Excerpt of Simon's Brides by Allison Knight

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.

Amelia--Amy, Ellie had called her, said nothing.

Simon glanced at her pale face, “Amy, you will not wed Harold.”

She offered no thanks as she turned ignoring them both.

Simon took several steps behind her, his heart slamming against his breast bone. He took a deep breath and tried to calm the chaotic beating of his heart. He frowned. No woman had ever affected him like this. Now, in retrospect, he didn’t like it.

But, before he could worry about his feelings or about the other women, he needed to return all of them to their home. It had appeared on first examination that much was missing from the house. They would have to confirm which items had disappeared.

“However, before Harold leaves,” Simon announced, “There are things that must be settled. When did you leave the Manor house?”

Ellie answered. “We left more than eight months ago. Just after Mother died, Harold tried to get into Amy’s room. We left the house then. We’ve lived here from that time to this.”

Simon grimaced. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the women had no knowledge of what he’d seen when he arrived. How to tell them without upsetting them more.

He cleared his throat.

“There appears to be many missing items. Discoloration of the carpets and walls indicate things have been removed. Also, I want to know what happened to the servants.”

Ellie supplied that answer as well. “He fired the servants the day after Mother died. He said he couldn’t afford them.”

Simon remembered that Peters said he had discussed the financial condition of the estate with Neville’s manager, and was told there were more than enough funds to cover estate expenses, including servants wages. What had Harold done with the money for the servants? This grew more suspicious with every moment.

Simon glanced at Harold who had started to edge away but Simon grabbed his arm. “You’re going nowhere until the women have inventoried every room of that house. After some arrangement for compensation has been made, you will leave.”

Harold groaned and Simon smiled. Then, he turned his attention to the women.

“Gather what you need for this night,” he told them. “I’ll wait for a time, then we will all go to the house. I want you to tell me as best as you can what is missing from each room. As complete a list as you can make.”

Minutes later, the small procession started down the path. The women, each with a small bundle in hand, followed behind Simon who dragged Harold behind him. Simon wondered what the women would say when they saw the inside of their home.

A sudden feeling swamped him. He felt an overpowering need to protect Amy from what awaited her. He dismissed the sensations. Sympathy was what he felt. After all, the estate would be hers when she married. Add to that the fact that he felt considerable guilt for not arriving soon enough to prevent at least some of the damage.

Amy appeared to be a sensitive woman. Naturally, Simon hated to have her view what appeared to be the destruction to her home. He also remembered her reaction to Harold’s insistence that she was his betrothed.

All of that explained his feelings well enough. He was feeling empathy for her. Nothing more.

Amy followed behind her half-sisters, her thoughts centered around Harold and his performance at the cottage. He seemed determined to marry her. He had proposed on the way back from the church cemetery after they had buried Patience. She refused him then, as she had for the next several days. But, he had insisted she would wed him. He willing would have ruined her to see the deed done.

She didn’t understand why he was so insistent. Perhaps Patience, before she died, had told him Amy would inherit the estate when she married. But, that was no explanation. Her father had never become a rich man even though the estate produced sufficient monies to run effectively. Could Patience have exaggerated the monies Neville had set aside for doweries?

Poor Patience. She was Neville’s fifth wife, a good stepmother but she had no concept of money or the value of the estate. Amy had handled all the household funds. She frowned wondering once again why Harold was pursuing her the way he was.

She smiled as she thought of Ellie’s defense before Simon. Ever since the afternoon of Harold’s attack in the orchard, Amy insisted none of them go out alone, except, of course, for Ellie. Since Harold claimed her as his niece, they had decided that Ellie would be safe. She became their spy.

But Simon had finally arrived. Gazing at the tall man in the lead of their small procession, she remembered the one time he visited ten years before. She had been fourteen at the time. Her hair had been close to orange in color, her complexion covered with freckles, and although she was tall for her age, she had ample flesh for her years. Truth be told, she’d been fat. And, she’d followed him everywhere. Did he remember her?