The Good Sister: Part Two

by Saint James, London

  “I’m not unhappy.”

  Ashton leaned over and softly kissed my lips. “Good,” he said.

  “Are we heading to Paris to catch a flight?”

  “My dove, we are taking the private jet.”

  “You have a private jet?”

  “We have a private jet, my dove.”

  I nodded, hoping my nervousness about flying wasn’t showing.

  “So how long is the flight?” I asked.

  “Just under two hours.”

  “That fast?”

  “Yes, my dove.”

  My stomach flipped. To heck with it. I wasn’t going to be able to hide any of my anxiety. I might as well come clean.

  “Ashton, I should warn you. I don’t do well with flying.”

  “What would be helpful for you?”

  “You, Ashton, always you.”

  I boarded the jet, knees shaking, stomach twisting, my vision shimmering around the edges. I took in a deep breath, counted my heartbeats, and tried hard to steady myself. I took a seat, and closed my eyes.

  “You have nothing to fear, Trinity. I am here with you. Relax and breathe for me.”

  I gripped his hand like a vice. “Will you continue with the story, The Little Prince?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I believe we should continue.”

  I heard the engine on the plane, but kept my focus on Ashton’s voice and leaned into his body. When the jet moved, I gripped with iron clamps onto the collar of his suit jacket.

  “Shh…” he soothed. “Come,” he said, and scooted me across his lap.

  Before I knew it, we were descending, and I was still breathing.

  “My dove, we are in England. We have landed, and you are safe.”

  “I love you,” I whispered, and opened my eyes to see Ashton’s piercing, razor-sharp gaze, brilliant silver at the moment.

  “I love you,” he said.

  ****

  As we drove through the city streets of London, we passed a red double-decker bus. I’d seen them in books, but never dreamed I would see one in person. The traffic bustled, and soon the sounds faded. I was surprised to see the countryside appear.

  “Your home isn’t in London?”

  “No, not in London proper,” Ashton replied.

  We drove for a while, following winding roads, made several turns then progressed up a straight long drive in the company of rows of trees on each side of the driveway. More trees, ancient and almost forest-like, dotted the landscape in the distance. At the end of the drive sat a fairy tale castle. For a moment it reminded me of one of my childhood popup books. The one where you turn the page to see a castle pop into a two-dimensional card stock representation. My eyes widened, my heart raced, and I knew this world was not mine.

  The structure at the end of the drive was massive. I recognized the architectural style. It was chateauesque, influenced by gothic and Italian renaissance architecture. It had rounded turrets, broken rooflines of every kind, peeked, cornered, squared, and the façade had advancing and receding planes of every line and angle.

  “Cheese and Crackers,” I breathed, surprised I said it out loud.

  Ashton smiled, more than likely at hearing the colloquialism.

  The car came to a stop. Wellington came to open the door. I wondered if Ashton took Wellington on all of his travels. Ashton exited then assisted me. I stood, holding his arm, staring in complete awe at the structure in front of me.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  I looked up into his face and straightened my posture. I was Lady Archer and would be what was required of the title. “Yes, my lord.”

  “I love you, Trinity,” he said.

  “I love you, too.”

  We were greeted by a receiving line of staff, all bowing and curtsying. “My Lord. My Lady…”

  A tall, regal woman, wearing a sage colored dress suit lined with fur around the neck, approached us. Her dark chocolate colored hair was impeccably styled, and her makeup, elegant. She was poised and walked as though she were a queen. Around her neck she wore a long strand of gold, intertwined with a strand of pearls. Her wedding ring was huge, sparkling like an emerald jewel of India. I knew at once, this woman had to be Ashton’s mother, the Duchess of Buckinghamshire. In some ways, Ashton resembled her.

  “My loving and beautiful son,” she greeted, placing her hands to his cheeks before leaning in to kiss his right cheek then wiping away the crimson mark her lipstick left. “Allow me to look at you.” She smiled and gazed adoringly into his face. “As handsome as ever.”

  Ashton kissed his mother’s cheek.

  “Mother, I hope you have been well?”

  I stood back.

