The Good Sister: Part Two

by Saint James, London

  “Exquisite,” Ashton murmured. His tongue licked my exposed thigh while his two large hands gripped that thigh with possession. He kissed just above my knee. “I must say, it was a pleasure helping you dress for dinner, my dove.”

  My body buzzed with need.

  “Indeed,” I said, using his word.

  Ashton stood, looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Your beauty stops my heart.”

  Hearing the chime of six, I replied, “Your kisses stop mine.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dinner with the Duke.

  Just before Ashton and I entered into the formal dining hall, I squeezed onto Ashton’s arm, anxious. He looked down at me.

  “Ashton, please tell me. Is your mother upset with me? She said she would come up to my room to talk, but never came.”

  “My dove, you need not worry. She had a major disaster with the chef so her time was spent convincing him of his greatness. He was blathering on in a tirade, telling my mother how inadequate the other staff are. One of them added too many eggs to one of his masterpieces. It would seem he was in need of starting over from scratch. Further, he felt he was being forced to suffer through the incompetence.” Ashton laughed then talked in a mocking French accent. “‘Must I be thrust into the bowels of hell, my lady? I can no longer continue with such ignorance, such incompetence.’” Ashton smiled. “So my mother was forced to comfort him in order to insure her party went as planned this evening.”

  “Oh, so she has a temperamental chef, huh?”

  “Indeed,” Ashton said with a quirk of his mouth.

  I held on to Ashton’s arm as we walked into the dining hall…

  “Ah…” the Duke said as he stood. Everyone followed his lead. “My son and his beautiful fiancée have graced us.”

  A buzzing of low murmurs shot through the room.

  Ashton bowed in deference. “I must apologize for our delay, your grace.”

  Shit. I was sure it wasn’t a good thing, being late to the dinner party.

  “Do not concern yourself, my son. We can all see why you may have been detained. The beauty upon your arm would detain any man, I assure you.”

  Ashton smiled, but I noticed it wasn’t Ashton’s real smile.

  “I assure you, the delay was entirely mine. It would seem I have the damndest time with these blasted bow ties,” Ashton said, taking his hand to adjust it. Everyone broke out into laughter.

  “My Lord. Shall you introduce your fiancée?” a tall man with hair the color of corn silk asked Ashton.

  “Of course,” said Ashton.

  With a flirtatious wink to me, Ashton kissed the top of my hand then turned to gaze out at the guests.

  “This is Lady Trinity Lane Winslow,” Ashton announced.

  I bowed my head to Ashton then looked back toward the crowd, bowing my head to them with a slight curtsy to the Duke. The Duke led a round of smug faced applause.

  “Shall we?” Ashton asked

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Ashton escorted me to the table, pulled out my chair, and only sat once I was seated.

  “Have you secured a date for the wedding, my lord?”

  I turned to see a beautiful woman with long flowing blonde hair and penetrating honey-oaker eyes with a china doll face as smooth as porcelain give the inquiry.

  “No, My Lady Billings. Perhaps this summer,” he replied.

  Billings? This was the woman whom Ashton dated. The lady who married the Commodore I met in the pizza parlor in Paris. I balled up my fists on my lap, trying not to allow the sting of jealousy to take over.

  The Duke’s booming voice chimed in. “Perhaps June twenty-first, Lady Billings. I am sure you would afford my son and his fiancée the use, since you had no use for June twenty-first, having left my son standing like a fool at the altar while you ran off with one of his chums.”

  “Father!” Ashton snapped.

  I tried not to look horrified.

  “Your Grace,” Ashton’s mother said, aghast.

  “What? We are among friends. Everyone knows of what I speak,” the Duke said cruelly, without shame.

  Lady Billings looked unabashed.

  “Your Grace. June twenty-first sounds like an excellent date. I would be honored if you wish to use it,” she said.

  The Duke’s light blue eyes flickered thunder.

