Ellie looked adorably uncertain and the marquess was pleased that she didn’t refuse him immediately. He watched the changing emotions on her face for several minutes before she admitted, “I suppose I did sleep very well last night but it must be less restful for you. Your bed is so much bigger.”
The marquess smiled. He didn’t dare tell her at that moment that the sleepy Ellie who had curled against him in the night had alternately stirred his instincts to nurture and his riotous imagination. “I sleep very little these days even in my own bed, Ellie, and would rest better if I knew you were content. The size of the bed shouldn’t influence your decision.”
“What should influence me then?” she asked quite seriously. Ashberry’s brow quirked in question until she explained, “This isn’t a decision I’ve been trained to make, my lord.” She paused for a moment. “What would you advise?”
The marquess couldn’t help but to smile at her earnestness. Ashberry had discovered something new about his wife this day: she made her decisions carefully, considering all arguments and not simply her instincts or emotions. “It’s your decision, Ellie.”
She sighed, a bit of frustration in her voice. “I’m used to having the advice of my parents and siblings, you know, when I’m unsure of what to do.”
Ashberry couldn’t help but grin before he teased, “I suppose you could call upon your mother if you really wanted—”
“Ashberry!” Ellie’s cheeks brightened considerably. “I only wanted to consider your opinions too, since my answer affects you.”
“One consideration might be this information, which I haven’t shared with you. During our trip north, the first night will be spent at Harlan Chase, which has just the one master bedchamber in our apartment. Even though I am quite confident that we will have no problems, for your protection we will be sharing a room on the following nights, even if you condemn me to sleeping on the rug.” He watched fascinated as she absorbed his words, her eyes seeming to reflect everything she heard. “You do understand, Ellie, that my opinions are biased by my less than honorable intentions toward you?”
Her eyes clouded in confusion even as she blushed. “We’re married, my lord. What intentions could you have that are dishonorable?”
Ashberry shook his head ruefully before silencing her with a finger across her lips. “My pardon, Ella dear. I am simply stating for the record that I wish for you to sleep every night in my bed,” he said firmly, “And that has an obvious effect on my opinions about our sleeping arrangements now.”
“Perhaps I should sleep in your bed then,” she suggested.
The innocence of her offer nearly stopped his heart. He groaned, his hands cupping her face. “You have no idea how badly I desire you, do you?” he asked roughly, pulling her head down to his. The kiss, though her mouth was over his, was forceful against her lips. She opened her mouth in response, causing a deeper groan to come out of his throat and rumble into her mouth, meeting her gasp just behind her teeth.
Ashberry was breathing heavily when he released her mouth and head but was hardly surprised when she scrambled to her feet and stepped back from him. Her eyes were wide but she was not intimidated. In fact, she determined quickly as her breath slowed, she was almost sorry he had released her. When his mouth was against hers, she found it impossible to think but the sensations that sizzled through her blood from head to foot were a more than adequate substitution for rational thought. Even now that it was over, she was having trouble focusing on what exactly they were discussing.
The answer came to her after almost a minute of eye contact between them, Ellie’s wide and flustered, and her husband’s gleaming with an expression she knew would be important to translate. It only came when the two were in close physical contact and Ellie’s best guess was that it had to be connected to his desire to further the intimacy between them. “You equate your bed with consummating our marriage,” she said, as if amazed by the realization.
Ashberry shifted in his chair, hardly daring to breathe lest he feed his body any more of the fragrant fuel that seemed to turn his mind to clay. “I fantasize about it almost constantly Ella,” he finally admitted. “More specifically, I equate you in my bed with the pleasures of marital connubiality, not just the first night but all the nights and mornings after. But I control myself by setting those fantasies outside of your room. I doubt I could keep any promises should I find you in my own bed. It would be the invitation I spoke of that first night. Either when you came to me or when we arrived at Ashberry Park.”
His voice was rougher, deeper as he added, “Rest assured, if you feel deprived that I am denying you my bed, after we arrive at Ashberry Park I will recompense you. I am quite confident that you will be spending a goodly amount of time in it, not even including the time you are sleeping.”
Ellie had no response to his gruff words and Ashberry watched the bright color on her cheeks and neck spread down onto her shoulders. Finally granting her a little mercy from his passionate gaze, he rose from the chair and turned away from her. “You know,” he changed the subject, “There is one other individual in this house who can play the pianoforte, although not nearly as well as you.”
His wife took a moment to answer, as she drew several deep breaths. “Who is that?”
Ashberry did not answer immediately, but went to the door, calling for a servant. After he spoke to the man, he moved to the two sets of doors that opened the music room to the large assembly room. The room was rarely used and quite bare, except for its elegant wood floors and sumptuous golden wallpapers, for its function was primarily dancing when large events were held in the house. Ellie smiled as she followed him into the room, looking up to the high ceiling with its rich, detailed murals and crystal chandeliers.
“Actually,” he told her as he took her arm, “It’s my valet, Griffin. His father was a poor musician in London but before he died, he would take Griffin to the assembly halls where he worked and taught him to play the harpsichord, as well as several other instruments. My grandfather took in Griffin when he was just a boy, his mother dead of smallpox and his father starving, and put him to work carrying water and running errands.”
