Perhaps it was the sound of his name on her lips, or maybe it was simply the years he had spent avoiding the snares of devious, cunning women, he really wasn’t sure, but something suddenly stopped him and sent him hurtling back to his senses. With surprising difficulty, he pulled his lips from the soft, delicate skin of Ashleigh’s throat, and then wrenched himself from her clinging arms, throwing himself onto the grass beside her and dragging much needed air into his burning lungs as he stared up at the slow-moving clouds drifting across the pale blue sky.
Surprised and dismayed by Nicholas’ sudden withdrawal, Ashleigh turned her head to look at him. He lay unmoving except for the repeated rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply in and out. Pushing onto her elbow she gazed down upon his gloriously handsome face, and then slowly, she reached out her hand to touch his cheek, “Nicholas?” she said, her voice soft and slightly breathless.
He jerked away as if he'd been scorched by her touch. “Don't!” he rasped, rising to his feet.
Ashleigh recoiled, shocked and hurt by his sudden rejection, and then watched helplessly as he walked away from her, running his fingers through his hair in agitation.
Bloody fucking hell! Nicholas thought to himself in silent outrage. What the devil had he been thinking? Anyone could have come across them as they had lain blissfully unaware of the outside world, entwined in each other's arms. It could have been a disaster of monumental proportions. Never before had he lost his reason and control. Never had he acted so carelessly and with such reckless disregard for the consequences of his actions. He had allowed a beautiful face and ripe young body to rob him of his sanity, and it both shocked and infuriated him.
When he turned back to her moments later, his face was shuttered and his eyes had grown distant. He had to stop this, and he had to do it now, for both of their sakes. “You have my sincerest apologies, Lady St. John. That never should have happened. It was a horrible mistake, and I assure you that it will never happen again.”
The words were said with such cool indifference that Ashleigh felt as if she had just been slapped in the face. She couldn't believe those dispassionate words were coming from the same man, who just moments before, had kissed her with such warmth and tenderness. “A mistake?” She couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice as she rose to face him. “No, it was…”
Looking at her wounded expression, he felt himself weakening. He forced himself to cut her off. “It was nothing more than a thoughtless impulse, and a highly regrettable one at that,” he said stonily.
Damn him! She stared at his handsome face, despising the icy facade he had donned once again. How dare he kiss her like that, and then reject her with such a blatant lack of emotion. Her pride was badly stung and her hurt quickly turned to anger. “You bastard!” she hissed, glaring at him furiously, but his stoic expression remained the same.
With a grumble of outrage, Ashleigh bent to retrieve her hat, and then turned to where the horses were tied. He reached out and caught her arm as she tried to brush past him. Angrily she jerked free, daring him with her eyes to try to stop her.
“You cannot return looking like that,” he said with quiet authority, noting that her clothes were sprinkled with pieces of grass and her beautiful curls were now a tangled mess, interlaced with tiny bits of leaves.
“Why ever not, Your Grace?” Ashleigh demanded scornfully, deliberately using his title, cloaking her anguish behind a mask of anger. “Are you afraid someone will think that you drug me off into the woods and forced yourself upon me?”
His jaw clenched, his mood shifting in an instant as he was suddenly reminded of the numerous traps he’d managed to avoid in the past. “Force? I think not.” He reached out and caught her arms, dragging her toward him so that her face was within inches of his own harsh countenance. “Let me make myself perfectly clear,” he said, his tone slightly menacing. “Better women than you have tried to coerce me into marriage, so if you think that by telling anyone back at the manor about what happened here today will force me into an unwanted arrangement, you are destined to be disappointed. The only thing that you will accomplish is to embarrass yourself and cause my grandmother a great deal of embarrassment as well.”
They glared at each other for several seconds, engaged in a silent battle of wills. How dare he suggest such a thing? The man was absolutely infuriating. “I have no intention of telling anyone about what happened here today,” Ashleigh stated adamantly. “Now let me go,” she demanded, struggling to free herself from his firm grasp.
Releasing her arms, Nicholas stepped back, but then grabbed hold of her wrist as he turned toward the horses. “If anyone mentions your appearance, tell them you were thrown,” he said, pulling her along.
“Humph,” she snorted as she struggled to keep up with his long strides. She’d never been thrown in her life. Then, realizing that she couldn’t get into the blasted sidesaddle on her own, Ashleigh was further incensed when she had to turn to him for assistance. As he set her in the saddle, she was sorely tempted to kick him with the toe of her hard, leather, riding boot. Instead, she simply wheeled Raider around and galloped out of the forest without once looking back.
Nicholas stood watching her until she was out of sight, unconsciously rubbing his thumb along his bruised jaw and mentally cursing himself for letting things get so out of hand. He hadn’t let his desires overcome his rationality since his youth, and again, he was appalled to think that a mere slip of a girl had made him lose control. Ashleigh St. John was a danger to his mental wellbeing and he would do his very best to stay away from her in the future. However, with her living under his roof, it was going to be a challenge. “Christ,” he swore, as he pulled himself into the saddle. “What a bloody mess.”
