by Tinnean
“I do not want to see her. She is to take her meals in her room, and she will be gone by no later than midmorning on the morrow. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes. I promise you.”
Mollie stood there gaping, the poultices clutched in her hands and dripping onto the runner that ran the length of the hall.
“Don’t stand there like a—” Aunt Cecily bit back whatever she was going to call Mollie. It was easy to see her patience was wearing thin. “Into Miss Munro’s room, girl, and see her woman has those poultices!” she ordered.
“Yes, m’lady!” Mollie bobbed a curtsey, but hesitated a moment. “M’lady, Cook wishes to know what she should do about dinner.”
“I’ll go down to speak with her presently. Now, go!”
Mollie curtseyed again and scurried into the room.
Two of the under-footmen came down the hall with Miss Munro’s trunks. “Where did you wish these, m’lady?”
“Leave the trunks….” She disappeared into Miss Munro’s room with them, and I made my way down the stairs.
Colling stood there, looking the epitome of a butler in his black suit of clothes. “Shall I have hot water brought to your room, Sir Ashton?”
“No. I’ll be in my study. I don’t wish to be disturbed.” I would shut myself in—with the door closed, no one would dare enter—and allow myself the release of breaking some of the things in the room. They had been Sir Eustace’s possessions, and it would give me some measure of ease to destroy them.
“Very good, sir.”
I crossed the Great Hall and was just approaching my study when he startled me by bustling up bearing a tray with a bottle and a glass.
“I thought perhaps this might help, sir.”
“Thank you. Set it down on the desk, if you please.”
Behind him was David, who also bore a tray, his holding platters with meats and cheeses and slices of bread thickly buttered, and a teapot wrapped tightly in its cozy. Without asking, he placed it on the desk as well.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Sir Ashton?” Colling asked.
“No.”
He bowed and signaled David to precede him out of the room, but paused himself in the doorway. “If… if you’ll forgive me for being so bold, sir, but perhaps it might be well to send for young Mr. Stephenson to ask if he’ll come for a visit?”
“Perhaps.” I had no desire to inform the butler that I’d asked Geo once to no avail. I appeared to be the last person he would want to visit. “That will be all, Colling.” I closed the door and went to my desk.
Geo seemed to be done with me, and the colt I’d purchased for his birthday and had been at such pains to train for him was dead by my own hand.
There was a shattering of crockery as, in a burst of temper, I dashed the tray holding the food to the floor.
Then, shoulders slumped, I poured the liquid from the bottle into the glass.
Not wine but, as I’d suspected, whisky, and I sank into my chair and took a swallow. It burned going down, bringing a choking cough and tears to my eyes. Well, perhaps it wasn’t the sole cause of my tears.
I raised the glass for another swallow, and was surprised to find it empty. I filled the glass again.
And again.
And again.
I sat at my desk, my forehead resting against the heels of my hands.
The level in the bottle was significantly decreased, but it had failed in helping me forget the afternoon’s events. Feeling the cold metal of the trigger beneath my finger. Hearing the gunshot. Seeing the colt crumple to the ground.
Over and over again.
The colt was gone; was I to assume Geo was gone as well?
This was John all over again, and I cursed myself for being two kinds of a fool for allowing Geo to engage my affections when his prolonged absence made it more than clear he cared nothing for me.
I was tired of it. When next he returned, I would tell him….
I groaned. I would tell him nothing. He would return because of the debt that was owed him, not because he cared for me.
Staring wistfully at the door, I imagined it as it could be.
The thunderous pounding on the study door would jolt me from my melancholy thoughts, and fury would engulf me. I was an easy-going master, after all, who did not demand much of his people, but had I or had I not given explicit orders to be left alone? With a muttered oath, I’d rise to my feet, the chair toppling from the force of my action, and I’d stalk to the door.
“I left orders I was not to be disturbed!” I would snarl as I flung it open.
“Not even for me?” And Geo would be there, lounging negligently against the doorframe, looking the true reason for the Fall.
“You?!”
“I.” On anyone else I would think his smile cautious, as if he was uncertain of his welcome, but this was the man who was always in command of his feelings, of any situation in which he might find himself.
I would stand staring at him, unsure if I should hug him or pummel him. On the one hand, he was here at last. On the other, he was here at last, after the long weeks he’d been away.
“You needn’t act so happy to see me.”
“Happy.” The skin covering my cheekbones would feel tight, and my chest would heave as I attempted to control my breathing. “Do you truly care whether I’m happy or not?” I would turn away from him, determined to make him aware of my ire. Simply because there was the matter of the debt between us did not make me a toy to be picked up and played with or discarded at his whim.
