Susan Johnson - Again and Again

Turning ten shades of red, Bessie gave him a sharp look. “We won’t be havin‘ any more o’ that madcap behavior. I can still give you a good spankin‘ if need be.”

He grinned. “I’ve been able to outrun you since I was six.”

“Well, that may be, but-” Tears suddenly filled her eyes. “You just be good to her, Simon. Promise me, now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was solemn this time, as was his gaze.

“You always were a good boy,” she whispered, patting his arm.

Bessie watched him open the door and walk inside.

And when the door closed on him, she said a little prayer.

“I’m so sorry… so very sorry,” Caroline sobbed, her voice choked with emotion as she caught sight of Simon. “It’s all my fault and I understand… if… you don’t want… to ever see me again… oh, God-I’m not supposed to cry, or get upset,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “Bessie and Rose said I mustn’t…” she added with a stifled wail.

Simon was across the room in three long strides, but he came to a sudden stop by the bed. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to touch you,” he whispered, reminding himself grown men didn’t cry.

“I don’t care,” she sobbed, lifting her arms to him.

And hoping Bessie wouldn’t crucify him or he wasn’t harming the baby somehow, he sat down on the bed, soaking wet and lifted Caro into his arms. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said. “And it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have gone. It’s my fault”

“What if we lose the baby?” Her eyes were huge with despair.

“We won’t. You and the baby will be safe.”

“Truly?” Her voice trembled with hope.

“I promise,” he said, vowing to move mountains or hold back the tides if necessary.

“You don’t hate me?” she whispered, her eyes wet with tears.

He shook his head. “And I promise not to fight with you anymore.”

Her smile was shaky. “You must be sick.”

“No,” he said, very softly. “Just glad to be home.”

As though Simon were the antidote Caro needed for perfect health, the bleeding slowly diminished and then stopped completely. But no one was taking any chances. For the next two weeks, both she and Simon obeyed Bessie and Rose in all things. Caro drank the ghastly potions, barely moved and thought only happy thoughts-a simple enough task now that her husband had returned. Simon had a trundle bed set up, so he could sleep beside his wife and he spent every minute with her. All the servants walked about the house on tiptoes and spoke only in whispers until the duchess was finally pronounced cautiously healthy once again and allowed out of bed.

That first afternoon Caro was released from her sickbed, she and Simon moved to the solarium to enjoy the winter sunshine and their newfound sense of well-being. Simon almost immediately began rummaging through drawers and before long he held up a deck of cards. “Are you up to a few hands of piquet?”

“You don’t have to be solicitous, darling. I needn’t be amused.”

“I was thinking about a repeat of our game at Kettleston Hall. I’m afraid I took advantage of you when we played for our wager. The viscount’s deck had a few nicks in it.”

“Did you really cheat?”

He didn’t answer. He only smiled. “Do you feel lucky?”

“I feel like the luckiest woman on the face of the earth.”

Then you might win today. Three hands? Same rules?“

She grinned. “You’re being awfully nice.”

He shrugged and winked. “I expect I’ll be rewarded some day.”

She laughed. “You’ll have to talk to Bessie about that.”

“I already have my orders in that regard. I’m under strict control.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “Did she actually… I mean, did she-”

“In no uncertain terms. I didn’t know I could still blush.”

“Show me, show me!”

And at recall of that very stilted conversation, a slight pink glow was evident beneath his tan.

Caroline’s laughter rang through the room while Simon gave her a jaundiced look. “I’m glad you find it so amusing.” He shoved the cards at her. “We’re done with this embarrassing conversation. Cut the cards.”

Caroline won the first hand by thirty points, the second by fifty, the third by forty. “You’re not even trying,” she grumbled.

“Consider it a gift.”

She glanced at him, then her gaze narrowed and she looked at him more quizzically. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Did you think I’d forgotten how to play piquet?”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it,” he said, softly. “If you want a faithful husband, you have one.”

“I’ve never had someone for myself alone,” she whispered.

“Speaking of that-I have a small request myself.”

She looked frightened. “Is this some trick?” She had won too easily.

“No. No trick. I was just hoping you would do something for me as well.”

“Of course.” But her voice was tentative.

