by Lauren Smith
In front of him he saw Godric, Cedric and Lucien all in attendance with their wives, amused grins flashing his way.
“She’ll come.” Godric mouthed the words.
Ashton gave his friend the slightest nod of acknowledgement.
“Ash, I have to tell you something,” Charles whispered in his ear.
Ashton glared at his friend. “Now? It had better be something to put me in a good mood.”
“Oh, it is,” Charles assured him. “Back at your home, when you were ill, I tried to lure Rosalind away from you by offering to buy her debts.”
“You did what?” He did not look in Charles’s direction again. If he did, he would strike the man down.
“Calm yourself. She refused the offer. Pointedly. That’s a woman worth marrying. A woman worth betting a man’s life upon.” A hush crept through the chruch when everyone heard the sound of a carriage outside.
Ashton was shocked. Rosalind hadn’t taken the opportunity to escape their marriage bargain? He knew now that she loved him, but before? She’d kept her promise even then. And she would keep it now.
The doors to the church opened and two figures entered, lit by a pale light from behind. A cloud of rain followed them, but the taller of the two lowered an umbrella he’d been holding to reveal the smaller woman beside him. Brock and Rosalind had arrived.
Three times Ashton had stood and watched his friends marry. He could scarcely believe it was now his turn.
I am a fool, but a happy fool. Ashton couldn’t contain his joy at the sight of Rosalind, her cheeks flushed. Even across the room he could see the glint of a laugh in her eyes as she saw him waiting for her. Perhaps she had had the same moment of doubt about him being there, and the same moment of relief when she finally saw him.
The white gown on Rosalind’s body was exquisite. The bodice had a pattern of intricate pearls sewn in, and the hem of the gown was layered with embroidered snowdrops. The silk of the dress shimmered as she walked down the aisle.
A true vision of beauty. A dream come true. Ashton’s throat constricted as he struggled to retain what little control he had left. He worried now that he would not be able to speak when she reached him, and that would make the clergyman standing next to him very cross indeed.
When they finally reached him, Brock kissed Rosalind’s cheek, then nodded to Ashton in a silent show of approval before stepping back.
Rosalind’s mouth hinted at a smile when she saw how he watched her.
“You allowed it to rain?” she teased in a whisper only he could hear.
His lips twitched as he tried to hide his own smile.
“I’m not perfect, I’m afraid. But since when is rain a bad thing?”
She giggled, earning a disapproving eye from the man in the robes standing before them.
Ashton didn’t hear a single word from the priest. No doubt someone would have to prod him when it came time to make his vows. All that mattered now was that he was here with the woman he loved more than his own life.
My cunning, darling, utterly wonderful rival.
He didn’t need to own a woman to feel connected to her. Rosalind belonged to him in a way that transcended ownership. They were bound by invisible strands of love, affection and trust. She had been the only woman who’d ever tested his strength and made him stronger for it. Better for it. He had craved this for so long and yet not dared to hope he could ever have it.
I belong to her. For the first time in his life, he was smiling because someone had bested him…in the most wonderful way possible.
*****
“Husband…” Rosalind tested the word as she watched Ashton tweak his cravat. He cut a dashing figure in his blue waistcoat and buckskin breeches. At the word, Ashton raised his eyes to hers, and the slow curve of his lips making her flush.
“Wife.”
Rosalind bit her lip. Had she truly been married today? It had been a blur of laughter, smiles and friendship that left her feeling wrapped in a cocoon of love. The League and their wives, as well as Ashton’s family, had taken her into their lives openly and warmly. Even her brothers had been on their best behavior for once, despite being among so many Englishmen. Brock had promised her they would stay a few weeks while repairs were made to the castle.
Everything was perfect. She’d never known life could be so full of joy.
“Come and let me look at you.” Ashton held out a hand, and she came to him. She had changed into one of her favorite gowns. A cream-colored gown with Belgian lace and red roses embroidered along the sleeves, the bodice and tracing up from the hem of the gown.
Ashton wrapped one arm around her waist. “An angel among the flowers.”
She laughed. “I thought I was your Highland hellion?” She leaned into him, breathing in his warm scent, and then she noticed something missing. She frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing your sling? The doctor said—”
“Hang the bloody doctor. I’ve been shot before. Slings are a nuisance. It’s been two weeks. I’ll be fine.” He lowered his head and kissed her forehead. “I’ve been thinking, as a wedding gift, what if we…exchanged something other than rings?”
Her eyes widened with curiosity. “Oh?”
“Yes. I have a company, an old shipping line that I bought when I was a young man first restoring my family’s fortune. I would like to give it to you as a sign of faith. I will tie it up in a trust that only you can control. It would be truly yours without any control from me.”
“You would really do that for me?”
He nodded.
Her lips curved in a smile. “Then let me give you something in return. The little bank Henry left me. It’s very dear to my heart, but I should like to give it to you. A true exchange.”
Ashton’s eyes softened and his touch on her tightened. “Lord, you make a man hungry for kisses when you talk of business.” He lifted her chin with his hand and covered her mouth with his in a tender caress that soon burned straight through her.
