by Erin Rye
His grandmother’s eyes twinkled in amusement.
Mrs. Pitt glared, but as her gaze fell on Ella, her harsh features softened. “Ella, dear, you must come, as well. We must find the perfect lace to match your eyes.”
“I would be more than happy to escort you both,” Duncan offered.
“That is unnecessary,” Ashton cut him short. He turned to his grandmother and nodded. “I am at your service.”
His grandmother held his gaze for a long moment. “Indeed.” Then, she nodded at Duncan. “Stay and assist me in the library.”
“We should purchase buttons, as well,” Mrs. Pitt added. A smile hovered on her lips as she fell into conversation with Ella over bits and bobs of the dressmaking trade.
Ashton leaned back in his chair and frowned. What magical quality did Ella possess that made bad-tempered creatures fall victim to her charms?
They adjourned to the drawing room, where Ashton heard more about the art of dressmaking than a man ever should before they each departed for their respective rooms. In silence, Ashton escorted Ella to their chamber and once inside, bowed at the bedchambers door.
“Sleep well, my lady.” He brushed his lips over her hand.
Her lips parted as if to speak, but he urged her inside and closed the door.
* * *
The following morning, Ashton waited in the foyer for the women in the breakfast room to join him. Ella arrived first, slim and elegant in a blue twill pelisse. She smiled, then directed her attention to a suit of armor standing in the corner. His gaze lingered on the sensuous curve of her neck.
They waited, the tick tock of the grandfather clock in the adjoining room counting off the seconds. Finally, Mrs. Pitt’s litany of complaints approached, long before the woman herself arrived.
“At this pace, we will arrive after supper,” the old woman grumbled as she stepped into the foyer and yanked on her gloves.
Ashton remained silent. Pointing out that she was the last to arrive served no peace-loving purpose. He opened the door.
The cloudless sky reminded him of a warm summer’s afternoon as he handed the ladies into the carriage. Mrs. Pitt first, of course. He let his fingers linger on Ella’s wrist as he handed her up. She noticed. He could tell by the hitch of her breath and the way her lashes fluttered. Her reaction made him feel more carefree than he had in years.
The carriage started down the drive.
“My, my, this rides more like a donkey cart than a carriage,” Mrs. Pitt said at the first dip in the road.
Ella exchanged a silent smile with Ashton then turned to the woman at her side. “I admit, I’m excited about this East Haven lace, Mrs. Pitt. Is the family well known?”
Mrs. Pitt launched into a long, detailed history of the Fromer Lacemakers. The tale so much easier on the ears than the endless wave of complaints. As Ella chatted and kept the conversation lively, Ashton watched her from under half-hooded eyes.
It was fortunate they were not alone. He very much wanted to introduce her to the delights of a real kiss and the enjoyment of a man’s touch. The thought of running his hands over her breasts sent a rush of blood to his cock and he averted his gaze out the window.
Sooner than he’d thought possible, they arrived at the village of Kirton.
“I’ll be but a moment,” he informed the women as he left to post the letters.
To his surprise, after he gave the postmaster his letters, the man handed him a letter in turn. “This arrived for you just last night, my lord,” the postmaster said.
Ashton recognized the bold script at once. His solicitor. He offered the man a grim nod of thanks and returned to the carriage in a darker mood.
“Now, now, you’ve forgotten to post the letter, lad,” Mrs. Pitt said as he settled onto the leather seat.
“Nae, I received this letter, Mrs. Pitt,” he murmured, distracted.
Mrs. Pitt sniffed as if she didn’t believe him.
He slipped the envelope into his inside waistcoat pocket. He would read the letter later—when he could curse to his heart’s content.
Well before they reached East Haven, Mrs. Pitt fell asleep, and then began to snore. Ashton sighed and met Ella’s amused gaze. He returned her smile and wondered if she was amused by Mrs. Pitts’ snores or if the smile was more intimate.
At last, they entered East Haven, a quaint village perched on the edge of the sea.
Gulls cried overhead as the footman opened the carriage door.
