some tea while we talk. Shall we continue with the lord and lady, or will you call me Simon?”
To her surprise, that was exactly what they did for the next two hours. No more touching, though some of the looks he cast her way set a fire in her core. At first, they both spoke of what they remembered of one another before the rumors had spread about Simon’s father and Meg had married another. How he had been smitten when she first entered Almack’s, the times he’d been too much of a coward to kiss her, his searing disappointment when he’d read of her betrothal.
She remembered their first dance, how she’d thought they made such a fine couple, the times she’d wished he’d kissed her, her grief on her wedding day.
“Do you still like the theater?” Simon asked.
Meg nodded. “It’s been forever and a day since I’ve attended.”
“We’ll have to remedy that.” He began to tell her of the latest production he’d seen. “What about the Royal Academy?”
She shook her head. “I heard there was a tremendous exhibit last summer.”
