by Aston, Alexa
“Ashby is home!”
Lyssa came running into Marielle’s chamber with a joyful look upon her face. Marielle’s heart almost burst into song. He’d been gone barely long enough to make the journey to Bordeaux and back again to Stanbury.
Was Madeleine right?
Had he finally come to his senses after such a short time apart? Did he realize he needed her as much as she needed him?
Lyssa tugged on her hand. “Well, come on! We have to greet him. It’s our way.”
The girl chattered like a magpie as she pulled Marielle down the stairs. Marielle concentrated on the steps before her, not allowing herself the luxury of hope. Yet with every step she took, her heart cried out, “He’s home, he’s here, my Ashby is back again.”
Madeleine met them at the bottom of the staircase, a knowing smile on her face. Lyssa dashed past her, leaving them alone for a moment.
Madeleine slipped an arm through hers. “I suppose I did not give him enough credit.” She grinned. “He missed you much sooner than I would have expected. Our Ashby has made it back in record time.”
The two women followed after Lyssa. They met Garrett coming from his study, a puzzled look on his face.
“Ash is home? What nonsense is this? I could hear Lyssa hollering it as she ran by.”
Madeleine gave him a smug look. “Ashby must have forgotten something important,” she said mysteriously and pulled Marielle along, Garrett bringing up the rear.
Marielle thought how seasick Ashby had been on the way back from France. That he’d gone through the voyage twice in so short a time gave her the confidence to meet him now.
They walked outside just as he rode up and sprang from his horse. He tossed the reins to a waiting groom and motioned for him to take Lightning.
That was when it hit her. Lightning was Ashby’s pride and joy. He’d always taken meticulous care of the horse since she’d known him. An uneasiness filled her.
He started up the stairs, Lyssa tugging on his hand and babbling away. Immediately, Marielle saw the difference. She witnessed no joy in his step at having returned home to Stanbury, no carefree ease that he wore like a cloak. His shuttered eyes hid something from them. From her.
Something was terribly wrong.
He reached the top and greeted those awaiting him in a general manner. He avoided looking at her altogether.
Marielle knew then that he had not come home for her. Something far greater drove him back to England, not eagerness to declare his love for her and make her his bride.
Whatever it was, it was serious. His smiles for Lyssa did not continue to his eyes. That was something Marielle had always been drawn to in him. When Ashby smiled, his whole face lit up.
Today, his smile was as remote as a wintry day.
Garrett took the situation in hand. “I fear Ash is worn out from his travels. Lyssa? Would you go tend to Lightning? Make sure that the horse is properly cared for?”
The girl lit up with pleasure and pride, running from where they stood toward the stables without a word or backward glance.
“Shall we speak alone now, Ash?” Garrett continued.
Ashby looked at him with a pained expression. “Mayhap I should speak to Marielle alone.” Then suddenly changing his mind, he added, “No. I think she would want you both present.”
He looked at Madeleine. And finally at her. The pain in his eyes was all too real.
“Come. We shall go to Garrett’s study.” Madeleine took Marielle’s arm as she spoke. “It will afford us the privacy we need.”
The four walked without conversation and entered the small room, dwarfed by an oversized desk. Garrett’s papers were strewn across it haphazardly. Ashby motioned for the women to sit. He stood awkwardly, almost like an unprepared boy ill at ease in front of his tutor.
Garrett closed the door and joined them.
Ashby finally directly his gaze at Marielle. “I thought to keep the news from you somehow but I cannot. You deserve to know the truth, though it will be painful.”
She realized it must involve her parents since he’d promised her he would visit them and tell them she was safe.
“Are Maman and Papa ill? Has one of them died?” She stood and, without thinking, took his hand. “You can tell me, Ashby. They are very old. I am strong enough to hear such news.”
His look of anguish sliced at her heart. “Please sit, Marielle.”
“No,” she replied. “Say what you must and be done with it. I must hear whatever news you bring. Now.”
He pulled a roll of parchment from his pouch. “Sit and read this.”
Marielle gave him a quizzical look but did as he asked. She took the parchment and opened it. For a moment, her heart stopped when she recognized Marc’s handwriting. She scanned the brief contents quickly and then, in disbelief, read it more slowly.
The page fell from her hands. “No,” she cried hoarsely.
Ashby retrieved the letter and handed it to Garrett. Madeleine stood next to him and read the few lines. Marielle was conscious of Madeleine’s gasp.
A deadly calm descended upon her. “I must go back. At once,” she said. “I will pack now.” She rose and walked from the room, her head held high. No tears came. What use would they be?
Marielle was now sentenced to a living death—a life spent as wife to a monster.
*
Marielle refused to see anyone that afternoon. She finally let Madeleine in for a few minutes. Ashby paced outside as they’d spoken. When Madeleine opened the door, he rushed to meet her. She pulled the door closed behind her.
“She does not wish to see anyone, Ashby. She does want to leave on the morrow.” Madeleine looked at him in sorrow. “Are you willing to escort her back to France?”
“I and no other,” he proclaimed. “If I can do anything to remedy the situation, I shall.”
