He sucked air into his lungs. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you when I landed, did I?”
“No.” She shrugged, and he forced his eyes to stay on her face, though fortunately he had excellent peripheral vision. “Well, perhaps a little. I might have a bruise there tomorrow.”
He fought the urge to see if she had a bruise there now. “I’m sorry. I tripped over your clothes.”
“I shouldn’t have left them there.” She flushed. “Your coat is all wet.”
And he was hovering over her naked body. He needed to give her back the soap.
What had he done with the soap?
It was probably floating in the water somewhere, and much as he’d like to hunt for it, he seriously doubted his self-control was up to that task.
If he were a true rake, he’d know how to kiss her and suggest they finish the bath together. And she would enthusiastically agree. He looked at her lips and swore her chin tilted up ever so slightly....
Of course it did. She was the one with all the experience, wasn’t she? A succubus. And much as he might like to be seduced, he couldn’t allow himself that pleasure. Not yet.
He hauled himself up to stand and tore his gaze away from her lovely naked body. Not that he needed to look at it. He was quite certain it was burned into his memory.
He stared at a fat cherub perched on the mantel instead. Yes, think of the spiritual, the noncorporeal, the chaste. His body was having none of it. He stepped around the foot of the tub to get closer to the fire, turning his back to Jess to restore her privacy—and his own. His cock was far too prominent.
He shivered. But the cold air and uncomfortably wet clothing would help cast a literal damper on his physical enthusiasm. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stand here until you are finished. I’m afraid I’ll take a chill—and ruin the leather on the chair—if I return to my previous place.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
Did she sound a little disappointed that he’d pulled away from her? No, that was likely only wishful thinking.
“I’ll hurry.”
“No, no. Take your time. Did you find the soap? I’m not quite certain what happened to it when I fell.”
There was some splashing, and then she said, “Yes, here it is. It somehow got under my . . . er, that is, I was sitting on it.”
“Ah.” Her lovely, rounded arse, which was below her narrow waist, which was below her two beautiful—
Even the damp and the chill couldn’t keep his cock down. “I’m glad you found it.”
“And I promise to use it quickly.” There was a great quantity of splashing. “Shouldn’t you remove your wet clothing?”
God give him strength. “All my clothing is wet, Jess. I cannot think you wish me to stand here naked.”
“Oh. N-no, of course not. You would be shivering terribly. I’m almost done. I just need to rinse the soap out of my hair and—” She paused.
He watched a piece of ash float up the chimney. “And what?”
There was more splashing, and then she finally answered him.
“Do you have a spare banyan I could borrow? I’ll need to sit in front of the fire to dry my hair, and I obviously can’t do that now. But if I put my clothing back on, my dress and other things will get soaked.”
He had only one banyan, but he was happy to lend it to her. He certainly wasn’t going to use it. He was going to bathe and dress as quickly as he could, and then flee the room before his cock persuaded him to do something very stupid. “Of course.”
He rescued his banyan from his valise and walked back toward the tub, keeping his eyes on the ground so he didn’t trip again—or stare at Jess. “Are you ready for it?”
“Just a moment. Let me just get my towel. I—oh!”
God or the devil or some other divine being clearly was determined to tempt him past sanity. He snapped his head up in time to see Jess catch her foot on the side of the tub and start to fall. He dropped the banyan and extended his arms to catch her as her naked, wet body came crashing into his.
He took a couple steps back to regain his balance, clutching her tightly, one hand on her back, the other on the rise of her soft buttocks. He should be chilled—she was soaking the last dry spots of his waistcoat and shirt and breeches—but the heat surging from his groin threatened instead to turn the wet patches to steam.
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” She looked up at him. “What a clumsy pair we are today.”
If he bent his head just a little, his lips would meet hers. His hands itched to move, to trace the swell of her buttocks or slip around to explore her breasts. With her vast experience, she must know the bulge pushing against her belly was his painfully swollen cock.
