by Abbi Glines
I called out his name in a moan as I rocked against the pressure of his hand. His mouth moved from one breast to the other and I lay there almost naked on a wooden table in his kitchen like a woman with no morals. Knowing how I must look, I did not care. It was impossible to care when I wanted nothing more than to experience this pure rapture. Tomorrow was a faraway time and place that meant nothing to me.
I grabbed a fistful of Ashington’s hair as I looked down at him still suckling my breast, biting down just enough to be painfully erotic. He lifted his head then so that his gaze found mine. Every glorious sensation wracking my body was there in his eyes. My chest tightened and something deeper happened inside me. Something more pronounced than the act of sexual pleasure. A slow panic began to unwind in me as I realized that I was indeed in danger of loving this man. Making myself vulnerable and I didn’t trust enough to feel elation. Fear began to trickle in and the scene in which we were in became clearer.
Just as I was about to reach down and cover myself, unsure what I would say or if I could even walk, Ashington’s head lowered yet again, but he moved until he was kneeling between my legs. Words failed me and another panic burst forth, although it had no time to cause a reaction. The wet warm touch of his tongue slid along the sensitive folds that had betrayed me already with the desire pulsing from the needy area.
As he began to taste me where I had never been touched by another until tonight, I forgot the sudden moment of clarity and cried out his name. There were no words descriptive enough to prepare one for the sheer bliss of the action. Ashington took my left leg and draped it over his shoulder as he continued his licking against the tight bud of my desire.
My breathing was coming in pants and as much as I wanted to watch him, I could no longer hold myself up to do so. Laying back on the cold wooden table, I stared at the ceiling my breast heaving with my erratic breathing. The build was there, clawing at me. Inside my body, it was as if every delightful experience was now burning together unable to contain itself. Just when I was sure I could no longer stand it, the pleasure went off inside me like an explosion.
“ASHINGTON!” came out as a loud cry from my lips and my body spiraled toward something so beautiful, I was lost to it. There was a roaring in my ears and I was sure nothing would ever be the same.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Earl of Ashington
The line had been crossed and I was completely to blame. I picked up the shawl forgotten on the floor and wrapped it around Miriam’s shoulders then pulled her into my arms. It was clear I wouldn’t be able to let her go now. In my weakness, I hadn’t sated my desire for Miriam, but ignited it. If I wasn’t so positive she had enjoyed what had just taken place on the kitchen work table then I would be concerned by her silence.
I couldn’t be positive that a servant didn’t happen upon us during that time either. My thoughts had been on her solely. However, I was sure of their loyalty and silence. They were paid well and treated even better. This was to be their future countess and her name was not to be tarnished.
Miriam sagged against me as I held her and I pressed a kiss to her head as if she were a child. “I’ll walk you to your room. You need your sleep,” I said gently.
She nodded against my chest and when she lifted her face to meet my gaze, her cheeks were still flushed from her release. “I do not believe I will require warm milk after all,” she said softly, causing my smile to spread.
“Perhaps not,” I replied.
She gave me but a very small shy smile. Reluctantly, for I wished nothing more than to take her to my room and to my bed with me, I began our walk to her bedchambers. The silence was for the best as we passed through the hallway. Finding one of her family members awake and hearing us would cause an issue we did not need. When I asked for Miriam, I wanted it to be for no other reason than my desire for her to be my wife. No other dark shadows should hang upon the moment. No cause for her to believe my hand had been forced by her uncle.
When we made it to her door, I considered joining her, but then I did not know of her sister’s habits when it came to visiting her. We had taken a chance in the kitchen. One I would never regret, however, I doubted we would be so lucky to continue in her room without notice.
She placed a hand on the door and then turned her head to look back at me. Knowing silence was best, I moved closer and leaned down to capture her lips with mine once more. I wanted her to sleep with thoughts of only me in her dreams. I did not linger as I wanted to, for fear I would forget my focus. “Goodnight, Miriam,” I whispered with my lips brushing her ear. She shivered as I stepped back.
“Good night, Ashington,” she replied softly then quickly turned and went into her room. Once the door clicked behind her, I turned to leave.
Wellington already at the dining room table was something I had come to expect the past few days. The man was an early riser. He had already been brought his preference of coffee and a tray of pastries had been placed on the table. I had enjoyed having them here and hoped in the future they would return to visit when their niece was the Countess of Chatwick Hall. Knowing the closeness they shared with Miriam, I was sure this would be a regular event.
Emma would love Lady Wellington. They had much in common. Especially their love for jam and hot chocolate. It was luck that I had found, not only a lady that would fit perfectly into our life, but one with a family such as this one. They were not at all locked down to society’s rules and I appreciated that immensely. How I thought someone as proper as Lydia would have been able to accept the package that I came with I was not sure. It had been poorly thought through. Emma would have kept her in tears and I would have been left dealing with the aftermath of it all.
“It is a fine coffee you have brewed in your kitchen. I will admit my cook has not perfected the process as of yet, so I am envious of your luck in having one that can make it to taste like the coffee I drank during my time in New Orleans. I did grow quite fond of it there,” Wellington informed me in way of greeting as I went to take my seat.
