Embracing Ashberry

by Serenity Everton

  She had an interest in his gifts, but dared not ask about them. Instead, she quickly looked to the fire and asked in an odd voice, “Why did your parents choose the name Shane Stephen? It seems such an unusual one.”

  He took a seat then, choosing a place that could not be considered threatening but close enough to still observe her face in the dim flicker of the room.

  Ashberry’s mouth quirked. He couldn’t, would not ever again, resist the urge to reach out to touch her cheek with his index finger. His answer was as gentle as his touch. “Shane was my mother’s mother’s family name. My grandfather brought her from Ireland against the will of her family and made her his duchess. My father chose the name as a way to honor my grandmother’s family as much as to antagonize my grandfather, who hated the very existence of the Shanes. Stephen is a common name among my esteemed Ashberry predecessors. There are many portraits of Stephen Trinity, Marquess of Ashberry along the galleries of my—our home.” He smiled at her. “Why?”

  Ellie shrugged. “You told me in the park one time that your names were Shane and Stephen. What did your father call you?”

  “He called me Stephen, but my stepmother and tutor both used Shane.”

  “Your aunt and sisters?”

  Ashberry smiled even before the answer slipped from his wry mouth. “Ashberry, usually.”

  “What does your portrait say, my lord?” she challenged.

  He smiled before answering. “Nothing, I haven’t had it painted yet,” he admitted. “I have been waiting to marry before I bothered, since a portrait of the marchioness is traditionally done at the same time.” His smile turned rather wicked. He leaned forward until their noses touched before he whispered, “I might as well make this point clear now. You will call me one or the other. If I hear ‘my lord’ out of you one more time when we are private, I shall do something drastic.”

  Ellie’s mouth was suddenly dry and even though the question was foolish, she couldn’t stop it from coming out of her mouth. “What?”

  “I shall kiss you senseless,” he whispered. “And not on the forehead.”

  SIX

  The threat was clear between them, but Ashberry relaxed it by returning to his former position on the edge of the mattress. “I have two presents for you,” he announced, changing the subject.

  Ellie couldn’t help but smile at the offering. “Whatever for?” she asked, clasping her hands together.

  “One for Christmas, which as you know was yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to give it to you then. And the second is part of my wedding gift to you.”

  “Part?” Ellie asked, puzzled.

  Ashberry had the grace to blush a little. “I couldn’t decide what to buy for you, Ella dear, so I bought several things.”

  Ellie did laugh at this, and the sound was truly a gift for Ashberry, for it spoke not just of her enjoyment of his company but also of the beginnings of trust between them that he intensely wanted her to discover and welcome openly. It sang in the silence of the room and he drank it in gratefully. “I’m afraid I only have—” she started to apologize.

  Ashberry shook his head, stopping her. “Having you here in my house, Ella,” he said seriously, “And with my name after yours, is as much of a gift as I have ever wished for.”

  Ellie nearly gasped at the elaborate compliment and she flushed with delight. “Thank you,” she murmured, looking at him with her heart in her eyes. Clearing her throat, she continued, voicing her objection. “But I do have a gift for you, though only one. It is sitting on my dressing table in a white box.”

  Ashberry obediently retrieved it, cradling the package on his lap as he handed one of the boxes to her, the smaller of the two. “For Christmas,” he said with a smile.

  Ellie looked at him and returned the expression, nearly undoing Ashberry’s composure. Her smiles to him had grown more frequent lately, a situation he dearly appreciated. At first they had been polite, practiced smiles that reached her eyes and cheeks but kept her inner self reserved. This one, this curve of her lips was less restrained, nearly happy, and it settled on him for several long seconds before she untied the ribbon that was knotted around it.

  The plush keepsake box inside was old, but of the finest velvet. Her eyes widened as she reverently held the case in her hand. “It was my mother’s,” Ashberry admitted, and Ellie raised her eyes to his in amazement. Her fingers trembling, she opened the case, her mouth opening in delight. Inside was a chain of the finest gold, with a cross of diamonds and rubies inset into a golden crucifix that hung from it. She traced it reverently, hardly daring to disturb it in its box.