  “Very,” she said, switching her dark blue gaze to me. “What beauty have you brought home to us, my son?”

  “Mother, this is my dove,” he said with a doting smile. “Trinity Winslow.”

  I stepped forward, curtsied. “My Lady. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Ashton’s mother smiled. “I can see why my son is so enchanted. Shall we adjourn into the salon?”

  I bowed my head. “Thank you, and of course. The salon would be nice.”

  Ashton held out his arm, taking me on his left, his mother on his right. A parade of staff continued past us. Their shoes tapping on the polished marble floors.

  The salon was breathtaking with a glass cupola. Hanging from the middle of the cupola was an exquisite golden chandelier. The glass dome of the cupola reminded me of an intricately designed snowflake. Everything within the salon was rich, lush, extraordinary. The ceilings and the walls were covered in rich moldings, gilded and ornate coves, and one wall was home to a massive fireplace.

  Ashton ensured I was seated then his mother before he sat. The duchess crossed her ankles, placing her hands within her lap. I followed the gesture.

  “I must hear of all your latest endeavors, my dearest,” the duchess said to Ashton.

  “Since we last spoke I have purchased another addition to my stables,” Ashton replied.

  “Will he prove to be worthy of your stock?”

  Ashton nodded. “Yes. He has quite the spirit and was giving my stable hands a devil of a time until my dove entered the stable. I believe Trinity tamed the beast. Zeus adores her. In fact, I am giving Zeus to Trinity.”

  I kept my composure, and I smiled up at Ashton. This was the first I’d heard of his plans for Zeus.

  “My lovely Trinity. Do you ride?” Lady Archer asked.

  “I dabble; however, I do wish to improve my riding skills, if my lord has time to teach me.”

  Lady Archer smiled with the tilt of her head. Her gaze seemed to trail from the top of my head, down my body, resting upon my hand briefly before ending at the tip of my black Prada shoe. She must have noticed the ring; however, she either wasn’t interested, which I didn’t believe for a moment, or she had an excellent poker face and was biding her time. I was fairly sure the duchess was biding her time.

  Lady Archer moved with the slightest twist to her position on the burgundy damask chair. “If I may,” she said. “Where do you call home, Trinity?”

  Here it comes.

  “I was born in New York, my lady; however, for the past two years I have lived in California with my mother.”

  “Ah,” Lady Archer said with a haughty lift to her brow. “I noticed you did not mention your father.”

  “Yes. My father was killed several years ago.”

  “Please accept my condolences.”

  “Thank you for your kindness, my lady.”

  “I am more than curious to know how you and my son met. I must hear the story.”

  Ashton said, “Mother, I met Trinity while at a dinner party. She walked into the room as if a dream. I was smitten at once.”

  “I am quite assured of your admiration, my son. This assurance is made even more apparent by the fact you have brought me who I am assuming is to be my daughter-in-law.”

  I kept my composure.

&nb
sp; Ashton picked up my hand, kissed the back of it then intertwined his fingers into mine. “Yes. I have proposed marriage, and to my great pleasure Trinity has accepted my proposal.”

  “I am quite sure she would not decline such a proposal, my son.”

  Lady Archer stood to her feet. I thought she was going to walk out, but to my surprise she came to me, picked up my hand, and clapped my hand between her two hands. “You must stand so I may hug my daughter.”

  I smiled and stood. Lady Archer hugged me. I had no choice but to hug her back.

  “We have much to do, my dearest daughter. Many things to plan.”

  Ashton let out a low chuckle. I remembered he had told me she would hug me until I wished for no more hugs as well as plan parties to present me into society. Apparently, Ashton knew his mother well.

  “Mother, you are going to squeeze the life from my beautiful dove. Let loose your grip before she faints from lack of oxygen,” Ashton said, laughing.

  “Ashton, my boy! I was not here to greet your arrival. I was on the phone with Balistrade. You know what an insufferable bore he can be. He was blathering on about his upcoming holiday.”

  Ashton stood. “Yes, father, I understand your consternation when it comes to Balistrade.”

  A rather imposing man approached. The Duke was wearing a dove gray and white pinstriped suit, tailored to perfection. He had on small silver rimmed glasses and sported sandy blond hair. His eyes were light blue, and he wore an assured smile.

