by Lauren Smith
Frustrated by her continued resistance, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way.
“I have legs,” she reminded him.
“You do. Lovely ones. But I am carrying you the rest of the way because I bloody well want to.”
She bit her lip at first, then nodded imperiously, permitting him to proceed.
Lowell, the valet, was in the process of folding shirts and froze when Ashton entered the room with his fierce little woman in his arms.
“That’s enough. Put me down! You’re embarrassing me in front of Lowell!” Rosalind hissed, pink flushing her cheeks.
“Excuse us.” Ashton carried Rosalind to the bed and dropped her onto it. His valet blushed and fled the room.
The quiet in the room soon filled with tension. Ashton stared down at his fiery future bride, wondering if she was going to be worth all the unending aggravation. Then, before he could think it through, he cupped her face and slanted his mouth over hers. He had to kiss her, to hold her in his arms and reassure himself that she was all right. Her sweet taste pushed away any doubts he might have had. The woman, once she stopped being surprised, returned the kiss like a dream. She climbed onto her knees to get closer to his height and curled her arms around his neck.
With a stumble, he fell onto the bed, her body beneath his as he continued to kiss her. He craved the way she moved beneath him, her hands grasping his hair just the way he liked it. The beast inside him that had raged and panicked at the thought of losing her ceased its restless pacing. He relaxed, slowing his kisses, and her responses slowed in kind. Then they were simply staring at each other.
“Please don’t ever frighten me like that again.” His voice was rough with emotions he couldn’t reconcile.
Her gray eyes had a dreamy expression, softening the usually hard silver pools. She caressed her fingers along his jaw from chin to ear. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Please, call me Ashton. You only seem to do it some of the time.”
“Ashton,” she breathed and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips again. Her body shivered.
“We should get you in the bath. I can’t keep getting you wet, not like this.”
Her lips twitched as though she understood the little joke he’d made.
“You’ve made me plenty wet,” she said with a chuckle. His body responded with a wave of arousal that startled him. There was something about Rosalind that made him half-mad with desire in a way no other woman had, and he couldn’t imagine why that was. He’d been with enough women to know the difference, but he simply couldn’t understand it. Yet it was undeniable fact—Rosalind was special.
“Now you’re tempting me.” He bent again, ready to kiss her, but a footman entered the room, disturbing them.
“Pardon, my lord. I’ve come to run a bath and start a fire.” The servant averted his gaze, but the disruption had pulled Ashton back into a clearer frame of mind.
“Right, well, see to it then.” He refused to take his eyes off Rosalind. One of these days he was going to lock his door and have this woman all to himself without any interruptions.
He rolled off Rosalind, got to his feet and walked into his dressing room. He raked his hands through his hair, trying to gather his control again. His clothes were damp and clung to his skin. If he hadn’t been so hot with need for his little hellion, he would have been chilled to the bone. He reached up to unbutton his waistcoat.
“Need some help with those?”
He turned to find Rosalind there, barefoot in her chemise, his coat still wrapped around her. She was so small, so delicate looking, like a fairy from a stone circle. Her dark hair hung completely free, still wet around her shoulders, a few errant curls touching the tops of her breasts above the stays.
To hell with his control. “If you’re offering to assist me, then I certainly do.”
She crossed the space between them and reached up to unbutton his vest. Then she removed the neckcloth and dropped it to the floor. When she got to his shirt, he helped raise it over his head. She ran her palms up along his bare chest, and a soft sigh escaped her.
He chuckled and caught her hands, bringing her palms up to his lips.
“You’re so warm,” she said, leaning into him.
“And you’re freezing. Again. I swear as your husband I’ll find a way to keep you warm.” Her happy grin faded, and she stiffened in his arms.
Ashton lifted her chin. “You cannot keep flinching every time I mention our marriage.”
Her eyes were soft and sad, tugging at his heart. “It’s not you I object to. Can’t you see that?”
He couldn’t. It wasn’t as though she would vanish once they were married. She would still be the woman he cared about, the fiery, battle-ready Scottish lass. She would simply be his wife in addition to everything else.
“Surely you’ll settle in. Emily, Anne and Horatia have all taken to married life well,” he argued.
“Ach!” She scoffed and shoved him away. “You truly are blind, aren’t you? I’m not like those ladies and never have been. They drink their tea, discuss fashion and the latest gossip.”
Ashton laughed harshly. “Is that what you think of them? That they are silly ladies without substance?”
Rosalind looked away. He doubted she truly felt that way, but something in his words had hit the mark.
“Rosalind, perhaps it is you who are blind. Emily handled her uncle’s business books and has been the one to straighten out Godric’s investments these last few months—to a healthy profit, I might add.”
He continued to undress as he spoke. “Anne is hardly idle. She is a champion horse breeder, a skill developed long before she married Cedric, and they are now working to breed some of the finest racers England will ever see. And Horatia? She’s a voracious scholar and a member of the Lady’s Astronomy Society in London. None of them lost who they were to their husbands.” He stripped out of his trousers and shirt and climbed into the hot bath. “And if you think I’d ever want you to vanish, then you are a fool, and I will not marry a fool.”
