Simon's Brides (2 page)

One

A small cottage several miles from Kirkley Manor

Amelia Hargrove leaned toward her youngest half-sister.

“It’s a fancy carriage, I tell you,” Ellie insisted. “No coat of arms, but fancy...”

Someone suddenly banged on the cottage door then tried the latch.

“Release this bar and let me in.”

Amy shuddered. Harold Bottomsworth had arrived.
Pig
, Amy grumbled under her breath. Fear still played through her as she remembered the afternoon he caught her alone in the cottage orchard. He’d grabbed her and forced a kiss on her.

At the memory, she scrubbed her mouth. Harold had said she would marry him or he’d sell her sisters to the highest bidders even if they went to brothels. Selling women was illegal but if someone didn’t stop him, Harold just might find a way. She knew he was a scoundrel capable of anything.

Had he found a way around the law?

“Go away, Harold. We told you not to bother us again.”

Where was Simon?
Amy closed her eyes and she could still see him the one time he had visited the estate. He’d been so handsome, her heart still quickened at the memory. She had considered him the most wonderful, the most attractive man she had ever seen. Of course, at her tender years, she hadn’t seen that many men.

She felt her face warm with embarrassment. Was he still so handsome, so suave, so debonair?

“He wants all of you at the house.” Harold’s voice brought her back to reality. Had Harold found someone to buy one of her sisters? No! She couldn’t allow that.

“Go away, Harold. We don’t want you here.”

Simon strode toward the cottage door, listening to the shouting going on between one of the women and Harold Bottomsworth. He had forced Harold to lead the way to where Harold said the women stayed.

Simon had been furious when he’d arrived at the estate and learned the women were not at the house. And the manor had been a mess.
How long had the women been gone from their home?

As he approached, Simon heard a rich, resonant voice shouting back at Harold.

Simon stood stunned.
That voice!
It sent a chill zinging through him. A voice giving him a chill? Impossible. Still, the flesh on his arms had raised as that voice responded to Harold’s order.

“Open this door. I’m coming in,” Harold yelled before Simon could recover from the effects of that voice.

“Not today,” that same voice rolled over Simon once more. Vibrant and full, like an exotic perfume. It filled him with desire.

He shook his head. This made little sense. A voice couldn’t bring about a tightening in his groin. No, it wasn’t possible. He forced himself to dismiss the effects.

Which of the half-sisters had responded? Frowning, he tried to remember how Neville had described his third daughter, the horse-loving Carolyn. It had to be she. Neville had admitted Carolyn was very tall. She would have a voice to match.

Another voice, this one softer, asked, “Why should we let you in Harold? You haven’t said why.”

Harold glared at Simon and muttered, “Baron Kirkley’s here.”

“Louder, Harold. We can’t hear you,” the original speaker demanded.

The sound had the same effect on Simon and he whispered, “Bloody hell.” Voices
couldn’t produce erotic pictures, could they?
He refused to answer his question.

“Who, Harold?” she demanded.

“Baron Kirkley,” Harold shouted.

“My father is dead,” she spoke now with a note of annoyance.

“He sez he’s the new Baron.”

“Simon, is that you?” again that voice, sonorous, scintillating, intoxicating, rushed through him.

Simon cleared his throat. “I’ve arrived. It is past time for you to return to the manor. I want you to gather your gear and come back to the house. All of you,” he added for good measure.

The door opened a crack.

Harold shoved at the wood trying to gain entrance but Simon pushed him aside, shoved the panel against the wall and stepped into the doorway. He stopped, blocking the opening, amazed at the sight before him.
Who was this glorious creature? Could this be Amelia?

Simon struggled to pull air into lungs gone rigid with shock. The young girl he remembered bore no resemblance to the beautiful woman stepping toward him.

She was tall, statuesque, her feminine curves enhanced by the gray gown she wore. Her red gold hair had been pulled away from her face although strands had freed themselves in whatever job she had been doing. She had green eyes, the color of perfect emeralds, and they sparkled with relief and a touch of concern. A dusting of freckles enhanced her perfect porcelain complexion. This woman was beautiful, gorgeous, incredible.

Her classic nose shadowed the most luscious pair of lips Simon had ever seen. For an instant, he fought an insane desire to take her into his arms and taste those lips. He shivered with reaction and tried to squelch the temptation.

She moved toward him with a dignity born of knowing who she was and what she wanted from life. However, there was a touch of arrogance in the way she held her head. Simon took one step into the small cottage, his large frame still blocking the door as he leaned toward her, aware of a soft fragrance of spring flowers and woman.

He accepted her hand as she curtsied. The touch of her hand sent a rush of sensation through him.