“I will wait at the tavern,” Ashton said as he handed both women down.
“We’ll be quite some time,” Mrs. Pitt informed him primly. “Have a care.”
Was she insinuating he would overindulge? Ashton expelled a breath as she turned away, but all glowering thoughts fled the moment Ella touched his arm.
“I’ll do my best to keep her out of trouble,” she promised with a wink.
“I fear that is impossible, my lady.”
He caught her fingers and slowly, lifted them to his lips so he could slide his thumb between her wrist and glove and pull back the edge of her glove. He brushed his lips over the exposed, soft skin of her wrist in a feather-light touch. She stiffened and dropped her lashes but didn’t step away or remove her hand from his. He squeezed her hand and let it go.
“I will wait for you at the tavern,” he said.
“Very well, my lord.”
He watched her slip into the lace shop, aware of the pleasant tightening of his loins.
Then, he remembered his letter.
The haze of lust vanished.
He turned on his heel and headed for the tavern.
Ashton settled in a corner near the fire, and, after ordering a house ale, broke the wax seal and scanned the letter’s contents.
Moments later, he stared at the letter in shock. The stables, gone. The caretaker’s cottage, the storehouse filled with grain. The recently germinated peas and broad beans all gone in a fire. He couldn’t breathe. How? His steward estimated the damages at roughly five thousand pounds.
Five thousand pounds.
A fortune.
His banker had confirmed the rebuilding of the lost buildings alone would cost at least thirty-five hundred pounds. Anger lashed through him. Those damned bankers had been nipping at his heels the last two years. He had to return home and assess the damage. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as Muldoon thought. But he knew that was a lie. His steward wasn’t prone to exaggeration.
His grandmother would be displeased, but she was so pleased with his marriage to Ella that she might forgive his absence. He would beg two days, perhaps three, and if he didn’t return for four days, then she wouldn’t be too terribly angry—he hoped. She simply had to understand. But she wouldn’t. She’d never understood his attachment to Stanhope.
His chest constricted. He might have to sell part of the land in order to entice the bankers into a new loan. He’d vowed never to consider such an option, but now? Now he needed the inheritance more than ever. How could he take Ella to Stanhope when she very well might have to work as hard as she had washing clothes? With this development, he might not be able to fulfill his contract with her.
He shoved to his feet and strode out the door, leaving his ale untouched. Wind whipped his hair as he left the village and cut across the grass to a path between two rock outcroppings that led to the sandy beach beyond. He’d just emerged onto the beach when voices rose on the wind.
He glanced over his shoulder and paused.
Off to one side, a young child stood on the sand, shouting up to a woman perched on a shelf of rock with her skirts tied around her knees.
Good God, was the woman Ella?
Chapter Nine
A Change of Plan
Ella entered the shop behind Mrs. Pitt.
“Mrs. Fromer,” Mrs. Pitt said to the elderly woman examining a dress hanging from a hook.
The woman turned and smiled. “Mrs. Pitt.”
Mrs. Fromer called for tea. Within three minutes, it became apparent
to Ella that the two women were peas in a pod. They even finished each other’s complaints. As they chatted, Ella perused the small shop and found several bolts of fabric and two kinds of lace she liked. She looked up when a young girl burst through the rear door of the shop.
“Grandmother,” the girl called, “there is a dog in need of rescue.”
“A dog?” Mrs. Fromer exclaimed. “It didn’t bite you, did it, Lottie?”
The girl shook her head and, in a rush, described a dog stuck on a rock ledge overlooking the beach.
“We must rescue the poor thing,” Ella said.
“There’s always stray dogs about,” Mrs. Fromer said. “It’s hardly a fitting task for a lady, if I might say.”
“Ah, but Lady Strachan is a patron to animals in need.” Mrs. Pitt said.
Mrs. Fromer frowned.
Ella refused to be deterred. The poor creature had to be helped.
“I shan’t be long,” she promised.
