by Andrea Kane
"I think it's safe to say that, yes." Slowly, Noelle eased herself away, inclining her head quizzically. "Did you ask your parents to invite my family to their charity ball?"
"Yes." Ashford's reply was as direct as Noelle's query. "I hope you don't mind." A grin. "You did imply that I should find a way for us to see each other."
Laughter danced in Noelle's eyes. "Yes, I did, didn't I? And the method you chose was most creative."
A mock bow. "I'm pleased you approve."
"Oh, I do." Her smile faded. "Unfortunately, Papa doesn't."
"So I gathered." Reluctantly, Ashford released her, his arms dropping to his sides. "What's more, I don't think my keeping you out here, unchaperoned, for any length of time will endear me to him. I'd best escort you back to the house."
Noelle nodded, lowering her lashes and making no attempt to disguise her disappointment.
"We'll have time together, tempête," Ashford assured her softly, hooking his forefinger beneath her chin and raising it to meet his gaze. "I promise."
Her smile returned. "Tempête? That's the first time I've heard the word 'tempest' translate into something so poetic."
"It suits you. Beauty and recklessness combined." Ashford paused, his thumbs caressing Noelle's cheeks. "We have a great deal to discuss—more than even I realized. But I don't want to tempt fate. So let's delay this conversation until later and, instead, head back to the manor. Before I give your father more cause to distrust me."
Another reluctant nod. "Will I see you at dinner?"
"At dinner—and perhaps at the card table afterwards." Noelle gave him a measured look. "Must I play with the ladies? All they do is cast random cards while they gossip. It's tedious and unchallenging. Not to mention that their wagers are pathetically low."
Ashford chuckled. "I take it you've witnessed countless such boring games at Farrington?"
"Countless. Other than those times when I play with Papa."
"In that case, we'll have to place you at a gentlemen's gaming table."
Noelle's whole face lit up. "Truly? You'll let me join them?"
"Could I stop you?" Ashford teased. "Besides, I've already boasted to my parents of your great skill. I hope you're as accomplished at whist as you are at piquet."
"Oh, I am. I won't disappoint you, I promise."
"Disappoint me?" He shook his head, all teasing having vanished. Slowly, sensually, his knuckles drifted over her cheeks, caressed the fine contours. "On the contrary, tempête, I suspect you'll exceed my wildest expectations—and not only at the gaming table."
Noelle's insides melted. She stared up at Ashford, entirely aware of his underlying message, wondering just how much of it was mere flirtation and how much of it an expression of his intentions.
She couldn't wait to find out.
A provocative silence swelled between them, broken by the rustling of a squirrel as it darted up a tree to seek shelter—a blatant reminder that dusk was descending.
"Damn." Ashford sucked in his breath. "Let's go inside." He withdrew his hand, his expression as taut as his tone. "Because in another minute I'll be discarding whatever good intentions I still possess."
"I wouldn't mind," Noelle admitted.
Something flickered in those amazing eyes. "Wouldn't you?" he murmured huskily.
"No." She searched his hard, masculine features, trying to discern his reaction. "Does that disturb you?"
"No," he confessed, bringing her palm to his lips. "It excites me. You excite me. Far more than you should." He pressed his forefinger to her lips, stifling the protest she was about to utter. "Later," he promised softly, easing her in the direction of the manor. "We will continue this—later."
"The conversation or its essence?" she asked.
A dark smile. "Both."
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Dinner was an elegant affair, enjoyed by the several dozen guests who had already arrived. The entire Thornton family was in attendance, except Ashford's younger sister Laurel, who Noelle learned was recovering from childbirth and had, therefore, remained at home with her husband, their two-year-old daughter, and their newborn son.
Juliet, Ashford's twin, was a stunning woman with tawny, upswept hair, steel grey eyes, and a quick, witty tongue—the perfect counterpart to her handsome, dry-humored husband, Carston. Blair and Sheridan, Ashford's two brothers, were both impossibly handsome, although each in a different way. While Blair boasted classic aristocratic features and brooding forest green eyes, Sheridan exuded a roguish sort of charisma, with twinkling grey eyes and a devilish grin that made you wonder what mischief he was contemplating.
