Glitter

by Abbi Glines

  Whitney turned to look at me then and I was relieved her focus had shifted. “Fairies, Miriam? Truly? Do you think I am still but ten?”

  Grinning brightly, I took her arm and looped it with my own. “I do fear that I will never see you as you are for you will always be the little girl who followed me everywhere.”

  “That may be so, but I am no longer a believer in the Fae. I moved on from that fantasy years ago,” she assured me.

  I sighed, as if that knowledge was truly heartbreaking, as I led her out of the garden. “Tis a shame you lost your youthful sight. Now you may never catch a glimpse.”

  Whitney laughed again and thankfully seemed to have forgotten the girl in the trees. We turned toward the east corner before I chanced a quick glance and standing there watching us retreat was Emma. She lifted her little hand when I caught sight of her then she was gone once again.

  “I could use some tea,” I said, making conversation as I kept moving toward the front of the estate.

  “Oh yes, I do hope they bring the raspberry tarts again. Those were divine. I could have eaten a dozen,” Whitney said hopefully.

  “I’m sure they can be requested,” I told her.

  “And the cucumber sandwiches were lovely. It is so indulgent having tasty morsels when we ask but for tea,” Whitney said.

  Aunt Harriet typically only asked for sandwiches with tea or biscuits if we had company. Typically, she preferred her chocolate with her tea. The array of food that had arrived with tea when Whitney had requested it had been all she could talk of when I returned late that afternoon. It was the most fascinating thing she had seen since our arrival.

  When we reached the front of Chatwick Hall, Ashington was walking the path back toward the house from the stables. He looked as if he had just returned from a ride. His gaze found mine and he paused to wait on us to reach him.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. I trust you’ve found things to occupy yourself today,” he said.

  “Quite! The rose gardens are truly spectacular and I do love your Tudor roses,” Whitney replied with enthusiasm. I was thankful she left out the sighting of the little girl in the forest.

  “I will admit I know little of roses. Those were my mother’s passion. However, I also enjoy spending time in the gardens. It is rather peaceful,” Ashington told her.

  His gaze shifted back to me then. The silly way my body reacted to his attention startled me yet again. The more time I spent with him, the stronger my reaction seemed to be. Although I was aware of his secrets and almost positive his interest in me had little to do with any attraction to me, I was very attracted to him.

  “Has your day been enjoyable?” he asked me then.

  “Yes, very much so. How can one not enjoy yet another day of sunshine and the beautiful countryside,” I quipped, trying not to let it show that I had, in fact, missed him. I loved time spent with my sister but upon seeing Ashington, I felt a pang at the idea we would be leaving tomorrow and seeing him would no longer be a daily occurrence.

  “Indeed,” he agreed, but his eyes seemed to say much more. Perhaps it was my imagination or my wishful thinking, but it did feel as if he might have missed me as well.

  “We were just going to have some tea,” Whitney told him. “Would you join us?”

  His gaze stayed on me a moment longer than necessary when he finally looked toward my sister and smiled. “Tea sounds perfect. I’m parched,” he replied.

  “Lovely. I’m ever so hopeful it arrives with raspberry tarts today as it did when I requested tea yesterday,” Whitney told him.

  The corner of his mouth curled up with amusement. “I can make sure it does, in fact, arrive with the tarts,” he assured her.

  Whitney released my arm to clap in delight. “Wonderful!”

  Ashington was making it more difficult by the second not to fall in love with him. It was a ridiculous idea and I was very well aware of it. He had secrets and I knew about them, even if I did not know the specific details. Until I was given the explanation of Emma Compton, then I had to remain sensible. Keeping my head about me when I was with him must become my focus.

  Chapter Thirty

  Earl of Ashington

  “Miriam’s a peculiar girl, I am quite aware, but I dare say she has a most unique way of looking at life. Never a dull moment with her,” Alfred said after his third glass of port.

