Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor #3) - Rose Gordon Page 0,29

the other.

Rae swatted at Simon’s hand, but Simon just pointed at her with his other, grinning.

Samuel shook his head. “’Twas a passable throw,” he said with a shrug, his lips curling in disgust.

Rae laughed and Simon frowned. “Passable?”

“He’s goading you,” Rae said softly. “Likely he has a knot the size of an egg already forming on his skull.”

Simon didn’t look overly convinced.

“Invite him to throw the clot back at you,” Rae suggested.

Simon hollered for the chap to throw it back to him.

“No, I’d better not.” The lad shook his head his dark curls swinging in the wind. “I wouldn’t illicit Henny’s wrath for injuring her toff.”

It took everything within Rae not to laugh at Simon’s pursed lips. “He’s goading you again,” she said.

He looked at her, his eyes wide with uncertainty. Oh dear, this was worse than she thought.

“Say something back,” she encouraged.

“I did it,” Simon blurted.

Rae’s jaw gaped. Quickly, she closed it with a snap. “Inside,” she said, ushering him into the house. As soon as they were both inside, she shut the door, silencing Jacob, Joseph, Samuel, and Lucas’ howls of laughter.

“I knew you were uncomfortable around children,” Rae said, taking a seat on the threadbare settee by the window. “I didn’t realize they addled your brain.”

Frowning, Simon sat next to her. “Thank you for offering your keen assessment.”

“You’re welcome.” She patted his arm then returned her hand to her own lap. “Children are not complicated creatures.”

Simon snorted. “I’ve only spoken to one once…” He shuddered.

“That bad?”

“The boy could have been mistaken for a member of the Watch.”

“Ah, little boys are full of questions,” Rae said with a nod of confirmation. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “And they believe everything.”

Simon twisted his lips into a dubious expression. “That one out there didn’t.”

“That’s because he knows better,” Rae reassured him. “Today was the first day I ever picked up one of those dirt balls and everyone in the shire knows it.”

“But you looked fetching doing it.” Simon’s green eyes widened, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Er…you did it with such conviction.”

“Thank you.” He thought she was fetching? Tamping down her girlish excitement, she said, “See, you believed it because you’re a boy.”

Simon’s green eyes darkened to the color of a forest. “Care to test that theory?”

Oh no. What had he just said? Simon’s entire being was paralyzed. Rae was, too—save her lower, trembling lip, a perfect complement to the petrification present in her eyes.

In the past two months he’d found himself in far more private, intimate quarters with two other females and neither time had he said anything of like as he’d just said. Her plush, pink lips were like a beacon in the night, calling to him, begging him to kiss her and taste her. He forced his lusty thoughts away.

“I’m sorry.” He winced at the harshness in his tone or would have if his body could move. Since his mouth seemed to be the only thing capable of working, he opened it to say whatever he could to make the palpable tension dissolve.

Nothing came out, but someone entered the room.

“Henrietta!” squealed an older, slightly plump woman, presumable Rae’s increasing mother. Simon forced himself to stand. It wasn’t graceful.

“Mama.” Rae slowly rose to her feet then stiffly embraced her mother, kissing the air next to her cheek. Odd.

Mrs. Hughes’ slate grey eyes traveled to Simon, then back to Rae, two lines forming between her eyes. “Who is our guest?”

Simon had the oddest feeling that Mrs. Hughes’ wasn’t very excited to see him. The thought almost made him chuckle. Almost. What a difference from the way he was greeted by matchmaking mamas in London.

“Yes, Mama,” Rae said. “He’s…er…” She bit her lip. “My guest.”

“Your guest?” Mrs. Hughes echoed, her tone as uneasy as her face looked. She pulled her daughter closer to her. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“The worst sort,” Rae said in a stage whisper. “Juliet has taken it into her mind that this is the one I should marry.”

Mrs. Hughes’ shrewd eyes did a slow, thorough sweep of Simon’s form. “He looks all right if not a little stiff.”

Rae giggled at her mother’s assessment, likely for a different reason than the one that caused Simon to choke on his discomfort.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” Rae said, winking at him.

Mrs. Hughes’ face softened considerably. “Have you…” She bit her lip the same way Rae did when she was nervous. “Set your bonnet upon him?”

Rae turned a lovely shade of pink. “The phrase is to set