  Ashton moved around the Chippendale table where he and his father hugged, stiffly. Lady Archer placed her hand upon her husband’s chest. Her elegant fingers followed the line of his gray tie.

  “My dear husband, Ashton has brought us a daughter.”

  His Grace turned his light blue gaze to me. For a moment, I felt like a bug under a microscope, almost invaded by his ghastly gaze. I had a feeling, if I were a horse, he would run his hand over my hind quarters before he checked my teeth.

  Ashton placed his arm around my waist and tucked me in close to his body.

  “Yes, father. Mother has spoken the truth. This is my dove,” Ashton introduced.

  “Yes,” the Duke said in voice that was surprisingly deep. “I have heard much of you,” he said to me.

  I bowed. “I am pleased to meet you, your grace.”

  Ashton’s father stepped forward. He took my hand from his son’s hand. In a slow move, the Duke lifted my hand to his mouth. He kissed the back of my hand, but he also seemed to sniff me. I was not at all comfortable, but I held my expression. Ashton’s grip around my waist tightened.

  “You have found a delicate, nonetheless succulent flower, my son. One as she is a rarity to find to be sure.”

  “Yes,” Ashton agreed, taking possession of my hand once gain.

  “Come,” Lady Archer said to me. “We must leave the men to their talks of wine, women, horses, and travel. I shall show you to your sleeping quarters. We shall visit more without the interruption of male posturing.”

  Ashton placed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

  “I shall see you soon,” he assured.

  I turned to Ashton’s father. “It was nice to meet you.”

  Following behind Lady Archer, I exited the room. A staff member, seemingly flustered, stopped us. I was unable to understand the whole conversation, since parts of the conversation were spoken in French, but the staff member inquired about dinner and said something about Lady Archer’s presence being required in the kitchen.

  “I forgot my purse,” I realized out loud.

  “I must apologize. I am required in the kitchen,” Lady Archer said to me. “You retrieve your purse; we shall speak upon things presently.” Lady Archer turned to the staff member. “Emilie, will you show Lady Trinity to her sleeping chamber?”

  Emilie curtsied. “Of course, my lady.”

  “I will be one moment, Emilie,” I assured, turning my attention back in the direction I’d come, only to see the salon doors were no longer open, but ajar.

  I was about to knock when I heard Ashton and his father.

  “Ashton, I am not blind. I am a man who possesses a cock. I see the appeal, but marriage? Why not take what you want from her, fuck her if you must, but how can you propose marriage? She is a bloody yank, with what to offer?”

  I thought I was going to die. The slight shimmer around the edges of my vision took hold, but I refused to panic.

  “Father!” Ashton snapped. “I am in love with her, so you will hold your tongue. If you cannot show respect, this conversation is done.”

  I heard a low, hearty laugh. “Do not get your knickers in a twist like a school girl, son.”

  I softly knocked. The conversation abruptly stopped.

  “Enter,” Ashton’s father called out.

  I took a breath, added a smile to my face, and walked in as if I were a queen.

  “I am sorry, your grace. My Lord. I seemed to have misplaced my purse.”

  Ashton smiled brightly. “Yes,” he said, bending down to pick it up. “Here you are, my dove.” He handed the small black bag to me with a kiss to my cheek.

  “Thank you, my lord,” I said. “Once again I must apologize for the intrusion.” I bowed then exited the room.

  I heard Ashton’s father once I exited into the hall.

  “I say, she does have a gorgeous bum, son.”

  “Good God, father!”

  ****

  I’d been confined to my room or as my mother-in-law called it, my sleeping chambers. As in everything else about the Archer estate, my room was extraordinary. It was ornate, gilded, done in shades of pale pink, white, and gold. And it was filled with priceless antiques, fine materials such as silk, damask, and lace.

  I watched the time on the chiming mantel clock, which looked like a golden jewel, as the afternoon rolled away in solitude. Lady Archer had not come to visit nor had Ashton, and from my unannounced intrusion into Ashton’s conversation with his father, I wasn’t going to go look for him. I wanted to pretend I didn’t hear what I heard. Besides, I would probably get lost if I ventured out on my own.

