by Aston, Alexa
“Shall I leave? Or would you let me help you? I know when I have come from London, I am so weary that I can barely lift a hand. I could wash your hair for you.”
Marielle recognized the offer of friendship. “I would gratefully accept your help.”
The countess helped her to undress. She made no comment about the double layers of clothing Marielle wore. She eased her guest into the steaming water.
“Just soak a bit. We will have your clothes washed. You are a similar size to Edith, Garrett’s mother. She would be more than willing to let you borrow a few items of clothing. I will be back in a few minutes.”
Marielle stretched in the water and rested her head against the edge. The hot water seemed to lift the worries weighing upon her. Instead of embarrassment at borrowing clothes, Marielle was thankful for Madeleine’s gracious offer. Stanbury was everything Ashby had said it would be. She smiled and let her thoughts drift.
Strong fingers gently massaged her scalp. Marielle realized Madeleine had returned and had begun to wash her hair. In her hands she sensed strength and competence.
“No one has ever done this for me before. It feels wonderful.”
Madeleine took a bucket and rinsed Marielle’s hair. “Then we need to spoil you a bit.”
She reached for a cake of soap resting on the towel and began to lather it.
“Actually, I do not need spoiling. I enjoy hard work. I am unsure of my plans at the moment but I am willing to do whatever needs doing while I am at Stanbury.”
“You are our guest,” protested Madeleine.
“I cannot sit and do nothing. I would earn my keep while I am here, however long that will be. I do not want to inconvenience you and I certainly do not want to be bored.”
Madeleine smiled. “In that case, you can help me care for Cynric. He is a handful, and I tire easily these days.”
Marielle looked at her questioningly.
“Yes, my monthly flow was due three days ago.” She eyed Marielle with a gleam in her eyes. “I am never late.”
“Congratulations!” Marielle proclaimed.
“I have not told Garrett yet. For all his gruff ways, he worries quite a bit. I would rather be farther along before he knows. He will coddle me and be simply impossible. He was when I carried Cynric. I am sure he will react the same this time round.”
“So Lyssa is . . . not yours? I noticed she calls you Madeleine.” Marielle paused. “Oh, forgive me. That was rude of me to mention.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Lyssa is not my child by birth but I love her as much as Cynric.” Madeleine chuckled. “I may have fallen in love with Lyssa before I did Garrett.”
“She is a darling girl.”
“And growing up all too fast, I am afraid. I think she fancies herself marrying Ashby one day since they both love horses so.”
A sinking feeling filled her. Marielle reached for the towel and stood. She wrapped it around her and carefully asked, “So Ashby would wait for her?”
“Lyssa will always be a child to Ashby. He indulges her and spoils her. He would never marry her.”
Madeleine took a comb and ran it through Marielle’s hair thoughtfully. “It will take someone of great beauty and intelligence to capture his fancy. A woman of grace and wit, full of integrity and perseverance. Someone closer to his own age that will fascinate him and drive him to madness.”
Madeleine placed a hand on Marielle’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I have brought clothes from Edith for you to wear tonight. She was napping earlier when you arrived. Here, try this and see how it fits.”
Marielle looked to the bed where Madeleine had laid out several things. She saw a smock and kirtle, along with a pair of hose and shoes. A cotehardie of pale blue with a surcoat of bright blue lay next to the other items.
“Edith has many other things for you to choose from. In all honesty, she tires easily of clothes. You will be able to take and keep what you need without worry.”
She ran a hand along the surcoat. The color was rich, the fabric a soft velvet. The cotehardie was made of silk.
“I cannot accept such generosity, Madeleine. These are far too valuable.”
Madeleine placed her hands on Marielle’s shoulders. “Listen to me. You are a strong woman who has been in a terrible situation. Edith has clothes she has not worn for months and even years. Please take what is offered with no protests.
“Besides,” Madeleine grinned, “I think Ashby will find these clothes bring out the color in your beautiful eyes.”