“He’s been with you your entire life?” Ellie was astonished.
Ashberry shrugged. “There was a period when I was an adolescent when he stayed in London with my father and stepmother, while I was at Eton. After my step-mother died and I returned to Ashberry Park, he became my valet.” He cleared his throat then continued, “In any event, we occasionally use his talents, particularly the villagers at Ashberry Park. Even the chaplain drafts him occasionally.” He drew her deeper into the room, taking her by the hands. “He was a tremendous help when the six of us had to learn to dance. The instructor thought he was the most amazing thing since the valse.”
Ellie laughed. “Really, that’s a very new dance. I hadn’t realized that it was accepted in London already,” she returned smartly.
TEN
From the other room, strains from the daring dance began softly, the pulsating rhythm unmistakable. “Not to the ballrooms, not yet,” he admitted, “But it will, of course.” He bowed to her. “I did not,” Ashberry told her, “Dance with my bride before we married. Now, though, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”
He held out his arm in a gracious way that Ellie thought was exceptionally polished. “You see, at one time I thought I might be required to succumb to the pressures of Society to search out a compatible wife and so I took the time necessary to make sure I did not make a fool of myself in anyone’s ballroom, particularly my own.”
Ellie said nothing but curtsied prettily and took his arm. Together they whirled through the room, Ellie’s movements slightly rusty through the first few moments. Quickly, though, she picked up confidence. The dance was nearly halfway complete before she said, “Ashberry, I don’t believe anything could make a fool of you.”
His brows rose and he smiled. “On the contrary, my dear, it is quite possible. You could. An
d have for that matter.” He leaned closer, kissing her quickly on the forehead before continuing the dance.
“How?” she demanded when she next had breath. Their movements together pleased her, for they complemented each other in an easy, upbeat tempo that she enjoyed. He ignored her question though, only whirled them more quickly through the room until she struggled to find her breath. When he slowed, she said instead, “I’m not very experienced with this.”
Ashberry smiled. On the contrary, he told himself, she was perfectly experienced for him. “I shall try to manage,” he teased, adding more seriously, “You dance very well, as I’m sure you know.”
“I am much better at the minuet and the quadrille. Mama told our dancing instructor in Germany that she sincerely hoped this thing did not become the rage back in England, but of course it will eventually because of the privacy of the partners, despite the dangers of it. In Europe, she allowed me to dance it only with Edward,” she added belatedly. “For it was much too quick for me to dance it with a stranger. The boys weren’t allowed to go at all, being quite too young.” Ellie smiled at him. “I am glad now that I learned, so I could dance it with you.”
Ashberry caught his breath at her pleased smile and quickened the pace so that she could not say anything else that would affect him. The day had tried his senses nearly to the breaking point, so when the music ended, he stepped back and bowed to her. “Thank you for the dance, my beautiful Ella.”
“My lord,” she curtsied in return. “It was an honor.”
Ashberry’s eyes flashed for a moment. “That’s twice in just the last hour, you know,” he said conversationally. “I shall endeavor to forgive you just this once, in return for a small favor.”
Ellie’s cheeks turned pink even as she asked, “Yes?”
“I want to hear my name—my Christian name—pass those very kissable lips of yours.” He waited nonchalantly, touching his thumb to her cheek.
Ellie didn’t point out to him that her response was considered the appropriate one by all of English society. Instead, she bit her lip, considering for a moment before replying with an amused twist to her lips, “All right then. I expect you will want to meet me downstairs before Edward and Charlotte arrive for dinner tonight. I need to confer with Banning before I bathe and dress for dinner. You, Shane Stephen Trinity, stay out of my dressing room for the rest of the afternoon or I shall make certain you live to regret it.” Without another word, she turned and breezed from the room, abandoning Ashberry to the emptiness of the vast cold room. When she was gone, he grinned and followed her from the room.
* * * *
“You know,” Ashberry told his wife as he stood at her side, his hand resting in the small of her back, “I’m not accustomed to being ordered about. I’ve been wondering all evening how anything could have been so horrible as to force me to regret watching you bathe.”
His voice, Ellie thought, was mercifully quiet enough for no one to hear. The Whitney carriage was just pulling away, Alexander and the footmen were still outdoors and Ashberry’s brothers had already returned to the billiards room.
“I guess we’ll never know,” Ellie turned to him, a sweet smile on her face. “But did you like the results?”
She held her arms down and out, turning in a circle, literally begging to be inspected.
Ashberry could hardly fathom the ease of her movements and words, let alone her evening gown. Unlike most of her wardrobe, it was fit straight across her bodice from her underarms and hugged her chest quite snugly, leaving little of her shape to the imagination. The long sleeves extended from her slim wrists to just below her shoulders and were not attached to the gown at all except by a tiny scrap of silk that concealed each underarm, leaving her shoulders completely bare. For the end of December, the gown must have been quite chilly, though it was a stunning plum silk with white vertical pin stripes in the skirt. She had pinned his brooch just at the center of her bodice, the weight of the jewel drawing the fabric down just slightly to expose the upper curves of the insides of her breasts. Tendrils of hair bounced around her ears in a teasing symphony each time she moved and her eyes sparkled flirtatiously. Ashberry had never seen her look quite so confident and flamboyant and his words were rough with admiration.
