Simon gathered Belle into his arms, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. He turned toward the doorway, but stopped when he caught sight of St. Aldwyn’s sly smile.
“Move out of my way.”
“In a moment, I want to commit this image to memory.”
“What is so funny?”
“My best friend kidnapping the woman he loves, after rendering her unconscious with a potion he bought from a gypsy.”
Simon shoved past Damien, careful not to jar Belle. He would have punched his friend if he hadn’t been holding her. Of course, he was right. He supposed his behavior was a bit out of character but did love not make you do things you would not normally do?
He glanced down at Belle’s beautiful face. She was so quiet, so still, that it disturbed him. He kept his arm in such a position so that his fingers remained on her pulse—just to make sure nothing was amiss.
Simon swiftly made his way through the now familiar halls of her home careful to stay clear of any light. When they reached the servant’s entrance, he entered the awaiting carriage without pause, arranging Belle comfortably on his lap.
Later, when she woke, all hell would break loose, but Simon was confident he could manage the situation, and her.
St. Aldwyn appeared at the carriage door.
“Good luck old chap, I am rooting that she allows you to remain breathing.”
Simon nodded. “As am I. You will hold off the cavalry?”
St. Aldwyn nodded. “I have a few tricks up my breeches, and the keys to all the closets,” he drawled, then waggled his eyebrows. “Or the kitchen, wouldn’t want to starve my wife to death.”
Simon chuckled. “Godspeed.”
And with that, his friend shut the door and rapped it on the side. Moments later, the carriage shot forward, taking him to what would hopefullynotbe the death of him.
