a whispered caress. His eyes beamed with pleasure. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. More like myself.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He cleared his throat and came toward her. “I believe Miranda’s in the kitchen preparing dinner.”
“Good. I’m actually quite famished.”
He chuckled but said nothing further. The sound faded until they just stood there, staring at each other. Feeling oddly awkward, Ida grasped for words with which to fill the silence. “How did things go with Huntley?”
Simon’s eyes hardened until she regretted asking the question. A frown followed. “He’s taken my uncle to St. Agatha’s for treatment.”
“I see.” She stepped farther into the room, allowed her fingers to trail across the backrest of each chair while she approached Simon.
He watched her with wary eyes, but not, she noted, without a hint of curiosity. Ida bit her lip. Four days ago she’d decided she wanted to be his lover. But then they’d quarreled and she’d been hurt. Their relationship had taken a turn, one she believed had given rise to more intimacy than they would have shared otherwise. And they’d kissed, not with desire but with a fond sort of sweetness that made her feel treasured. Simon was being considerate and kind. He was putting her first, and in doing so he’d buried the fire she used to see in his eyes before.
And she wanted it back – wanted him – more than anything else in the world.
Taking courage, she moved toward him once more, not stopping this time until she was able to touch him. The palm of her hand found his cheek before sliding up into his unkempt hair. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve been here all along,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
“Perhaps I should be clearer.” She looped her arms around his neck and rose onto her toes while pulling his head toward hers. “I’ve missed this.”
Without holding back she captured his mouth with her own, not with gratitude or affection this time, but with uninhibited wantonness. A growl of pure satisfaction rose from his throat, and then his arms were around her, dragging her closer – so wonderfully close she could feel each exquisite contour of his solid frame.
Angling his head, he deepened the kiss and allowed her to taste him. The earthy flavor of coffee crept over her tongue, accompanied by a faint hint of brandy. Ida sighed with more than mere pleasure. She sighed with contentment as well. This was home, right here with this man. Wrapped in his arms was where she belonged.
Simon’s mouth forged a smoldering path down the length of her neck. Ida tilted her head to grant him more access. His hands shifted her weight, pulled at the hem of her robe and the chemise beneath, and then she was being lifted up into the air. One moment later her bottom connected with the dining room table. Simon nudged her legs apart, stepped between them and cradled himself against her. A playful nip of his teeth grazed her shoulder.
“Ida.” Her name, part reverent benediction, part tortured groan, brushed over her skin. “You make me forget who I am and what I should do until there’s just want and need and a burning desire to have you.”
“I feel the same way.” Her mouth sought his once again, kissing him with every yearning she felt in her heart.
“You’ve been through so much,” he tried, “I don’t want to push you and—”
“Simon?” She captured his head between her hands and stared into his scorching eyes. “You’re good and kind and horribly considerate.”
“Horribly?”
“Don’t be a gentleman tonight. Be a scoundrel instead.”
His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. “If that’s what you want.”
The edge of her mouth lifted. “I think it’s what you want as well.”
A swift nod was his only answer before he stepped back and pulled her down from the table. His hand found hers and then he was leading her out of the dining room, into the hallway, and up the stairs. Ida could barely keep up.
The door to her bedchamber opened and she was pulled into the room. The door closed, the click of the key turning in the lock ensuring they would have added privacy. Curtains were hastily closed and then she was back in his arms, being kissed as if she were the air he needed in order to breathe.
Chapter Thirteen
God help him, he couldn’t get enough.
Pushing his fingers up into her thick mass of hair, Simon cradled the back of her head while feasting on Ida’s perfection. She tasted divine, much better than