Dreamspinner Press Year Five Greatest Hits

by Tinnean

  As was Arabella. She turned her beautiful blue eyes toward him and fluttered her lashes. I couldn’t help thinking meanly that she’d seemed to recover from William’s defection rather quickly. And then I was ashamed, for hadn’t I done much the same with John? Moreover, hadn’t I the intent of allowing another man to bed me?

  The fact that coercion was involved was immaterial.

  “What was the outcome, sir?”

  “They did not get it,” Mr. Stephenson informed her.

  She gave a little bounce and leaned forward in her chair. “Wizard, sir!”

  “Arabella, really!” Aunt Cecily scolded her gently. “You’ve been in William’s company entirely too much!”

  “I beg your pardon, Aunt. It’s just that William would have loved to hear this story.” Abruptly her animation dimmed. “However, that’s neither here nor there. He’s no longer here, and I’m sure I don’t care in the least.”

  Aunt Cecily sighed at the reminder that none of the brothers were here.

  Geo ran a fingertip around the rim of his wine glass. “Father has told me much of the Flame of Diabul. I understand it’s no longer in your possession. Such a pity that I shan’t have the opportunity to see such a splendid stone.”

  “Yes,” Aunt Cecily murmured hollowly, “a pity!” Her eyes skittered away from his. David refilled her glass, and she reached again for her own wine, almost knocking it over in her haste.

  “Tell me, Ashton. What thought you of the ruby?”

  “I?” I had said very little throughout the meal and was startled to be drawn into the conversation.

  “Yes, you. After all, it was the Laytham talisman, and I believe that you are now the last of the Laythams.”

  “Yes. As you said, it was a splendid stone.” Whose value would have done greater good if used to see to the upkeep of the lands. I shoved my chair away from the table. “Aunt Cecily, would you excuse me, please?”

  “Oh, but Arabella and I were just about to leave you gentlemen to your port and cigars.”

  “Aunt!” Apparently Arabella didn’t look too favorably upon that.

  Best I get used to Mr. Stephenson’s name. “I’m sure G…Geo”—Blast. I’d stumbled over it—“would much prefer to be entertained by you two ladies.”

  “Surely you would not deprive me of your company, Ashton?” My name had never sounded like that before, and I blushed.

  “I shan’t be much company, I’m afraid, Geo.” There. That was more the thing. “This has been a trying day.” He frowned, and I hastened to explain. “Meeting with my uncle’s… I mean my man of business.” It was the best excuse I could come up with on the spur of the moment.

  “Of course, Ashton.” Aunt Cecily, as pale as I was flushed, didn’t seem to notice. She was aware to some extent of the state in which my uncle’s affairs were. “Very well. Good evening.”

  “Good evening, Aunt, Arabella. Geo.”

  He bowed slightly from the waist, permitting me to escape, and I closed the door behind me and made my way to the Great Hall and up the stairs.

  THE BEDSIDE candles cast a soft glow over the room, while the logs in the fireplace snapped and crackled, chasing away the unseasonable chill as I changed out of my evening attire and into a nightshirt.

  My back was still too sore for me to attempt to sit up and read in bed, so I waited by the window that opened onto what I had referred to in my youth as my balcony, a narrow outcropping surrounded by wrought iron that extended no more than two feet out into space. Gazing out into the darkness, I saw nothing. Even if I hadn’t removed my spectacles, I still would not have seen anything, not the trees that surrounded Laytham Hall, not the stars that spangled the firmament, not the moon that hung low and swollen in the night sky.

  Carefully I considered what I was about to do. Some might see it as whoring myself, and that might be so, but the long and the short of it was he was a very handsome man, and I had no objection to having him in my bed.

  However, I was not so enamored of Geo that I could trust him to have a care with me. I took the jar of cream I had kept for John from within my bedside table and set about preparing myself.

  And then I waited.

  A light tapping at my door roused me from my musings, puzzling me. When Geo Stephenson finally came to me, he wouldn’t bother with the fiction of knocking on my door. Why should he, when he knew that—would I, wouldn’t I—he would have me that night and any night he chose?