I’d be so proud of myself for taking such a firm stand—that was, until I’d hear the sound of the door closing, and my shoulders would slump in defeat. Of course he would have come to the conclusion my feelings on the matter were immaterial.
Hadn’t John felt much the same way?
Then I would hear the lock being engaged: he wouldn’t have left. He’d still be here! And I would whirl around, which incautious action would cause my legs to tangle and me to stumble, but Geo would be there to catch me.
“Of course I care.” He would frown and touch my cheek. “You’ve been drinking.”
“What does it matter to you what I’ve been doing?” The last thing I would want was for him to realize how his touch was making my prick rise to attention and my arse clench with the need to have him riding me.
“It matters because….” He would let the sentence hang, and I’d want to howl in frustration.
Instead, I would reach for his lapels with the intent of shoving him back toward the door, but then would force myself to stop, afraid I would cause his bad leg to give out from under him.
“Where have you been for the… the last forever?” Then I’d decide—“Devil take it, I don’t care!”
I would plaster my body against his and take his mouth….
For a moment I lost myself in the memory of his kisses. No one before Geo had ever caressed my mouth with kisses passionate and ravenous, that made me feel desired.
With a voluptuous sigh, I returned to my fantasy.
My fingers would fist Geo’s raven’s-wing hair, and I’d turn his head this way and that so I could take the greatest advantage of the sweetness of his mouth.
I’d never done that, always before letting him set the pace to our lovemaking, but this time I would tear his shirt open, sending buttons scattering all over the floor, taking a nipple between my teeth and nipping it sharply before sucking it into my mouth.
Geo would groan and thrust his hips against me. “Ash,” he’d murmur, and draw my head up. “Ash.” And my name would be a warm breath against my lips.
I moaned softly as the images grew even more heated.
I’d unbutton his trousers, then drag him to the desk, shove him around to face it, and bare his arse, all the while rubbing myself against him and scattering kisses over his neck and hair, before entering him with one smooth thrust.
It had been so long….
His back passage would be s
o hot and tight, and I would groan as he clenched his inner muscles around me. Geo himself would be moaning steadily, and the sound would go straight to my prick. I would pound into him harder, one hand fondling his nipples while the other teased his arousal, covering it with the drops of liquid that had started to ooze from the tip….
I shuddered, desperately wishing this fantasy could be a reality, but knowing all the while it never could.
For one reason, I had nothing to ease my way into him. As angry as I might be with him, I would never risk hurting him.
For another…. I sighed. He was not here.
There was a soft knocking on the door. “Sir Ashton?”
I straightened my spectacles, which had somehow managed to be knocked askew, and struggled to regain my composure. “Ye… yes, Colling?”
He opened the door and stepped into the study. “It’s growing late, sir. Will you be….” He came to a sudden standstill as he spotted the mess of broken crockery and spilled tea, and for a moment stunned silence hung in the room. That was more something Sir Eustace would do than I. Then he strode toward it more briskly than one would expect for a man of his years. “I’ll just clean that up, sir. David must not have placed the tray properly upon the desktop.” Both of us knew David had done nothing of the sort. “I’ll have a word with him in the morning.”
“Leave it.”
“But, Sir Ashton, it will leave a dreadful stain. It won’t take but a moment, I assure you.”
“Very well, then. Clean it up, if you must. I’m going to bed.”
“Yes, sir.” It seemed there was something else he wished to say, and I waited. After all, there was nothing awaiting me in my chamber save for a cold and lonely bed. “He’s become friendly with Mr. Stephenson’s man, David has, and I believe he is missing Kincaid. Begging your pardon, sir, but you… er… you wouldn’t know when they’ll be returning to Fayerweather?”
“No.” I retrieved the glass and the almost empty bottle.
“A pity, sir.” He sighed and crouched down, drawing the tray close and gathering up the broken pieces of crockery.
I paused at the door. “I apologize for the mess, Colling.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sir,” he called softly after me.
In my room, I was startled to find the fire still burning and my sheets warmed. I blinked and shook my head, recalling the time I’d overindulged in brandy and certain the whisky was causing this illusion. I vowed I would never touch another drop.
But the fire continued to snap and crackle, and the warmth of the bedclothes as I stroked my hand over them caused a voluptuous shiver to course through my body.
I shed my clothes, climbed between the sheets, and surrendered to Morpheus, certain my dreams would be plagued with images of the afternoon I would as soon not relive, but although my tangled bedclothes attested to how restless had been my sleep, come the morning, I did not recall my dreams.
By the time I came down the next day, Miss Munro was already in the towncoach.