“Ashton?” She had to fight to keep from giggling.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He trailed kisses down to her lips, and she opened her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. Lord, the man was pure temptation.
“We have to go downstairs. Dinner will be waiting, and I know you still need to meet with your friends.”
He exhaled, resting his forehead against hers, and she couldn’t deny that she wanted to skip dinner too.
“You’re right. Friends, dinner and then…” He nodded at his bed. Their bed. She felt a wave of heat in her, and her skin flushed.
With a wicked smile Ashton lifted her up and carried her to the bed.
“Put me down!” she gasped.
“Dinner can wait,” he growled, the sound more sensual than dangerous.
He dropped her on the bed and climbed atop her, his hands sliding up her skirts so he could lie between her thighs. When he was determined to get her into bed, he didn’t waste time.
“You’re trouble.” Rosalind laughed and then gasped as he did something to her underpinnings. Suddenly his hand had found its way between her thighs, stroking her folds. She tensed, startled at first, but then relaxed at his tender touch. A delicious fire spread through her whenever he caressed her. She moaned helplessly.
“Hush,” he chided as he gently played with her, flicking one finger over her sensitive bud, then trailing his fingertips inside her. But it wasn’t enough.
“If you don’t—”
“Hush now, little hellion.” He grinned at her.
He unfastened his breeches and nestled into her, thrusting into her with a hint of wildness that made her hungry for all the other things he could do to her. She came fast and hard, crying out her pleasure. Whenever they made love it was wildly exciting, yet it always ended with a perfect moment of tenderness. Ashton came apart above her, and his piercing blue eyes softened.
She could stay with him forever like this, their bodies entwined. His hands held hers pinned into the bedding, their fingers
inerlaced. It was then that she suddenly looked up and realized there was a soft gleam above them. Something she hadn’t noticed before.
“What is that?” she asked him, pointing upward. But she remembered the answer to her own question. It was the mirror, angled so that she could see herself and Ashton atop her. The image of their bodies together did something strange to her womb. It clenched and she felt herself needing him again. She tightened her legs around him, watching his body jerk in the mirror, and she clenched around his shaft in response.
Ashton panted as he began to harden inside her again. “The mirrors. They make things…interesting…” he finally finished before he leaned down to nip her bottom lip.
She agreed, captivated by the sight of them together. My baron with his dark side. She couldn’t deny she loved it and him. “We should have more of them,” she whispered in his ear. She nibbled his lobe, and he hissed a shallow breath as he thrust harder into her until they were falling off the steep cliff of passion once more.
“You are perfect,” he whispered against her, his body trembling as she nuzzled his cheek.
“As are you,” she chuckled. They were perhaps the two most perfection-minded individuals, and yet they had fallen for each other.
I can find no fault with him, at least none I don’t possess myself. We are but two sides of the same coin.
“We should skip dinner.” Ashton smiled and rocked his hips again, reminding her of their connection.
Rosalind bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I suppose we could rush dinner and then shoo everyone out. They would understand. It is our wedding night, after all.”
“Indeed.” Ashton lowered his head for one more lingering kiss. “I love you, my Scottish hellion. You were the answer to my silent prayers.” His words made her throat tighten, and it took her a minute to compose herself.
“And you were the answer to dreams I had given up on long ago.” She smiled through watery eyes. “I love you, baron mine.”
No matter what came next, she and Ashton would face the future together, and the League would be by their side.
Epilogue
Ashton stood in a private drawing room at his estate with the fire crackling in the hearth behind him. Before him stood his five closest friends. They had been through so much this past year, and yet in some ways it felt like only the beginning.
Godric leaned on a cane, his leg still giving him a bit of a limp. Lucien toyed with a slip of red silk. Cedric and Jonathan were pouring glasses of brandy for the others. Charles leaned against the wall by the door, his gaze pensive.
In his hand Charles held the small gold decoder device that he’d found in his room. Rosalind had confirmed that it was the one her father had sent. The key to unlocking Hugo’s letters had been under their noses all along. Charles toyed with the device as he met Ashton’s gaze, impatient to get started.
“What is with the cloak-and-dagger gathering?” Lucien asked. “Has there been a development regarding Waverly?”
Ashton removed a single letter from his waistcoat and held it up. Every man’s eyes fixed on the few precious pieces of parchment. “We shall see.”
“Is that…?” Godric’s arms dropped to his sides as he came closer.
“It is,” Ashton confirmed. He had informed his friends about the nature of the letters back in Scotland, but he had kept the existence of this surviving letter a secret until now.
“For so long we’ve wondered how Hugo had the resources and manpower to cause us so much grief this past year. And now it seems we have an answer. Sir Hugo Waverly is a spy. Of course, knowing this helps us little. Accusing him of such things openly would solve nothing. He is in service to the Crown.”
“But if he had acted in ways the Crown could not officially condone…” Godric said.
Ashton nodded. “Exactly. Charles and I deciphered this message last night. This letter shows that Hugo was conducting his spy trade in Scotland and that he had the rebellion leaders murdered.” Ashton paused. “Unfortunately, it also shows that Waverly worked with the previous Lord Kincade, who betrayed his own people.”