Marielle’s cheeks grew hot. “I—”
“It will not work, Marielle. Ashby has never been serious about a woman in his life. Yet he brings you here. To Stanbury. He has feelings for you, Marielle. I only hope those feelings are returned.”
“I am grateful—”
“Shush now!” Madeleine commanded. “The charming Ashby fitz Waryn has fallen for a remarkable woman. That woman is you, Marielle. He is just too blind to know it yet. But between the two of us, I wager you two are wed well before a year has passed.”
Chapter Sixteen
“So you journeyed a long way and the trip was unsuccessful,” Garrett said. “Else you would be crowing like a rooster.”
Ashby shrugged and looked about the great hall, choosing his words carefully. “Jean-Paul de la Tresse was not an easy man. From the moment I met him, I knew the venture to be doomed.”
Garrett placed a hand on his shoulder. “Yet you doggedly tried, Ash. It’s all I ever ask from you. Let it rest, my friend.”
Ashby frowned at him. “You think I am troubled by failure?”
“It has crossed your path so infrequently, I was not sure you would even recognize it,” Garrett quipped. “Still, I thought you had a better chance than I at finagling the land from Jean-Paul.”
“The two of you did not get along?” Ashby thought a moment. “That surprises me. In fact, he was complimentary on how much you learned about wine when you went to France on your extended visit several years ago.”
Garrett chuckled. “No, Jean-Paul and I got along fairly well. It was his wretched brother I so disliked. The pup was not even a score and yet he knew all. I have never met a more churlish individual. If I had judged my visit to France solely on meeting Marc de la Tresse, I would have fled Bordeaux and swum back to England. In haste.”
Ashby chuckled at the picture of his friend paddling back home. “I received the same impression. Marc de la Tresse has not changed at all since you met him. He now will run Monteville.”
“Jean-Paul is dead?”
Ashby heard the surprise in Garrett’s voice. “Yes. It happened a few days after I left Monteville. I returned to stay with the Bouchards, trying to sound Pierre out on some of the methods Donatien has successfully used in the Monteville vineyards.”
Garrett shook his head. “Pierre is loyal but obstinate. He will cling to the old ways to his grave. That was one reason I wanted to try the new vintage on new land—and put someone else in charge of the venture.” Garrett looked at him hopefully. “Possibly you.”
Ashby thought about the trip over the water that must occur for him to set foot in France once more. He balanced that with the pain of seeing Marielle every day. Wanting her—yet never being able to have her. No, the sea voyage would be but a few days of misery. If Garrett were still willing to finance the venture, he intended to take him up on his offer. A new land. A new life. He couldn’t ask for more.
Though every day he would mourn Marielle’s absence in his life.
Ashby leaned closer to his friend. “I think it’s a splendid idea. Of course, we would not be able to use adjoining land to Chateau Branais but I looked around the neighborhood extensively. After what I learned from Donatien, I believe a few available tracts nearby would suit your purpose in developing the new vintage you desire.”
He set his jaw in determination. “If you would like me to return and pursue those possibilities, I will.”
“Let me think on that.�
�� Garrett leaned back in his chair. “Tell me more about Jean-Paul’s death. This interests me.”
Ashby lowered his voice. “This is to go no further, Garrett.”
“You have my word.”
“Marielle is Jean-Paul’s widow.”
Garrett glanced over casually at Marielle and back to him. “Why is she here then? Had they no issue?”
“None. Marc woke her and took her to her dead husband’s body. He told her Jean-Paul had been poisoned. And that she might be blamed for it.”
Garrett frowned. “She must have been terrified.”
“Oh, the story gets better. Marc thought for Marielle’s protection and for the sake of Monteville that they should wed. Immediately. He insinuated if she refused, he would start the rumors that she had murdered her husband.”
Garrett fell silent for some minutes. Finally, he said, “At least she had the sense to leave. That took great courage. But had she a lover? Had she given anyone reason to suspect her of murder?”
