Ellie’s sigh of relief was nearly loud enough to echo. “Thank you so much,” she told the woman gently. “I can’t tell you how, how much you’ve explained.”
The woman’s lips pursed together thoughtfully. “If you find him,” she said to Ashberry carefully, “I would much appreciate knowing his ... location after you have finished your own business with him.”
Ashberry grinned, but it was the smile of deadly intent. “And I would return the sentiment, madam. In fact, I imagine that I should not have any business remaining with him when you had finished yours.”
“Indeed,” she agreed, straightening in her seat. The conversation was clearly over. “But I would send you word regardless.”
“Thank you, madam,” Ashberry’s voice was grim. He rapped the driver’s box as he drew an envelope from his jacket pocket. “My man said that you wished this in return for your time.”
The woman took the sealed package from the man across from her, eyeing him, considering. “I do not need to count it, do I?” she asked. “I believe you will be quite busy in the next few weeks?”
“That I will,” Ashberry confirmed. “And you are correct, you do not need to count it,” Ashberry finished as the carriage halted. Outside, on a side street, they were parked next to a hackney cab while the footman spoke to the driver.
Sizing up the situation outside, the woman smiled. “As I will likely not see you again,” she said, “I believe it is appropriate to say that I am grateful there are honorable men and women as you are among the fancy.” Taking her skirts as the footman opened the carriage door directly to the hackney’s open one, she stepped cleanly down from Eldenwood’s carriage and into the cab, drawing her own black silk over her face as she settled into the seat.
No one spoke until the footman had climbed back into the seat and the carriage pulled forward. Finally, Ashberry asked, his voice strangely emotionless, “Is Caroline in labor?”
“Yes!” Charlotte erupted, her tone censorious. Ellie winced inwardly, glad she would not have to face the girl later as an adversary. “While you boys were out playing foolish games of vengeance, your sister, Shane Trinity, is bringing a child into the world—and we had to leave her side to come and be sure neither of you did anything foolish. Why else would we be in her carriage instead of your own?”
Edward sighed. “Why ever did you tell Ellie, Charlotte? We didn’t want to upset her—”
Ellie snorted, drawing a startled look from both Charlotte and Ashberry. “Charlotte didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know already,” she said furiously. “And I wasn’t about to let my husband ‘dispose of the rodent’ or let you ‘dig the damned grave,’ Edward.”
Ashberry’s heart beat hard at her words. The fantastic emotions he had felt since he had stepped into the carriage were finally beginning to sink in. Anger, lust, helplessness, agony, heartache and love—they seemed to be in combat for the ranking position. He looked at Ellie, whose eyes he could hardly see in the dim light. “You were listening to our conversation?” he asked softly, dangerously.
She looked at him, a stubborn twist to his chin that Ashberry was only beginning to associate with a backbone honed from the most indestructible diamond. “I came to find out if you were coming to bed and heard you in the study.” Her eyes teared suddenly and Ashberry was barely able to catch her as she landed against him, the proud chin suddenly wobbling with emotion. “How dare you plan something like that, Stephen, that could endanger you and our life together?”
“Not to mention Edward and our marriage!” Charlotte was still famously angry with her brother, though by now Edward’s arm was tucked around her and his other hand rested on the babe inside her. “What would have happened to us if the pair of you had been at the mercy of the hangmen, or been transported? What would have happened to my baby?”
Ashberry stayed quiet as the carriage returned to Eldenwood House. It was clear to him that the ladies thought he and Edward had committed some unforgivable sin: even Caroline glared belligerently at him before clutching his hand and asking him to sit with Eldenwood in the library. The anxious earl had appeared in Ellie and Charlotte’s absence to sit, colorless, by his wife’s bedside, only to be firmly sent away by Sarah. Aunt Lucy simply shook her head at him as Ellie went to comfort her mother, relaying the outcome of their mission to the worried baroness.
Finally acting with subdued wisdom, Edward and Ashberry retreated to the comfort of the earl’s liquor supply where Ashberry kept careful tabs on both brothers-in-law. Edward paced, clearly disturbed by Charlotte’s anger while Eldenwood stared moodily, starting at every sound that filtered through the floor above them.
Still, Ashberry couldn’t help thinking of Ellie, her outburst in the carriage and her indignation over the risks she believed he would take by exacting vengeance on her attacker. Did it mean what he thought it meant? He knew, he was certain now, what Ellie’s commitment was to their marriage. Her courage, her righteous but unnecessary anger, even her reliance on his sisters were all clues but her loyalty and trust had always been his primary comfort, and he clung to those even in her behavior of the evening. He didn’t know why she didn’t say the words, why she wasn’t convinced herself, but her performance tonight had ended any questions he had. Ellie loved him.