Minutes later, Ella began climbing the rocks below the ledge where the dog shivered. Footholds gave out before she reached the ledge. She leaned forward as far as she dared and, in an attempt to coax the white fluff of fur to trust, dangled in front of the dog the chicken leg Mrs. Fromer had given her granddaughter.
“Come now, wee lassie,” Ella cajoled.
The dog cowered against the cliff wall, just out of reach.
“Come now, love.” Ella waved the chicken as close as she could. If only her arms were a few inches longer, she could grab the small animal by the scruff of the neck.
“Ella?” a deep baritone called.
Ella glanced down.
Ashton stood beneath her, his dark brow lifted.
Her mind went blank and all she could think to say was, “I can’t reach her.”
“So I see. Come down from there.”
She blinked. “But we cannot leave the dog—”
“Come down, Ella.”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I will not leave her there.”
“For God’s sake, Ella. I do not intend to leave her there. I will climb up. But first, you come down.”
She eyed him.
He released a sigh. “You have my word as a gentleman.”
“Very well.” She tossed the chicken leg to the dog.
“I’ll fetch more chicken.” Lottie dashed down the path toward the lace shop.
It was far easier to climb down than it had been to climb up. Ella had nearly reached the beach when two strong hands encircled her waist and lifted her to the ground. She jerked, causing Ashton to step back and she fell against his chest. A muscled arm tightened around her.
“Easy, lass.” His hand dropped low over her spine.
She glanced up. The way his tanned flesh stood against the whiteness of his collar drew her eye. He was so handsome, so impossible to ignore. Their marriage was supposed to be in name only, but she'd visited the library thrice the night before in the hopes he might kiss her again. If only he would, now.
His hands dropped away as he asked, “Do you intend to rescue every dog in Scotland?”
Disappointment washed over her, but she forced a smile. “Two hardly adds up to every.”
He grunted, turned and located hand and toeholds in the rocks.
Ella watched him climb. The spectacle proved strangely arousing. He moved with ease and grace, and in half the time she’d taken, he'd lifted himself onto the rock shelf. Easily, he reached the dog and in less than a minute, he towered over her, the scruff of white fur cradled in his arms. The sight of so powerful a man cradling a creature in need sent a bolt of heat straight to her core. She swallowed.
He climbed back down, then faced her. “What do you plan on naming this one?” he asked in a slightly mocking tone as he relinquished the dog into her arms.
“I’ll think of something suitable.” She pursed her lips. The poor creature trembled. She was filthy and as light as a feather.
“Wrap her.” Ashton removed his coat. “Mrs. Pitt will have an apoplectic fit that you’re holding something so in need of a bath.”
“But your coat. Surely, that will upset her more.” Her objections abruptly faded away as he stepped close to drop the coat over the shivering dog. She shivered herself, but for an entirely different reason.
“Mrs. Pitt will never approve of me,” he said with a shrug. “I am The Demon Earl in her eyes and always will be.”
Ella caught her breath at his nearness. “Dakini,” she blurted. “I shall name her Dakini.”
His head snapped back. From his shuttered expression, she knew he recognized the meaning of the name. “Aptly named,” he said stiffly. “A demon dog for the wife of The Demon Earl. As you say, name the dog for what it truly harbors inside.”
She caught his arm as he stepped back. “Or perhaps it is a statement.”
“Statement?” he asked gruffly.
“Titles often have nothing to do with the creatures onto which they are bestowed.” She held her breath and met his gaze boldly.
He didn’t move.
She removed her fingers from his sleeve and licked her dry lips. She’d obviously overstepped her bounds.
“I’ll offer the creature to Mrs. Fromer first, before taking her home,” she said.
She took no more than three steps down the path before his hands gripped her shoulders. As she turned her head, his lips captured hers. She froze, uncertain exactly what she should do. Wasn’t she supposed to wrap her arms around his neck, at the very least? If only she wasn’t holding the dog, she could…could… His tongue slipped between her lips and into her mouth as he pulled her against his chest. He was so warm, so solid…so everywhere all at once.
He slid his hands down her arms then over her hips. She gasped. He took advantage of her surprise and drove his tongue even deeper.