The hot water felt good on his skin, and he tilted his head back to rest it against the back of the copper tub.
“You swear to me?” Rosalind asked, kneeling beside the tub. He raised his head and met her gaze.
“Rosalind, you have a brilliant mind for business. For me not to allow it to flourish would make me more the fool than you. I swear to you. I like the way you are and would hate it if anything changed.” He patted the water teasingly. “Now, would you like to join me? The tub is large enough for two, and the water is hot.”
One of her hands idly played in the water close to his hip, and then she flicked her flingers, splashing him.
“Would you scrub my back?” she teased, her lips curving into a sultry smile.
“God yes, and I’d certainly do a lot more than that.”
“Good.” She stood and removed his coat, then knelt by the tub and offered her back to him. “My stays,” she said.
He scrambled to get his clumsy wet fingers though the laces. Once he was done, she let her loose chemise drop to the floor before she climbed into the tub. Her body was an ever present temptation with its gentle curves and enticing softness as he reached up to grip her hips.
“Lie back on me,” he said, pulling her shoulders against his chest. The water level rose with their two bodies, sloshing close to the top of the tub, but Ashton didn’t care. It felt good to have her lie on top of him. He massaged her shoulders, resisting the urge to slide his hands down and cup her breasts. This was about trust, not satisfying his urges.
She shifted against him, and he bit back a groan as his lower body stirred to life.
“That feels lovely.”
“I thought tomorrow we could tour the local chapel, if you wish.” He held his breath, waiting to see if she would react poorly again to the mention of the dreaded wedding.
“I suppose. If I do not like it, could we marry somewhere else?” she asked. He sense
d in her renewed tension that she was testing him.
“Of course. If you do not care for it, then we shall find another place. One of your choosing.”
Rosalind sat up, and before he could react she was turning around and straddling him in the bath. He had the glorious view of her glistening bare body. Her full breasts were too tempting to resist. He trailed his fingers down from her neck to her breasts, cupping the soft flesh, kneading it. Rosalind rubbed against him, her lips feathering kisses against his throat.
“Perhaps we ought to do something else to keep warm?” she suggested, then bit her lip in an attempt to hide her charming smile.
“Hmm?” He played with one erect nipple, making her hiss when he lightly pinched it.
Rosalind lifted her hips, took his erect length and placed it at her entrance.
“Ah, that…something.” His laugh changed to a moan of pleasure as her body enveloped his shaft. She was hotter than the water and felt too good to be real.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked, his head feeling a little fuzzy at the waves of delight moving through him.
“Perhaps.” She grinned and leaned forward to nibble his bottom lip while her breasts rubbed against his chest. He’d never made love with a woman in a tub before. It seemed too intimate a thing, and he’d never wanted that kind of intimacy before. Now he craved it with a woman who was torn between lust and hate for him, all because he’d tricked her into a pledge of matrimony.
“Stop thinking, my lord. I can almost hear your thoughts.” Rosalind kissed a path up to his ear and licked the shell. His cock jerked as a sharp bolt of arousal shot through him.
“Hellion,” he growled.
“Sassenach,” she replied saucily. “I suspect you like that about me.” She purred as she raised her hips and sank back down, taking him completely inside her.
“I suspect you’re right.” He gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh as he jerked her back down on his shaft, hard. The soft splashes of their wet bodies accompanied their little sighs and moans as they made love in the large tub. It felt as though they were weightless as they moved together in the bath, their mouths hungrily devouring each other.
Neither of them could talk after that. Ashton took her hard, making her cry out in pleasure in a way she would not be able to deny later when she was angry with him.
The bathwater sloshed over the sides of the tub as Rosalind clung to his shoulders, and he watched the inner storms of her gray eyes as she climaxed. Her sweet, delectable lips parted as she tried to breathe. Everything about that moment was burned into his memory. She was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. His body went rigid as he unleashed his last ounce of control, and he came inside her with a shout that made Rosalind jolt.
Rosalind settled on top of him, exhausted, their bodies still connected. He circled his arms around her, holding her close to him as he stroked her back.
“I fear we left more water on the floor than in the tub,” he murmured with a drowsy chuckle, and she smiled.
“May I ask a question?” He drew patterns between her shoulder blades, and her muscles twitched at his touch.
She pressed her cheek against his chest. “You may.”
“How did you become involved in business? I understand that your husband left you his, but most women do not get involved in business affairs.”
Rosalind did not pull away; rather, she pressed against him even closer.
“From the moment I married Henry, he insisted that I learn how to run his businesses. He often said he saw my keen mind in our morning discussions over breakfast and wanted to foster it. I believe he feared he would die early into our union, and he wished to make sure I could handle things after he was gone.”
Her cheeks flushed. “He loved me, so much more than I expected, since he had not been looking for a bride that day he found me. I will always treasure his kindness and compassion.”