As Ashleigh headed back toward the estate, she traveled at an unhurried pace, allowing her temper time to cool. She replayed the entire scene with Nicholas in her mind over and over again. Despite her anger, she had to admit, the kissing part had been wonderful. Just thinking about it sent another excited little shiver racing down her spine. Even now, she could taste him on her lips and smell the lingering scent of his cologne as it clung to her clothing. With the exception of the unwarranted spanking, everything had been perfect, up until he’d pushed her away of course. Then that blasted mask of cool indifference he so often wore had once again clouded his features and ruined everything. His actions prior to that however, had proven that he wasn’t nearly as indifferent to her as he wanted her to believe.
She thought back to his unjustified accusation. “Better women than you have tried to coerce me into marriage,” he had claimed. She considered that. It was a telling statement and she realized that it was most likely true. Clearly Nicholas Leighton, with his enormous wealth and lofty title, not to mention his remarkable good-looks, was a frequent target for the determined, marriage-minded women of the upper crust. Then, recalling what Annie had told her about his mother, the one woman who should have loved him unconditionally, she began to understand. He had been abandoned and betrayed by his own mother as a child, and as he’d gotten older he had apparently been the intended victim of more than one duplicitous schemer seeking to trap him into marriage. All of which had most certainly had an adverse effect on his views of the fairer sex. Was it any wonder then, that he was distrusting and cynical?
The more she thought about his behavior over the past days, the more she began to understand what motivated it. The little boy who had grown up without the love of his mother, had then been further disillusioned by the women of his acquaintance when he’d reached adulthood. If she wasn’t mistaken, and she didn’t think that she was, Nicholas’ cool, standoffish manner was actually an invisible wall he had created in order to protect himself from being hurt. With that dawning realization, the last of her anger slowly evaporated. She had told him that she hated him, but it wasn’t true. Nicholas Leighton, vexing and provoking as he was, had already stolen her heart, for better or for worse.
When at last she reached the h
ouse, she was thankful to see that the hunting party had not yet returned. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leapt from Raider's back at the entrance to the stable and then quickly handed his reins over to one of the waiting grooms. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to observe her dishevel and question the reason behind it. She had already stretched the boundaries of acceptable behavior during the hunt and she wasn't about to bring any further censure upon herself if she could help it.
Chapter 6
Standing in the center of his bedchamber, Nicholas cast a cursory glance toward the ornate clock that rested atop the fireplace mantel. Though he was dreading the upcoming evening, he stood patiently as his valet eased an elegant black evening-jacket onto his muscular shoulders. As Felix moved to adjust one of his diamond shirt studs, Nicholas surveyed his appearance in the nearby mirror. As was his custom, he was dressed entirely in black, with the exception of his stark white shirt and impeccably tied white cravat. He watched as Felix brushed a minuscule speck of lint from the sleeve of his jacket before stepping back, nodding his head in silent approval.
Felix had been Nicholas' valet for years and he was more like a friend than a servant. “Do I pass inspection, Felix?”
“Oh most definitely, Your Grace. I fear that you will have to beat them off with a stick this evening,” he said with a woeful shake of his head.
Nicholas raised his eyebrows and sighed in resignation. Unfortunately, Felix was probably right.
“Shall I fetch your walking stick, My Lord?” the older man asked with a perfectly straight face.
Nicholas grinned at his valet in wry amusement. “Thank you all the same, but I believe I shall decline your kind offer, Felix. I wouldn't wish to embarrass Grandmother by bludgeoning the female guests at our own affair. Must keep up appearances you know.”
“Of course, sir. Most commendable of you,” Felix replied with barely disguised amusement. “Nevertheless, I shall set it beside the door in the event you change your mind.”
With that entertaining notion lingering in his thoughts, Nicholas left the serenity of his chamber and made his way to his grandmother’s suite to escort her downstairs.
Ashleigh remained in her room until she heard the unmistakable sounds of the orchestra tuning their instruments. She hadn’t seen Nicholas since she’d left him by the stream and she was feeling extremely apprehensive about the evening ahead. She had dismissed Annie a short while ago, needing a few moments alone to compose herself. She knew Madeline would begin to worry if she didn't make an appearance soon however, so taking a deep, steadying breath, she took once last glance at her appearance in the full-length cheval mirror.
She had to admit that Madeline had been right about the dress. The ivory satin ball gown was beautiful and complemented her bold coloring perfectly, although she did feel a slight bit of trepidation about the amount of skin she was revealing. Madame Olivier had assured her that the somewhat daringly cut bodice was all the rage in London however, and wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. The skirt, cut full to accommodate the underlying petticoats, was caught up and held on one side with delicate ivory rosettes, displaying a rich froth of pale ivory lace underneath. The waistline was form-fitting, emphasizing her slender figure, while the tightly laced corset caused the tops of her breasts to swell enticingly above the low neckline.
Her hair, pulled up and held at the sides with a pair of diamond encrusted combs, spilled down her back in a cascade of artfully arranged bronze ringlets and a matching diamond and pearl choker encircled her slender throat. The necklace had belonged to her mother and was one of her most cherished possessions. Though she had no patience for vanity within others or herself, she had to admit that the total effect was stunning. She looked and felt like a princess. Knowing she couldn't put it off any longer, Ashleigh finally left the shelter of her bedchamber and began her decent downstairs.
