by Erin Rye
“I will return as quickly as I can, lass,” he replied.
She nodded then opened the door and faced him.
He knew better than to follow. “Good night, and farewell. I leave at dawn.”
“Travel safely, my lord.” She faced him and dropped a curtsey.
He longed to pull her close and bury his face in her hair, but instead, he cupped her cheek. “Stay safe,” he murmured. “Keep your distance from Duncan.”
She tensed under his touch and nodded once.
Ashton allowed his hand to fall back to his side, then forced his feet to turn away before his blood could heat. Somehow, he ended up in the library once again. Was it wishful thinking that she might pay him a visit?
He coaxed the handful of coals on the hearth back into life, then dropped onto the couch and stretched out his long legs. As a rule, he slept little, but of late, it was proving nigh impossible to sleep at all.
He closed his eyes in the hopes he would drift off. He didn’t. As the clock chimed one, he gave up and wandered to the bookshelves in search of a book.
Ten minutes later, a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Please excuse the intrusion,” Ella’s muffled voice emanated from the other side of the door.
He held his breath.
China rattled. “Fiddlesticks. Could you get the door?”
Ashton hurried to the door and opened it. He stood aside as Ella entered with a tray that contained a teapot, two cups, and a plate of biscuits. Her auburn hair hung down her back in a loose braid and she wore a crimson satin dressing gown that had come untied. He drank in the view of her pert nipples poking through the lacy nightdress. Why had she joined him this late and dressed in such a manner? Did she know nothing of men?
She swept past him and set the tray down on the table between the two chairs. She poured tea into both cups. “I slept terribly during my father’s trial. Chamomile helps.”
His lips twitched in dry humor. “I fear there is not enough chamomile in all of Scotland to help.” Gallons of chamomile wouldn’t help when such a vixen did the brewing.
She smiled. “I had a suspicion that the troubling news about your estate might keep you awake. Come, now, taste this.” She handed him a teacup.
She’d retied her dressing gown. He eyed the sash, torn between disappointment, relief, and the desire to untie the bow. She made it so difficult to honor their contract.
“Do you play cards?” She pulled out a deck of cards he hadn’t seen nestled under the rim of the biscuit plate.
“Not often,” he replied.
“Then you’re in for a treat.” She set her teacup on the floor before the fire and sank down gracefully beside it. “Whist is my favorite,” she said as she began to shuffle the cards.
No wonder his grandmother found her charming.
He lowered himself beside her. “I know the game.”
“Two out of three?”
“What is the prize?” he rumbled.
Her lashes fluttered. “There’s a plate of biscuits on the tray,” she suggested with a smile.
Biscuits? He preferred sweets of quite a different sort—especially after that kiss on the beach.
She looked expectantly at him and he nodded. “Biscuits, then.”
They set about playing, but he couldn’t concentrate. He lost the first game, then the second.
“Are you sure you’ve played whist before?” She flipped her cards face up. “There are strategies—”
He caught her wrist.
She stilled.
“I would claim my prize,” he said in a low voice.
“You lost, my lord,” she said.
Still, she didn’t attempt to break free. He stared down at her “Methinks the loser should receive a consolation prize.”
“What might that be?”
He answered by pulling her onto his lap. He didn’t give her time to think. He kissed her hard. Her tongue flicked his. His cock jerked. Every fiber of his being screamed mistake. He tightened his arms around her.
Her fingers crept up his arm. He caught her lip between his teeth and gently bit down. She gasped and melted against his chest. His cock thickened between them. Ashton drew her close and the exquisite pressure of her hip against his erection sent a wave of pleasure through him that threatened a quick and embarrassing climax. Blood pounded in his ears. He needed to squeeze her breasts and tease her nipples between his teeth. He slid his hands up along her ribs. She stiffened. With great effort, he pulled back.