  The ladies had all retired for the evening and we had made our way to my study after leaving the dining room. The fortified Portuguese wine seemed to have loosened Wellington’s tongue. Dinner had been as enjoyable as the previous meals with his wife and nieces. Miriam and Lady Wellington often entertained us all with their quips and stories. I had found I looked forward to meal time while they were in residence with me.

  “She has a way that causes her to stand out amongst the crowd. I find that rare indeed,” I replied honestly. Miriam’s beauty was one thing, but her quick mind and determination to succeed for her family was quite another.

  “Her mother is nothing like the girl, and her father was an arse. I never cared for the man. Most of Miriam’s life I spent in New Orleans. Until her mother requested that I put her out into society, I hadn’t seen Miriam since she was a wee thing of perhaps two years of age. Whitney, I had never met at all. I find that a failing on my part. I just don’t care much for my sister. She’s a hard woman. In her youth, her vanity made her oft times cruel.”

  I was sure the port had caused this information to come forth, but I was grateful for it. Any insight into Miriam’s life was indeed something I desperately wanted. Admitting to myself it was not solely for the sake of Emma but for me as well. Miriam Bathurst might easily make me love her. I was finding I thought of little else but her at all moments of the day. Whereas I had not expected or desired such a reaction to my future wife, I now believed I couldn’t accept anything else.

  “She was a twin you know,” he continued. “Twas a boy. Exactly what that arse of a father wanted. A male to carry on the title. The wee thing didn’t last long at all and my sister, as spiteful as she is, was broken for some time after. Losing a child is difficult on any mother. I fear Miriam has been neglected from her earliest days on this earth. A child should have the love of their parents. To see the young lady she has become, who loves her sister so deeply she would do anything while she herself lived her life without the love of her parents, it is truly remarkable.”

  Miriam had said her father had wanted a son, but she hadn’t explained it so very clearly. Perhaps she didn’t want to see it laid bare before another. The simple fact that she had turned out so utterly lovely without her mother giving her the nurturing she must have longed for gave me hope for Emma. However, there was another part of me that ached for Miriam. The little girl who needed her mother’s love and attention yet received none of it. How heartbreaking it seemed.

  “Listen to me carrying on so. Port makes me melancholy. Always has. It’s time I retire for the evening and leave you to some blessed silence,” Wellington said with a slight slur in his voice. He swayed slightly as he stood.

  “Wellington,” I said standing up. “My intentions with your niece are noble. I was drawn to her for all the qualities you mentioned tonight. I do see the rare gem she is. Rest assured, I would not have brought you all here if I wasn’t serious about getting to know Miriam and what is most important to her.”

  Wellington nodded his head and gave me a smile. “I wouldn’t have allowed us to come if I didn’t know that, Ashington. Rest assured,” he replied, then with a nod he headed for the door. I thought of asking if he required help but he appeared to be walking straight enough. I did not want to insult him.

  Once he was headed up the stairs, I sat back down leaving my door open. It was time I retire as well, but my thoughts would only keep me awake. Sleep wasn’t something that had ever come easy to me. Oft times I found myself waking up on the sofa in this very room. Tonight, my head was even more crowded than most.

  Wellington’s description of
Miriam’s life had stirred anger inside me for a man that was now cold in the ground. The dislike for my own father didn’t equal that of what I felt for Miriam’s father. She had been just a girl. Emma’s face came to me and I felt my stomach tighten at the thought of her having been left at the doorsteps of someone other than me. Her life could have been similar and the idea made me ill. Miriam deserved to be loved and to be happy. She’d had enough of the other.

  I did feel as if I could possibly love Miriam one day, but would I love her the way she deserved? I’d truly never loved anyone until Emma. Once I had loved my brother, but we had been young. With years, he had changed and those feelings had changed as well. Loving Emma was easy. She was a child in need of a family.

  Loving a woman, that was another thing. I had seen the ugliness in marriage and the bitterness that changed a female. Although Miriam was nothing like my stepmother, once the former countess had been someone my father had loved. Marriage changed them both and so very quickly.

