by Lauren Smith
Ashton closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “Now that you are mine, I’ll protect you from the world if I have to. Don’t let him cause you one more moment of fear.”
She curled her fingers around his wrists. This time, being “his” did not sound like a possession of property, but a promise of something better. She felt safe, secure and even excited at the affection he was showing towards her. It was what she’d received from her first husband, and yet she had a feeling Ashton’s affections ran even deeper. It made her think of an old Scottish ballad her mother used to sing. “My laird’s love is dark and deep, and ’ere he watches over me, this laird of the keep.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “You need not thank me for that. It is my honor and privilege.”
“If this is how you conduct your romantic gestures, I shall look forward to future ones. Shower me with more jewels, my lord, for this lady is worth it.” Rosalind flashed an impish grin.
“Minx,” he teased.
“Yes. And I believe you quite like it.”
“I do.” He smiled and stood. “Dinner?” He held out his hand. When she placed her palm in his, a heated spark flared between them, and she knew that deep down she was excited to see what being married to this man would be like. He was constantly changing her opinions about him and of marriage.
They were halfway to the dining room when they saw Charles in the hall patting his pockets and glancing about.
“Lost something?” Ashton asked.
Charles dug his fingers into the slender waistcoat pocket. “My watch. It’s been gone all day.” He spun around and headed back upstairs muttering.
A tiny giggle came from near the floor behind a potted plant a few feet from the dining room. Rosalind caught a glimpse of a dark-blue gown and little black booted feet disappearing from view. She squeezed Ashton’s arm and nodded in the pot’s direction. It was one of the farmers’ children.
“Oh dear,” she said with a raised voice. “Charles is always losing that watch. Wouldn’t it be most amusing if it turned up on his bed while we are all at dinner?” She hoped Ashton would play along.
He grinned and they walked past the potted plant, doing their best not to laugh. “Most amusing indeed.”
Before they reached the dining room, Rosalind tugged Ashton to a halt, studying his handsome face in the light from the wall sconces. His features were proud, aristocratic, even cold, but she was seeing him differently now. A lonely man with a family who did not understand the sacrifices he’d made to keep them secure all these years.
We are both survivors.
He gazed down at her, a tiny furrow between his brows. “What is it?”
“Would you… I mean…” She struggled for words. So many dreams had been abandoned when she was younger, but perhaps now…
“Children,” she finally whispered. “That is to say, do you ever think you would want any?”
Ashton glanced down at the floor, then nodded. “I confess children have never been important to me, at least thoughts of having them. Obviously it is my duty to have an heir. Rafe has shown time and again that he cannot be allowed to take over the estate should something ever happen to me.”
Rosalind noted something in how Ashton said the words and nodded. “I agree. You cannot have a highwayman inheriting the title and land. Lord knows he’d turn it into a thieves’ den.”
He stared down at her. “You know then that it was Rafe who stopped your coach?”
She nodded. “I was torn whether I should confess the matter to you, but I inferred from your tone just now that you already knew but did not know how to tell me.”
“It is a delicate matter,” Ashton agreed.
“I assume you’ll have him return my coin purse?”
“I intend to settle matters, yes.” He was silent a moment longer, and then that vulnerability was back in his eyes. “And what of you?” he asked, turning the subject away from Rafe. “Do you want children, I mean.”
“Henry and I never had any. I fear I might be barren. Does that change anything?”
Ashton stared at her for a long moment. “No. If we are never blessed with children, that does not mean we aren’t still blessed, even if Rafe does end up inheriting.” Ashton’s wry chuckle surprised her.
For some strange reason, his words about still being blessed struck her as sweet. Too sweet. Her eyes misted. If he kept doing this, she’d lose herself to him, and any ability she had to stop him from hurting her.
“I should like to try for children,” she whispered.
Ashton gave her a courtly bow and a wicked teasing leer. “Then we shall try to make that desire come true, several times a day if need be, on every surface I can conceivably take you on, my dear.”
The thought of them together, making love everywhere, had her blushing, even after everything they’d already done. Her blood burned with a fresh wave of lust.
“Perhaps we should start right now?” His voice was deliciously rough as he pulled her away from the dining room door.
She gasped as he shoved her behind a curtain away from a window seat alcove off the main hall. “What? Now?”
“Yes. Here. Right now.” Ashton jerked the heavy baize curtain closed, sealing them in the small alcove. “Forget dinner. No one will miss us.”
Her heart pounded as she struggled to think. What if someone came upon them? That thought only made her body spark to life even more.
“But—”
Ashton pressed a finger to her lips as he backed her up against the wall beside the window seat.
“Lift your skirts,” he ordered, his eyes burning hot.
Grinning, she trailed her fingers up his chest. “Make me.” She brushed her lips on his jaw, and he growled like a hungry wolf.
“Oh, I’ll make you.” He captured her wrists and held them above her head with one hand, using his other to bunch her skirts up. It was like that night at the opera so long ago, but this time, she wanted him to take her and be in control. He needed to win this battle, and she would let him, though after a bit of a struggle. One she’d enjoy. It was what made everything between them so exciting, because it felt so wicked.