  Ashberry had no such qualms. He took the box from her and lifted out the jewels, and with a practiced ease that amazed her, slid each end of the chain around her neck. His fingers stroked the skin there as he fumbled with the catch behind her neck, and then again as he shortened it to raise the cross until it lay below her neck, the bottom dangling just at the edge of where the blanket was wrapped closely around her.

  Ellie’s eyes teared when Ashberry pulled back. “I cry a lot,” she said shakily, causing him to chuckle.

  He wiped one of the tears away from the corner of her eye. “I know,” he smiled at her. “Do you like it?”

  “Of course,” she managed, daring to be astonished.

  “The rest of Mother’s jewelry and all of the marchioness’ jewels are in the safe at Ashberry Park—you can choose what you want of it when we get there.” He shrugged a little. “Many of the older pieces won’t be to your taste and my stepmother Elizabeth’s jewelry I divided between my brothers and sisters, but there are a number of pieces that will complement you beautifully.”

  Ellie smiled a little. “They treasure the keepsakes of their mother, I’m sure.” She wanted him to know that she didn’t feel any loss.

  Ashberry’s eyes twinkled a little. “Caroline and Charlotte certainly enjoy their share.”

  “It’s your turn,” Ellie prompted, gesturing to the box on his lap.

  His head tilted as he considered the box carefully. “What would you choose for me?” he asked quietly. “Do you know me well enough to choose a gift yet?”

  Ellie’s voice was teasing then in reply, and the sound warmed Ashberry’s blood. He supposed he would grow accustomed to the effect her voice had on him, but he was determined to enjoy it for that night. “Perhaps I don’t. Though I apparently know you well enough to do your mending now.”

  The reference to the common wifely chore made him smile. “I’ll have to find some shirts for you to repair,” he murmured in return. “In whatever spare time I allow you away from my side,” he added more suggestively, grazing her with a look he hoped she would know meant desire.

  Ellie knew. Instinct could guide any woman to conclude as much when her husband’s eyes were as intense as Ashberry’s every time he looked in her direction. She blushed, grateful when Ashberry’s suddenly satisfied gaze turned to the gift on his lap. He had it open quickly, smiling as he pulled out two handkerchiefs on which Ellie had embroidered his coat of arms. “These are fantastic,” he murmured. “I suppose you had no trouble finding a sketch of this crest to use as a pattern.”

  Ellie smiled, satisfied by his pleasure. “Your aunt provided me with one,” she admitted.

  “There is something else in the bottom,” she added, directing him back to the box.

  Ashberry quickly found what had given the box weight under a piece of fine paper. It was a flat package, nearly square, and wrapped in a plain paper. “I found this,” Ellie explained, “In a shop near the old City. I wasn’t looking for it, but I think you’ll know what it is when you see it.” Hesitantly, she added, “You might have it already.”

  He looked at her curiously, untying the string and letting the paper fall away. “Oh Ella,” he whispered as he held up a book with a sketch of Ashberry Castle inlaid on its cover. “I do know it.” He looked at her sharply. “How did you?”

  “Inside the front cover,” she to
ld him, guiding him to turn open the front page. “It says the name of the castle. But I still wouldn’t have even glanced at it if I hadn’t seen the painting that is hung over the dining room fireplace downstairs.”

  “This must be two hundred years old,” he murmured, opening up the text. “Have you read it?”

  Ellie shook her head. “No, I cannot read Latin very well, but the man who had it told me it was a history of the defense of England against Scottish invaders, written and dedicated to James I when he became king of both countries. The author apparently thought that a unified crown would mean peace—and a reunion with Rome.”

  Ashberry smiled at her gently and couldn’t resist reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand. “You do know me,” he murmured, clearly pleased with his gift. “But now you must open your wedding present, though I’m afraid it will seem silly when compared to this treasure.”