  I stared at my empty glass and considered one more drink before heading up to my chambers. Perhaps a good liquor would aid in my sleep. That thought was lost when movement near my doorway caught the corner of my vision. Turning my head, my gaze landed on Miriam. I was sure I had not had enough port to conjure the image before me. Yet, the idea that she was real also seemed impossible. For never had I laid eyes on anything so utterly enchanting.

  Long, thick, red hair curled at its ends as it cascaded freely over her shoulders. The simple white nightgown was covered by a thin shawl, but did little to hinder my imagination as I took in the sight before me.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Ashington. I fear I could not wind down enough after such a full day to fall asleep. I thought I would search for the kitchen in hopes of some warm milk,” Miriam explained, her cheeks stained pink, making her even more stunning.

  I stood slowly for she appeared on the verge of fleeing. “If you are in search of the kitchen, I fear you are lost,” I teased.

  She blushed even brighter. “Yes, it does appear that way.”

  “Come, I will lead the way. I too could use an aid in finding sleep,” I told her as I reached her side. She stepped back so that I could exit the room without our bodies touching.

  “I believe your port may help with that more so than warm milk,” she said with a touch of humor in her voice.

  “Perhaps, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I left a lady to wander the dark halls alone?”

  “If the lady carelessly left her bedroom, not knowing the path to the kitchen, then I would say she deserved to wander,” Miriam replied.

  “This may be true however another truth is that I am, in fact, a man and when a vision of beauty such as yourself arrives at my door lost and in need, I want nothing more than to assist in the matter.”

  There was no quick response this time. I glanced down at her as we began to walk and saw the whisper of a smile on her perfectly shaped lips. Lips so pink against her pale skin, it made it hard to think of anything more than tasting them.

  I thought of taking a much longer path to the kitchen but decided to stay on course. I preferred to look at her not walk beside her. The fact there was nothing under the nightgown and she was walking so close to me in her bare feet, clasping a thin shawl around her shoulders as her only covering, had my head in places that weren’t safe for either of us.

  I had been with mistresses barely covered by French silk meant to raise a man’s desire but not once had I been struck by sheer beauty as I had tonight. Miriam dressed in slips of French silk would be something I may never recover from. The image, however, was now in my head and I wanted nothing more than to see her thus so.

  By the time we reached the kitchen, my blood was pulsing and my need to touch her had become uncontrollable. Stepping inside the warmth of the large area, it was still lit by a lantern. I wasn’t one to visit the kitchen, especially at this hour, so I did not know if we were to be alone in here or if someone would be returning. Not that it mattered to me.

  “Have you enjoyed your stay here?” I asked her simply because I wanted to hear her voice again.

  Miriam tilted her head back just enough to look up at me and a soft smile played along her lips. “Who wouldn’t enjoy this place? It’s almost magical. Whitney oft spoke of the sparkle and shine of London. She used the word glitter when speaking of it. However, this has been so much more than any ball in London could ever be.”

  I had expected a simple yes or no. Not something so eloquent in response. Perhaps if she had said yes or no then I would have been able to control my burning desire to press my hand on her hip and draw her to me so that I may feel the curve of her body. I lowered my head to finally taste the lips that had mesmerized me from the first moment I laid eyes on her.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Miriam Bathurst

  In my most secret of dreams, I had imagined this moment. Granted, I wasn’t standing in a kitchen wearing my night gown, but when Ashington’s lips met mine none of that seemed to matter. The world around us fell away and it could have been the most indulgent of balls and I dressed in a gown of the finest silks, but it would not change this moment.

  No man had ever kissed me. My lips tingled in response to his and my body trembled. Did kissing always feel this way? If so, I understood why there were songs written of it and such description in the novels I read when they spoke of it. I was well read and I knew there was so much more to what happened between a woman and a man. I may be untouched, but I wasn’t innocent of mind. This led to much more and if I were being smart, I’d step away.