“Ash, we know what we have to do,” Charles said. “Outing that bastard and ruining whatever games he is playing could see him exiled from England, or worse. The Crown wouldn’t defend him. If they did, it would be admitting that they sanctioned murder to keep Scotland part of Britain.”
Ashton set the letter on the mantle above the fireplace and turned back to his friends, his throat tight as he spoke. “It also has the power to destroy my wife’s happiness. This letter would blacken her family’s name, paint her brothers as sons of a traitor. They would be outcasts among their own people in their own lands, simply because of the greedy actions of two men.”
“Not to mention disrupt our entire nation,” said Lucien. “Whether it was sanctioned or not, the appearance would be of England imposing its will on Scotland. That cannot end well.”
“So what are you proposing?” Cedric asked. The tension in the room had thickened. Ashton knew this would be no easy thing to ask of them. No one man should make this decision.
“I suggest we put the fate of the letter to a vote. We either reveal its contents to all of England or we burn it here in this very fire.” He waved at the dancing flames.
Jonathan cleared his throat. “You will need an odd number to ensure a majority. I shall withdraw, since I have no history with Hugo, unlike the rest of you.”
“Fair enough,” Lucien said. “I agree to a vote.”
The other members murmured their assent.
“I vote to burn it, for Rosalind’s sake,” Ashton declared. The choice hadn’t been an easy one, but in the end he realized it was the only way. Rosalind had offered her trust to him and had given him a weapon that she knew might ruin her family. But they had suffered enough from their father and did not deserve to be forever haunted by his ghost.
“I vote to reveal the letter,” Cedric said. “He tried to kill Horatia and Anne. If we do not use this, he will try something again.”
Ashton had expected that. Cedric, more than any other man, had suffered at the hands of Hugo’s desire for revenge.
“I’m with Ash. We burn it.” Lucien stroked his chin. “This isn’t about victory. This is about moral character. Will the harm these letters cause outweigh the light they shed? We can find another way to stop Hugo. If he made a mistake in the past, he’s bound to have made another.”
Charles scowled as he stared at the letter above the mantle. “Hogwash. Even when his plans are foiled, Hugo is one step ahead of us. He has been the bane of my life far longer than he has been for any of you. We were given this opportunity. We would be fools not to use it, and not just for ourselves. We owe it to Peter.”
Two to two.
Everyone turned toward Godric. He met their gazes before he sighed and cast his vote.
“As much as I want to reveal that letter,” he said with a sigh, “I cannot bring myself to wreck your wife’s reputation and happiness, and that of her family. But I also cannot allow this letter to divide England and Scotland more than they already are. I vote to burn the letter.”
Ashton breathed a sigh of relief. His hands, which had been clenched into fists, slowly began to relax.
For a long moment no one said a word. Ashton turned to the mantle and picked up the letter. For one last moment he held the proof of Hugo’s crimes in his palm. If only Hugo had known how close he’d come to ruin.
He glanced one more time at his closest friends. When no one said anything, he tossed the letter on the fire. The flames licked along the edges of the letter. The wax seal melted, pooling like drops of blood. Ashton and the others waited until the letter had turned to ash.
Cedric frowned at the sight, and Charles’s lips twisted in a silent half snarl. But the vote had been made, and there would be no going back.
“It is done,” Ashton said.
“But the battle is far from over.” Charles joined him by the fire and used the poker
to stoke the flames. Fire shot up around the ashes, dancing angrily. The rest of the League flanked him and Charles, watching the letter burn.
“Hugo,” Ashton said to himself, “we are coming for you.”
*****
Hugo Waverly sat in his study, head in his hands as he clutched a bottle of brandy. For nearly two days he had been drinking, ever since he’d heard of Lennox’s marriage to Rosalind Melbourne.
At any moment, he expected his life as he knew it to be over. His past would be revealed, his career would be ruined, and he would be a marked man.
He rubbed at his eyes and put the bottle to his lips just as he heard a knock on the door.
“What is it?” He expected to hear his butler, but instead Daniel Sheffield stood there, with a slip of paper in his hands.
“An urgent letter from your man in Lonsdale’s employ.” He walked over without preamble and set the letter in front of Hugo.
He growled and started to lift the bottle up, uninterested in hearing what he already knew, but Sheffield stopped him.
“Read it.” He tapped the letter, and it was then that Hugo realized it had been opened. Sheffield had read it.
Scowling, Hugo snatched up the letter and read it. Tom Linley stated that the Rogues had held a private meeting at Lennox House and burned a single letter after taking a vote. The vote had passed three to two, calling for the letter to be destroyed for the sake of England’s relations with Scotland and for freeing Rosalind’s family from the cloud of its treasonous past.
It took a moment for the truth to fully settle in his mind.
He wasn’t going to be exposed. He was safe.
He held no illusions as to the reasons why. They had done this for sentimental reasons, nothing more. And that would be their undoing. He picked up the letter from Linley and turned to toss it into the fire behind his desk.
“We are so close, Peter. So very close,” he said absently as he let himself drift into the past, to a much darker time when he had lost his friend forever, and a time beyond that, when he had lost even more.