Whitley took another step back from Simon. The fabric of her midnight dress shimmered as she moved. A chill ran across the balcony.

"So you mean to tell me..."

Grimacing, Simon said, "That you kissed my brother and thought it was me? Yes, that is precisely what I am attempting to convey."

Her gloved hand still hovered over her mouth, and Simon gritted his teeth as he waited for her to say something else. But she didn't. And to make matters worse, he saw his brother and Lady Blair out of the corner of his eye. They were just inside the large window panes, conversing. Undoubtedly scheming.

"There are likely waiting to enjoy a show," Simon said dryly. He'd kept his voice relatively low, not really intending for Whitley to hear. But apparently, she did.

"They?"

Simon nodded toward the windows, and Whitley's head whipped around. The two of them looked to Sawyer and Blair, who were practically on top of each other as they spoke. Honestly, Simon was surprised his mother hadn't marched over there and yanked them apart. "Apparently, they have been colluding together to play matchmaker. My brother thought he would kiss you to help me." Simon fought an eye roll at the thought.

"Dear me," Whitley moaned. "What ridiculous nonsense is that." She pursed her lips before adding, "I cannot believe Blair would involve herself so. And I wouldn't believe it except for it rather explains what I saw in the library earlier. Although I think that had very little to do with us and much more to do with them."

Simon frowned. "What do you mean?"

Whitley squinted toward the windows. "There is something....there."

"Something there?"

Swiveling back toward him, Whitley raised a brow. "Yes, something there. Between them."

Simon's frown twisted in amusement. "You don't say."

"I do." She paused and then leaned forward conspiratorially. "Say, Simon?"

"Hm?"

"Perhaps...well, perhaps they ought to be exposed to their own trickery."

Simon rose a brow. "If you are suggesting that I kiss Blair—"

"No." Whitley shook her head quickly. "No, not that, of course."

The way she appeared displeased by the idea made Simon want to smile. Honestly, this whole conversation was turning out much better than he had expected. Simon allowed a little smirk and said, "Well, Sawyer certainly needs to learn that his damn actions have consequences."

A grin immediately blossomed on Whitley's face. She did not even flinch from his language, instead saying, "I do believe we can do that."

And then without warning, Whitley stepped toward Simon only to push at his chest again. Gasping, she stepped back dramatically, covering her mouth in the same fashion she did before.

Except for this time, she parted her fingers and muttered, "Are they looking?"

Blair's dark hair flashed as she turned to face the balcony again. Simon nodded, trying not to laugh at Whitley's antics.

God, this only reaffirmed how much he adored her.

"Do not smile, Simon," Whitley whispered fiercely.

Damn, he simply couldn't help it. With effort, Simon forced the corners of his mouth down so as to be less obvious in his gloating of the moment.

Sawyer was a cocky arse who had clearly thought his plan foul-proof. By the look upon Whitley's face, she intended that he see otherwise. And the very best part of it all was that Whitley hurriedly whispered, "Meet me by my chambers at half-past eleven," before scrunching her face up and striding away from Simon in a huff.

He watched her go, stunned by the abrupt turn of events. And trying desperately to not smile.

But he felt Sawyer's eyes on him. And silently, he begged him not to come outside. Because Simon was truly not that fabulous of an actor. And he did not wish to let Whitley down.

Instead, Simon kept his face down and quickly stalked off along the balcony, keeping to the shadows before ducking back into the manor.

And then he waited.

He did not know what Whitley had planned for their meeting, but Simon did not care.

He paced the length of his chambers until the clock struck precisely onto the six, and then he slipped through the door and into the hallway. Laughter could be heard ringing from somewhere in the manor. No doubt his parents were busied in a game of whist with Emilia and Will.

Simon tread lightly upon the plush carpeting that ran the length of the hallway, making his way toward the east wing where he knew the Ash family to be staying. He wasn't certain which chamber was Whitley's, but as he rounded the corner, he saw her.

She leaned against the wall, her head tipped back as she scanned the ceiling. Simon tried not to let his nerves get the best of him as he studied her. She was cloaked by darkness, and yet she'd never appeared so bright. So beautiful.

Whitley still wore that midnight gown of hers, but her hair was down. Soft, golden waves framed her upturned face.

Shoving his hands in his pocket, Simon strolled casually toward her.

"Lady Whitley Ash, mischief is in your blood. No wonder you admire my mother so."

She spun toward him, her eyes widening as if surprised to see him. As if she hadn't planned this little tete-a-tete.

And then in a nearly sheepish way, she murmured, "I hope I did not catch you off guard."

Simon cleared his throat. "Well, I admit, you rather did. But my brother believes that he is quite clever, so I daresay he should learn that not to be the case for once."

Whitley's eyes sparkled at that. "I daresay, I agree." Her face fell a little. "It is rather humiliating to be tricked so."

Reaching her side, Simon couldn't help but reach a hand out to brush her hair aside. He just wanted to know if it felt as much like a cloud as it looked. It did. "I am sorry for that."

Whitley looked down. She shrugged one shoulder before glancing back up at him. "My sister came to find me as soon as I fled the balcony. But do you know what she did?"

"What?"

"She spent nearly the entire time complaining about Sawyer." Whitley's face contorted into exasperated amusement. "How she could not believe he would kiss me like that."

Chuckling, Simon said, "Yes, well, I could hardly believe it either. And he's my brother."

Whitley stunned Simon, rolling her eyes. "No, she is simply gripped with the green devil."

