A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,113
didn’t speak.
“As for riding with Bella, you were there in the sitting room yesterday—didn’t you hear what we talked about? Our arrangement?”
“What arrangement?”
“That Bella would ride some of my hunters.”
The way her eyes widened told him that she had not been listening.
“She’s a bruising rider and her father, Sir Charles, has no money to keep hunters for her,” he explained.
“So you’re going to furnish her with horses?” she asked in disbelief.
He took a deep breath and told himself to be patient. “Have you ever heard of rough riders?”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
“They are skilled equestrians who will ride other people’s horses for pay—usually in hunts or races. It is an excellent way to exhibit one’s horseflesh.”
“But I thought you would do that?”
“And I will. So will Becca. But I’m keeping several hunters at Whitcomb that I’d very much like to sell so that I might afford more bloodstock. I’m inviting some men with deep pockets to join our hunts this season.” He could see she was trying to wrap her mind around all of it. As a stranger to fox hunting, he supposed it was bewildering to her.
“So, she’ll ride your horses,” she said, clearly skeptical.
“Yes. I’m also giving her access to the stables as those at Frampton are a disgrace.”
“She will be here often?” she asked flatly.
“As often as she wishes to ride—daily, I hope, as it’s been some time since her husband died so she’ll need to get back in form.”
Simon could see the idea didn’t sit well with her. But if he could become accustomed to the thought of her spending days on end with strange men then surely she could accept him associating with a woman that he’d already said he had no interest in?
He was trying to be patient, but his patience only stretched so far.
As sexually stimulating as a bit of jealousy was, he didn’t want to make his wife unhappy or give her the wrong idea.
Then tell her so, you dolt, the voice in his head ordered. You owe her that much.
For once, the voice was right. “You are my wife, Honey—the only woman I want or need.”
Her eyes went wide and he knew it had been right to speak plainly. Strangely, he hadn’t realized exactly how he felt until he’d spoken the words. She was the only woman he wanted or needed.
Simon squeezed her hand. “Bella is nothing more than a neighbor. She might not be your favorite person, but she can do my nascent enterprise a great deal of good by riding my hunters. It will also be a kindness to her family if they are seen to be welcomed by me—by us. The squire and his wife are lovely people, Honey. They don’t deserve to suffer. Nor does Bella, whose only crime is that she was once betrothed to me and Wyndham dislikes her for it.” He hesitated and then asked. “Do you understand why I’m doing this?”
She swallowed once, and then again. And then she sighed, the anger seeming to drain out of her. “I understand, Simon.”
His relief was so strong it floored him. While he did not wish to hurt her, he also did not want to live under the cat’s paw. It would be a relief if they could resolve issues without unnecessary dramatics.
He pulled her close and kissed her, fiercely claiming her with tongue and teeth, rather than a mere peck. When he finally let her go, her mouth was bruised and wet, her skin flushed.
He ached to bury himself inside her. “I should drag you upstairs, strip you naked, and ride you until you are lathered.”
Her face went scarlet. “Simon.” She glanced around, as if somebody might have heard.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the roofer arriving in less than an hour, so you’re safe from my demands. Until tonight.” He gave her a second, only slightly less incendiary, kiss. “So,” he said after he’d pulled away. “Are we good, darling? Can you bear being civil—kind, even—to Bella and her family?”
“Yes, I can. You are right, Simon. It is the best way to dispel gossip.”
He grinned and kissed her one last time. “Of course, I’m right. I’m your lord and master. I am always right.”
When she laughed, he knew that all between them was on the mend.
***
In the days that followed that conversation, Honey had to remind herself often of his words: You are my wife, Honey—the only woman I want or need. Bella is nothing more than a neighbor.