  I shivered at the thought. I had never been wanted that much.

  It’s not really you he wants. It’s only a means to collect the debt, I reminded myself.

  Still, £10,000 would take quite some time to be repaid.

  Quite some time.

  The summons was repeated a little more forcefully, and this time it sounded almost frantic. “Sir Ashton?” a voice called. It was David. “Sir Ashton!”

  What the devil? On silent feet I crossed to the door and cracked it open.

  “What is it, David?”

  “Beg pardon, Sir Ashton. Mr. Ruston sent word. It’s time!”

  “I’ll be right down!” All thoughts of Geo Stephenson were wiped from my mind, and I fumbled for my spectacles and pulled out a pair of loose trousers and an old shirt from the highboy. I was only going to the stable; there was no need for something that would be more suitable for entertaining guests.

  I dressed quickly and stepped into a pair of half boots, then ran down the stairs, buttoning my shirt. A young stable boy was waiting in the Great Hall, gazing around him with obvious awe.

  David frowned at him. “I thought you were told to wait in the kitchen.”

  “Aye, sir. I’m sorry, sir. But none of us has ever been in the Hall, an’ I wanted to take a peek.” He stared with enormous eyes at the suit of armor that stood guard in a corner.

  “Jack!” I called his attention to me. “How’s Beauty?”

  “She’s doing well, sir. Mr. Ruston says to make sure I tell you that.” He was unable to tear his eyes away from the armor as he gave me his message. “But if you wants to be in at the birth, you’re to get your arse….” The boy turned fiery red and then went pale. “Oooh, I’m that sorry, sir!”

  “I’ll overlook it just this once,” I said sternly while I stifled a chuckle. It would not do to become too familiar with the boy. I led the way through the house and out the kitchen door, noticing the backward glance he threw over his shoulder, but dismissing it as awe in being inside Laytham Hall for the first time.

  By the time I got to the stable, the birth was moving into its final stages.

  Mr. Ruston nodded. “Glad you got here in time, Sir Ash. We’d have sent word to you sooner, sir, but we heard you had a visitor.”

  “Er… quite.” That was the thing about servants, I mused as I entered the stall. Often they knew what was going on before their employers did.

  “Sir Ash, who’s….” Jack’s words were muffled by a huge yawn.

  “Off to bed with you now, young Jack.” Mr. Ruston took his ever-present pipe from between his lips and pointed it at the stable boy. The pipe was never lit, since that could prove to be a fire hazard in the stables, but it was as much a part of him as his coat with the leather patches on the elbows and the battered hat he wore.

  “Aye, sir,” he mumbled around another yawn, rubbed his eyes, and left, and the visitor to Laytham Hall was not mentioned again.

  “This birth is moving along more quickly than I’d anticipated.”

  “Aye, Mr. Ruston.” Jem Nye, the young man who had once given me such a wonderful birthday gift and who had since risen to the position of assistant to Mr. Ruston, was just rising to his knees from behind the laboring mare. Naked to the waist, his torso gleamed with perspiration, bits of straw clinging to him. “Get her head, please, Sir Ash?”

  I dropped to my knees and took her head in my arms, stroking her broad forehead and patting her sweating neck.

  “There now, my pretty lady. You’re doing splendidly!” I was worried about he
r. She was getting on in years, and this would probably be her last foal.

  Her large, dark eyes seemed focused on her labor, and I hoped the soothing words I murmured in her ear would help keep her calm.

  “How is she doing, Jemmy?” He flashed me a cheeky grin, and I couldn’t help but smile back. We’d had good times together when we were younger, beyond that single time we’d made love, and though our positions now precluded anything more than a master-servant relationship, the memories were still there, fond and warm.

  “Almost there, sir!” Jem had a firm grip on a pair of long legs, and with the next contraction eased the wet bundle of gangly foal into the world.

  I helped the mare struggle to her feet. She shook herself and turned sharply, breaking the umbilical cord, then stretched her head down toward where her offspring lay in the straw, her breath wuffling over it. Her nostrils flared as she learned the scent of her baby.