“Two of the under-footmen carried her out, as her ankle would not bear her weight,” Aunt Cecily told me. “It is now propped comfortably upon a pillow.” She paused, saw by my expression that I cared not a whit, and continued hastily. “Arabella, please wait in the coach. I need to have a word with Ashton.”
Arabella avoided my gaze and hurried out.
“What is this, Aunt?”
“I have decided to escort Miss Munro to Town myself. She is too… too distraught to be left solely in the care of her woman. I intend to explain this situation to Mr. Munro myself.” At my raised eyebrow, she began to fidget with her reticule. “Last evening Juliet became quite agitated, making rash statements that…. In short it appears, sadly, she cannot be depended upon to relate matters as they truly occurred.”
“I see. And you feel it necessary for Arabella to accompany you?”
She flushed. “After your own statements last evening, yes. You were very harsh to her, and the poor child’s nerves are shattered.” She smoothed her gloves over her fingers, her eyes averted from mine. “You mustn’t feel I blame you in the least for this; I have been given to understand the colt was to have been a birthday gift for dear Geo. However, you do tend to be very like your uncle at times, and… and I think it will be for the best for all of us to spend some time apart.”
“Indeed.”
She stiffened, and I realized that single word had come out more chill than I’d intended. Was I so much like Sir Eustace, then? Did she not know me well enough to realize I would never become violent toward her or Arabella, as much as Arabella might deserve a sound thrashing?
“If you will give me a moment, I will write you a letter of credit,” I said by way of apology.
“Oh, there is no need! That is to say, I still have the last one. And Arabella and I shall be staying in my dear George’s townhouse. You surely can have no quarrel with that, Ashton,” she said in a rush, “as he is away. I assure you I shan’t be doing any entertaining.”
I didn’t like it, but I could see no reason to withhold my permission. “Very well.”
“Thank you.” She offered a hesitant smile. “I am sure I can make Mr. Munro see reason, but if I cannot….”
“Tell him the colt’s owner will bring charges against him for the loss of a valuable animal.” My stomach felt as if it were tied in knots. Of course I had no notion if Geo would be willing to do that, but Mr. Munro need not know.
Aunt Cecily came toward me, her hand raised. I did not know what her intention was, but I refused to allow myself to flinch.
“I am so sorry this happened.” She touched my cheek gently.
I was stunned. Once I would have sold my soul for such a modicum of gentleness.
I took a step back. “How long do you expect to be away?”
She sighed. “We should return to Fayerweather within a fortnight.”
“I see. In that case, you won’t wish to keep the horses standing, Aunt. Have a safe journey.”
“Thank you.” She made no move to approach me again, instead sighing once more and murmuring, “Adieu.”
“Adieu.” But she had already turned and walked out the door.
“Beg pardon, sir.” David hovered nearby. “Giffard is awaiting you in your study. He apologizes for the earliness of the hour, but….”
“Give him my compliments, and inform him I’ll join him presently.” In spite of the fact that I might be less than happy, I had responsibilities, and my first was to Fayerweather. No matter what happened, this house, this land was mine.
“Yes, sir.”
“One moment, David.” I realized the problem with my stomach was I was hungry. “Tell Giffard to join me in the morning room, and set another place at the table.”
He looked startled. This was not something that was done, and never would have been countenanced during Sir Eustace’s time, but was I or was I not master here? His face smoothed of all expression. “Yes, sir.”
I straightened my coat and smoothed a finger over my moustache, then made my way to the morning room.
Chapter 13
A fortnight passed, and April was upon us. Aunt Cecily and Arabella were still in Town, and I’d received no word as to when they might be returning.
As for Geo, although it was the week’s end, I promised myself I’d ceased expecting him.
That morning I came down for breakfast and was startled to find two places set at the table. “David?”
There was a subdued air of excitement about him, and he paused in pouring a cup of coffee. “Mr. Stephenson arrived during the night, Sir Ash!”
“He… he did?” In that case, why hadn’t he come to me? My door wasn’t locked—indeed it never would be locked to him. “Why wasn’t I informed?”
“I told him there was no need for you to be disturbed.”
“Geo!”
He stood there, looking so handsome, but… a trifle wan? Had he been miss
ing me as I’d missed him? I took a step toward him, unmindful of the servant’s presence in the room, uncaring that pleasure must be writ large upon my face.
And then the satisfaction in Geo’s eyes made it more than clear he saw it, and more than that, expected nothing less, and I became still. Of course he was not pale. Of course he hadn’t been missing me.
All the long weeks he’d been away without a word, and now he deigned to put in an appearance at last? Not only that, but he had the temerity to wear that expression, taking his welcome as his just due….