Speaking to him about his niece now seemed like a good time, but I feared doing it in my home around my table would make it seem as if I wanted an upper hand. His acceptance should be done at his home where he did not feel as if I were trying to control his decision. Waiting until that time now seemed difficult. After last night, I did not wish to go another night without Miriam in my home. Preferably in my bed.
“I’ve read that New Orleans uses chicory in their coffee much like France. The concept hasn’t made it to England yet, the taxes remain an issue. One would think they too would use the additive of chicory to stretch the product,” I replied.
Wellington grinned broadly. “Indeed. I have oft said the same thing. Many do not enjoy the taste of chicory in coffee, but I much prefer it. There is a hint of wood in the taste,” he paused and thought a moment then added, “almost nutty perhaps would describe it best.”
“Please do not tell me you are boring Lord Ashington with your talk of chicory coffee,” Lady Wellington said as she breezed into the dining room, looking bright and well-rested. “He does so miss coffee with the added chicory. My family complains of the additive and the need to use it and my husband swears it is a brilliant combination,” she added as she took the seat that was held out for her.
“Hot chocolate please,” she then said in her loud American voice to the servant awaiting her request. Her eyes lit up as they found the pastries already placed on the table. “I shall be too large for my gowns after a weekend here. The sweets have been simply fantastic,” she gushed and beamed at me, before taking two different pastries and placing them before her.
I imagined Emma was equally thrilled with the pastries brought to the cottage this morning. I would need to make my way out there after breakfast to make sure they were ready for their travel back to London. She would be disappointed that she did not get to meet Miriam, but that introduction was of utmost importance and it’s timing was even more so.
“I a
m pleased to hear you’ve been properly indulged while at Chatwick Hall,” I replied.
“If only I could steal your cook,” she said, before biting into the chocolate croissant in her hand.
“I assure you, we cannot,” Wellington said drawly beside his wife.
Lady Wellington’s eyes shifted toward the door and widened in surprise. Turning my head, I followed her gaze, not prepared for who I found standing there. Although she seemed quite pleased with herself and her smile was plastered on so brightly that I knew she was up to mischief. If only she understood this was not the mischief easily cleaned up or explained.
“Hello,” Emma said in a cheerful voice as she walked into the dining room, her head held high as if she were the lady of the house.
Standing, I glanced at the door, expecting Alice to appear, but she had not yet caught up with Emma it would seem. “Where is Alice?” I asked, unsure how to explain her appearance.
Emma gazed up at me with a challenge in her eyes. “I am not quite sure,” she told me.
That response could mean many things. However, asking her questions in front of company was going to get me nowhere with Emma. “Let’s go to the kitchen,” I told her, but she did not move.
“The sweets are in here, Ashington,” she said, walking toward the table.
She wasn’t going to obey without a scene and it was past the point that I could usher her out without an introduction. Sighing in defeat of the situation, I turned back to my guests. “This is Emma. Emma, this is Lord and Lady Wellington.”
Emma gave them her brightest of smiles. “It is very nice to meet you,” she said then climbed into a chair closest to the pastries and leaned over to pluck one from the tray. “I believe this is jam. What do you think?” she asked Lady Wellington as she held it in her small hand.
“It does look like strawberry jam,” Lady Wellington agreed, watching Emma with curiosity on her face.
“I do love strawberry jam,” Emma said then lowered herself into the chair she had used as a stool before taking a large bite.
“There are few things tastier than a tart filled with strawberry jam,” Lady Wellington agreed.
Emma nodded her head enthusiastically.
“Oh,” Miriam’s surprised tone as she entered the room only made this situation more dire. I had not prepared for this. Emma’s introduction to Miriam was to be something well planned and organized. Throwing her in the face of my company such as this and expecting them to not only accept her but keep her existence a secret was asking too much, I was afraid. Yet it was what I must do. Emma had left me no other choice in the matter.
“Please, have a seat, honey. There are a delicious array of pastries and we have a lovely guest to enjoy them with,” Lady Wellington beamed brightly at her niece.
Miriam walked slowly into the room, casting a gaze my way that wasn’t questioning or confused like one would expect, but more…concerned. Who was it she was concerned for? Me? Herself? Emma?
“Good morning, Emma,” Miriam said, taking the seat beside her and silencing the entire room. One could hear a pin drop, and in that moment, I realized Miriam Bathurst had been keeping her own secret.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Miriam Bathurst
Seeing Emma in the dining room wasn’t what I had expected to see this morning. My walk from the bedchamber to here had been torturous because I was sure my aunt would see the guilt on my face from what had taken place last night between Ashington and me. However, I still could not make myself regret it. I wasn’t sure a girl could regret something such as that. She could, however, fear her family finding out.
Emma sitting at the table as my aunt smiled brightly at her and my uncle gaped at her had not been what I thought I’d walk into this morning. I could tell by the look of panic on Ashington’s face that Emma’s appearance had been one orchestrated by Emma alone. I did feel sympathy for Ashington, for I knew he did not plan on introducing Emma to us this way if at all. Something I should remember when my thoughts wanted to trust him and believe we might have a future.