She wasn’t struggling in his arms. She would welcome his advances. It had been days since she’d had the attentions of the naked footman. She must be feeling the need—
What the hell was he thinking? Yes, it had been days since that damn footman had been between her thighs. Days. Not weeks, not months. Days. He couldn’t let his damn cock lead him down the path it wanted. That would be disastrous. He needed some control. He needed to think of something besides the feel of Jess’s skin under his fingers.
Fortunately Jess kept her wits about her. Of course she did. Being naked in a man’s arms was nothing new for her.
“I’ll just get the towel, shall I?”
“Yes, of course.” He released her and went to pick the banyan off the floor. When he turned back, she’d wrapped her hair in one towel and was holding the other in front of her like a shield.
“Mrs. Watson only left us two towels, so I’m very glad you’re loaning me your extra banyan.”
“It’s my only banyan.” He averted his eyes and held it up for her. “But don’t worry. I plan to bathe quickly, and then dress and go down to the study, so you can dry your hair in peace.”
“Thank you.” She closed the banyan and handed him his towel. “I’ll go sit in the chair now. Would I like what you were reading?”
“No!” God, no. If she were already familiar with Ars Amatoria he didn’t want to know it, and he particularly didn’t want her to know he’d been reading the book—which he hadn’t been, actually. He would take it downstairs.
He strode over and scooped it up, carefully keeping the title covered, and then scanned the bookshelf. There was nothing else as scandalous, thank God, but nothing very interesting either. “I haven’t been here in years; I think they must have taken to storing the books no one wants to read in my bookcase.”
Jess looked at the offerings, too. “Oh, I don’t know. I assume someone might be interested in reading A Treatise on Sheep Breeding or Some Thoughts on Eradicating Vermin in the House, even though I’m not.”
She craned her neck, trying to read the spine of Ovid’s book, but he wasn’t about to allow her to do that. He put it behind his back.
“Why won’t you let me see what you were reading?”
“Because it is completely inappropriate. Here.” He pulled Favorite Household Remedies for All Manner of Ills off the shelf and offered it to her. “This looks interesting.”
She made a face. “It does not.”
He pushed it into her hands. “Well, I shall be very quick, so if you’ll go over and sit down, I can get on with it.”
“Oh, very well.”
He watched her disappear behind the chair back and then he hurried over to the tub. Would she try to peek at him? He glanced back. No. Why did he think she would even consider such a thing? She’d seen plenty of naked men.
He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the tub. The water was ice cold.
Chapter Twelve
Your family will always discover your secrets.
—Venus’s Love Notes
“. . . but do you think—” Ned broke off as soon as the study door opened.
Hmm. Ash noted his brothers looked quite guilty. What were Ned and Jack doing here? They were newly married men; he’d expect them to be spending time wit
h their wives instead of each other and Shakespeare and Fluff. The dogs got up to greet him; his brothers did not.
“Should my ears be burning?” he asked as he patted the animals. They were both slightly damp; Shakespeare must have joined Fluff in his bath.
Shakespeare went back to stretch out by Jack’s chair, but Fluff stayed with him.
“Yes.” Jack held up the brandy bottle. “Want a drink?”
Ash was tempted to claim some just-remembered engagement that required his immediate presence elsewhere, but his brothers would see through that ruse in an instant. He’d just got to London; he could have no appointments. And with Jess upstairs drying her long, lovely black hair in front of the fire, he couldn’t retreat to his room. It was too late to bolt for White’s, not that he wished to spend time at that gentlemen’s club with strangers who would only gossip about him. And if he wandered the house, he might encounter Mama, which would be much, much worse than facing his brothers. Mama was extremely skilled at prying uncomfortable information out of her sons.
A dose of brandy might be just the thing to steady his nerves. “Yes, thanks.” He took the glass from Jack and sat on the sofa. Fluff put his head on his lap.
“Well, at least you’re getting along with Jess’s dog,” Jack said.