Her eyes dropped to his swollen manhood straining against his breeches. Her eyes widened. Clearly, a hard cock pressed into her hip was a new experience. Carefully, he drew her closer. This time, he took her mouth gently and slowed his kiss to a tender exploration. She relaxed. If only he could make love to her. Here. Now. But she was a lady, and clearly, one untried. He swept his tongue over hers one last time and with a groan, lifted his mouth from hers.
“With a consolation prize such as that, a man has no will to win, my lady.” He nuzzled her ear.
Ella drew a long, shaky breath. “A biscuit pales in comparison, my lord.”
He chuckled and willed himself to release her. “You should go,” he whispered. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay.”
She didn’t ask why. She slid off his thighs. The sensation, and the sight of her kiss-swollen lips, caused his erection to strain more painfully against his breeches.
Her lashes fluttered, and she stared at his manhood. He remained still and allowed her to fully understand her effect on him.
At last, she tore her eyes away. “Travel safely, my lord.” Her cheeks pinked. “I will miss you.”
Her words sent a shiver racing down his back. “Less than I shall miss you,” he replied, never meaning the words more.
Chapter Eleven
Awakenings
Ella lifted her lashes, yawned, then frowned. A third day had come and gone, and Ashton hadn’t returned. Did he think of her at all…of the kiss they’d shared in the library? His velvety soft tongue, and the way he’d thrust inside her mouth… Would he thrust that way inside her? She recalled the bulge that had pressed against her hip and an aching heat pooled between her thighs. She shivered. Might he consider absolving their contract and making their marriage a true marriage? Did he want children?
She envisioned a dark-haired boy with his father’s intense eyes racing into the house to beg biscuits after having played all morning outside. Her heart constricted. Ashton had needed a wife to fulfill his grandmother’s demands. What about an heir?
Ella rose from bed and changed her nightgown for a chemise, then slipped into a fine, green-sprigged muslin dress with a wide satin ribbon adorning the waist. She ran a hairbrush through her hair, then braided her hair. She eyed her reflection, smoothed back errant hairs at the base of her neck, then grabbed her warmest pelisse and headed out the door to find Angel for their morning walk. As a rule, the Countess slept until noon, which gave Ella and Angel time to explore the castle grounds and the woods surrounding the estate.
Mrs. Thornton met her at the bottom of the stairs with Angel. The little dog wagged his body in greeting.
“Be careful, my lady,” Mrs. Thornton warned as she held open the front door. “It looks like rain.”
“I’ll watch the sky,” Ella promised as she stepped outside.
Dark clouds churned above as she left the manicured grounds, Angel trotting ahead with his standard, self-important air. She snorted at the dog, then cast a glance north. Darker clouds gathered there.
Was the storm gathering as far north as Ashton’s estate? Was he safe?
She hurried to the swaying trees and turned down her favorite woodland path that emerged near the accursed barn. Perhaps today, she would venture inside and take a quick peek. Ella breathed deep of the air. Rain was definitely in the offing. The trees swayed. She’d fallen in love with the wild beauty of Kinnettles, a kind of wildness that spoke to her soul.
Angel hopped like a ra
bbit over the dry clumps of fern, then paused on the path ahead and looked back at her.
“I’m coming, lad.” Ella quickened her pace and the dog fell in alongside when she reached him.
Wind whipped her hair. The path split up ahead. Right led to a small loch. Left, to the Barn of the Damned. She had avoided the barn out of a sense of loyalty to Ashton, but her curiosity grew with each day. Should she take that path? They reached the split and Angel continued left. Fate, she told herself, and followed him.
Minutes later, the barn came into view beyond the trees, alone in an open field. A low stone fence ran along the south side of the field. Few leave remained on the trees. The building had long since fallen into disrepair, but appeared oddly peaceful, sitting at the edge of the trees.
Angel took off at a run toward the building. Ella yanked up her skirts and followed him. He reached the barn first and plopped down in the shade. She halted beside him, breathing hard.