Ashby swallowed. “Marielle believes Marc murdered his brother. To claim her and Monteville. She said he aggressively pursued her under his brother’s very nose for years. She is repelled by him. She also thought she had little chance to prove his guilt—much less her innocence.”
His friend studied him carefully. “And she came to you for help.”
Ashby nodded. “She did.”
“Is there something between you?”
Ashby ran a hand through his hair. “If it were another time and place, I would marry her on the morrow.”
Garrett’s jaw dropped. “You? Marry? Oh, God. I never thought that would ever happen. I’m delighted to hear that. What is stopping you, Ash? If you’d like, you can be wed here at Stanbury in the morning.”
When he didn’t reply, Garrett stared at him until Ashby felt his very soul invaded. “Marielle is free now, here in England. As your wife, Ashby, she would be under your protection. Sweet Jesu, man. If love has come to you at last, then grab it. And hold on for dear life.”
Garrett gripped his arm. “Whatever is in the way, move it. Or I will move it for you. You are my dearest friend and brother-in-arms. I would see you happy at any cost.”
“You are happy, Ashby?”
The two men turned to see Madeleine smiling down upon them.
“You two have been thick as thieves in this dark corner ever since we supped. I would think you would not wish to ignore our guest.”
Ashby looked to where Marielle sat in front of the fire on the far side of the great hall. She was on the floor with Lyssa and Cynric. Even at this great a distance, he could see the contented look upon her face as she played their games.
“Garrett, go take Marielle a glass of wine and rescue her. Lyssa has quite talked her ear off. In fact, your mother went to bed with a headache. I have no doubt it was Lyssa’s nonsense that drove her there.”
Garrett stood and kissed his wife gently. “Anything else you wish me to do, my love?”
She smiled at him. A pang of jealousy stabbed at Ashby’s heart. He thought the world of them, his two closest friends, but what existed between them was something he yearned for more than he’d imagined. He took a swig from his tankard of ale.
“Go be a charming host and let me visit with Ashby. I have not had two seconds alone with him since he returned.” She looked at Ashby eagerly. “You must tell me all about my parents and Pierre.”
Garrett excused himself. Ashby launched into detailed descriptions of how Robert and Cadena looked and what they talked about during his visit. Yet as he spoke, it was as if Madeleine listened to him with half an ear.
“You make a good pretense at being attentive but your mind is elsewhere, Madeleine.”
She blushed. “You know me too well, I fear.” She began toying with the folds in her skirts. Ashby immediately became guarded. Madeleine rarely played games of feminine wiles. She was up to something.
But what?
“Ashby? How well do you know Marielle?”
He hadn’t expected that question. Should he say he knew the way she tasted? Or how her curves fit perfectly against him?
Instead, he shrugged. “I know a bit about her. I visited her home while in Bordeaux. We spent some time together. She has a quick mind and is a skillful chess player. I know she loves to read and was raised in a convent. Why?”
“No particular reason. I have been drawn to her. She has been at Stanbury less than a day yet I feel she is the sister I never had.”
“You were not close to Pierre, were you?”
Madeleine sighed. “No. My brother is more than half a score older than I am. He was born an old soul, I think. Both Maman and Papa have a gaiety about them. They love music and storytelling. Pierre? He is . . . pratique. Practical. For him, there are no amusements. Only work. We are very different.”
Ashby lay a hand over hers. “I know Marielle has been very lonely. Life in the convent was harsh. She had no friends there. Mayhap she may stay at Stanbury indefinitely and become your companion.”
“That would be nice for now but surely she will want a life of her own. A husband. Children. A home. Things all women want.”
He tamped down the bitter rush that coursed through him. “Yes. What all women want,” he said evenly, masking his true emotions.
Madeleine smiled at him. “It’s so good to have you home, Ashby fitz Waryn. I have missed you. As always. I do not know what we would do without you.”