"You think her jealous?"

"Undoubtedly."

Simon was utterly shocked by this side of Lady Whitley Ash, the way her eyes shifted, the way they conveyed how her mind was whirring, calculating. But he could not say he minded. Cocking his head to the side, he asked, "So now what?"

Whitley checked the hallway around them as if just remembering that they were out in the open for anyone to stumble upon. And then she stunned Simon further, grabbing his arm and yanking him into the room behind her.

"My apologies. It only just came to me that Blair's chambers are just across the hall," she whispered as she quickly closed the door behind Simon.

Simon merely blinked at her. Words failed him as he realized that there were in Whitley's bedchamber. And she was standing not two paces away, moonlight draped over her as it leaked in from the far window.

"Whitley, I must point out that this is..." He cleared his throat. "Inappropriate."

But the lady merely raised a brow. "We have spent countless hours alone, unchaperoned."

"This is rather different," Simon said hoarsely.

Whitley raised the other brow, taking a brazen step toward him. "We have even kissed in abandoned hallways."

Simon gritted his teeth. "And that is rather untrue. In fact, let us not speak of it."

"Why not?"

It was Simon's turn to take a step in, his whole body leaning, straining toward Whitley. "You know why."

But all she did was continue to gaze at him questioningly. And Simon knew it was a farce. Her eyes danced with the knowledge of it.

So Simon closed the distance between them and dared to slip his hand up along Whitley's jaw until he was cupping her face. His voice dropped as he said, "It is because I am gripped with the green devil."

"You are jealous, my lord?" Her soft voice floated between them as she looked up at Simon, searching his face with her bright eyes.

Simon moved without even thinking; he couldn't help it with how she was gazing at him. Bending down so that his head hovered next to Whitley's, his lips were a hair's breadth away from her ear when he breathed, "Undoubtedly."

Her flowery scent was filling Simon. And the darkness of the moment was seducing him. All he wanted was to feel her under his lips for a mere moment, to taste her for himself. To let go of the jealous and live what Sawyer had. So Simon indulged himself, pressing a lingering kiss to the hollow beneath her ear.

Simon hadn't intended on anything more. He'd intended to make his point—that he was abundantly jealous—and then back away. Far, far away.

But Simon hadn't expected that Whitley would release a breathy gasp and tilt her head to the side, giving him access to her slender neck. He hadn't expected that when he gave her a second kiss, sliding his lips downward, that she'd softly moan his name.

And then he stopped thinking altogether.

His hand slid from her cheek into her hair, clutching those soft, silky strands. Simon's lips brushed along her exposed neck, trailing that graceful curve until he found the slight dip and rise of her collarbone. And he kissed that as well, his tongue flicking against Whitley's skin as Simon got lost in his exploration of her.

He felt her quickened breathing beneath his mouth. And it urged him onward until Simon was kissing over the swell of her decolletage. Until his lips hit the hem of her bodice.

"Simon," Whitley breathed, saying his name on an exhale.

But at the sound of his name, Simon jerked his head up, wrenching his lips from her skin. And then before she could tempt him again, Simon took a quick step backward. His back hit the door to her chambers.

"Whitley, I—"

His words got stuck in his throat, though. Because then he glanced at Whitley's face. And he saw her heavy-lidded eyes and her parted pink lips and her dazed, desirous expression. The tops of the breasts that Simon had just been kissing were now heaving, straining against her tight bodice. And it was almost too much for Simon to bear.

She was a temptress. Unknowingly, too. This wasn't as it was before when she'd been trying to fool Simon with her flirtations. No, this was real. And Simon could barely believe it.

"Yes?" Whitley whispered, her cheeks reddening.

Somehow Simon managed to clear his throat and chokingly say, "Your sister. My brother."

Whitley gave her head a little shake. "I'm sorry?" 

"Their scheming."

He couldn't manage more than a few words at a time, not with the way his inner thoughts were warring with him about walking over to Whitley and kissing her properly.

But Simon was terrified of messing this up. Of taking any kind of chance that would result in Whitley pushing him away. Or god, pulling him closer. Because then Simon would be forced to wrench himself away again, being that he had no intention of compromising an innocent woman.

Whitley swallowed. "Oh, yes. I was...I was thinking that perhaps they might like to find out how it feels to have others meddling in their affairs. Perhaps they need a little help of their own to...come together."

Simon considered for a moment before saying, "Sawyer is...not really one for romantic entanglements." His brother preferred other types of entanglements if Simon was being honest.

Giving him a pointed look, Whitley said, "You did not see the way in which he was looking at Blair in the library."

"Oh?"

Whitley flushed, her eyes lowering for a moment. And then they met Simon's again. "Why do you think it upset me to see when I thought it was you?"

Deep satisfaction ran through Simon. "Ah, were you...jealous, my lady?" He couldn't withhold a small smirk.

A little smile appeared on Whitley's face. He almost didn't hear it when she whispered, "Undoubtedly." And then she quickly rushed on to say, "I do believe Blair is attending the morning ride tomorrow. As is your brother, I am certain."

"Is that so?" Simon raised a brow.

Whitley nodded. "Did you have an idea?"

Simon's smirk grew. "I think we simply need to recruit some assistance."

"Assistance?"

Oh, yes. Simon reckoned it was time to tell his father of Sawyer's little schemes. And he might as well slip it to his uncles, too. The three of them would be out riding tomorrow, and they would undoubtedly ensure that Sawyer had the proper amount of tormenting. As he well deserved.

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