  From the look on his face, Ellie wasn’t sure if the treasure he referred to was the book or his bride. Deciding it didn’t really matter, she untied the ribbon on the final box. “How could you possibly improve on your Christmas gift?” she asked seriously.

  “In fact, the necklace was hardly a gift at all, since I had planned always to present it to my wife, or at least to Sebastian’s wife.” He gestured to the box, still unopened in her lap. “This one will be an improvement since I actually had to buy it and not just retrieve it from the strongbox.”

  Ellie smiled at his distinction and carefully opened the box. It was larger than the first, but not by much and she gently removed the papers that covered the contents inside. “Oh,” she breathed in delight, lifting out a delicately wrought silver brooch inlaid with emeralds and diamonds. The pin was made in the shape of a rose, with the diamonds outlining the petals and the emeralds forming its stems and leaves. “How incredibly beautiful,” she sighed, examining it closely. “The detail is amazing.”

  Ashberry was pleased by her response and smiled as he gathered up the empty boxes, stacking them neatly together and setting them aside. He grinned at her tiny pout when he took the brooch and laid it in a place of honor on the bedside table. “You can enjoy it tomorrow,” he told her, and Ellie laughed at his mock sternness.

  With more seriousness, and the intensity that Ellie was beginning to associate with his attentions to her, he sat close beside her and reached behind her neck, unfastening the necklace. His fingers lingered just a few seconds beyond what one might have considered proper but he did not fondle her nape long enough make her uncomfortable. He settled it carefully beside the brooch but did not move away, and Ellie stilled, waiting for him to speak. When he did, his voice was soft and regretful. “I’m about to return to the subject we were discussing in your dressing room.” He took one of her hands in his and held it close to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against the back of her fingers. “I want you to agree to my proposal.”

  Ellie was quiet for a moment, digesting his earlier words. She found it easier to think, to examine, now that she knew he would not that night press the issue between them. “How do you know that I won’t be as nervous when we arrive at Ashberry Park as I was tonight?” she finally asked cautiously.

  “I don’t know,” Ashberry admitted, “Except that I will spend the next twelve, no thirteen, days trying to guarantee that you won’t be terrified of me.”

  At this pronouncement, Ellie’s stomach tightened a little. She thought she knew what he meant. “You are going to try and seduce me.”

  Ashberry’s eyebrows lifted at her shocked words. “I have to admit, I’ve never tried the approach before, but I think I have the general idea.” He pulled her second hand against her first and held them between his own. “Besides, we’ll be newly married. The staff, not to mention our families, will expect me to be a besotted groom.”

  Ellie’s mouth twisted at that. “I’m not sure my family expects you to be besotted. My father is prepared to see me on his doorstep tomorrow morning—if I last that long.”

  Ashberry frowned. “I would want our agreement, Ellie, to be between you and I—not between you, your family and I.” His voice held a note of inflexibility that Ellie didn’t dare contradict, and to her surprise, she realized she didn’t wish to. The nature of their marital bed should not be a subject for family discussion.

  Her tongue ran along her lower lip and Ashberry watched it in blatant fascination. “You do know that when you do that, I am greatly tempted to kiss you.”

  Ellie flushed, the pink on her cheeks clear even in the candlelight. “I do not want to confide in my parents about such things. But surely the staff will know if we are not—not behaving as newlyweds do.”

  “I will take care of that,” Ashberry promised. “But it will require your cooperation.” He waited until she nodded before continuing, “Tomorrow morning you must ask immediately for a bath in which to soak, for you should be sore, at least a little stiff, in the back and legs.”

  Ellie smiled at this. She had much practice with stiffness in the lower body. “I’m familiar with the aches of that part of my body; I know I can imitate them fairly well.”

  Ashberry nodded. The next would be harder for her, and wasn’t entirely necessary, but he wished it for his own reasons and wasn’t afraid to insist upon it. “You must never lock the door between our chambers, Ella. To do so would indicate that I wasn’t welcome any time I choose to visit.” She swallowed heavily, evidently thinking of the types of things one did in one’s own rooms. It was obvious she was slightly nervous about this condition, but he would not help her.