  I gave up on the waiting and readied myself for dinner, knowing it was to be a formal affair. Sitting in my sheer dressing gown at the antique vanity, applying my makeup as well as fussing with my hair, I glanced at the time then back at the mirror. I decided to leave my hair down, and it took a while to gain control of all the long spirals.

  I heard a knock, followed by, “May I come in, my lady?”

  Ashton, thank God.

  “Yes,” I replied. I saw him open the door and walk in with a smile. I was watching him from the reflection. “You look dashing. Is that one of your Versace suits?”

  “Yes,” Ashton replied. “I have missed you, and I must apologize for my absence. Do you forgive me?”

  “There is nothing to forgive. I’m quite sure you had a lot of explaining to do.”

  Ashton smiled then placed his hands upon my shoulders. With one hand he slipped back the dressing gown and exposed my bare shoulder. He traced his fingers down the curve of my neck, leaned over toward the vanity, and picked up my perfume, pulling the crystal stopper free. French Vanilla, gentle floral, and a bit of honey infused the air. He placed the sweet smelling perfume to my neck. In a slow, lingering movement, he ran the tip of the stopper down the side he likes to run his tongue.

  I was wearing a corset type undergarment that afforded me cleavage. Ashton swept his hand over my shoulder, moving my hair for clear access. Goose bumps splayed across my skin.

  “You are a vision.” He slid the tip of the stopper across my flesh. “Artwork,” he murmured as the glass stopper glided from the apex of my breasts in a slow, erotic motion to find the tempting space between my creamy mounds.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Ashton placed the bottle of perfume upon the vanity. “I should be thanking you.” He picked up my necklace next. With brushing fingers, he skimmed my throat. I lifted my hair as he placed the black silken choke
r around my neck. “Stand up,” Ashton instructed.

  I stood; he took my hand and led me from the table. He loosened the strings on the dressing gown. With a pleased expression, he watched it fall away from my body. He smiled his wicked smile. I was wearing the silk black corset with tiny silk black panties, a black silken choker around my neck, and nothing else. My golden hair was done is long spirals which fell to my waist.

  He grabbed the perfume bottle once again. Slowly he dipped the stopper back into the bottle then lifted the crystal tool, placed it to my navel, and circled. I chilled once more. The muscles of my stomach jerked in response. With feather light caresses, Ashton continued his slow erotic journey over my body. He lifted my right hand, exposing the soft supple flesh of my inner wrist where he dabbed more perfume. It’s like being kissed.

  Ashton turned me, brushed my hair to one side. When he exposed my shoulder blade he placed a kiss there. I shivered. He dabbled the sweet perfume down the back of my thigh, finding a stop at back of my knee.

  “Where is your dress?” he asked, allowing the vibration of his voice to hit the nape of my exposed neck.

  “Hanging over there.” I pointed to the four-paneled dressing screen.

  Ashton placed the perfume back down upon the vanity before walking over to the dressing screen and taking the pitch-black garment into hand.

  “Come,” he said. I walked toward him. “Lift your arms.” I lifted them. Ashton slipped the dress over my head. It rippled in waves of black as it slid over my body with the intimate embrace of a lover. “Turn,” he instructed. I turned, giving him my back and lifting my hair up. Ashton leaned down and kissed my right shoulder blade. He buttoned the back of my dress. The material hugged me. With one last kiss to the top of my shoulder, he turned me around to face him. “Give me your foot, my dove.”

  I smiled what had to be impishly, giving him what he asked, lifting my bare leg and presenting my foot. Ashton knelt down upon one knee. He kissed the top of my foot, skimmed his nose over my ankle, grabbed my spiked heel then slipped it onto my right foot as his warm hand slipped up the calf of my leg.

  “Ashton?”

  “And your left foot now,” he instructed.

  I steadied my balance onto my right foot, lifting. He kissed the top of my knee before slipping that shoe upon my foot. I wondered if this was how Cinderella felt when the prince slipped on her glass slipper, but somehow I doubted Cinderella had such wanton feelings.