by The Bargain
The last echoes of children's footsteps faded, and they were alone. A gull cried overhead, and in the distance Ashleigh could hear the faint crashing of the surf against Livorno's rocks.
"Hello, Ashleigh."
"Hello... Brett."
He took several of those long, graceful strides she remembered so well, until he stood a few feet in front of her. She looked up to meet the intense gaze of his turquoise eyes.
"I had no idea you were... with child." His voice was low, careful, while his eyes searched hers.
"I am well aware of that," she said, a bit more abruptly than she had intended. "How could you have known when I did not know it myself? Until I was well away from... London."
Put off by her tone and annoyed to be reminded of her flight, he fired back, "But you could have sent word, once you found out!"
She glanced away. "To what end, Your Grace? To force you to abandon your pursuit of a divorce merely because I carried your heir?" The words, as they came out, were bitter, for she was remembering Margaret's face when she had told Ashleigh she'd come to help him implement the divorce, and before that, Elizabeth's, when she'd mocked Ashleigh for being so naive as to think he wanted anything out of marriage but an heir.
Her tone fired his anger. "Dammit, Ashleigh, I've sought no divorce! Not once, not in all these months!"
She paused, confused. Patrick had told her he'd questioned Brett on the status of their marriage, and if Patrick believed him, it must be true, yet... Nervously, she twisted the fingers of her hands together. "Then... then why did you bring Lady Margaret to London? She said you required her help in— in effecting your di—"
"Lady Margaret!" he thundered. "You accepted the word of that bitter old crone? Knowing how she felt about our marriage?" He ran a hand distractedly through his hair, wondering if he were going mad. Here he was, defending himself of charges that he'd sought a divorce, when he'd intended to question her along the same lines!
Then he looked down at her face and saw her confusion and chagrin. Dammit, he hadn't meant to lose his temper! Maria had been right. If he were to make any progress here at all, it had to be through gentleness and a sensitivity to Ashleigh's feelings.
But it was so blasted hard! He'd never had to deal with a woman in such a manner before.
Slowly, tentatively, as if testing his ability to do so, he formed an apology. "Ashleigh, I... Forgive me. I... hadn't meant to storm at you over this." His eyes lifted to the gardens beyond the veranda, still bare of their foliage, but showing hints of spring in red-budded expectancy. "It is a warm day. Will you walk with me in the gardens awhile?"
The corners of Ashleigh's mouth quirked in a half smile. She'd seen the difficulty he had in apologizing but was surprised and warmed by it.
"I think spring will be early this year—or perhaps it's just that we're this far south. The gardens are full of... promise. Yes, Brett, I'd like to walk with you."
He smiled and took her hand, about to place it on his arm, when suddenly he paused, a look of concern on his face. "Um, will it tax you overly to do so? I mean—" he glanced at the rounded form of her belly under the yellow velvet of her empire-cut walking dress "—perhaps we ought to sit somewhere instead. We can—"
Her light laughter intervened. "Walking will be fine, Brett. I am with child, not ill or doddering!"
He gave her rounded shape a last, skeptical glance. "Well, if you're sure..."
"I am quite sure, Your Grace." She dimpled.
"If you insist on 'Your Gracing' me, I shall 'Your Grace' you back," he teased.
Finding the turquoise eyes meeting hers in open warmth, Ashleigh felt a delicious shiver run up her spine. At the same time, she realized he had not released her hand and now held it warmly in his own. Flushing slightly, she smiled, saying, "Then I am quite sure, Brett."
He laughed softly and began walking with her, their clasped hands between them.
As they wandered through the gardens in the warm sunshine, they talked. He asked her when she'd arrived in Italy and what she thought of her hostess—to which she replied with abundant enthusiasm, convincing him that her impressions of Maria were aligned with his. Then he asked her how she'd been spending her days at the villa, at which Ashleigh waxed enthusiastically about the children, telling him in great detail what each one was like until he began to feel he knew each child as intimately as she.
"Maria's children," he said as they rounded a bend in the walk, "they mean a great deal to you, don't they?"