Emma turned in her seat at my greeting and she smiled at me mischievously with her mouth full of sweet pastry. “Did you have to come searching for the sweets this morning?” I asked her. “Tis a good thing you came here then. There seems to be an abundance,” I said as I took the seat beside her.
She managed to swallow her mouth full. “It will be worth it even after Alice finds me,” she said with such passion I chuckled.
“I believe you are right. Have they brought you hot chocolate yet?” I asked her.
She shook her head no and frowned, looking around toward the doorway where a servant stood looking as panicked as Ashington had seemed. “I do so hope they bring it soon before I choke,” she told me.
“Indeed,” I agreed then smiled at the young server. “Might Lady Emma and I have some hot chocolate?” I asked her.
The server glanced warily toward Ashington, who nodded once, and then scurried out of the room back toward the kitchen, where I was sure she would tell everyone of who had come to the dining room.
I met my aunt’s curious gaze. She was fascinated and I knew she had a dozen questions for me once we were alone. Perhaps I should have acted as if I hadn’t met Emma but lying in front of a child seemed wrong. I couldn’t make myself do it. She was so young and taking in everything she witnessed around her. I did not want her to remember me as someone who told untruths. Even if it were an untruth her uncle had wanted.
“Aunt Harriet, Emma enjoys biscuits and jam just as much as you do. I believe the two of you have much in common,” I informed her.
Aunt Harriet’s eyes lit up as she studied Emma. She was truly charmed by the girl, but it was very difficult not to be.
“I don’t know many people who don’t love a tasty jam with their biscuit,” Aunt Harriet said smiling.
Emma frowned then. “Alice doesn’t. She says jam is much too sweet and not at all needed on a biscuit.”
“Who is Alice?” Aunt Harriet then asked unable to stop herself.
“My governess,” Emma replied.
Aunt Harriet nodded her head then as if that made all the sense in the world. “I never had a governess but I did read about them in my books. They don’t appear to be the sort that enjoys treats,” Aunt Harriet said.
Emma crawled back up to her knees then and reached for another pastry. “Oh, they’re not. Alice won’t care at all for these pastries,” Emma informed us.
Ashington cleared his throat then, reminding us all that he too was in the room. I turned my head to look his way and he was studying me. I waited for the inevitable question and wondered if he would ask me here in front of my aunt and uncle or when we were alone.
“When did you meet Emma, Lady Miriam?” he asked me, clearing that up rather quickly.
I glanced down at Emma and gave her an apologetic smile. For I would not lie for her, but I would do my best to make it my fault and not hers that we met in the forest path.
Turning to look back at him, I held the same smile and shrugged. “I was out for a walk and found a lovely path in the forest. I decided to take it and while enjoying the beauty around me, I came upon what I first believed might be a fairy child. However, Lady Emma assured me she was not.” Emma giggled beside me at my elaboration of the story.
“I see,” Ashington said, not looking amused.
“Yes, well, she introduced herself and I as well. Then we spoke of jam and biscuits and hot chocolate before she disappeared beyond the path, leaving me to believe I had, in fact, met one of the Fae. I was pleasantly surprised to see her this morning when I entered the dining room. Would have been a terrible shame to leave Chatwick Hall believing Lady Emma to be a fairy child when clearly she is a very bright young lady.”
Ashington understood the meaning behind my words even though they had been masked for Emma’s sake. She had been a secret he hadn’t intended to share with me. Yet last night, I had forgotten all about his secret and done things a pr
oper lady wouldn’t do. I trusted him because I wanted him to be worth my trust. However, in the light of day with Emma beside me, it was hard to do that any longer.
“I see,” he said finally.
“Emma,” a stern yet distraught voice came from the doorway, and we all turned our heads to see who I could only assume was Alice, the governess. Her hair was pulled up tightly on her head and the glasses perched on her nose only made her pinched expression appear more severe. I felt the sudden need to protect Emma.
“Hello, Alice. I trust you slept well,” Emma replied, not seeming frightened at all.
“I am sorry, Lord Ashington,” Alice said, looking completely horrified. “I thought she was sleeping when I left the cottage to go get tea. When I arrived back, the door was locked. I thought she’d locked me out and she was inside.”
Ashington didn’t appear angry at the governess. He also didn’t seem surprised by Emma’s actions. Did she do these sorts of things often? I bit back a smile at the thought. What a mischievous little girl.
“Twas the last morning here. I wanted to meet everyone,” Emma said with her shoulders straight and her head held high. No fear in her expression. It was as if she was challenging them both.
“Emma, we spoke of this last night,” Alice said, sounding more exasperated than angry this time.
“I did not like your response,” Emma told her then turned back in her seat and took another bite of pastry.
Ashington stood then and held out his hand toward Emma. “You’ve had your introduction. Tis time you left. Your carriage back to London awaits,” he told her.
Emma sighed and looked longingly at the half-eaten pastry in her hand.
“You may take the pastry with you,” Ashington informed her.
Emma’s face immediately brightened and she smiled up at me. “It was a pleasure seeing you again. I truly hope it won’t be the last,” she said then climbed down out of her chair and started toward Ashington.