He stood. “It’s always nice to return to Stanbury. I bid you a good evening.”
Ashby skirted the edge of the great hall. He visited with a few friends but found his eyes straying back to Marielle time and again. She seemed so at ease, so different from the woman he’d met back in France. At least he’d accomplished one good deed by bringing her with him to England.
Lyssa and Cynric came to tell him goodnight. Garrett and Madeleine left to put them to bed. By the wicked gleam in Garrett’s eye, Ashby knew that Garrett had his own plans for putting Madeleine to bed and keeping her busy once there. He assumed they would get very little sleep this night.
He gave the family time to make it up the stairs and to their rooms before he quietly did the same.
“Ashby?”
Marielle called his name. He had wanted to avoid her. He was angry with himself for the feelings he had, feelings he would refuse to act upon. He was afraid he’d snap at her if he spoke to her, so great was the tension that ran through him. Relaxing his features into a pleasant pose, he turned.
“Ah, Marielle. I bid you a good night.”
“I wanted to thank you. Again. The people of Stanbury are wonderful, just as you said they would be. They have treated me with kindness and respect.”
“Naturally. They are like my own family.”
“I can see why. Even the clothes I wear tonight have been provided to me. Madeleine has thought of everything.”
“She is a good woman. Garrett is a lucky man to have found true happiness with her. Unlike his first wife.”
Now why did he say that? He didn’t want to get into a conversation. Yet here he was, ready to pull up a stool and spout the Earl of Montayne’s family history. Next he’d be telling Marielle how Garrett’s father, Ryker, use to beat Edith senseless or how Ryker’s mistress poisoned him out of spite in front of everyone in the great hall.
“Madeleine mentioned it when I asked if Lyssa was her child.”
“Lyssa is the spitting image of her mother. She has more of Garrett’s fire in her, though. Lynnette was very shy, very meek. Lyssa is quite the little minx. She worships Madeleine. You would think they were mother and daughter.”
He stood there awkwardly, having run out of things to say. Their conversation died suddenly.
Marielle stood. “I think I will retire myself. Things are settling down.”
Ashby looked around them. “Yes, Stanbury rises early. There is always much to be done. May I escort you to your chamber?”
She nodded. “I would appreciate
that. I am not quite sure I could find it on my own as of yet. The castle is so large. Madeleine promised me a full tour tomorrow. I would be satisfied just knowing where the library is.”
He offered her his arm. “Then let me show you quickly and then see you to your room.”
She placed her hand into the crook of his elbow. Just the touch of her fingers lit a fire inside him. They walked down the corridor and he indicated the room.
“Here’s the library. You need to see it in daylight to appreciate the full effect.”
He opened the door. No candles shone from within. He longed to pull her into the darkness and into his arms. Oh, God, he would go insane if he didn’t leave soon.
Tamping down the strong emotions running through him, he calmly said, “Well, now you know where to come. Let me take you to your room.”
He led her down the dimly lit passage, his heart beating wildly. He stopped in front of her door. It was the bedchamber they used for special guests and he assumed Marielle had been placed there.
“There should be a candle lit for you.” He opened the door and saw the flickering light. He looked back at Marielle and, without thinking, said what he’d thought all night.
“You have beautiful eyes.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was faint. The darkness seemed to grow around them. He had to leave. He must force his feet to move.
“I will see you on the morrow,” he said, more abruptly than he’d wished. He saw a puzzled look cross her brow.
Ashby turned and walked quickly along the corridor. He went down the stairs again and out into the night. The November cold surrounded him. He welcomed the chill. Had it only been two months ago that Garrett sent him to France? His whole world had turned upside down. He, Ashby fitz Waryn, who was always so steady and confident, now felt like a lost, lonely boy.
He strode to the stables and saddled Lightning. He decided it was time to pay a visit to the attractive widow in the village. Maybe she could take his mind off the bewitching Marielle de la Tresse.