The duke, who was an older replica of Ashford, sat at one end of the endless mahogany table; the duchess, one of the loveliest, most gracious ladies Noelle had ever met, at the other. Noelle herself was seated near the duchess and among Ashford's siblings, something she thoroughly enjoyed because it gave her the opportunity to get to know them. Ashford, on the other hand, was seated way down at the other end, alongside the duke and, interestingly enough, her father. Chloe had eaten earlier with Juliet's children, an utterly enchanting experience, according to the rushed description Chloe had given Noelle when they'd passed each other in the hall. Chloe's verdict was that Cara was a darling to look after, and Lucas—though a year younger than she—was both intelligent and fascinating.
All in all, the young people's dinner had proven to be a rousing success.
Happily, the adults' meal was well on its way to following suit.
The formality of Markham's dining room, with its crystal chandeliers, gilded trim, and plush carpet, was belied by the relaxed chatter and careless teasing taking place at Noelle's end of the expansive mahogany table. Juliet and her brothers kept up a lively banter—so lively, in fact, that on several occasions Noelle almost managed to forget Ashford's presence at the other end of the table.
Almost.
Twice—two breathless, heart-stopping times—she turned her head only to find him staring at her, his gaze heated, probing, and the effect nearly brought her to her knees. To preserve appearances, not to mention sanity, Noelle looked away quickly, reimmersing herself in the conversation around her. Still, she couldn't help but sneak an occasional peek in Ashford's direction, noting with more than a twinge of curiosity that he was deeply engrossed in conversation with her father, while her mother, seated across the table, chatted amiably with the duke.
"Forgive us, Lady Noelle," Sheridan apologized gallantly over their last mouthfuls of dessert. "After our raucous display tonight, you must think all the Thorntons are heathens."
"On the contrary," Noelle assured him, "I think you're all wonderful. As for the display you're referring to, I view it as a heartwarming expression of your love for each other. Actually, you remind me a lot of my own family. We're smaller in number but equally as vocal in our affection. Just ask my father," she added with a grin. "He'll tell you how noisy mealtime at Farrington can get. Trust me, you're no more boisterous than we."
"Don't make that claim until you've met Cam," Blair suggested dryly. "She's a whirlwind disguised as a child."
"How true," Juliet concurred with a sigh.
"But I have met her," Noelle declared, turning to Juliet. "Your daughter is a delight. We met this afternoon during her romp with Lord Tremlett. She reminds me of myself at her age—bursting with energy and resourcefulness. And her laughter is positively contagious."
. Juliet rolled her eyes. "Especially when she's playing with Ashford. Cara loves us all, but I firmly believe she thinks Ashe walks on water. My son Lucas is not much better. He's determined to be just like Ashford when he grows up—Lord help us all." A flicker of curiosity. "Did I hear Ashe say you two had met before tonight?"
"Yes." Noelle lay down her fork and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. "Lord Tremlett and I met on the railroad going to London. We played piquet. The earl lost. As payment for his defeat, he gave my lady's maid and me a ride into To
wn."
"You beat Ashe at cards?" Juliet sounded surprised, impressed, and terribly smug. "I wish I'd been there to see that." She finished her pie with a flourish. "Well, good for you. Ashe could use a few lessons in humility. In fact, all my brothers could."
"Could we?" Blair's brows lifted good-naturedly. "If that's the case, you're hardly the one to provide them. You're cockier than Ashe."
"True," Sheridan put in blandly. "Just ask your husband. Right, Carston?"
"Oh, no," Carston refuted, holding up his palms and laughing. "I'm not being drawn into this debate. Besides, assessing which Thornton is the most self-assured is like deciding which of the desserts on this table is the sweetest. They're all sweet; that's a statement of fact. As to which surpasses the others, now that's simply a matter of opinion."
