by Stella Riley
‘She wouldn’t talk?’
‘Oh – she talked. She talked more than I could listen.’
Ashley laughed. ‘About what?’
‘Nothing in the least useful. It seems that she and Lucy are not currently on speaking terms – which would explain why Jem hasn’t seen her visiting. It’s apparently on account of some furbelow or other. Lucy saw Celia wearing it and then went out and bought an identical one. I didn’t attempt to follow all the ramifications but apparently copying another lady’s fashions is an offence punishable by death or social ostracism. I was left in some doubt as to which would be worse.’ He paused and, on heavy sigh, added, ‘She also harangued me about Eden. She wants me to write again. And if we decide we need her help, I may actually have to do it.’
* * *
After leaving Ashley, Francis found Pauline alone in the parlour sewing something made of white cambric. She glanced up at him and said, ‘I’m making a new shirt for the Colonel. The one from the night of the attack having been ruined, he’s left with only the one he’s wearing and another in the laundry.’
Francis was surprised to discover that, though he didn’t begrudge Ashley a new shirt, he wasn’t particularly thrilled to find Pauline making it with her own hands. He said, ‘I’d have thought Athenais would be the one to do that.’
Pauline grinned. ‘You wouldn’t want to wear anything Athenais had made. She sews about as well as she cooks.’ She paused to re-thread her needle. ‘Did you want something?’
Yes. Some time in your company, he thought. And was again surprised by the thought.
‘I wondered if Froissart has finalised the casting for Ménage,’ he said, unable to think of anything better.
‘He hasn’t told you? Hortense is to play the wife, André will be the husband and Jacques gets to be the lover.’ She shot him a brief but very direct glance. ‘Are you sure Froissart didn’t tell you? You’ve seen more of him this past week than I have.’
‘The last time we spoke of it, he was still undecided,’ replied Francis mendaciously. And then, with a flicker of his usual mischief, ‘Will any of them manage to eclipse you, do you think?’
‘No. But they’ll do well enough.’ Her needle still flying, she said, ‘The Colonel is looking better.’
‘And, as a result, is likely to become fractious. Yes.’
‘I’m sure that, between us, we’ll manage him.’
He grinned.
‘Don’t be coy, Duchess. You could manage him single-handed and you know it.’
‘Perhaps.’ She fell silent for a moment and then said, ‘I asked you not to call me that.’
‘No.’
She looked up sharply. ‘No? What do you mean – no?’
‘No, you haven’t asked,’ he replied simply.
‘Oh.’ A pause. Then, not quite as firmly as she’d intended, ‘Well, I’m asking now. And something else on a completely different matter, if I may?’
‘Of course.’ He took this as an invitation to sit down. ‘Anything you like.’
‘You saw how Athenais feels about the Colonel.’
‘At the time, it was hard to miss.’
She nodded. ‘Does he know?’
‘I wouldn’t like to say. Ashley can hide his thoughts better than most men – or so I’ve found. But he’s perceptive and annoyingly clever … so I doubt we know something that he doesn’t.’
‘Yes. That’s what I thought.’ She stopped sewing to look at him. ‘Since, aside from the day d’Auxerre tried to rape her, the Colonel hasn’t made any move towards her, the obvious assumption is that he’s not interested. But somehow, I don’t think that’s so.’
‘No. Neither do I.’ Francis grimaced slightly. ‘Please tell me you’re not hoping I’ll ask him? He may be temporarily out of action in a physical sense but he’s still got a tongue like a lash.’
‘So, if your little play is anything to go by, do you.’
‘Perhaps – but one needs dialogue for that. This wouldn’t be. And, in truth, Ashley and I are far too old for that kind of conversation. I’m afraid you’ll just have to rely on observation and intuition … both of which are your speciality.’
* * *
By the fifth day of his confinement, Ashley had recovered most of his strength, his arm was almost healed and, though the wound in his thigh still throbbed and ached, the burning agony of the previous days had eased. And since he felt substantially better and was heartily sick of lying about like a maiden aunt with the vapours, he waited until he was fairly sure of being alone and decided to get up.