  “You are still the little strumpet, are you not, Jillian?”

  “Father, stop this,” Ashton said spitting out the words and looking for all the world like he would kill his father.

  “It would seem such, your grace,” Lady Billings said in defiance.

  “Jillian,” Ashton said. She turned to look at him. “Stop.”

  “Tell me, my dear Trinity. Would you mind June twenty-first?” Ashton’s father asked smugly.

  I smiled, but something fiery filled my belly. I was going to be better than this display.

  “Trinity,” Ashton said, looking at me like his heart would break, “we shall leave.”

  “No, my lord,” I said, touching Ashton’s hand softly. “There is no need.” I glanced down the table, setting my gaze upon Ashton’s father. “Your Grace,” I said, giving the impression of an actual aristocrat with the defiant set of my chin. “I am quite aware I am not what you were expecting for a daughter-in-law. I have no fancy title, no money, no long lineage of importance. I will not lie nor try to pass myself off as something I am not. I come from America, born into a working class family. I understand your desire to want to hurt me, shock me, believing I shall do you the favor of leaving your son, but I knew of my Lord’s relationship with Lady Billings; therefore, if you are expecting me to cry or rage or to storm out of this house, out of your son’s life, then you are mistaken. I love your son. He alone holds my heart so let me assure you it does not matter to me his past, what title he holds or how much money or land he possesses. He could be a street cleaner and I would still love him. So you see your Grace, I have every intention of marrying your son, regardless of your feelings toward me.” I turned to look at Ashton before setting my green-eyed gaze back to his father. “So that being said, if we are quite done with the display, I would respectfully request we get on with our evening.”

  “I love you, Trinity,” Ashton said, grabbing my hand and giving it an assuring squeeze.

  “Your Grace,” Lady Archer said to her husband. “We have done quite enough this evening. This is your son. Shall you not honor his wishes or shall you drive a wedge between you?”

  “Very well.” The Duke gazed at his wife who looked beyond upset before looking back at his son then over to me. “You have a fire, a steely spirit, Lady Trinity. You will find I am a stubborn man who rarely apologizes. Saying this, I shall not apologize; however, I shall tell you I admire you. I may believe it a mistake for my son to marry you, but I may like you, even if you are a bloody yank,” he said with a smile of a confident man.

  “Well, I understand how us yanks can be difficult to like so I am flattered you may like me.”

  Ashton let out a guffaw. Breaking with protocol he kissed my lips off, taking me into his arms with thirty-eight guests, his parents, and God to witness what I’m sure everyone thought was totally appalling behavior since we did encompass a breach in social etiquette.

  When it was apparent Ashton was sucking my tongue down his throat, the duchess let out a gasp. “Ashton, have you lost your wits?”

  Ashton pulled back from my mouth, tapped the tip of my nose, and turned his attention toward his mother. “It would seem so, my dearest mother. It would seem so.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Walk with me,” Ashton said, taking my hand. I rubbed at my arms. The night air chilled me. “Are you cold?”

  “A little,” I said. Ashton took off his jacket and placed it around my shoulders as he led me out onto a secluded terrace. I gazed up into the inky black sky, lit with stars. “Beautiful.”

  “My dove, I must tell you how truly sorry I am for what happened tonight with my father. He
can be a heartless man.”

  I took his hand from my shoulder, kissed Ashton’s palm and turned to see him.

  “Ashton, your father loves you. He doesn’t wish to see you make a mistake. He believes I will be a mistake, as he obviously felt Jillian was. In his way, he’s trying to protect you from heartache.”

  Ashton’s brow furrowed deeply. “I did not love her, Trinity.”

  “But you were going to marry her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would you marry someone you did not love?”

  “Pressure. Obligations. As crazy as that sounds it was pressure to conform, to marry the right woman with the right title. I cared for her; nonetheless, I did not love her,” he said.

  I looked down at my hand, studied the ring on my finger. “So you would have married her without loving her?”