"Spoken like a loyal husband," Sheridan commended, returning to his dessert. "And a smart one," he added, shooting Carston a sympathetic look, "since we all know that Juliet would win the arrogance contest. Compared to her, we Thornton men are as meek as lambs."
A chorus of good-natured laughter—and a denial from Juliet—erupted. Then Daphne Thornton rose to her feet, stifling her own laughter as she requested that everyone take their coffee into the blue salon, where card tables had been set up for whatever family and guests were already present.
Everyone complied, filing slowly out of the dining room.
Noelle followed suit, making her way into the hall and looking about for her parents—or so she told herself.
"The games begin," a deep baritone commented from behind her.
She started at the sound of Ashford's voice, which was so close it shimmered through her hair.
Pivoting about, she gazed up at him. "I thought you were already in the blue salon."
"But you were hoping I wasn't?"
"Yes. I was hoping you weren't."
Undisguised pleasure flashed in his eyes. "Walk outside with me for a while. It will take almost an hour for the chattering to stop and the games to get under way."
Noelle glanced from him to her father, who was standing about fifteen feet away, glaring at her. "Let me talk to Papa," she replied.
"No. Let me. After our conversation tonight, I'm hoping your father feels a little less defensive about my motives." Ignoring Noelle's quizzical look, Ashford offered her his arm, led her to her father. "Lord Farrington," he said respectfully. "I'd like to take Noelle for a stroll—with your permission. We won't be gone more than a few minutes, and we won't venture far."
Eric frowned, clearly torn between the automatic refusal hovering on his lips and the grudging realization that Ashford was their host's son and—based upon whatever it was they'd discussed—a decent-enough fellow who was now proving that fact by asking permission rather than just whisking Noelle off. "I appreciate your sense of propriety, Tremlett," he began. "However—"
"I don't think a short walk would hurt, Eric," Brigitte interrupted, appearing at her husband's side. "After all, the card-playing has yet to begin. Besides, that meal, however delicious, was enormous. A stroll would certainly make it easier to breathe while sitting at the gaming table. Don't you agree, darling?"
Eric scowled.
"Eric?" Brigitte touched his arm gently.
He turned, met her reassuring gaze. "Very well," he relented. "At least it will take Noelle away from the rest of her captive audience. But make it a brief stroll."
"I will, sir," Ashford responded.
Thank you, Mama, Noelle conveyed with her eyes. Then she took Ashford's arm and let him lead her to the entrance-way door, where they donned their coats and stepped out into the cold night air.
"Your family is wonderful," she told him, as they strolled along the shrub-lined path.
"Too wonderful," he muttered with a frown. "Who do you think your father was referring to just now when he spoke of your captive audience? Blair and Sheridan were practically devouring you as the main course of their dinner. I'll have to speak with Mother about revising the seating arrangements before our next meal. I assumed that placing you as far away from me as possible would please your father, but the last thing I intended was to leave you in my brothers' clutches while I was at the other end of the table, too far away to protect you."
"Protect me?" Noelle began to laugh. "You needn't worry. Your brothers were perfect gentlemen."
"Only because my mother was there. But don't worry. Not only do I intend to rearrange things, I intend to speak to Blair and Sheridan. Tonight. After which, they'll cease to be a problem."
Noelle slanted Ashford a quick, assessing look. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."
"You'd be right." His jaw clenched. "And I'm not accustomed to feeling this way, so I'd rather not dwell on it."
"All right." Noelle fell silent—for a moment. "What were you and Papa discussing so intently?"
"You. His plans for you. My respect for those plans—and for you."
"Really." Noelle's brows arched in amusement. "Did you tell him about our kiss?"
"No." Ashford's jaw clenched tighter. "What I did tell him is my realization that boundaries must be set and not crossed. I explained how I watched both my sisters grow up and come of age, and how I helped my father ward off more lecherous advances from unprincipled rakes than I care to recall. I understood Father's protectiveness and concern. To a certain extent, I even shared them. So I understand your father's motivations as well."
"And you told all this to him?"
"Yes. I think it put his mind at ease."