Careful as he was, two things happened immediately. The first was that his head swam sickeningly and he had to clutch at the bedpost for support; and the second was that, as soon as he tried to put his weight on it, his injured leg gave way. Ashley sat down with more haste than care and swore when pain roared through his thigh. Breathing rather hard, he stayed where he was for a few minutes and then forced himself to try again. This time it was a little easier and he managed to keep the dizziness at bay but his leg still refused to co-operate. He hung on to the bedpost, sweating and muttering a variety of curses … and was still doing it when Athenais found him.
‘What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’ She tossed bandages and salve on to the table in order to bear down on him like a miniature tidal wave. ‘Sit down this instant!’
Ashley opened his mouth to argue and then, realising that he was standing there in nothing but his shirt, thought better of it. Subsiding cautiously on to the bed, he bestowed his miserable excuse for a leg and pulled the bed-covers over the essentials. Then, with only a modicum of restraint, he said curtly, ‘I’ve got to start moving about at some point. If I lie here much longer, I’ll ossify.’
‘Another day won’t hurt,’ she snapped. ‘Is this the first time you’ve tried this?’
‘Obviously – or I’d be better at it.’
‘And it didn’t occur to you to ask one of us to help?’
‘Oddly enough, it didn’t.’ He regarded her sarcastically over folded arms. ‘Which of you was likely to say yes?’
Privately, Athenais conceded that he had a point there – though she suspected he might possibly have bullied Jem into getting him on his feet. She said accusingly, ‘You promised me. You promised to stay in bed.’
‘I said I’d stay in bed if you stopped hovering around the house in case I was about to turn up my toes,’ he retorted. ‘You didn’t.’
‘That’s no excuse.’
‘Yes, it is. We had an agreement. You broke it.’
‘I don’t care. It’s still no reason to play merry hell with your – your limbs.’
A glint of something that might have been humour lurked beneath his lashes.
‘Only a woman could believe that.’
‘Well, I am a woman.’
‘I think I can truthfully say that I’ve noticed.’
Hands on hips, she regarded him as severely as she was able over the unexpected bubble of laughter forming in her chest. ‘When was the last time you did as you were told?’
‘When Pauline brought me something vaguely resembling an egg custard and bade me eat it because you’d made it,’ came the swift reply.
Athenais’s mouth quivered.
‘It was awful, wasn’t it?’
‘Dreadful.’
‘I know.’ On a little gurgle of laughter, she said confidingly, ‘The first two were worse.’
And Ashley forgot his annoyance at being caught out of bed, his frustration with his own weakness and his boredom-induced black mood. In fact, he forgot everything except one simple truth. If he hadn’t been in love with her already, he’d have lost his heart in that moment. She was utterly irresistible.
Short though it was, the silence was long enough to put a question in her eyes. He distracted her by saying, ‘Look on the bright side. What you lack in culinary ability, you make up for in perseverance.’
‘Yes. Pauline wishes I didn’t. All those eggs, you k
now.’ She sat at his side and began rolling the sleeve of his shirt upwards. ‘She says the dressing on your arm probably isn’t necessary any more. How does it feel?’
‘Almost as good as new.’ He waited until she’d removed the bandage and then, peering down, said, ‘Yes. It will do well enough, now.’
‘Just a little of the salve, then.’ Athenais reached for the pot. ‘Pauline thinks the scar may be very slight – unlike the one on your leg. But I suppose that, as a soldier, you don’t consider scars to be any very great matter.’
Ashley listened less to the words than the light, pleasing voice and let himself drift. He absorbed the cameo-like purity of her profile; the arch of her eyebrows and the sweep of her lashes; the alabaster skin, faintly tinged with colour along her cheekbones; and finally the soft curve of her mouth … pale and pink and infinitely tempting.
One thick lock of shining copper hair fell past her shoulder and landed on his wrist. Ashley stopped breathing for a moment. It was so close to his hand … so very close that he couldn’t resist taking hold of it and twining it round his fingers, then releasing it so that it formed a perfect glossy ringlet. Intrigued, he reached for another strand and did the same thing again.