He couldn’t stop himself. Knowing he shouldn’t, he raised her fingers and brushed his lips against her warm flesh. A wave of shock engulfed him.

She shivered and her expression indicated his action had also alarmed her.

He opened his mouth to say something when a voice behind him registered through the fog of desire swirling around him. Harold pushed against him.

“Ah, my betrothed.” Harold reached around Simon attempting to grab Amelia’s arm.

“No.” She jerked away.

Conflicting impressions shot through Simon.

Hers was the voice that had affected him so. He didn’t want her to be betrothed to Harold. And, she didn’t want Harold to touch her.

“One minute!” Simon shouted above Harold’s whine and the cacophony of the other women in the room.

Simon glanced around and then demanded, “What is this all about?”

Everyone started talking at once. Harold’s demands drowned out the softer voices of the women.

“She’s mine. She belongs to me. We are going to be married.”

“Quiet,” Simon roared, rage filling him. He was incensed beyond anything he had ever known.

Silence reigned.

Simon turned to Amelia.

“Is this true? Are you betrothed to this man?”

“No,” she said and shook her head, her face still carrying a dazed look. Because of the kiss he brushed over her fingers, or Harold’s announcement, Simon wondered.

“No,” Amelia repeated her gazed fixed on him. “We were never betrothed. My father had passed on before Harold arrived. I have never agreed to marry him.”

Simon felt a surge of relief. He realized the floor beneath his feet seemed to firm with her words.

She continued, “As I’ve told him over and over, I’ve no desire to marry. And,
especially
not him. I will not suffer his attentions. I’ve told him what I will do if he tries to force me again.”

“He’s tried to force you?” Simon fought a sudden fury.

“I did not,” Harold snapped.

“Yes, you did.”

That rich, melodious voice sliced through Simon. Suddenly, Harold was closer to a beating than at any time since Simon’s arrival that morning.

Simon needed a distraction. He turned to gaze at the other women surrounding Amelia. These were the other women for whom he must find husbands?

Standing next to Amelia was a blonde, her curly hair framing an oval face. Her blue eyes stared at him with youthful innocence. She looked young even though she was a tall woman. She was also stunningly beautiful.

“I’m Ellie. I just turned seventeen years,” she offered with a small smile and dropped into a quick curtsy.

Simon glanced at the woman next to her. She was even taller than Ellie. She was beautiful in an exotic way. Her ebony hair hung in waves well past her shoulders. Her full lips formed a perfect bow, her almond-shaped eyes so dark they gleamed almost black. She moved forward with the grace of a panther, as she paused and also dropped into a deep curtsy.

“I’m Dora. I’m nineteen. And I doubt you remember me,” she said as she rose and glided back to stand beside Ellie.

Simon took a deep breath and shook his head. He didn’t remember them. He would never have forgotten such beauty and both women were gorgeous, arresting, the kind of beauty men fought over. He groaned remembering what Neville expected of him. Before he could offer a comment, another woman stepped forward.

This one was tall, taller than most of the men he knew. She stood as straight as the main mast of one of his ships. She was even more striking than the Ellie or Dora. Slender, her face a perfect oval, full lips pressed together, her brow wrinkled in a frown. Her intense blue-gray eyes gazed at him as if she objected to his presence. Her dark golden hair was pulled into a neat chignon. She moved with regal grace.
Caroline?
he wondered.

As she curtsied, she said in the soft voice he recognized from Harold’s arguments as he tried to gain entrance to the cottage.

“I’m Caro,” she offered. “I imagine you do remember me.”

He grinned. He couldn’t help it. Neville had named this gorgeous creature horse-mad? Next to her had to be Bethany. She was the shortest of the group. She stepped forward and curtsied, giving him a shy look with eyes so much like Neville’s gray eyes, he almost staggered against the pain.

Neville had eyes the color of sea foam in a tropical storm and Bethany had the same. She wore her brown hair in a braid twisted around her head. Her face was round, but with those incredible eyes, she had a look of such vulnerability about her that Simon stood dazed.

Then he remembered the miscreant at his side.

Harold turned toward Simon and hissed, “Amelia ain’t said a word to me. Nothing.”

Before Simon could reply Ellie stepped next to Harold.

“Uncle Harold, Amy told you to leave her alone. We’ve all heard her. And, we heard her tell you she would never marry you. You made that up. Now, leave her be.”

Simon tried to hide a smile. It seemed Ellie was the protector as well as the youngest.

“You won’t have to worry about Harold any longer. He’s leaving,” Simon announced, delighted he could send the man from the estate.

The women’s comments swirled around him.

“Thank goodness.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“About time,” this from Caro.