She’d thought he’d kissed her before? Hardly. This was a kiss, what she’d been instinctively wanting. She relaxed against him, desperate for more. The dog whined.
As if reading her mind, Ashton traced the fingers of his left hand up her ribs.
“Lady Strachan?” Lottie’s young voice called.
His lips left hers—and his hands. Feeling almost drunk, Ella opened her eyes as Ashton stepped away and Lottie skipped into view, grinning from ear to ear.
Chapter Ten
A Hairsbreadth Away
In the end, and much to her granddaughter’s delight, Mrs. Fromer agreed to keep the dog. Ashton felt a twinge of disappointment at the decision. He owed the beastie a debt. He was quite sure he wouldn’t have discovered the depth of Ella’s feelings otherwise, or at least, not so quickly.
Mrs. Pitt and Ella chatted the entire return trip, over what, Ashton couldn’t say. His thoughts whirled over ways to convince the bankers to part with the greatest amount of coin for the least bit of land.
The sun hovered low on the horizon as he handed the women down from the carriage in Kinnettles’ drive.
“I’m weary to the bone.” Mrs. Pitt sighed as she rubbed her neck. “I’ll take my dinner in my room tonight.”
Ashton let his gaze wander appreciatively over Ella’s tempting figure as he followed her inside. Alas, he wouldn’t have the luxury of sharing dinner with her in his rooms.
“Ashton? Is that you?” his grandmother called from the top of the stairs. “Make haste. Dinner is served.”
“As you wish,” he murmured.
He watched Ella hurry up the stairs and then followed to change.
* * *
“You’re leaving? Tomorrow?” His grandmother’s brows descended in disapproval.
Ashton set his dessert spoon aside, keenly aware of Ella’s surprise and Duncan’s smug grin. Of course, Duncan would be pleased. Damn, he hated leaving Ella at his mercy. Perhaps he should take her with him.
He focused on his grandmother. “Aye. The damage to the estate was extensive. Two days, perhaps three. Surely you understand?” He was surprised to realize he genuinely wanted her understanding.
; “I shall be here, Grandmother.” Duncan swirled the wine in his goblet. He offered an ingratiating smile. “I wouldn’t dream of endangering my inheritance for the sake of a farm.”
A farm. How quaint. His father’s estate was much larger than a farm. Out of respect for their grandmother, Ashton ignored the man.
The countess levelled Duncan a look then turned to Ella. “What of you? You can’t go with him, my dear. You’ve dresses to finish. Indeed, I must have some kind of bait to entice him back.”
Bait to entice him back? Something in her voice gave him pause. Desperation?
“Bait?” Ella’s laugh intruded upon his thoughts. “I am no worm on a hook.” Her cheeks took on a rosy hue.
“Nor am I a fish,” Ashton added, curious to gauge his grandmother’s response.
“Perhaps you’re thinking of the wrong kind of creature,” Duncan said. “A rat comes to mind.”
Ashton shifted his gaze to his cousin, but before he could reply, his grandmother tapped her goblet with a spoon. “Enough, Duncan. Though, I find it strange you’d think of that animal first.”
Duncan blinked. “Pardon?”
She pursed her lips and rose. Angel emerged from beneath her skirts as Ashton and Duncan stood, as well.
“I am tired,” she said. “I shall retire. There will be no cards in the drawing room tonight.” She scooped Angel up in her arms, then paused. “Travel safely, Ashton. I expect you back in Kinnettles posthaste.”
“Aye,” he promised, stunned by the ease of her acceptance.
“Then, I bid you good night.”
She’d no sooner left than Duncan dropped to his seat and took up his wine glass. “Safe travels.” He lifted his glass in salute, then drained the contents.
Ashton ignored him and rounded the table to Ella’s side. “Shall we?”
She nodded, and he led her from the dining room in silence.
When they reached their chamber door, Ella asked, “You will return soon?”
Ashton studied her blue eyes, so filled with emotion. She stood but inches from him, but the contract that separated them might as well have been a wall.