  I gazed up into Ashton’s face. His expression abashed.

  “Yes, I had given my word, but in the end Jillian did me a favor. When she left me for Billings, she released me from making a dire mistake.”

  “Did she really leave you at the altar?”

  “Not literally. When father said that, he was adding his flair for the dramatic.”

  “So what happened?”

  “One week before our wedding, she was gone. I found out later she had left with Billings. She felt he was the better choice, as I told you before.”

  “Jillian didn’t make a better choice, I assure you,” I said, pressing my body into his.

  Ashton wrapped his arms around me.

  “You must know it has always been you, Trinity. You are my true love, my true heart, and it shall be this way until I draw my last breath. Even then I believe my love for you shall continue.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Why are you thanking me?”

  “For loving me the way you do, for…”

  “For?” Ashton pressed.

  “For choosing me. I know I’m not what everyone expects for your wife.”

  Ashton gave a low laugh.

  “Trinity, my dearest love. I should be thanking you for loving me. For choosing me.” Ashton palmed my cheek. “You were magnificent tonight. I am unable to find the correct words as to how I felt watching you handle my father with such truthfulness yet with such beauty and true grace. You are without doubt the most extraordinary creature I have ever met. I am quite assured, even if I live to be a hundred, you shall always find new ways to impress and surprise me.”

  “You always say such things to me. I was just trying to settle things down and hide my own anger as I did it.”

  “You did it well, my dove.”

  “Ashton?”

  “What, my dove?”

  “Will you grant me another wish?”

  Ashton looked into my eyes. The silver within his glittered.

  “What is your wish, my lady?”

  “Will you dance with me?”

  “I would be honored,” he replied, taking my hand and twirling me beneath the stars with only the sound of the breeze melting into our heartbeats.

  ****

  Warm fingers traced my forehead, my cheek. I nudged my face into the touch that was tempting me from sleep.

  “Trinity, my dove.”

  “Hum?” I muttered, unable to open my eyes.

  “My love.”

  My sleepy lids fluttered opened.

  “Hi,” I said. I smiled once I saw Ashton and stretched like a cat on a hot windowsill. “Why are you out of bed and dressed already?”

  “We have plans today,” he answered and tussled the bed, bouncing me. “So move your fabulous bum out of this bed, and get dressed.”

  “What kind of plans?” I asked as I rolled out of bed, scrubbing at my eyes.

  Ashton let out a low grunt. “Bloody hell,” he murmured. “You are gorgeous.”

  I twirled on my heel to look at him. He was perched like a tribute to male sex appeal, leaning back on the bed.

  “I have bed head, sleep in my eyes, and I’m wearing one of your sweatshirts as a nightgown. How can you possibly believe I’m gorgeous right now?”

  “Because you look as if you just got shagged. Your hair is a mess, your cheeks are flushed, your tempting lips are glistening and pink, not to mention you wear my shirt well. I love how it cups your bum. In fact, come back here so I may squeeze it.”

  I giggled and shook my booty.

  “I wish I just got shagged, and no, I’m not going to let you squeeze my bum.”

  “Ah … the no bum touching rule while on your womanly cycle.”

  “Yep,” I said in a twirl as I made my way into the bathroom. “Where are we going anyway?” I stopped at the pedestal sink to brush my teeth.

  Ashton was standing in the doorway to the bathroom when I heard his reply. “Piccadilly.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.”

  “So, jeans then?”

  “Yes, and wear those tight, low, hip-hugging jeans you have.”

  “You like them?”

  “Without doubt,” he replied. “I love how they show off your hips and bum.” Ashton smiled his wicked smile, resting his hand on the doorframe above his head.

  “What is it with my bum today?”

  “Maybe I am deprived since you have not allowed me to touch it for three days. Forbidden fruit, you understand.”

  I laughed.

  “So wearing the jeans that show my bum and hips won’t be too much for you?” I wiggled my ass. “You know, knowing you can’t touch, only look.”