  Instead, he added further, “And I will visit, both to reinforce my welcome before Wendy and my own valet and to spend time with you. If I catch you in some state of dishabille, it would be entirely appropriate to be shy and embarrassed, even if Wendy is present. You are a new bride and unused to the intimacies of affectionate marriages. But neither must you scream and run away. Simply cover yourself as quickly as possible and blush as much as you want.”

  Ellie was blushing, but she did not object, so he pushed the topic just a bit further. “The same goes for when you come to my rooms, Ellie, and you need to make your presence known there. Take a tour tomorrow after you’ve dressed and acquaint yourself with the layout. Leave something personal every once in awhile for Griffin to find—a peignoir over a chair near my bed or a hairbrush beside the bed, something you may have just forgotten. Come back and get it later or simply ask Griffin to find it for you. Be sure he sees you there and be aware that he hides out in my dressing room.” As he spoke, he turned her hands upward and touched the palms gently. “I may even consider putting you in my bed one morning for him to find, but we’ll leave that for now.”

  Ellie shivered as his fingernails scraped over the pads of her fingers. The sensations were strange, for though she was used to the contact of their hands, he generally touched her gently with only the pads of his fingers. Tonight, as always, she had shivered when he had touched her, for while his hands were warm and gentle against her cool skin, there was a signal electricity in their touch that Ellie’s body could not ignore. “Anything else?” she just barely managed.

  “Mmmm ... one day I shall do the same to your toes,” he teased softly, smiling openly when her cheeks brightened from pink to red. He held her hands firmly. “Keep blushing,” he said more gently. “I find it quite endearing and it will make my behavior much more believable.” Ashberry didn’t bother to explain that it would be more believable because it would be honest on his part. He wasn’t sure that Ellie was capable of dishonesty in her reactions to him, so her natural shy sweetness would be the best for all observers.

  “There is one final thing,” he said reluctantly, setting her hands aside. “I am going to cut my finger a little and you must take the blood and dab it on the back of your nightgown and on the sheets beneath your hips.” Ellie nodded, her expression quickly sobering. He supposed she was aware of the common assumption that virginal brides bled on their wedding night.

  He stood, obviously t
o find a knife, before she stopped him. “Ashberry?”

  “Yes?”

  “My mother provided me with some blood from the kitchens.”

  The ridiculousness of the ancient practice shook him for a moment. “Whatever for?” he asked blankly. “To confuse me?”

  Ellie shook her head. “No, of course not. She was concerned. I suppose she didn’t want any of your staff to think it strange—she is accustomed to hiding it, you know.”

  “He broke your ... maidenhead?” Ashberry finally managed, his back still to her.

  The admission was harder than she thought, but only because he misunderstood. “No,” she whispered on a dry sob. “The first doctor, the one in Cornwall, did. He said it had to be done, to examine me. Inside.”

  Ashberry’s gut clenched at the humiliation his wife had endured even after that first day. He had taken Lady Whitney’s offer and discussed Ellie’s health in detail with her physician, who was of the opinion that nothing was wrong with the girl that a little country air and good diet wouldn’t solve. “I don’t see why she wouldn’t conceive,” he had told the marquess, “But it’s difficult to know if she’ll be able to sustain a pregnancy—for sure she’ll be sent to bed quite early. There’s just no way for us to know if he weakened her womb.” The doctor had paused before reluctantly admitting, “I am not convinced it would be the best thing for Miss Whitney, and neither Lady Whitney nor her husband were willing to subject their daughter to the additional pain it would cause her, but I could examine the inside of her womb more carefully. However, I couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t cause more problems than she already has.”

  The marquess had rejected the notion without even a second’s thought, relieved when the physician had also relaxed. Clearly, the ability to do the thing did not outweigh the man’s consideration of his patient.