Ashton’s kisses seduced her into a state of bliss. She curled one leg around his hip, pressing closer as he unfastened his trousers.
“Don’t make a sound,” he murmured against her.
She clenched her trapped fists and held her breath as he kissed her neck and thrust into her. Her body welcomed him, squeezing around his shaft. She clutched the baize curtains as he released her hands, hanging on as Ashton possessed her in the hidden alcove. She couldn’t think beyond what was happening between them.
The rhythmic sounds against the wooden wall, so close to where everyone else would be sitting down to dinner soon, made it that much more exciting. In that moment, Ashton owned her completely and she wanted him to. The climax hit her hard, and he silenced her cry with a kiss. He came seconds later, crushing her into the wall. Panting, they recovered slowly, bodies pressed together, enjoying the aftershocks of pleasure rolling through them. She nuzzled his cheek, her eyes closed, smiling faintly.
“Hellion,” he said, smiling.
“Bastard,” she kissed his lips.
“I’m your bastard.” He touched his forehead to hers until their noses brushed. He seemed more than content, perhaps even happy. Seeing him like that filled her with a strange joy. As much as she loved to challenge him, there was an intensity to the moments when they seemed perfectly in tune with each other.
He nudged his hips against hers. “Hungry?”
Rosalind raked her nails lightly against his back. “Dinner will suffice, for now.”
Ashton cupped her face, gazing at her as though they had each exposed parts of their souls. It was a secret sort of spell cast between them, two reluctant hearts starved for love and yet afraid to grasp at it. She saw that truth in his eyes and felt it in his hands as he held her.
Voices
down the hall shattered the peaceful scene. With blushing smiles, they separated. She fixed her dress while he tended to his trousers. They held their breaths as Charles and Jonathan passed by their hidden spot.
“I don’t know what Ash is thinking, marrying her,” Charles grumbled. “Sure she’s a lovely creature, but far from trustworthy.”
Jonathan tried to cut in. “Charles, I don’t think—”
“Really, Jon, think about it. He doesn’t even like her. Sure, bedding a woman for lust is one thing, but marrying her? He’s lost his bloody mind.”
Rosalind stiffened, trying to block out the pain those words caused. Ashton gripped her by the shoulders as he waited for his friends to walk into the dining room and out of earshot.
“He’s wrong. On my life, he is wrong,” Ashton growled, softly enough for only her ears. “Do you understand me?”
Tears stung her eyes as she struggled to get free of him. “Let me go!”
Ashton shoved her back against the wall. “Not until you hear me out. However things may have started out between us, I want you, Rosalind. As a partner, as a wife, as a lover. Charles is a fool. He doesn’t want the rest of the League to marry because he’s afraid of being left alone.”
She stopped struggling, but her heart still stung. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, soothing her, but she despised the fact that it calmed her.
“Why should I believe you?” she asked, breathing in the scent of him, loving it and hating it at the same time.
Ashton slid a hand up to her neck, gently massaging the tense muscles there. It felt too good, Rosalind had to admit. But as Ashton had once admitted, such gestures were matters of technical finesse, not what was going on in one’s soul.
“Believe me, Rosalind. We are cut from the same cloth. From the moment I met you, I could not get you out of my head. Even when you drive me mad, I still want you.”
She gazed into his blue eyes. There were no shadows there, no hints of deception.
Rosalind finally nodded and wiped her eyes. “We ought to go to dinner before we are missed.”
Ashton waited a moment longer before he pulled the curtain of the alcove back. “I never wish to see you cry, ever. Not because of something I’ve done.”
She held her head high. “Then do not give me a reason to.”
Ashton cupped her chin and brushed a thumb over her lower lip. “I won’t.”
She wanted so desperately to believe him. He took her hand, and she let him lead her into the hall, her heart exposed and her soul shaking.
Can I stop myself from falling in love with him?
The fact that she did not know the answer right away scared her most of all.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ashton glared at Charles over his glass of wine. His friend cocked a brow in silent question, which Ashton only answered with a dark scowl.
Regina cleared her throat, attempting to dispel the growing tension in the dining room. “The tenant farmhouses start construction in a few days, I hear.”
Ashton set his wine down. “Yes, Higgins and Maple will be relieved. I’ve employed nearly every able-bodied man in the local villages to aid in the construction.”
Joanna was in animated discussion with Jonathan. Rosalind was picking at her food while Rafe stared into the distance, quiet and a bit pale. Ashton worried that the bullet wound might be giving Rafe trouble. That was something he’d have to see to later tonight, after he’d boxed Charles’s ears for being so free with his opinions.
“Well, that’s wonderful news indeed,” Regina said.
Rafe suddenly shoved his chair back from the table and stood.
“Rafe?” their mother asked.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t feel well and will retire for the evening. Please excuse me.” He dropped his napkin upon the table and left the room.
Given the already unsalvageable awkwardness of the dinner, Ashton decided now was as good a time as any to deal with Rafe. He rose from the table.
“A thousand apologies. I need to speak with Rafe.” He exited the dining room and chased after his brother, catching him by the stairs. Rafe was slowly climbing up, when he stopped and suddenly crumpled to the ground.