  We waited with bated breath to see what she would do. Earlier in the week, one of our younger mares had rejected her foal, and Jem had barely got the tiny creature out of the birthing box in time to save its life.

  Fortunately, Beauty had always proven to be a devoted mother, and now she nuzzled and licked her newborn, encouraging the little filly to try her legs.

  Jem sighed happily and clambered to his feet, running his arm over his forehead to blot the sweat away. “She’s going to be a beauty, sir.”

  “Unlike her dam?” Beauty had to be the ugliest horse in Surrey. Aunt Cecily had insisted on naming her, saying she needed all the encouragement she could get. Although the mare’s bloodlines were impeccable, her hips were bony and angular, her neck gaunt, and her gait so bone-jarring it made her rider’s teeth rattle.

  But she was the sweetest-tempered animal in the stables, and the colts and fillies she produced had some of the fastest times clocked on a racecourse.

  “Nicely done, Jem.” Mr. Ruston took his pipe from his mouth and patted Jem’s shoulder.

  Jem colored up at the praise. “Thank you, sir.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, now. Morning will be here before we know it. Mayhap we’ll try that young colt on Beauty. The cow’s milk we’ve been feeding him hasn’t seemed to do much good. Be a shame if I had to put him down.” He sighed and nodded to me. “Goodnight, sir.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Ruston, and thank you for making sure I got here in time.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t want to miss it. You’re a good master, and why those up at the house can’t see it….” He colored up and said gruffly, “Beg pardon, sir.” He clamped the pipe between his teeth, nodded again, and left us there.

  “Mr. Ruston has the right of it, Sir Ash. You are a good man to work for, and them in the Hall will be realizing it sooner or later.”

  I was dumbfounded and didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, it appeared that Jem didn’t expect me to say anything. He came out of the stall and walked to the water pump, where he sluiced himself off.

  I brushed the straw from my trousers and left the stall, then leaned over the top and watched mother and child interact. Jem joined me, his shoulder brushing against mine.

  “Something worrying you, Sir Ash?”

  I could not tell him my uncle had left Laytham Hall so deeply in debt I had to barter my arse in order to tow us all from the River Tick. Although I had no doubt the servants were aware to some degree of the state of things, I was the master, and it was my concern.

  So I simply said, “I’ll need some good horseflesh, Jem, more than we already have.”

  “Squire Newbury has some speedy stuff,” he offered.

  “True.” I scuffed the toe of my half boot against the straw-covered ground. “Unfortunately, he has a tendency to have any of his animals with the least bit of spirit gelded.”

  “Aye. We were lucky to rescue that big black we mated Beauty to before Squire sent for the knacker. Now that would have been a waste of a prime animal!”

  “That it would.”

  The little filly nursed, her wisp of a tail flicking back and forth with almost comical vigor, and we continued to chat comfortably, of her prospects, of the prospects of buying another stallion, of the future for Laytham Stud.

  BY THE time I left the stable, it was well past midnight, and the moon had since started its downward journey. It had been a satisfying few hours, and now I was looking forward to my bed.

  Would Geo be waiting for me there? I let myself into the house and made my way to the Great Hall, intent on finding out but determined not to appear overzealous.

  My steps faltered. Would he be angry that I hadn’t been waiting for him? I’d never seen his father in a temper, but that didn’t mean Mr. Stephenson didn’t have one, and it didn’t mean that neither did his son.

  “Sir Ashton!” David paused on the landing, then came down the last of the stairs. He was holding a tray that contained a teapot and two used cups and saucers. “Lady Cecily rang for some tea for herself and Miss Arabella. May I bring you a cup, sir?”

  “Hmmm?” Idly, I wondered what they were doing awake at such an hour. “Oh, no, thank you, David.”

  “Er… may I ask how the birth went, sir?”

  “Well.” In spite of what was on my mind, I couldn’t help smiling. “We’ve a new filly to add to the stud.” I smothered a yawn behind my hand. “Goodnight, David.”

  “Goodnight, Sir Ashton.”