Jealousy and understanding of what she’d said mixed inside Ashton. He’d once believed he was in love with Emily Parr, for a brief few moments before Godric had stolen her heart completely. But in truth he had treasured her love and affection in the way that she taught him to crave love for himself and not stand alone. He loved her for it, but in a different way, perhaps the way Rosalind loved her late husband for showing her how to trust in herself after he was gone.
“If more men were like him, England would be a merrier place for it,” he replied softly.
“I agree.” Her words warmed him. They were finally agreeing on something. He decided to see if he could continue to get her to talk. There was so much about her he still wanted to know. “Why shipping companies? You have all your primary business interests in sea trade. I am curious as to what drew you to that. Your husband never invested in those.”
“Henry had interests in several businesses. I sold all of those except for the country bank he owned. I focused on ships because…” She paused. “Because I liked the idea of being able to get on any of those ships and sail away.” Her voice was so soft, almost a whisper, as if she was embarrassed to admit it.
“Why?” He lifted one of her hands and brought it up to his lips, kissing little places along her inner wrist and palm. It was so easy to enjoy this woman. He’d loved bed play in the past, but this…this was infinitely more. These small touches and tender kisses were built upon more than mutual desire; there was a growing affection and understanding that ever deepened what he felt for her.
“Please, talk to me.”
“I’m not good at sharing things, especially the things that hurt.”
Her pain wounded him, but he knew that sharing these secret parts of herself would only help to connect them.
I want to connect with her, at any cost. He wondered how it had been for his friends when they’d fallen for their wives. Had it been this frightening? This exciting? To bare their souls like this, not knowing if their dreams would somehow be dashed?
“I cannot say I am the most gifted at sharing myself, but we can try together. You talk, and then I will. Ask me whatever you wish.” He stroked his fingertips between her shoulder blades, waiting patiently for her to answer him. It was her choice, and he would not insist on it if she wasn’t ready.
“After growing up with a brute of a father, escape was my only dream. I imagined myself sailing away to shores unknown, where I could forget the years of cruelty I’d suffered under him. And I promised myself I would someday. Each of my ships is a promise I keep for my younger self.”
Ashton’s breath caught, and he struggled to find the right words, to say something that would soothe the hurt she was clearly suffering, but he was tongue-tied.
She raised her head and met him with a bold stare. “Tell me about Charles and the river. All of it.”
He knew she would ask that. It was one of the darkest moments in his life. But she’d shared her darkest moments with him, and he owed her the same openness.
“Someone tried to kill him. They tied him up and put him in the river by our college. Lucien and I were late back to our chambers, and we heard the shouting and splashes. We went in after him and…” His throat closed momentarily, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “It took four of us to save him, but we couldn’t save Peter.”
“Peter?”
He tightened his arms around her. “He was the first to try to save Charles, but he was under too long and the current was too fast. Peter was a friend.” That was all he could say. The words made fresh cuts in the old wounds of his memories.
They stayed together in the tub, watching the late-afternoon sun burst through the window, forming longer and longer shadows across the floor. They remained together until the water began to cool and the sounds of servants in the corridors echoed through to them.
“I believe we ought to get out. Dinner won’t be long now, and I should not like to be wrinkled for it.” He played with a damp lock of her hair, and she traced the scar on his shoulder. It was an almost perfect moment that Ashton couldn’t res
ist stretching out, despite what he’d just said. He would never want to give this up, or her, for anything in the world.
She gave him a disappointed but clearly teasing frown. “Very well, if we must.” Then she leaned in and kissed him before she climbed out of the bath in all her naked glory. With an impish grin, she held out her hand to him and he stood, water rushing down his body as he stepped out of the tub onto the wet floor, where they retrieved a pair of towels. He wrapped one around his hips and then shielded her with one, holding her close as he used his body to warm hers.
“This was lovely,” Rosalind said as she nuzzled him.
“It was, wasn’t it?” he replied, a little surprised himself at how wonderful it had been to bathe with her.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, Ashton was filled with hope.
Chapter Twenty
Tom Linley lingered in the shadows of the servants’ stairs, his heart hammering wildly. A footman came down the steps and froze at the sight of him.
“You will know my servants by the silver star pin on their neckcloths.”
His master’s instructions were not something he would forget anytime soon. He stared hard at the footman and saw a silver star glinting near his throat.
“Lovely afternoon for a stroll,” he said.
The footman looked to Tom. “Indeed, but rain can always come from cloudless skies.”
“And a black sky sometimes doesn’t rain at all,” Linley agreed.
“Why don’t you give me a hand with polishing the silver?” The footman gestured to the silver cabinet, holding a set of keys.
Linley followed the man and waited for him to open the cabinet door. The footman glanced about, searching the hall for other servants, then leaned close to Linley.
“I’ve sent word about the wedding between Lennox and Lady Melbourne.”
“Good. I’ve not yet had a chance to.” Linley slipped a piece of paper into the other man’s hand. “Could you see this gets posted for me?”
The footman tucked the letter away. “I’ll see it done.”