Athenais gave a tiny laugh and said prosaically, ‘It does that. The only trouble is there’s so much of it that it would take hours to make the whole lot behave that way. Truthfully, it’s the bane of my life – and Pauline’s, too.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ he said huskily.
She hadn’t expected it. Not just the compliment, but the tone in which it was uttered. Her eyes flew to his face, searching for something that would tell her if either was to be taken seriously. He looked back at her, unwavering and darkly intent, a lock of her hair still caught between his fingers. Slowly and without releasing her gaze, he wound the curl around his hand until it began to pull her gently towards him. Athenais shivered.
Ashley had stopped thinking some time ago when it had seemed safe. Now, it was no longer safe but he couldn’t remember why – or why it should matter. He drew Athenais closer and closer until he could slide his other arm about her waist. Then and only then did he release her hair to trace her cheek and jaw with almost insubstantial fingers.
The heavy-lidded gaze dropped to her mouth, causing one strong, startling beat to pulse low in her body. Her breath fluttered and nerves made her run her tongue over lips that felt suddenly dry. A faint sound echoed in the back of Ashley’s throat and, leaning in, he brushed her mouth with his. Athenais gasped and, unable to wait any longer, slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
‘Yes,’ murmured Ashley, almost inaudibly. ‘Oh yes.’
And he possessed her mouth as if he had been waiting to do so for his entire life. She tasted so sweet and her response, as she melted against him, was sweeter still. He deepened the kiss and was rewarded with a tiny sound of welcome and pleasure. And he thought, Mine. You’re mine. And I am entirely, inescapably yours.
Wildfire was spreading through Athenais’s blood, creating molten heat deep in her belly. She filled her hands with his hair, trailed kisses along his throat and when his shirt stopped her exploring the unknown terrain of his chest, she gave a moan of frustration and fumbled with the fastenings. Tilting her face up for another mind-stealing kiss, Ashley tugged it free so that, at long last, she could discover the smooth warmth of his skin and the hard muscles beneath it. She sighed with pleasure.
His mouth teased its way slowly along her collar-bone while, without conscious thought yet as slowly as he had once promised himself, his fingers freed the laces of her gown until he could slide it from her shoulders. He took the time to thoroughly enjoy this new area of silky-soft skin before dealing with the impediment of her shift. But finally, it slipped away, revealing the lovely curve of her breasts … and, for a moment, the air seemed to leave his lungs. He cupped them, marvelling at how perfectly they fitted into his palms before, lingeringly and almost reverently, he allowed himself to caress the smooth flesh. Athenais trembled and clutched at his shoulders, her breath fast and slightly ragged. He kissed her cheek, her eyelids, her jaw and set his thumbs circling the tips of her breasts until they hardened, before finally touching the sensitised flesh.
Athenais’s head dropped back and she gave a sobbing moan. God, she was so incredibly, beautifully responsive. He shifted his position to pull her closer so that she might feel the state of his own arousal and know that she was not alone. His injured thigh protested but he scarcely noticed it. He wanted the rest of her clothes gone; he wanted to savour every exquisite inch with his mouth as well as his hands; he wanted to be inside her.
The door opened and Francis walked in.
For a second, he froze at the unexpected and erotic tableau in front of him. Then, recovering his presence of mind, he said, ‘My apologies.’ And beat a hasty retreat.
Equally shocked, Ashley and Athenais also froze.
A deep flush stained Athenais’s skin – less because of what she’d been doing than because she’d been seen doing it – but she made no attempt to cover herself.
Ashley removed his hands from her and sat very, very still as the world dropped stomach-churningly back into focus.
She said unevenly, ‘That was … a little unfortunate.’
‘You think so?’
His tone sounded odd, not at all what she might have expected considering what had just passed between them. She turned to look at him. His face was completely without expression, his eyes flat and opaque. Athenais didn’t know whether he was embarrassed on her account or his own or whether he was just annoyed at the interruption – but she assumed it must be one of them. Stroking the tawny-fair hair back from his face, she tilted her head to kiss his jaw and murmured, ‘Perhaps I should lock the door?’
