A Certain Wolfish Charm by Lydia Dare

think you need to think about what that means. Go for a walk. Clear your head, for God's sake. You're going to need it in the morning."
       Simon shook his head. "She deserves someone better than me."
       Will couldn't help but smile. "True, but she'd probably settle for you anyway."

Seven

    Simon sneaked into Lily's room after daybreak, when the moon had fallen in the sky and the sun was rising to take its place. He watched her sleep somewhat fitfully under the effects of the sleeping draught, but beautifully, nonetheless.
       She had removed the pins from her hair the night before, and her auburn locks spread like a fan across her pillow. She lay on her back, still in her serviceable traveling gown, with a thin counterpane spread over her. He wanted nothing more than to peel back the covering and lay beside her. He wouldn't even have to touch her. He just wanted to feel her close to him.
       She stirred in her sleep, her hand jumping on the pillow beside her face as she clenched her fist. Probably thinking about wringing his neck for the way he'd mauled her the day before. He deserved no less. He'd treated her terribly, like she was a common whore with whom he could toy and then never see again.
       But, oh, he definitely wanted to see Lily again. He wanted it more than the next breath he would take. He settled into a chair, which was not nearly big enough for his size, and stretched out his body. He wished he had an injury so he'd have an excuse to take some of Lily's sleeping draught and escape from it all. But men like him didn't suffer injury. Sure, they aged, but they healed quickly, even if they did happen to find an adversary large enough to wound them.
       Finally, after he relaxed to the cadence of her breaths, he slept.
    ***

    Lily blinked. Bright morning light poured in through the windows. She was groggy, the sleeping draught apparently still in her system. She strained to sit up. That's when she noticed him. Simon Westfield slept slumped in a wooden chair, much too small for him, with his legs kicked up on the edge of her bed.
       Why had he slept in this room? Certainly there was some place else he could have stayed. Even under the ruse of playing her husband, she hadn't expected him to share her room.
       Her movement must have woken him because his head shot up and his eyes flew open. "How are you feeling?" he asked, scratching the dark whiskers along his jaw.
       Tired, sore, and… foolish. "Um, fine. You?"
       He drew his legs from the edge of her bed and rose from his seat. The frown she'd grown so accustomed to over the last day was once again in place. "Miss Rutledge, er—Lily." He cleared his throat and began to pace around the small room. "I spent half the night thinking about your predicament."
       It was about time. Lily smiled at him, relieved he wasn't the beast she'd thought for so long. "I do hope, once you see Oliver, you'll have some idea what to do. I didn't know who else to turn to, and—"
       Blackmoor shook his head. "No, no. I'm certain the boy will do fine at Westfield Hall. What I meant to say, Lily, is that I greatly appreciate all you've done for Oliver. Daniel wasn't just my cousin. He was my closest friend. I should have been more involved with his son before now."
       An uneasy feeling washed over Lily, and she leaned forward, not wanting to misconstrue what he was saying.
       "In any event, I feel I owe you for your time and dedication to the boy. You say you haven't got a dowry, and… Well, I'd be happy to supply you with one. You've certainly earned it—"
       Lily leapt off the bed, and he stopped in his tracks. "How dare you?" she fumed, stalking toward him. He was large and intimidating, but she wasn't about to let that stop her. "Emma was my sister, and I've raised that boy. He's like a son to me. You can't take him from me. I won't let you."
       Blackmoor stepped backward, surprise in his grey eyes. "If you'll just listen