Ash took a healthy swallow of brandy. He did not wish to discuss Jess. As the proverb said, attack was the best form of defense. “Yes, but you are the one with real news, Jack. Tell me how you find yourself with a dog and, more importantly, a wife. I don’t believe either one had yet entered your life when last I saw you.”
“That’s right,” Ned said, frowning. “Can you believe Jack first met Frances at the Crowing Cock the night he left the castle? She was traveling to London disguised as a boy.” He scowled at Jack. “It was an incredibly dangerous plan.”
Jack scowled back at Ned. “Yes, but she had what she thought was a good reason for her masquerade, Lord Worry, and nothing dreadful happened to her.”
“Except she was compelled to wed you.”
“She did not have to marry me.”
Ned sniffed. “It was the only way to repair her reputation.”
“It was not.” Jack had lost his customary good humor. “Mama and Lady Rothmarsh had addressed the issue, as well you know.”
Ned shrugged. “They’d done their best, but I still think if you hadn’t married her, Frances would have had an uncomfortable time of it.”
Shakespeare and Fluff started to whine, clearly unsettled by the harsh voices. Jack looked like he was on the verge of throwing his brandy into Ned’s face. From there the “discussion” would undoubtedly degenerate into fisticuffs.
Ash did not relish separating the two with a fireplace poker as he’d done on one occasion back at the castle. “But are you happy, Jack? That’s what’s important.”
Both Ned’s and Jack’s attention snapped back to him. Damn. He’d made a serious tactical error.
“Yes, actually, I’m very happy,” Jack said. “Are you?”
“Er . . .” He loosened his cravat. The room was suddenly infernally warm.
“That’s what we were discussing when you came in, Ash, as you probably surmised.” Ned leaned toward him. “Have you finally resolved your difficulties with Jess, then?”
“Ah . . .” There was no point in lying; his brothers would root out the full story eventually. Well, likely in a matter of minutes. They’d had years of experience at uncovering each other’s falsehoods and partial truths. “Not exactly, but we have agreed to work on our problems.”
Jack smacked his forehead and looked at the ceiling, clearly not believing he was related to such a blockhead. “So why the hell did you bring her to Town, if you haven’t put your marriage back on rock solid ground? At the first whiff of trouble, society will be on you like the ravening pack of wolves it is, tearing your union with Jess to shreds.”
That was encouraging. Fluff whined, and he stroked the dog’s head.
“Yes, Ash,” Ned said, “why didn’t you take Jess to the castle and the relative privacy of the country?”
At least Ned and Jack were now in agreement about something.
“I thought Mama and Father were still at the castle. The only person I expected to find here was you, Jack, and I was hoping you could tell us how to avoid the ton.”
Jack snorted. “There’s no way in hell you’re going to dodge the gabble-grinders now, my dear brother. I suspect Mama is making plans as we speak to trot you and Jess around to all the Season’s events.”
That’s what he’d been afraid of. “Perhaps if I reason with her, Mama will let us go back to the castle by ourselves.”
Ned and Jack stared at him.
“Reason with the Duchess of Love when she thinks she can finally show all the old cats that her oldest son and the heir to the duchy is truly, happily married?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “How much detail are you willing to share with Mama?”
Ash shifted on the couch, causing Fluff to look up at him. He didn’t wish to tell Mama anything. “I’ll merely say Jess and I still have a few things to work out, and we need privacy to do so.”
Jack’s other eyebrow went up. “And you think that will work?”
No, he didn’t. It should work. Mama was a reasonable woman—except when it came to matters of the heart; then there was no fathoming her thought processes.
“Mama probably feels she’s the best person to help you solve your marital difficulties,” Ned said. “She is the one who pens Venus’s Love Notes.”
Ash’s stomach twisted as it always did when he heard those words. “That thing? No one actually reads it, do they?”
“Oh, yes, they do,” Jack said. “Avidly, though fortunately not publicly. And since its readership is largely female, we can usually avoid hearing about it. Jess, however, may have a harder time of it.”