"I see." Noelle stopped walking, inclined her head. "Lecherous advances. Wouldn't you describe a kiss as one of those?"
Ashford didn't look amused. "A kiss defies propriety. But it doesn't cross those boundaries I mentioned. At least that's what I keep telling myself."
"I'm glad." Noelle moved closer. "Then there's no reason why you shouldn't kiss me again."
Tiny orange flames flared in Ashford's eyes. "There's every reason why I shouldn't kiss you again." His arms drew her up against him, closed around her with relentless intensity. "Unfortunately, none of those reasons is going to stop me."
His mouth captured hers in a fierce, breathtaking caress, a combination of tenderness and desire that Noelle felt to the tips of her toes. She responded without hesitation, parting her lips to his seeking tongue, reaching up to grip his shoulders, to show him she wanted this as much as he.
Beneath the wool of his coat, Ashford's shoulder muscles tensed, and he seized Noelle's hands, dragged them up to entwine about his neck, bringing her flush against his powerful frame. The kiss exploded, Ashford's tongue plunging deep, again and again, stroking every tingling surface of Noelle's mouth before melding with hers. His left arm anchored her tightly against him, while his right arm slackened its grip, his fingers drifting up and down her spine, tangling in the thick sable tresses that spilled down her back.
Even through the barrier of her mantle, Noelle felt singed by Ashford's touch. She was burning and drowning all at once, and she never wanted to recover from either. She tightened her hold about his neck, beginning her own explorations by mimicking the motions of his tongue, learning his taste as he had hers.
When she took over the role of aggressor, slid her tongue into his mouth, Ashford went rigid.
With a harsh groan, he yanked his head up, ending the kiss, his breathing coming in short, shallow pants as he fought for control.
Noelle studied his tormented expression, her brow furrowed. "Did I do something wrong?"
A strangled laugh, followed by a hard shake of his head. "No, sweetheart. You did everything right. Too right. I don't seem to be able to maintain one shred of self-restraint when I'm around you." Ashford rested his chin atop her head, his arms still clasped tightly about her. "This is madness. Madder still is the fact that I don't know if I can stop it—or if I even want to try."
"Must you?"
"Yes."
"Why? Because of those boundaries you described?" Something about Ashf
ord's hesitation troubled her, and Noelle leaned back, watching him intently. "Is there some other reason?"
"There are several reasons." Ashford released her, turning to stare broodingly into the night. "Not the least of which is your father, his plans for your coming-out. I personally think the whole formality is nonsense, but that doesn't mean I won't respect Lord Farrington's decision. He's your father. And he wants you to follow customary protocol."
"As against your father, who believes the ceremonial rites of the nobility are senseless."
A shrug. "My father has a different background than yours. That doesn't mean he'd advocate defying your father's wishes. He wouldn't."
"I know that." Noelle couldn't shake the feeling there was more. And Ashford had said reasons. "Other than my father," she pressed, folding her arms across her chest, "why else are you fighting whatever it is that's happening between us?"
A heartbeat of silence. "Because I have the uneasy feeling that whatever is happening between us is more than mere attraction. And, given the circumstances, I can't allow that."
"What circumstances?"
Ashford kept his face averted. "You're young, Noelle. Very young. You don't know a thing about me—or my life."
She stared at his rigid back. "I'm a quick learner."
"So I noticed."
A smile tugged at Noelle's lips. "I thought you said it wasn't attraction we were feeling."
"I said it was more than mere attraction," Ashford corrected, pivoting to face her. "I didn't say I don't crave the feel of you in my arms, that I'm not insane with the need to possess you, that I don't want to bury myself inside you until neither of us can breathe. All I said was that I was afraid it was more than that."
"Oh." Noelle's head was swimming from the images Ashford's words had conveyed.
"I've shocked you."
"No." A bewildered look. "Actually, I think what you've done is seduced me. I just never realized it could be done with words."
"Ah, Noelle." He reached out, rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers. "Your frankness is as arousing as your boldness, your budding passion. It's the most refreshing part of this stroll, far more renewing than the winter air."