“You mean to keep her from marrying Marc de la Tresse?”
Ashby set his jaw. “She is a strong woman, Madeleine. She will do as she sees fit. I will do whatever she asks of me.”
He returned to his room and moped. Instead of going down to supper, he’d lain on his bed, searching for answers that would not come.
Now it was late. He knew he should try and get some rest but he doubted sleep would come. His mind was a swirling quagmire of second guesses.
A soft knock roused him from the bed. He sat up immediately, thinking it was Garrett wishing to speak with him. But when he opened the door, Marielle stood before him. She’d never looked lovelier. Those amethyst eyes burned brightly in her pale face.
“May I come in?” she asked softly.
He stood aside for her to enter and then closed the door.
As he faced her, all the intense longings for her rushed through him. Why hadn’t he taken Garrett up on his generous offer of a manor? Mayhap then he might have felt worthy enough to pursue this beautiful woman that stood before him.
Ashby placed his hands upon her shoulders. “I love you,” he admitted softly. “The reasons why those words never came seem so pitiful now.”
Marielle tensed. “It is too late for us, Ashby.”
“Is it?” he asked, clinging to hope as Pandora surely had.
“Yes. We were never meant to be.”
That sliver of hope pushed him to say, “Then why are you here?”
She started to answer but no words came. Marielle looked up at him helplessly. “Because tonight is all we will ever have.”
She lay her cheek against his chest and wrapped her arms about his waist. He enveloped her, holding her gently against him. Her silent tears soaked his tunic. To comfort her, he kissed the top of her head, then he lifted her chin with a finger and gently touched his mouth to hers.
Passion ignited between them. The kiss stoked the fire that had lain dormant within them for close to two months. All the desire built up inside of him spilled forth from his mouth into hers.
She tasted as before, only sweeter now. He wanted her more than he had wante
d any other woman at any other time. Yet she was not his for the taking. Maybe she never had been.
Marielle sensed Ashby pulling away from her. She’d not come here for one kiss. No, what she wanted—needed—was one night to call her own. One night of rich passion and beautiful lovemaking that would be her own treasure. One night that she would pull from her memory again and again over the long years of hell to come. One night that Marc could never take away.
If she couldn’t have Ashby, she would at least make a magical memory with him. Here. Now.
She must have this one night.
She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her, even as he tried to break the kiss. She pressed her body against his. He responded immediately.
Marielle put everything of herself into the kiss. She sensually ran her tongue along his lips until they parted and she gained entrance into Heaven. His tongue feverishly answered her own mating call. His hands slid along her back and down to her buttocks, drawing her closer.
“Love me,” she whispered into his mouth.
He swept her into his arms, never breaking the kiss, and carried her to his bed. He lowered her to it slowly and then covered her body with his. She reveled in his weight against her, his mouth on hers, his hands running through her hair and down to her breasts. Somehow he’d untied her laces and pushed her clothing aside, fixing his mouth on her breast.
Marielle groaned aloud, the pleasure was so great. Heat built throughout her until she thought she’d been set on fire. Still, tingling bits of pleasure rippled up and down every part of her. Ashby lifted her clothes from her then and tossed them to the floor. His hands were everywhere, loving, worshipping every inch of her body, strong, firm, yet gentle and giving at the same time.
He parted her thighs and dropped a hand between them. Marielle felt a moistness there for the first time as Ashby slipped a finger inside her. She cried out her joy but it was lost in his mouth. His tongue and his fingers mimicked each other, both giving her the most exquisite pleasure imaginable.
Then she erupted in waves of happiness, a dizzying joy that had her head spinning. She lost track as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through her. Then it ended. She lay dazed, unsure of what had just occurred. He moved away from her but she was too weak to reach out for him. She whimpered a cry instead.
He stroked her cheek. “Just a moment, my love.” He rejoined her almost immediately, now naked as she was, his heated body pressed against hers.
“Love me,” she cried again, and he did. He entered her slowly, filling her until she cried out in ecstasy.
“Oh, Ashby. Ashby.”
Never had she been loved as she was now. With a slow rhythm, he moved against her again and again, as something once more built inside of her, that something which she’d never known existed until this man’s touch. The anticipation gathered within her as he moved with an agonizing slowness.
“More,” she called to him. “More.”
His lips caressed her throat and nibbled at her ear playfully. “You think you want more?”
She nodded, not trusting the words to come.
“Then you shall have what you desire.”
He increased his movements, her hips meeting his every thrust. The pressure mounted. Then without warning, stars exploded, blinding her. Ashby kissed her again and again, his tongue stroking hers, murmuring words she couldn’t understand.
He kissed her deeply, his breathing ragged as he stilled. Marielle felt a connection to him like none ever before. He fell to his side and brought her against him. She could feel the pounding of his heart against her cheek. It was her moment of greatest bliss.
She could stay like this forever.
“I love you,” she whispered. The bliss turned to bittersweet sorrow. She knew she would never be able to share this again with him. She began to pull away but he held her tightly against him.
“No. Stay,” he begged. “Stay with me . . . always.”