“I don’t want you to run… if you should get angry-like you have,” he took a breath, “before…”

She had to take a deep breath too, because she had always run when her life was in chaos. She’d learned the art of avoidance from her father. But Simon was waiting for her answer, looking grave. “I won’t run.” It was much harder to say than she thought. “I promise,” she added with a soft winsomeness.

The warmth in his eyes could have melted the glaciers at the poles. “You’ve always been the only family I could count on, you know.”

“I know.” She smiled. “Along with our servants.”

“Do you think Bessie would mind if I kissed you?”

“Kiss me now and we’ll ask her later.”

He moved the table aside, lifted her from her chair as though she were weightless, placed her on his lap and kissed her gently, chastely, with tenderness and love.

But very soon, he abruptly lifted her off his lap, set her on her feet and rose from his chair. “I can’t be this close,” he muttered, moving a safer distance away.

“Don’t stop, darling, please…” She followed him. “I’m feeling so-o-o wonderful.”

Quickly barricading himself behind another chair, he put up his hand. “Stay there.”

She stopped, but reluctantly. “I’m feeling perfectly fine. Why don’t I talk to Bessie and Rose?”

He groaned. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Would you like to talk to them?”

His eyes flared wide. “Christ, no.”

She moved to the chair and leaned forward while he backed up as far as the wall would allow. “We could just wait until the baby is born I suppose,” she said, her voice a delectable soft purr that had nothing to do with waiting.

Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled in a whoosh of air. They needed a diversion or at least he did before he lost control. “I’ve something to show you first,” he abruptly said, easing out from behind the chair. “Come into my study.” He stepped back and waved her past him.

“Are we not allowed to touch?” she murmured.

“No!” He smiled ruefully at his explosive reaction. “Lord, Caro, I’m going crazy here. Humor me.”

“If you promise to humor me afterward-in your own very, very special way…”

“Jesus,” he said on a suffocated breath. “You’re making this very hard.”

I’m glad it’s hard,“ she whispered, feeling ravenous.

“Caro, for God’s sake. I’ve never been celibate for so long”-he grimaced. “Sorry… I didn’t mean-” He decided it was safer not to explain. “Forgive me, it was a slip of the tongue.”

“Ummm, did you say, tongue?… Ummm… just the word makes me feel all tingly and-”

“Damn it, Caro, don’t!”

“You’re adorable when you’re rattled.”

Her smile was tantalizing, a temptress’s smile. “I’m not adorable, nor have I ever been,” he said, firmly, understanding the urgency of taking charge of a situation that could easily get out of hand. Quickly approaching her, he swept her up in his arms and keeping his gaze averted, as though one glance at her might turn him into a pillar of salt, he strode through the adjoining door into his study. Setting her down before a table covered with documents, he commanded, “Sit,” and pointed to a chair with a jab of his finger.

“Yes, sir.” Sitting down, she half-turned to him so her lush bosom-even more showy now in pregnancy-was thrust out in a most beguiling fashion. “Will this do?” she queried, with feigned innocence.

This was drawing his gaze as she knew it would and she deliberately shifted in the chair so her heavy breasts swung faintly.

“I may have to spend the next few months in a cloister,” Simon muttered. “Or put you in one, if you don’t stop misbehaving.”

“You never called it misbehaving before.”

Her breathy little voice was so theatrically seductive, he stepped back in self-defense. Moving to the other side of the table, he cleared his throat in an attempt to focus his thoughts. But, damn, she was an enchanting little witch and had it been possible, he would have given her what she wanted until she begged for mercy. “I have something for you,” he said, gruffly, quickly repressing the illicit images that came to mind.

“And I have something for you.” She slowly ran the tip of her tongue over her plump bottom lip, leaving a glistening wet trail.

“Caro, fucking behave,” he growled, his voice hoarse with restraint. “I don’t know how to be a monk and I’m not about to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry.” The agony in his voice was so stark, she was immediately stricken with guilt.

Inhaling deeply, he released his white-knuckled grip on the table and dropped into a chair opposite her. “As soon as we’re done here, I’ll talk to Bessie myself,” he murmured, understanding there were limits to his willpower and he’d damned near lost control a moment ago. He shoved a number of papers toward her. “Here, take a look. I thought you might like something to keep you busy in the country.”