“Charming,” he pronounced, taking her by the arm and steering her to the drawing room. “Quite charming.”
Ellie sobered, just for a moment, then told him, “Edward and I walked in the conservatory after you came to the drawing room. He was relieved that you knew everything.”
“Mmmm ...” Ashberry was listening with only half his brain, for the other half was trying to understand Ellie’s sunny and carefree smile.
“Champagne,” she supplied the explanation, “Is a wonderful way to end the year, don’t you think?”
Ashberry nearly laughed as her enthusiasm registered. He was seeing his wife on the edge of tipsiness and he expected the downfall would be terrific. “That it is,” he agreed seriously. “But I think it might be just the time for you to retire to your rooms.”
She looked at him, wide-eyed as she asked, “Aren’t you coming? I thought we agreed—”
Ashberry shook his head. “You never answered my question.”
Ellie answered it then. “You should sleep in my bed,” she said promptly. “At least until we arrive at Ashberry Park,” she added more coyly.
The marquess cleared his throat and, to ensure she made no more remarks that sent his head reeling, took her by the arm and led her to the door. He called Alexander as she made her way up the stairs. “Be sure she manages to find her way inside her own rooms,” he told the butler, a slight smile to his lips, “and into bed, if there’s any way you can manage a message to her maid.”
Alexander’s facial expression didn’t change but Ashberry would have sworn that the man was also holding back a laugh. “Of course, my lord. She does know, doesn’t she, that Wendy is leaving in the morning?”
The marquess nodded in confirmation. “Should she ask, have Wendy tell her that I will join her later.” For the benefit of the butler, he didn’t add that he intended to wait until she was sober and asleep, but he certainly thought it as he moved through the house to find his brothers.
Ellie didn’t remember sharing a bed with the marquess that night, though she knew he had been there. The scent of him was still beside her when she awoke, alone in the cold room. She sighed, rubbing her temples and frowning as she remembered the end of the evening. He had thought she was drunk—perhaps she had been, she mused, throwing back the covers. Still, she remembered clearly his amused smile, his shortness of breath when she had invited him to her bed.
Her thoughts were quickly forced back to reality, for in her dressing room and in the halls there was a buzz of activity. She quickly left the bed. Cautiously, she peeked through the door to the dressing room, hurrying into it and covering herself with her heavy cashmere peignoir before any of the male servants returned. “My lady,” Wendy greeted her with a smile, “Good morning.” The girl was already dressed in a pretty pale green gown that had obviously been handed off by one of the twins. Still, she hurried to Ellie’s side, helping her close the gown, “Until you leave, Carrie, one of the maids, will be here to help you.”
Ellie smiled, touching her shoulder gently. “Very good. You will be safe on the road?”
Wendy looked surprised. “Of course, my lady. His lordship always has very specific instructions for us to follow, and of course the men are quite accustomed to the trip—they make it every few weeks or so, I suppose. And,” she added more soberly, “They have pistols. His lordship made certain they taught me how to shoot one before we came here.” A pretty blush colored her cheeks. “Not that I need to know, you know. Jenson, the underbutler at Ashberry Park, has orders to look after me especially. He said so.”
Ellie’s brows rose, for she was certain that most peers of the realm were not in the habit of teaching their female servants to shoot a pistol. “Good luck,” she said only,
thinking that the dressing room already seemed bare. “You left my necklace and brooch?” Mentally, she made a note to find out more about Jenson, and whatever orders the man had been given and who had given them.
Wendy nodded, gesturing to the dressing table where they lay beside two large boxes stacked on the floor. “His lordship had those brought to you, said they were for you. He is outside now, helping the men load the wagons.”
Ellie hugged her and watched while the men worked. They seemed to move the heavy trunks with little effort and before she knew it, the house had emptied of the four servants, along with Jenson and another footman who had arrived from Ashberry Park the night before. They had delivered their cargo of frozen game from Ashberry Park south to London’s markets before dawn and the wagons had been re-stocked for the trip north. The house was quiet as Carrie and the waterman began bringing hot water for Ellie’s bath. With barely a second thought, Ellie sat at her dressing table and examined the two packages, her fingers considering for a moment before finally untying the smaller of the two.
She did not hear Ashberry slip into the room behind her or see him in the mirror, but she gently eased off the top of the box and held it against her, her mouth open at the vision inside the box. Slowly, she set the top of the box on the floor, her fingers tracing the shimmering white and gold silk, sewn delicately with its silver thread. Embroidered on the top were tiny red roses surrounded by silver leaves and gold edging. Her breath caught as she took in the exquisite fabric and she lifted the fitted bodice out of the box, shaking it a bit. The sleeves were a glistening combination of white and gold silk chambrays, two translucent fabrics so fine that even atop one another one could see through them. In a small package at one side, she found an exquisite pair of white gloves and on the other, a sheer chemise so soft that it slid lovingly over her fingers.
Embracing Ashberry Page 16