There was a long silence. Then Ashley said distantly, ‘Or perhaps I should help you dress.’
Her heart sank and worry started to gnaw at the edges of her mind.
‘Why? It doesn’t really matter that Francis knows, does it? He may say something to you, of course – but he’s too much of a gentleman to speak of it to anyone else. And if I don’t mind, why should you?’
He nearly said that he minded immensely that Francis had seen her half-naked but for the wild tumble of her hair but knew that it wouldn’t help to admit it. So he forced his brain to function and said instead, ‘What Francis knows or doesn’t know is of little consequence.’
‘Then what is?’
‘Do you really need to ask?’ He dislodged her from his lap, turning her as he did so in order to begin re-lacing her gown. ‘What happened just now may have been unintentional but it was still a mistake. My fault not yours, of course.’
Athenais wriggled free and managed to swivel back to face him.
‘Stop it! You can’t do this again.’
‘Do what?’
‘Pretend there’s nothing between us. Pretend you don’t want me.’
Despising himself and feeling utterly sick, he summoned a faint rueful smile and did what had to be done.
‘Darling – of course I want you. What man wouldn’t? And I’ve been lying in bed for days with you popping in and out of here ministering to my every need save one – so it was inevitable that I should fantasise a little, if only to pass the time.’
She dragged herself from the bed and stood up, clutching her gown to her chest.
‘Inevitable?’ And when he nodded, ‘You’ll have to forgive me – but I’d like to be clear about this. You’ve been imagining removing my clothes and putting your hands on me just to pass the time?’
‘Well, yes.’ He shrugged with a nicely-judged hint of repentance. ‘It’s what men do – and there’s little enough harm in it. But it was wrong of me to take advantage and we should be grateful that Francis brought us both to our senses before it went too far.’
Athenais wasn’t grateful at all. In her opinion, it hadn’t gone far enough. She was also becoming rather angry. ‘I don’t know whether
you think I’m an idiot or merely naïve. But one thing I do know. Even if you were the kind of man to seduce a girl just to pass a dull Tuesday – which you’re not – nothing that passed between us before Francis walked in had anything to do with taking advantage purely because you had the opportunity. It was more than that.’
Ashley leaned back against the pillows and began fastening his shirt with an appearance of total unconcern.
‘I see. And you know this because?’
‘I know it,’ she said, her voice suddenly unsteady, ‘because when I was fourteen, I was raped by an eighteen-year-old version of the Marquis d’Auxerre.’ She watched his hands still and his face go rigid with shock. ‘I know it because I know you – you stupid, stupid man! And for God knows what reason, I seem to have fallen in love with you. But until you know your own mind and are prepared either to explain why whatever this is between us can’t be allowed to happen or admit that you really don’t care for me, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself – because I’m not about to make this mistake again.’
And, without giving him the chance to reply, she whirled out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
~ * * ~ * * ~
FOUR
Although Francis said nothing to either Athenais or Pauline, he’d half-intended to provoke Ashley with some sly innuendo. Fortunately, before he opened his mouth, he caught sight of the Colonel’s expression and recognised that saying anything at all was likely to conjure up a storm. He therefore made a swift exit, leaving Ashley lurching from window to bed to wash-stand as he hauled himself grimly around the bedchamber.
Ashley’s mood was black as the deepest pit of hell. In the first moments when Athenais had slammed out of the room, he’d found himself unable to focus on anything beyond that one sentence as it rang over and over in his head.
When I was fourteen I was raped by an eighteen-year-old version of the Marquis d’Auxerre.
She’d been raped. Three words repeatedly slamming into his gut like a fist. She’d been raped. Why hadn’t he guessed? Why hadn’t he even considered the possibility? She’d been raped. Now he knew, the clues were all there; her aversion to d’Auxerre, her habit of keeping her admirers at a distance; her lack of sexual experience. Everything pointed to it but he, clever fellow that he was, had been too self-absorbed to look below the surface. His Athenais had been raped; worse, some bastard had raped her when she was fourteen years old, for Christ’s sake. And that was when the bile had risen in his throat and sent him stumbling from the bed to vomit into the chamber-pot.