“Rafe?” He reached his brother seconds before the fall would have done him harm. “What’s the matter? Have you had too much to drink again?” Ashton slung one of Rafe’s arms over his shoulder.
“Ash, I’m sorry, I don’t—” Rafe began, his voice oddly breathless. It was not at all how Rafe sounded when deep in his cups.
“Nonsense. Let me help you upstairs.” He helped Rafe all the way to his chambers and settled him in his bed.
“I haven’t been drinking. I swear.” Rafe moaned and rolled over onto his side, his body trembling. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow.
Ashton sat down on the bed and placed the back of his hand on Rafe’s brow. He was hot to the touch. A fever? Rafe’s body twitched, and he clamped his jaw shut as his teeth began to rattle.
“I’m sending for the doctor.” He pulled the blankets up to Rafe’s chin and added more logs to the fire at the opposite end of the room.
When he glanced back at the bed, Ashton’s fear began to climb into his throat. He’d never seen Rafe truly sick. None of his siblings had ever had more than a cold. Whatever was wrong now was more than that.
As he descended the stairs, Charles was waiting for him. “Everything all right?”
“No, I must send for a doctor. Rafe is unwell. Where are the others?”
“Finishing the last course,” Charles said. “I thought Rafe looked a bit off. Shall I fetch the doctor? You could stay here and watch over him.”
Ash seized at the offer. He’d feel much better if he could keep an eye on his brother.
“Who do you normally call for?” Charles ordered a footman to fetch him his coat and horse. The footman nodded and vanished.
“Dr. Finchley. He’s about five miles south on the main road past the river. He has a little country house visible from the road.”
“Right.” Charles waved his hand at Ashton. “Go and see to Rafe.”
“Thank you,” Ashton called out as he ran back up the stairs. He’d admonish his friend for speaking about Rosalind when he was less worried about his brother.
He returned to Rafe’s room again and pulled the bell cord to summon Rafe’s valet. While he waited, he pulled up a chair beside his brother’s bed and touched his forehead again. Half an hour passed in quiet silence as Ashton tended to his brother. Rafe lay still, his breathing slightly labored.
“Rafe,” he said gently. “Charles has gone for the doctor.”
Rafe’s eyes opened and he stared at Ash, but his eyes were murky blue pools.
“Sorry, Ash.” He coughed, his nose a little redder now. “I didn’t want to ruin dinner. I’ll be better tomorrow.” Even as he said this, his teeth chattered.
“You’d better be. I cannot have you distressing Joanna or Mother. First you turn to robbery, and now you’re ill.” Ash rose from the chair and went over to the washbasin and dampened a cloth in the water. When he came back, he saw Rafe watching him.
“It was my first. I swear to you.”
Ashton leaned over and placed the cool wet cloth across Rafe’s brow. His younger brother shivered.
“Too cold,” Rafe muttered. “Take it off.”
“Rafe, you’re burning up.” He kept the cloth on. “And what did you mean, your first?”
“The coach, it was my first…robbery.”
Ashton was torn between relief and frustration. He was relieved Rafe had only committed one such act, but he was frustrated that Rafe had thought it was wise to rob anyone at all.
“Why did you do it, you daft fool?” He kept the cloth on Rafe’s head even when his brother shook and tried to brush it off.
Rafe exhaled, the sound slightly labored. “Because you remind me how much of a burden I am. Paying my debts, covering my mistakes and st
ill managing to take care of Mother and Joanna. I thought if I could live on my own…”
Ashton growled. “I’d rather keep paying your debts than have you robbing coaches.”
“I suppose I won’t be doing much of that anymore, seeing as how your future wife shot me. Puts a man off his game when he fears he’ll face bullets, especially from ladies.” Rafe’s smile was more of a wince.
“You’re lucky the storm hindered her aim. She had every intention of killing you,” Ashton chuckled, but he couldn’t shake his fears for Rafe. His brother’s body wouldn’t stop trembling.
“Damned good choice in a wife. You had to find a bloodthirsty wench.” Rafe licked his lips. “Could you fetch me some water?”
“Of course.” Ashton stood and exited the room, nearly running into his brother’s valet, who was accompanied by Charles and the doctor.
Ashton shook the older man’s hand. “Thank you, Dr. Finchley. I apologize for the late hour.”
Dr. Finchley pushed his spectacles up. “Seems your brother is having a difficult week.”
Ashton grunted. “It would appear so. I’ll fetch him some fresh water.”
The doctor nodded. “Not a problem. I’ll just take a look at him.” He went inside, leaving Charles and Ashton outside.
“How is he?” Charles asked.
Ashton dragged his hands through his hair. “Not good. I’ve never seen him like this.”
Charles reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “What can I do to help?”
Ashton leaned against the wall. His body felt like it was weighted down with stones. “Thank you. I’m not sure what’s to be done yet. You might as well get some sleep. We can talk in the morning once we know more.”
“Wake me if you need anything.”
Ashton patted Charles’s back and headed for the kitchens, his mind racing. Now was not the time for him to be worried about his brother, but he was. Ever since they’d been boys, Ashton had always been watching out for him, protecting him from everything he could. But this…