  I wasn’t smart, however, I was blissfully lost in the moment and I wanted to remain so. Ashington’s hand tightened on my waist and the thin materiel of my night gown fisted in his hand. The shawl I had been wearing as a cover fell from my shoulders when I let go of it to place my hands on his arms. I felt the need for support as my knees began to feel weak.

  Twas as if our lips were made of the softest Italian satin as they moved so easily against one another. Ashington opened his mouth and this was once again something I had read about. One did not read the Marquis de Sade and not become well-educated in intimate things. However, I realized my education by the written word only was incomplete. One must experience such things to truly understand them.

  Slowly, for I wasn’t sure if the next moment I would regret this or not, I too opened my mouth beneath his and inhaled sharply in anticipation. Was this to be sweet and easy or something more intense? My hands gripped his arms tightly and as I did so, Ashington’s right hand slid to my back, pressing me closer until our bodies had nothing but the fabric of our clothing between us. My breathing hitched at the thought, but I had little time to dwell on it when I was lifted from the ground and placed on a table.

  Ashington stood between my legs as he continued the kiss that had become something more untamed. It felt as if he might devour me or I him. My hands slid up his arms and into his hair of their own accord, and I craved to taste more and draw closer to him. He smelled of sweet wine and cinnamon. It was intoxicating and seemed to only cause me to cling to him more desperately.

  He stepped closer to me and one of his hands slid over the top of my thigh. The sharp ache that shot through me, beginning at my most sensitive area, caused me to gasp. My hands tightened in his hair and he inhaled sharply, pausing the kiss.

  I had a moment to catch my breath, but the sweet throbbing that had started between my legs was not easing as his body pressed so very close. Opening my eyes slowly, afraid this was all going to end, and wanting to be lost in the sensations that were now teasing me with what more there may be to all of this, I braced myself and looked at Ashington.

  The flare of heat in his eyes as he watched me, once again, took my breath away. It was as if everything I was experiencing in my body was there in his gaze. Perhaps this was a reflection of my soul or more likely my wanton desire. For although I knew this was not proper and very dangerous, I wanted more. The sensations were al
l new to me and I now understood why ladies lost their morals and fell into bed with a man. Tossing away their good name for a moment like this one was an easier accident than I had once thought.

  Ashington moved the hand that was on my thigh and I wanted to protest, but when I felt his fingers brush the bare skin of my calf, any words I would have spoken were forgotten. His hand moved ever so slowly up my bare leg and under the night gown until he was once again at the top of my thigh. My nails dug into his forearms as my body hummed with anticipation. The ache between my legs was more intense than any sexual description in a book I had stumbled upon had caused. I felt the urge to beg for release, but I did not speak. I dropped my gaze from his and watched his hand under the cotton material of my gown.

  His hand moved to the inside of my thigh and paused for just a moment before his fingers brushed closer to where I knew he should not touch, but I wanted so desperately to be touched there I feared I would cry if he stopped.

  Once again, his mouth was on mine and I moved even closer, unable to wait any longer. When his fingers finally met the throbbing heat, I made a sound something close to a cry or possibly a plea. Whatever the sound, it was enough to end the slow torture. Ashington moved quickly then. My nightgown was completely bunched at my waist and my legs opened farther as his right hand covered my needy core and his left hand pulled my neckline down, causing the fabric to tear as he bared my breasts.

  I thought for the briefest of moments that protesting and covering myself was what I should do, but one single finger began to fill me and the need that was growing flamed brighter. My hips moved against him and I moaned unable to control my body. It was delicious and intoxicating. Nothing mattered but this. I wanted to feel this way always.

  Ashington moved his mouth from mine to trail kisses along my jawline and then his head lowered as he took one of my nipples into his mouth and sucked. My entire body ignited and I was lost to it all. My head fell back and I cried out as a burning sensation mixed with pure pleasure coursed through every nerve of my body.