When she reached the set of immense double doors that led into the grand ballroom, she saw that the space was teeming with beautifully adorned lords and ladies, the men garbed in formal tailcoats and trousers, and the women dressed in a virtual rainbow of elegant silks and satins. Nearly a dozen sparkling crystal chandeliers reflected the dazzling array, causing Ashleigh to catch her breath in wonder. She had never seen anything quite like it.
As she slowly made her way into the room, dozens of heads swiveled in her direction and she hoped that she appeared more composed than she felt. Eagerly her eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar face and eventually came to rest upon the duke. He was easy to spot, as he was one of the tallest men in the room. He looked magnificent in his jet-black coat and matching trousers, and the stark whiteness of his cravat was a perfect counterpart to the light tan of his skin. He stood on the far side of the room, next to a beautiful brunette clad in a gown of scarlet silk and cut so low that it made Ashleigh's gown appear modest in comparison. Her confidence plummeted as she compared herself to the brunette’s lush beauty, envying her obvious air of poise and self-assurance. In comparison to a woman like that, she must surely seem childish and woefully unsophisticated to a man like Nicholas Leighton.
As Nicholas surreptitiously watched Ashleigh enter the ballroom, her unrivaled beauty nearly took his breath away. Her sudden presence seemed to dominate the entire room, her air of youthful innocence incredibly appealing and far more tantalizing than even the most skilled courtesan’s seductive allure. The bold cut of her gown accentuated her womanly curves to perfection however, and again he was astounded that a young lady of seventeen could arouse his desires to such a fever pitch. His eyes strayed to the expanse of exposed skin below her neck and he could feel the tightening of his loins as he recalled the way her magnificent breasts had felt crushed against his chest. His gaze traveled back up toward her face and unexpectedly their eyes met. As they gazed at one another from across the room, an almost tangible, unspoken awareness seemed to pass between them once again.
Recognizing the direction his thoughts were taking, Nicholas gave himself a mental shake and quickly shifted his gaze to the woman beside him, smiling appreciatively. Isabelle Taryton was a young widow with an obvious agenda. She had been married to the aging Earl of Dragmore for just under five years, and throughout their relatively brief union, she had made it perfectly clear that she was far from a faithful and doting wife. Though he hadn’t taken her up on any of her brazen advances in the past, now he thought, raking his gaze over her lush form, she might be just the thing to take his mind off of the dangerously tempting Ashleigh St. John.
As Nicholas’ gaze slid purposefully to the woman beside him, Ashleigh felt an annoying prick of jealousy. How could he look at another woman like that, after what they had shared that morning? Even though she now believed that she had a better understanding of what motivated his behavior, it was maddening nonetheless. Perhaps she should give him a taste of his own medicine. Despite what he might want her to believe, she was certain that he wasn’t nearly as immune to her as he would like her to think. His passionate, mind-numbing kisses had convinced her of that. Deliberately turning her gaze from the duke and his voluptuous companion, she quickly scanned the remainder of the enormous room.
Spotting Madeline, she began moving in her direction, smiling politely to those she passed along the way.
“Dearest, you look absolutely breathtaking,” Madeline declared when Ashleigh reached her side. “I knew the gown would look perfect on you.”
Her confidence somewhat restored by Madeline’s effusive comments, Ashleigh determinedly fixed a cheerful smile upon her face and set about making her grandfather and Madeline proud.
As Madeline introduced her to several of the people she hadn’t had the opportunity to meet prior to the hunt, the majority seemed exceedingly courteous and surprisingly eager to make her acquaintance. It also seemed that nearly everyone present knew her grandfather and spoke of him in the most flattering terms. Madeline had assured her that being the Earl of Dexter’s heir would make her a coveted member of the ton and it appeared that
she was right. Several young women engaged her in conversation and the gentlemen quickly besieged her with dance requests.
Nearly two hours after entering the ballroom, Ashleigh had danced with more men than she could possibly count and drunk more champagne than she had ever consumed before. Of course Nicholas hadn’t asked her to dance, but she consoled herself with the fact that he hadn’t danced with anyone else either, not even the stunning brunette. She had been covertly watching him all evening, attempting to gauge his reaction to her overwhelming popularity. Much to her chagrin, he seemed to be doing an admirable job of ignoring her. When he wasn’t surrounded by a circle of adoring women, he was engrossed in conversation with one gentleman or another and rarely glanced her way.
As the evening progressed, Nicholas was growing increasingly ill at ease, despite his outward display of composure. He could scarcely glance around the room without meeting at least a dozen inviting glances from women of all ages, and he had been engaged in twice as many conversations that included probing questions about his current romantic interests and his future plans regarding his matrimonial state. It was a commonly known fact that he avoided many of the balls and similar affairs in London, simply to escape the never-ending barrage, and many of the women present were clearly taking advantage of the rare opportunity to garner his attention. Nicholas grimly wondered if he was to be pursued for the rest of his life.
Until You Page 7