Once she’d caught her breath, Ella slowly circled the building. The doors and windows had been nailed shut, but the stones at the back had collapsed, leaving gaps large enough to crawl through. She paused. Dared she enter? Curiosity beckoned like a siren. What ghosts inhabited the place? A branch snapped within the trees. Ella spun. Angel barked. Ella glimpsed a figure deep in the trees.
“Angel,” she shouted.
The dog raced around the corner of the building as a dark cloud cast the woods in shadow. Ella squinted into the trees. Something shifted deep within the murk. Her heart sped up.
“Who’s there?” she called, and cursed the tremor in her voice.
No one answered.
Angel reached her and barked furiously in the direction she’d seen the figure.
“Hush, Angel,” Ella ordered.
The dog looked up at her, ears pricked. She strained her ears for sounds of the intruder. A raindrop struck her nose. She pulled her pelisse to her chin to block the sudden chill. More drops struck her face and hands.
Ella glanced heavenward at the massing clouds. “Come, Angel.” She yanked up her skirts and broke into a run across the field.
They reached the path, and Kinnettles’ tallest turret came into view. The heavens seemed to open, and rain poured down. Angel sped down the path at a pace she hadn’t thought him capable of, and disappeared from view. She snorted, ducked her head, and quickened pace.
“Traitor,” she said with a laugh.
Another dozen steps and the rain came down in blowing sheets. Ella ran faster. She veered from the path and raced for the stables, trying her best to avoid the stinging nettles. Nettles pricked her left ankle, then pricked the same ankle, then her right leg above the ankle. Lord, the sheer number of spiteful plants must have given the castle its name.
Through the sheets of rain, she glimpsed the stable’s open back door. If she stuck to the side of the yard near the low stone wall, she could avoid the mud. She pumped her legs faster, her dress clinging to her like a second skin. Seconds later, she ducked behind the thin waterfall cascading off the slate tile roof and burst inside the stables. The scent of hay filled her nostrils as she halted, breath coming in heaving gasps. For the most part, she’d avoided the mud, but she was soaked. She peeled off her pelisse and began to wring water from her skirts.
“Perhaps, you’d care for a pair of dry breeches?” a deep velvety voice queried.
Ella whirled as a strong arm caught her about the waist.
The next instant, she stared disbelieving into Ashton’s green eyes.
Chapter Twelve
A True Bride
Again, Ella had greeted Ashton with another tantalizing view of her slim legs. She was such a beguiling mix of innocence and sultry curves. She’d filled his every waking thought these last few days. He’d settled his affairs and struck a bargain with the devil—wasn’t that really what all bankers were? He had gambled with not only his life, but Ella and Cyril’s, as well. If his grandmother didn’t bestow upon him her money… Well, he couldn’t consider that possibility.
A pang of guilt stabbed. Was it fair to woo Ella with the hope she would fall in love with him when his prospects were so tenuous?
Aye, it was. She’d married him. One way or another, he intended to take care of her and Cyril. If he could make her fall in love with him, he would ensure she never regretted it. Starting with speaking with his grandmother about how to maintain Kinnettles.
In the two days before leaving Kinnettles, he’d been startled to notice the fences that needed repair, the stable roof that leaked, and the hen house certainly had seen better days. Even today, as he’d ridden up the drive, he’d noticed the stones on the far corner of the south side of the castle had begun to crumble.
Ella shifted within the circle of his arms. “You’ve returned,” she breathed.
Ashton drew her close. “Perhaps with your distaste of skirts, I should ride off for a tailor straightway.”
Ella met his gaze squarely. “You have no idea how much women suffer. I daresay, running in breeches is a far sight easier than running in a dress.”
His blood heated. Running naked would be easiest of all.
“What is it?” she asked.
She felt so soft, so fragile, and so very right cradled in his arms. “You should be careful, lass. Dangerous men wander about Kinnettles today.”
Ella frowned.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I did see a man—at least I think it was a man.”
He tensed. “Where?”
“In the woods near—” She broke off, eyes wide.