He had thought to be angry, furiously angry, but his newfound certainty over Ellie’s love had drained away the emotion, leaving him curiously ambivalent about, even admiring of, her behavior. He mused about the reaction, convinced his anger would return later when she confronted him, as she surely would. In the meantime, the marquess decided, he would simply sit and allow Ellie’s love to help him forget about Caroline.
At least that was how he hoped to pass the hours.
It was nearly dawn when Ellie and Charlotte slipped into the library. Ashberry looked at the pair, startled by their drawn faces. “Caroline?” Eldenwood sat up, suddenly tense.
Charlotte dismissed the question with a wave of the hand. “Still in labor,” she elaborated wearily. “Sarah insisted we come down and rest.”
Edward immediately was at his wife’s side, guiding her to a chaise while Ellie stepped close to Ashberry, leaning against the supporting arm he had laid out. “The doctor’s here now,” Ellie told the earl quietly, “Until the baby comes.” She followed docilely while Ashberry led her to a daybed tucked beside the fireplace and underneath a window.
“How much longer?” Eldenwood questioned anxiously.
It was Charlotte who sighed. “No one knows, my lord,” she admitted. “It’s not a perfect science, especially since this is the first one. Lady Whitney, she’s had four you know, she thinks a few more hours. The doctor said it could be as long as late this afternoon.”
Eldenwood groaned and hung his head, gulping from his glass as he did. Ashberry sank down beside his wife, not surprised when she laid her head down against his lap. Despite her anger with him, in this situation Ellie continued to rely on his support. Ashberry had sensed the anger of both girls subside once they had entered the Eldenwood residence, but Ashberry didn’t fool himself into thinking that the confrontation was over. He knew it was simply banked until a more appropriate time. He soothed Ellie’s cheek and neck and kept quiet, at moments plotting and at other moments worrying, while Ellie and Charlotte both slept.
The baby, named Andrew Shane Windham, was born just before the noon hour. He was immediately proclaimed by the relieved earl to be the Viscount of Willowood, the earl’s minor title. Charlotte, rested after a long nap on the chaise, sat with her sleeping sister faithfully until Edward insisted they return to their own home and Charlotte retire in her own bed.
Ellie, having slept first on the daybed and later on a daybed in Caroline’s sitting room, convinced Ashberry to stay until Caroline awoke—not a difficult task since the marquess was anxious to see if his sister would take ill. Only when the hour was late did the weary couple make their way to Ashberry House, the marquess’ mind on the sight of Ellie holding the newborn son and
Ellie’s exhausted mind thinking of little other than her own bed.
When she awoke, well rested, the sun was high and the lord’s bedchamber empty. Or so she thought. Ellie rose up on her elbow and looked around the neat room, its furniture in place, its curtains opened to allow the sunlight to spill into the room. Not seeing anyone, she dropped down onto her back onto the mattress and sighed, staring contemplatively at the fireplace, which burned low.
Ashberry, his feet silent, appeared at the end of the bed, startling her. “Oh,” she gasped, sitting up, then relaxing with a smile. The marquess wondered at the welcome on her face, even as he climbed onto the bed and lay beside her, his robe left uncaringly on the carpet. He didn’t touch her, except to clasp her fingers through the coverlet. “Good afternoon, my love,” he murmured, staring at the canopy on the bed.
Ellie’s smile vanished. “Am I, Stephen?” she asked softly, seriously.
“Yes!” he growled, rolling toward her. “How could you even imagine it would be appropriate for you to be there?” he asked abruptly.
“You want to murder him,” she said logically. “And I won’t let you do something so, so awfully foolish.”
“I wanted to make him suffer the way you have, Ellie,” he ground out. “And I still do.” He was quiet for a moment. “I saw the look on your face, you know, when she described what he did to her.”
“He raped her,” Ellie claimed, her heart pounding. “I could see it in her face.” She laughed shortly. “I’ve seen that same look on my own face often enough to recognize it.” She was quiet for a moment. “I never asked you, Stephen, to seek revenge. I want him stopped from attacking other women, but I never wanted revenge.” She drew a deep breath before continuing. “I made my peace with what happened, Ashberry. Being with you, trusting you, that was the final step in letting go of my past.”
“You shouldn’t have been there,” Ashberry maintained.
“Perhaps not,” Ellie agreed, “But if I had come to you beforehand and asked you not to go, what would you have done?”