“It’s not possible,” she said simply. It was like plunging a knife into both of their hearts. “I must go now.”
“Go?” His eyes met hers. The corner of his beautiful mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile. “You are not going anywhere, my love. We have only just begun.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Marielle awoke in Ashby’s arms. The candle had only recently extinguished itself. She could smell the faint smoke drifting across the bed.
She opened her eyes to the darkness. In all the nights to come, though, the darkness would be no more. Ashby had seen to that. Marielle knew she would take to bed with her each evening the recollections of this one night. His presence would always be with her. She would feel his arms about her. Recall the memory of his loving touch. Savor the richness of each kiss. She would use her heart as the key to unlock these memories and thus remember the precious hours forever.
He stirred in his sleep and held her more tightly as if he knew she was about to leave him. She could now make out his jaw line in the shadows and pressed her lips just below it against his throat. The ache in her heart was a physical one, its very heaviness causing her pain with each breath.
How would she live without him?
Marielle lifted her hand and gently moved Ashby’s arm. It stayed along his side. Now was the tricky part. Their legs were entangled as they faced each other. She eased one leg up and began to pull away from him.
Suddenly, her back was against the bed. Ashby loomed over her, pinning her wrists down. He playfully nipped at her throat then ran his tongue along the curve of her shoulder. Marielle tried to rise but he was having none of it.
“I must go,” she protested.
“Not yet, sweetheart.” To prove his point, his mouth came down on hers in an exquisite, demanding kiss that caused him to harden again. He slipped inside her one last time. She reveled in each possessive thrust as he branded her as his. His alone. Forever and always. Minutes later, he’d left her weak and shaken.
Marielle’s mouth quivered from need as he pulled away, his breathing harsh. She reached up and pushed his damp hair from his brow. He captured her hand and pressed a fervent kiss to each fingertip. No regret filled her. Only pure love for a man she would never have again.
“I must go,” she said again.
He brushed a hand through her hair. “I know,” he whispered. He rose from the bed and took her hands in his. It was as if she floated up and into his arms. Ashby held her close in a loving embrace. Then he pressed a last, soft kiss against her lips. That tender kiss alone had been worth her coming to his room. Marielle wished it could go on forever but she must face what the dawn would bring.
She broke the kiss with reluctance. “Can you help me find my garments? The candle has gone out.”
She heard him rustling about before he slowly began to dress her. She hadn’t a clue how he knew where to place the clothing. He’d obviously had much practice with dressing—and undressing—women in the dark. It caused her a small moment of hurt, but she pushed it aside. She would concentrate on the feel of his callused hands gliding along her skin, his strong fingers tying and smoothing, the stolen kisses between each layer he placed upon her.
Finally, she knew she was presentable in case anyone saw her in the corridor. She turned to go, no words coming from her. It was as if words would ruin anything at this point.
Marielle lay her hand upon the door handle, only to find Ashby’s fingers close over hers.
“Don’t go.”
The anguish in his voice tore at her heart, the raw need that she herself experienced.
Ashby took her shoulders and turned her to face him. He bent and brushed his lips against hers then placed his forehead against hers.
When he spoke, his voice was low, but she caught every word.
“Tell me to go for the priest now. Say you will marry me before we leave England.”
“But Marc—”
“Marc be damned,” he hissed. “What can he do if you are already wed to me?”
>
Marielle knew exactly what he would do. She had a good idea that Ashby did, too, else he wouldn’t sound so full of despair. Still, she knew the words must come.
“He would kill them,” she said dully. “He would claim they were his guests and he would leave them in that dank, rat-infested dungeon until they perished.”
She lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “The cost of our happiness would be their deaths. Neither of us wishes that. It would taint everything we did or said.”
“I cannot ask you to live like that,” he said softly. “But if you won’t wed me, we must first try something else before you hand yourself over to be devoured by that monster.”
Marielle shook her head. “What? There is nothing else we can do, Ashby. We have shared this time together. It will have to be enough. I know what must be done. I am the only one who can free my parents.”
“I can’t see you relinquish your freedom and be enslaved by that monster.”
His hand smoothed her hair. “What if we went to the magistrate together and explained the situation? We could tell him—”
“No. It doesn’t work that way. Magistrates should work for justice and the people but they understand the way of things. None of them would ever go against a comte’s wishes. It would mean their head on a platter—and it still wouldn’t change anything.”
Desperation filled his eyes. “Then we petition the government. We will seek an audience with the king himself.”
She shook her head sadly. “The king wouldn’t care about an old couple rotting away in a comte’s dungeons. To even gain an audience with the king might take years. My parents don’t have that kind of time. Marc is not a patient man.”
Ashby gripped her shoulders. “Then we pay off someone. There is always a government official who can be bribed. Or we go to the bishop. No, a cardinal. Or even the Pope. Surely, the Church would intervene in such an affair,” he pleaded.
She captured his face with her hands and gazed into his eyes. “You speak of things you know would never come to pass. I have accepted my fate, Ashby. You, too, must accept what I must do. You are making it harder on me.”