She paused and looked up at him. "They have given my life a sense of purpose, Brett. I mean, before I came here, what was I? I was someone who had always been passive, who allowed myself to act, or react, I should say, to things that happened to me." She gazed off into the distance where a small sailboat could be seen in a wedge of ocean framed by two evergreens. "There was the tragedy that took my parents lives and took me to London... to Hampton House.... There was the education I received there while I remained precariously suspended between Madame's threatening grasp and—thank God!—the benevolent watchfulness of Dorcas and Megan.... And finally—" She glanced back at him, as if trying to gauge his mood. "Oh, please do not take this the wrong way! I only mean it as an example. Finally, there was the strange twist of fate that brought me to—to Ravensford Hall— hardly something of my own choosing.
"Oh, I know there are those who might marvel at my transformation from serving menial to duchess and ask what I have to be dissatisfied about, but don't you see? It was nothing I had actually achieved by myself."
Brett frowned. "Are you trying to tell me it was living the life of a member of the upper classes that made you—"
"Oh, no!" she cried. "No, that is not what I meant...." She gave him a little smile. "You must remember I was born into that class to begin with, and had been quite happy in it as a little girl. But, on the other hand, I've found myself thinking more and more about your friend, Mr. Shelley, and his egalitarian views lately. There is something almost... parasitic about the lives some of those in our class lead.
"But I was speaking more of my own lack of choices, rather than the nature of the non-choices forced on me."
Brett nodded. "Yes, I think I understand. There are in most lives, I believe, choices that are not of one's own making." It was Brett's turn to gaze off into the distance; he continued. "I loved my grandfather extremely, but I am well aware, as I stand here now, that the life I live has been almost totally shaped by him." He gazed back at her. "It is not a notion I am entirely comfortable having."
Ashleigh nodded, then smiled. "Then you do understand!"
"I think so. When you landed in Italy—another circumstance that came of fate acting upon you—you could have chosen to lie about here, in this gracious home owned by its even more gracious mistress, doing nothing more than—" another glance at her belly "—waiting for yet something else to happen. Instead, you chose to become actively involved in helping others." He smiled at her. "Unselfishly involved, I might add."
"Oh," murmured Ashleigh, blushing, "I don't know about that. The pleasure I receive from working with those little ones—it's difficult to conceive of it as selfless. And there are those who do far more than I... the contessa, for instance, and Father Umberto."
"Do not take yourself lightly. From what I have seen and heard, you can be proud of what you've chosen to do."
Looking into his eyes, she saw that he'd meant what he said, and suddenly she felt lighter than air. There was a welling buoyancy inside her that belied the extra stone or so she carried these days and the smile she threw him was dazzling.
Seeing the smile that had haunted his days and kept him awake nights, it was all Brett could do not to crush her to him, extra girth and all, but Maria's advice fixed in his mind, and he cautioned, Patience, old boy, patience.
Looking down, he saw her hand had become disengaged from his while they were talking, and he took it up again before they resumed their walk.
They had gone but a little way when Ashle
igh cried out, "Oh, Brett, look!" She pointed at a brightly colored object high in an old oleander tree. "It's the kite Antonio lost yesterday. He thought it had blown away after its string snapped."
Gazing at the kite, Brett told her, "Strings on kites don't snap, Ashleigh. They become hopelessly entangled, yes, but take it from an old kite-flier, they never snap."
She grinned at him. "They do when one of the babies has used your ball of string as a teething toy."
He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I see what you mean."
Ashleigh's attention was back on the kite. "It looks of a piece. Do you think we can rescue it?"
"We?" The eyebrow again.
She looked at him with bright expectancy. "Why, yes—you and I! The tree isn't very high, and—"
"You, madam, are hardly in any condition to be climbing trees!" He tapped her lightly on the nose. "You will remain here. I shall fetch the ruddy kite."
She took the jacket he'd removed and watched him roll up his sleeves. "I hope Antonio appreciates this," he grumbled.