“Near what, Ella?”
“The barn.”
“Barn?” he repeated, then understood.
“I was walking with Angel,” she said in a rush. “Someone was in the woods.”
“Did you see who?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You are positive it was a man?”
She hesitated. “Angel barked.”
“He would bark at an animal,” Ashton said.
Ella nodded. “I suppose so.” She stared up at him, so innocent. He ran a palm up her spine.
His blood began a pleasant hum. “Were you looking for a man?” Her brow drew down in a fierce frown and he quickly added, “Me, perhaps?”
Her mouth parted in surprise, and he caught her lips with his. She tasted even sweeter than he remembered. He thrust his tongue between her lips and she relaxed against him. Her breasts rose and fell against his chest as their tongues met and meshed. God, how he’d missed her. Did the eagerness of her kiss mean she’d missed him, as well?
His body surged with the primal desire to claim her. He slid his hands over her buttocks and pulled her against his growing erection. This time, she didn’t flinch, but pressed against his hard length. He nearly came in his breeches.
Ashton thrust twice. He was a heartbeat away from pushing her against the wall and burying his shaft in her tight, hot depths. Nae, he couldn’t take her here in the stables. She was a virgin. She deserved the gentleness of a bed for the taking of her innocence, not a pile of hay. He broke the kiss.
“The rain has stopped,” he murmured. “We should go. You’ll catch your death in those wet clothes.”
She shivered and nodded, but from the rosiness of her cheeks, he suspected she didn’t shiver with cold. He entwined his fingers with hers and pulled her to the door. They crossed the stable yard and continued around the castle to the kitchen door. The scullery maids looked up as they entered the warm room. With a hasty nod of greeting, Ashton urged Ella up the servants’ stairs toward their rooms.
Once inside, he began unbuttoning his coat.
“Heavens, I reek like a barn.” Ella wrinkled her nose at her mud-spattered skirts. “I must look a fright.”
He paused and looked at her. Her soaked dress clung to her slim body. “Hardly,” he said.
She flashed a shy smile. “I’ll change quickly.” She disappeared through the bedroom door.
Ashton stared. She’d
left the door open. Was that an invitation? He sat on the couch, withdrew the sheathed knife he kept in his right boot, then removed his boots, and sloughed off his shirt. Ashton rose, hesitated, then strode to the open door. Ella stood, her back toward him, dressed in a dry shift. An instant later, he reached her. He wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I want to touch you,” he murmured into her hair.
Her breasts heaved. He pushed his arousal against her buttocks. She pushed back and leaned her head against his chest.
“You are touching me,” she whispered.
He slid a palm over her flat belly and cupped her mons. She went ramrod straight, but he’d expected as much.
He nuzzled the back of her ear. “Here. I want to touch you here.”
Ella drew a ragged breath, and for a moment, he thought she would refuse. Then, she replied in a voice so soft he scarcely heard the words, “Touch me.”
He kissed the back of her neck. With one hand, he inched up her shift and, with the other, he cupped her breast. She was the perfect handful. He began to knead the soft mound, while lifting her shift until, at last, he reached the hem. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid his fingers between her thighs. She arched as he brushed her soft curls. His cock strained uncomfortably against his breeches as he slipped a finger into the seam.
“God, you’re so wet, Ella.” He thrust his erection against her backside.
She arched. The motion thrust her breast into his hand. He caressed her nipple almost as an afterthought as he burrowed his fingers deeper between her slick folds. He released her breast and unbuttoned his breeches. His cock sprang free of his breeches. He swallowed and slid his finger into her channel. Her breath hitched, and the sound nearly caused him to spill his seed. He swung her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and laid her down.
He stood over her, his cock hard as marble. She stared, eyes wide. Control reasserted itself.
“You excite me, lass,” he confessed with a half-smile. “You’re too bonny by far.”
Eyes locked with hers, he shoved his breeches down over his hips, then crawled onto the bed by her side.
