his brother. What had the fool been thinking? "Absolutely not! No balls."
"Sorry, Simon. I already agreed." Will examined his fingernails as he leaned against the wall. "That pest Prisca Hawthorne goaded me into it."
"But Friday!" Simon paced around his study. "That's—"
"The night after the full moon. I know. By then, the worst of the affliction will have passed."
"But the wildness will still remain," Simon reminded his brother. He couldn't fathom why in the world William would want to put himself in the position of being on guard for an entire torturous evening, fighting the basest of instincts. Every scent of a woman, every brush of a body on the dance floor, every clasp of a hand, even in innocence, would be impossible to ignore.
"The wildness is there every day, Simon," Will replie d as he clasped his hand to his brother's shoulder.
The tinkling sound of Lily's laughter drew Simon from his study. This was, of course, the first time he'd heard it since their arrival at Westfield Hall. But that sound would draw him from the depths of hell.
Simon turned the corner into his gold parlor, Will in his wake, to find Lily laughing with his old friend Emory Hawthorne and his sister. Simon had thought their neighbors had already left. He couldn't imagine why the pair was still there until he saw the look of infatuation in Emory's eyes as he gazed at Lily.
The beast rose in him once again. Must every man stare at her in such a way? "Miss Rutledge, I'll have a word with you," he clipped out. Lily and the Hawthornes turned toward him, surprised expressions on their faces, yet he did not regret his tone. She would be well served to heed his mood and remove her fingertips from Emory's hand. Immediately.
Lily raised her nose at him. "I'll be along in a moment, Your Grace." Then Emory regained her full attention.
Simon felt his hackles rise and was one step from baring his teeth at one of his oldest friends when Will stepped forward. "I imagine we'll see you at this ball your sister seems obsessed with, Emory." Will touched the man's shoulder and turned him toward the door, shooting a warning glare at Simon. Will's warning should have been saved for Emory because he was the one in imminent danger, Simon thought.
Emory was oblivious to the fact that his life was in jeopardy. "Miss Rutledge, I would be honored if you'd allow me to escort you to the assembly room on Friday night."
Simon growled.
"Well, I—"
Simon snarled, "If Miss Rutledge insists on attending a party, she will be escorted by me, Hawthorne."
"I will?" Lily asked, one hand fluttering to land on her chest.
If only his lips were upon that chest, Simon thought. He tore his gaze away from Lily's cleavage when Will said, "Why don't we all go together, Emory? We can meet you both at Langley Downs beforehand."
"Oh, William," Prisca began, feigning sweetness. "If you wanted to escort me to the ball, you had only to ask. No need for an elaborate ruse to get me into your coach." She winked at Lily.
Will muttered under his breath, "If it saves your brother's life, I would agree to take you to the altar." Simon's keen hearing picked up the words, though he was beyond caring.
Simon stalked slowly toward Emory Hawthorne, who still stood too close to Lily for comfort. Emory paid no heed to the warning look he sent him, so Simon bumped his shoulder against the man.
Emory stumbled to the side.
"Pardon me, Hawthorne," Simon said as he took Lily's elbow in his hand and prodded her away from the group.
"Honestly, Blackmoor," Lily complained. "I told you I'll be along in a moment." She yanked her arm from his grasp. He allowed it, but only for a moment.
" Now , Lily!" he said, grasping her elbow more firmly. He was prepared to drag her, if need be, though it would be better for the neighbors if she came willingly.
"It's all right,
William Mirza, Thom Lemmons