A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,112
her that she was, in every way, his to command.
***
When Honey woke, Simon was already gone. That wasn’t unusual as he preferred to ride at the break of dawn. She’d gone with him once or twice, but he was like a demon in the saddle and she’d only held him back.
He’d been like a demon in bed last night, as well.
Honey’s face heated at the memory of what he’d done—what they’d done. He’d taken her four times, seemingly insatiable.
You were more than a bit insatiable yourself.
Honey could not deny that. The last time they’d joined, just before dawn, it had been Honey who’d reached between his thighs and woken him.
She covered her hot face with her hands, shocked by her behavior in the bright light of day.
He has you so tied in knots that you’d do anything—believe anything.
She dropped her hands and stared at nothing as the words sank in. It was true what he’d said last night—about the jealousy—shameful, but true. Thinking about Simon with that woman had given her upsetting, but erotic feelings. She’d also felt violent toward him.
Her emotional response was more than a little irrational; after all, if he’d fathered a child more than a decade before they were married, why should it affect her so?
The question had an equally irrational answer: it bothered her because he was hers. He belonged to her.
Honey sighed. As he’d said, jealousy made no sense.
She rose from the tangled sheets, grimacing at the aches and stiffness. You’d think after so many nights with him that her body would no longer be sore, but Simon seemed to find new ways to stretch and bend her.
Smiling to herself, she slipped into her robe and then pulled back the drapes. It was a perfect fall day, the cerulean sky a gorgeous backdrop for the changing foliage. She would take her sketchpad and—
Something moved down by the edge of the park; it was a rider—no, two.
As they drew closer, she recognized Simon, but not the other man. He was small; perhaps it was Wilkins. The two men were as thick as—
The smaller person suddenly removed their hat, shaking out long dark hair.
So, not Wilkins, after all ….
Honey’s jaw sagged. “What in the name of—”
It was Bella MacLeish.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Simon was pleased to find Honey in the breakfast room when he came in from his ride.
“Good morning,” he said, unable to look at her without thinking about last night.
She must have guessed what he was thinking because her face flushed a fiery red.
He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her, aiming for her mouth but getting her cheek when she moved away—no doubt horrified by all his dirt.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I must smell like horse. Shall I go change?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m nearly done.” Her smile was cool and polite.
Simon glanced down at her plate; it was three-quarters full.
“You’ve hardly eaten. Do you not feel well?”
“I am fine,” she said, so frosty he was surprised there were not icicles on her tongue.
Simon dropped into the chair beside her. When she began to rise, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down.
She turned on him. “Don’t think you can just manhandle me whenever you like.” Her eyes glittered coldly.
Simon tightened his grip when she tried to yank away. “You will sit here and tell me what is amiss,” he said, more than a bit irked. “I thought we’d settled our misunderstanding last night. What have I done to displease you?” The now at the end of his sentence was unspoken, but hung in the air between them, all the same.
She jerked hard and he released her arm before she hurt herself.
“I woke up this morning to the sight of you riding with Lady MacLeish.”
He blinked. “So?”
She sneered. “Last night you claimed to have no interest in her—yet now you are riding with her? So that all and sundry might see the two of you together?”
Simon gave a perplexed laugh. “But we are neighbors—we shall have to socialize with Bella and her family for the rest of our lives. I would far rather be on easy terms with them.” He paused and frowned. “Especially as Wyndham has treated them all so shabbily.”
“So that means riding with her? Even when I am not welcome to come?”
She bit her lip and Simon saw regret and mortification flood her lovely face.
“That is hardly fair, Honey. I’ve asked you repeatedly to join me on my morning rides but you never wish to come.”