  I climbed the stairs to the second floor. My room was the same one to which Sir Eustace had dragged me when I’d first arrived at Laytham Hall. Unlike the Hoods, I’d never had any desire to select another on the first floor. It gave me the privacy I preferred, and for the most part had proved a sanctuary from my uncle, as well as other members of the family.

  Had Geo had any difficulty in finding it? I opened the door to my room… not eagerly, of course, not eagerly. The man intended to use my body in an effort to reclaim his monies. But there was a sense of anticipation.

  It dissipated when I found the room empty. I sighed in disappointment and moved to the fireplace. The branch of candles I’d left on the highboy had guttered, and the fire that had been burning brightly when David had come to summon me to the stable was now down to a few flickering embers, marking the passage of time spent in helping Beauty foal. Adding more kindling, I poked at the embers until they caught, then added a few more sticks of wood that were stacked nearby. It would not add much light to the room, but until I could get beneath the covers, it would add welcome warmth.

  When the fire was blazing once again, I stood and removed my clothes. It was for the best that Geo was not here, no doubt. I had helped Jem clean up the mare and her stall, and I needed a bath; I smelled of the stables.

  I poured out some water into a basin, then wet and soaped a flannel and began to stroke it over my chest, underarms, and nether regions. My fundament was still slick with the cream I’d used to prepare my back passage. The hour was very late, and I doubted Geo would come to me now. I reached behind me; I might as well remove it as well.

  “Are you often called out in the night?”

  I started and spun around, foolishly attempting to shield my private parts with the flannel. “G… Geo?”

  “Were you expecting someone else?” He was lounging in the chair by the window, deep in shadow, which was why I hadn’t seen him.

  “No. No, of course not. Ah….”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Are you often…?”

  “It happens. How did you know?”

  “I followed you. I was curious to see where you were going that time of night,” he explained.

  “Did you think I had an assignation?”

  “If that thought crossed my mind, I was soon disabused.” Geo’s eyes were calm, considering, and perhaps a trifle surprised. “You got on your knees for that mare.”

  “Of course. It cost me nothing to offer her some comfort, and if it helped ease the birth… I would be a poor master if I let a bit of straw deter me.”

  “I see.” Abruptly
he changed the subject. “I rather expected to find you in the master’s suite.”

  The mere thought of sleeping in the same bed that my uncle had used made my gorge rise. However, I did not tell Geo that. I shrugged. “I could scarcely evict Aunt Cecily. Those rooms were hers from the time she arrived here as a bride.”

  “I see. Well, it was rather fortuitous for Lady Laytham to have given me a room on this floor. It’s quite comfortable and has rather attractive ivory brocade hangings.”

  “Oh… er… yes. That would be the King’s Chamber. Legend has it King James himself stayed in it once.” Legend also had it that he’d used the secret passage that led to Sir Osburt’s chambers, which were separate from his lady’s. “It’s usually reserved for your father.” I was babbling. I drew in a breath and got myself in hand. “Were you waiting long? I do beg your pardon… however, I assure you I do not renege on bargains, sir.”

  He gave a slight nod. “Since I’ve managed to find you, I think we should get on with it, don’t you?” He rose from the chair and limped toward me. The plush blue velvet dressing gown he was wearing deepened the color of his eyes. He set aside his walking stick and shed the robe, revealing his naked glory.

  I was pleased I hadn’t removed my spectacles. Dusky beige nipples peeked through the black hair that lightly furred his chest and led down past his navel to flair out over his loins. His prick rose thick and proud, and my breath clogged in my throat.

  “Ashton?”

  I forced myself to meet his amused gaze, and flushed and cleared my throat. “How… how did you learn this was my room?”

  “It was quite simple. Although Lady Laytham chided her for her words, Miss Arabella mentioned that while the family’s quarters were on the first floor, yours were here, as they had been since you’d come to Laytham Hall. She does like to chatter on, does she not?”

  Yes, it was like Arabella to say something like that. If Laytham Hall had been possessed of a dower house, I would gladly have consigned her to it.

  “She’s a tiresome chit,” he murmured, “and we’ve more important things to consider.”