"Oh, he will!" she assured him. "He made it himself."
"An admirable occupation. I once did the same—when I could be sure Grandfather wasn't about." He found a toehold in the tree and began to climb.
The tree was large for an oleander, about twenty feet high, and the kite rested against some of its leathery, evergreen leaves, near the top. It took a few moments for Brett to reach it.
As he climbed, Ashleigh watched him and thought of the small boy he had been—a boy who'd found precious little time in his arduous schedule for flying kites or climbing trees, and had probably grown up too early and too fast. And she realized they were kindred spirits in a way, each of them surviving, over the years, through circumstances that were not of their own choosing.
"Here you are, m'lady." He executed a lavish bow and held out the brightly colored kite to her.
"Thank you, kind sir," she said, accepting it. Then, "You are an expert climber of trees, you know." There was a twinkle in her eyes. "I couldn't have done it better myself, and believe me, I was once quite adept at it."
"Cheeky wench!" he chided playfully as he captured her free hand and resumed walking. "Not only does she rate me on an ability I acquired from the time I was out of the cradle—she presumes to be an expert herself!"
Ashleigh grinned. "Just you wait a few months—" she tapped her belly with the kite "—until I'm myself again. I'll show you a few things I know about the so-called boys' sports!"
"I don't doubt it. I still recall your abilities at horse training—and pig training!"
They shared a laugh, but privately Brett was thinking of what she'd said about waiting a few months. It was the first allusion she'd made to sharing a future together, and he was keenly aware of the flush of pleasure this gave him. So far, things seemed to be going uncommonly well; perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for this marriage after all.
Walking a little farther, they came to a low stone wall, and before she knew what was happening, he bent to lift her up in his arms and carried her over it.
Managing to hold on to the kite, Ashleigh's arms went around his neck as she cried, "Oh, Brett, don't! I'm entirely too heavy these days!"
"Hah! You're still as light as a feather!" He gave her a grin when they'd cleared the wall, but continued to hold her in his arms.
"Well?" she demanded. "Aren't you going to put me down?"
But Brett was thinking how he'd like to hold her like this for a long, long time. It had been months since he'd had a woman. In those dark winter days in London he'd quickly given up his frenzied pursuit of other females; they'd all paled in comparison to Ashleigh, and after a while he'd found he preferred celibacy to anything less than the perfection she'd brought to his bed.
But another glance at the rounded protrusion of her belly reminded him this was hardly the time to be thinking of how much he wanted her. And besides, other things were at stake... much more important and enduring things. With a sigh, he summoned his patience and lowered her slowly to the ground.
But as he did so, Ashleigh was pressed against the front of him, her belly in contact with his middle, and suddenly he felt a sharp thrust against his abdomen.
"What the—?"
She laughed—a clear, musical sound in the still garden. "Don't look so surprised," she told him. "It's the babe. She kicks mightily these days."
Brett gave her belly a suspicious glance. "She...?"
Ashleigh nodded. "I fully intend to have a daughter." Suddenly her smile faded. Perhaps she oughtn't to have said that. After all, how could she tell him about her hopes for a female child so that she would be able to be a better single parent? Now that he was here, it didn't seem to be the thing to say.
Carefully, she formed her next words. "Brett... would— would you be terribly upset if—if it were a girl?"
He warmed at the thought that she would consider his feelings in the matter, reminding himself that this was the second time in less than an hour that she had alluded to a shared future between them.
"No," he answered, the turquoise eyes brilliant as they fastened on hers, "not if she's the image of her mother." Then, "You're even more beautiful than before, Ashleigh, if that's possible. I find it difficult to take my eyes off you."
He was standing very close to her now, his tall frame looming over hers as his eyes traveled over her face, at last fixing on her lips, which were softly parted... and faintly trembling.
Slowly, as if she were in a dream, she saw his hands come up to rest lightly on her shoulders, and then she felt them slide higher, under her heavy curls, which she wore loose, until they cupped her wondering face.