“Ellie confessed that some girl hinted to her . . . well, said outright, really . . .” Ned’s face turned red and he took a quick swallow of brandy.
“It was Miss Patton, one of the boldest of the society misses,” Jack said. “She told Ellie and Frances how lucky they were to have married us, since, being the Duchess of Love’s sons, we must have made losing their virginity quite painless. Frances reported the incident to me in horror.”
“Bloody hell. This is how society women behave these days?” Ash’s stomach tightened into a hard knot. How would Jess react if some spoiled daughter of the nobility said such a thing to her? She had quite a temper, but she wouldn’t admit she hadn’t had the dubious pleasure of being deflowered by a Valentine, would she?
At least she didn’t know his darkest secret. For some reason, she seemed to think he was a rake.
“It’s the way Miss Patton behaves,” Jack said. “I’d advise avoiding her if at all possible—and definitely keep Jess away from her.”
“I shall do my best.”
“Unfortunately that will be a bit diff icult. Her mother is one of Mama’s circle. Miss Patton is the youngest of Lady Widley’s brood and quite spoilt.”
“And she apparently reads all of Mama’s scribbling.” Ned sighed heavily. “Ellie says the girl can recite some of the choicest bits by heart.”
This was terrible news, indeed. They all stared at their brandy glasses in silence for a moment.
“But the main problem,” Jack said finally, “is now everyone knows you’re in Town. If you leave precipitously, it will set the gabble-grinders to speculating, which is never a good thing. You’ll be all the old cats talk about for weeks.”
“Wait a moment.” Jack was making no sense now. “We just arrived a few hours ago. No one knows we are here.”
“Ah, Ash.” Jack shook his head. “You don’t know the ways of London. Eyes and ears are everywhere. What happens outside the Duke of Greycliffe’s house is of intense interest to all London society. I’ll wager that if we went to White’s right now, we’d hear every last man discussing the Marquis of Ashton’s arrival and speculating whether the woman w
ith him was his wife.”
“No! You’re exaggerating.” God, he hoped Jack was exaggerating, but even his admittedly limited experience of society made him fear his younger brother was correct. Zeus, he hated London.
Ned sent him a sympathetic look. “I wanted to go back to the country almost immediately, too, but Jack and Father convinced me to stay. They said it was important to attend some social events so the gossips could see me with Ellie and stop making up outlandish stories.” He smiled ruefully. “I hate to say it, but I do think they were correct.”
“Of course we were correct. And it is especially important for you and Jess to show yourselves, Ash,” Jack said. “The gossips have been speculating about your marital status for eight years. I told you back at the castle that things had reached a fevered pitch with the approach of your thirtieth birthday. The betting book at White’s is full of wagers, and more are being added every day.” Jack shrugged. “Hell, there are probably at least twenty new ones since you stepped out of that hired coach.” He reached for the brandy bottle. “Care for some more?”
Ash extended his glass and watched the amber liquid splash into it. If only he could turn back the clock and decide to go to the castle instead of London.
He took a large swallow. No, if only he could go back further in time and decide not to marry Jess. His life would be so much simpler. He would have wed one of the girls his mother had found for him and might now be the proud papa of three or four sons.
And be completely miserable. He stroked Fluff’s ears. The truth was, all the society girls had seemed brainless and annoying.
He wouldn’t have wasted eight years of his life as a bloody virgin if Jess could be so easily replaced.
“And there’s another problem,” Jack said, exchanging a significant glance with Ned.
“Another problem?” Zeus, didn’t he have enough problems?
“Yes. Percy.”
“Ah, yes. Percy.”
After he’d dropped Jess at Blackweith Manor eight years ago, Ash had gone back to the castle to beat Percy to a pulp, duels being, unfortunately, illegal. But he hadn’t had the opportunity—Percy had left. He wasn’t even in London. Months went by before Ash saw the man again, and by then he’d heard enough rumors about what Jess was doing at the manor to conclude she’d likely seduced Percy rather than the other way round.
Loving Lord Ash Page 17