  “I love to look. In fact, you should acquire more of those jeans.”

  “I bought them in California. I don’t know if I can buy them here,” I garbled with a mouth full of toothpaste.

  “Then we will have them shipped here,” Ashton replied.

  I rolled my eyes playfully then spit. “You like them that much?”

  Ashton let out a guffaw. “Indeed, my dove.”

  “I need to take a shower and…” I glanced down at my legs, holding one out in front of me for inspection, “apply some depilatory. I see stubble.”

  “All right.”

  Ashton wasn’t moving from his spot at the door.

  “You need to leave so I can do what I need to do in here.”

  “Where is this depilatory you speak of?” Ashton asked.

  “In my toiletries bag. Why?”

  “Sit on the side of the tub.”

  “Why?”

  Ashton hit me with his pearly whites. “Trust me.”

  He rummaged through my bag until he found the depilatory. With said jar in hand, he turned and grinned. He seemed quite pleased at the moment.

  “You want to put it on my legs, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said, lifting my right leg and placing my foot to his thigh while he took the cream into his hand and started working it onto my calf.

  “Don’t rub it in, just slather it on.”

  “Yes, my lady,” he said in a low, hungry tone.

  I closed my eyes, feeling his hands coat my calves in cream.

  “Do you also use this on your sweet flower?” he asked.

  “Yes, would you rather I not?”

  “I greatly enjoy seeing the bareness of your temptation; allow me to put it upon you now.”

  “No, but I promise in a day or two you can do anything you want to my bum, and to my bare flower, my lord.”

  Ashton smiled sinfully. “Anything?”

  “Anything,” I confirmed.

  “Bloody hell,” he murmured.

  “Indeed,” I replied.

  Ashton kissed the tip of my big toe before he stood, going to wash his hands at the sink. I noticed his manhood bulging within his jeans.

  “Ashton?”

  He looked at me in the reflection in the etched mirror over the sink. “What, love?”

  “Do you need a kiss?”

  “Where?” he asked.

  I pointed to his crotch. “There.”

  “Do you wish to
kiss me, Trinity?”

  I nodded, crooking my finger at him. He dried his hands on a hand towel then walked back to me. “Stand still,” I instructed as I unbuckled his belt then worked the buttons on his jeans. Ashton glanced down at me. I tugged his jeans over his thighs then slid his black boxer briefs to his knees. My eyes delighted with what I had uncovered.

  “Exquisite,” I said, using one of his words, and placed a kiss to the broad head of his cock.

  Ashton groaned and intertwined his fingers into my hair.

  ****

  I stood, tucked up against Ashton’s side as people scurried past, standing at the Shaftesbury memorial fountain. I’d seen this fountain in a book, but I was in front of it, looking at it. I touched the side of the fountain, allowing my hands to feel the cool surface. It was real, and I couldn’t believe I was actually standing there.

  “The statue on top of the fountain depicts the Angel of Christian Charity, but it was renamed Eros after the Greek god of love and beauty,” said Ashton.

  “It’s fabulous.”

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, laughing, as he picked me up.

  “Smile,” he said. He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture.

  “Let me see,” I said, grabbing at the phone.

  I looked at Ashton and me through the viewing screen of his cell phone. He had hefted me up, my hair unruly and flying in the wind, and both of us frozen in the moment with the monument in the background.

  “Cute,” Ashton said, tapping the tip of my nose like a button, then he grabbed the phone and took another impromptu picture.

  This time he got me sticking my tongue out at him.

  We ate lunch in Soho where he made me a cup of real English tea and fed me crumpets.

  “So, this is a crumpet,” I said, and took a bite.

  With a lift of a brow he watched me.

  “What do you think?”

  “Good,” I said.

  “I never knew how tantalizing crumpets were until I watched you eat them,” he said. “In fact, I need to adjust my shaft.”