Then, again slowly—ever so slowly—his dark chestnut head lowered until his lips brushed hers in a kiss as light as down.
Ashleigh closed her eyes as she felt their touch. She felt herself floating, far away, to another time and place, when she had felt their touch before, and all at once she was consumed by a longing so great, she could scarce contain it. Oh, Brett! her heart cried out, Brett, my love... my only love!
Brett closed his eyes, gripped by an ache so fierce, he had to suck in his breath to withstand its force. Merciful God, how he'd missed her! He opened his eyes to find her looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face. Then his arms lowered and he drew her to him, and his mouth closed over hers in a kiss that was warm, sensual and fraught with longing.
Suddenly a sharp bark rent the air, forcing them apart abruptly, as Finn came bounding into sight. Behind him ran Lady Dimples, a red rose clamped firmly in her jaws.
"I don't believe it," Brett groaned.
"Fourth rose this week," said Ashleigh as she bent to retrieve the bud the pig had just deposited at her feet. "Thank you, Lady Dimples—" she glanced at her scowling husband "—I think."
Finn was busy tugging, gently but firmly, on Brett's sleeve. "What does he want?" he growled.
"I believe we're being summoned for tea, Your Grace," said Ashleigh.
Mentally pocketing his inclinations, Brett gave her a good-natured laugh. "Yes, Your Grace, by all means. Let us have some tea!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ashleigh withdrew a burgundy velvet cloak from her wardrobe. Slowly, with a dreamy expression on her face, she moved to the cheval glass in her chamber, the cloak over her arm. Here she paused, her mind not really on donning it. All she could think of was Brett.
She had just left him in the playroom where the two of them had spent time with the children after dinner. Ashleigh had read them their customary bedtime story while Brett stood by and quietly watched. But when she'd finished the story and gone to join Maria in tucking the littlest ones into bed, Brett remained to talk to a few of the older boys. They'd had some questions for this English duke who had appeared suddenly on the scene two days ago. A duke who captained his own ship? Fantastico!
After she and Maria had said good-night to the last toddler, Brett suggested she fetch a wrap and wait for him downsta
irs, saying he wished to walk with her in the gardens as soon as he finished talking to Aldo and his companions.
Now, as she stood before the mirror, her reflection blurred before her eyes while her thoughts turned inward.
What was on his mind? When she'd learned, the day before yesterday, that her husband had arrived in Livorno, she'd been filled with all sorts of apprehensions regarding his intentions. And it had required a great amount of fortitude to agree to see him the next day—yesterday.
Was it only yesterday that they'd met again? Strolled in the gardens like lovers who had no barriers between them? Held hands and kissed?
He was being so gentle—and kind! Except for that one brief exchange regarding the divorce that had never materialized, there'd been no harsh words between them. It was as if the nightmare following their wedding had never happened.
But of course it had happened. And that's what worried her. There were still some major problems between the two of them, and sooner or later, they'd have to be faced. Was that what he'd had in mind when he invited her for this walk tonight? Surely he couldn't mean to avoid their differences forever, nor could she. Perhaps he was waiting for her to broach the subject.
But with this new, accommodating mood she found him in, how could she? How did she dare risk upsetting the newfound peace between them?
A smile turned the corners of her mouth upward as she recalled Brett's appearance at the villa late this afternoon. He'd been invited for dinner but arrived early, laden with an armful of toys and other gifts purchased in town that morning. Oh, the shrieks of delight and bubbling laughter that had erupted as he'd met with the youngsters and handed out dolls, toy sailboats, tin soldiers and the like! The children had immediately adored him, not only for his generosity, but for the special way he seemed to take an interest in each of them, asking questions about what they liked to do, telling funny stories of similar activities from his own childhood. It was almost as if—
"Ah, there you are!" said her husband from the open doorway.
"Oh," murmured Ashleigh, stirred from her reverie. "I—I hadn't realized I was taking so long." Hastily, she shook out the cloak and swirled it about her shoulders, then draped the full hood over her hair and attempted to secure the neck closure with fumbling fingers.