Ashberry sighed. She had a point. He would have ignored her request, probably called on Riley, Griffin, Alexander and Wendy to prevent her from leaving the house altogether, perhaps set her brother John up as her guard. “You lied to me,” he finally settled for, “By not telling me you overheard our discussion.”
Ellie calmly twisted the argument to apply to him. “And you lied to me, by not sharing anything about what you knew, by treating me as a child and not as your wife.”
Ashberry ground his teeth. “It is my responsibility,” he stressed, “To protect you, Ellie. Not to put you in the path of something or someone who is going to cause you immense pain.” He grunted. “Do you have any idea what I felt when she was telling you about it? I could see your face Ellie; I could feel the terror in you. I cannot put you in such situations.”
The grunt in his voice, a shadow of the heaviness that weighed on him, finally seeped into the statement. Ellie heard it, and her eyes flew open, astonished. He really did, she reminded herself, loathe anything that caused her pain. His decisions would always tend to hinge on what he imagined to be Ellie’s best interest, on what would give Ellie the least pain or the most pleasure. She pulled her fingers from beneath the blankets and turning on her side to face him, cupped his cheeks in her fingers. Ellie had to say the words, even though she was afraid they would be difficult for him to hear.
“Stephen,” she said softly, forcefully, “excluding me, exiling me—that causes me immense pain. You choosing to carry the burden of a man’s death, any man’s death—even if you weren’t caught—causes me immense pain. Seeing, knowing you are lying to me and not being able to accept the reasons for it—you caused me immense pain.” Her voice softened. “I have been in agony, Stephen, over what to do about this. I can’t bear for you to shut me out of things that are so important.”
“Why Ellie?” he asked softly, searchingly. His hands, too, cupped her face. “Why do you need me to trust you, to trust your strength? Why is it so important to you that I not be burdened with guilt or with secrets?” At her open eyes, he added, “Why were you so furious at the idea I might endanger our marriage, over lives together, over what you consider to be petty revenge?”
He watched her swallow heavily, knowing he had unfairly turned the tables, knowing that he needed time to examine the ache inside him that her words had created. After a moment, her eyes widened, as if she just realized what he was trying to force her to admit. Ashberry decided to take the proverbial ship by its helm. “I think,” he whispered, lowering his mouth until it was just apart from hers, “I think that you are in love with me, Ellie. I don’t know why you’ve not admitted it to yourself yet, why the notion makes you pull back inside your shell, but I think that you are in love with me. I think that’s why I am so important to you, why we are so important to you.”
Ellie, unable to come up with a response, simply raised her mouth the last inch. The kiss was enough, as it always was, especially with Ellie naked between the sheets and not interested in pursuing the discussion. Ashberry rubbed heavily against her as the cauldron inside him, cooled over the course of Caroline’s labor, began to boil again. He watched the sun to stream onto their bed as the sheets were thrown back and he set himself to stoke the fire beneath him to rage out of control and drive them both wild.
Ellie shuddered as his heat and scent surrounded her, filled her head. Deliberately, she shut his words away from her mind, concentrating instead on the sparks created where his fingers rubbed down her sides and over her hips before sliding underneath her. Ellie arched as his fingers gripped against her rump, urging her hips up off the bed to meet his. The heat of his silken passion pressed between her thighs and Ellie uttered a series of small, anxious moans as he bent his head and kissed each breast until the aureoles tightened between his lips.
Helplessly, her hands tightened on his shoulders, then ran through his hair, even as she began to twist and squirm. His mouth relentless, Ashberry did not allow her to deter him, not even when her fists pushed against his shoulders. He knew, as did Ellie, that her struggle was not against him, but against the sensations pouring through her body.
Only when her struggles stopped, only when the heat flooding her had overcome her rationality, only when her body settled back against the bed and her breasts pressed invitingly against his lips did his mouth gentle. Only now she was the eager one. Her hands, now above her and grasped inside his, gripped the sheets and her hips lifted against his, seeking his heat as she rocked up against him. Deliberately, her eyes wide as he lifted his head to meet her gaze, she closed her thighs around his manhood, rubbing rhythmically until he muttered a soft imprecation and returned obediently to her breast.
With his hands moved to firmly grip her bottom, Ellie couldn’t escape the intensity of his intentions, but neither did she wish to. The color of his eyes had lightened to a dark gold and Ellie couldn’t seem but to respond to his ardor with her own brand of innocent wantonness. As he lifted himself off her and leaned on his elbows, pressing her hips and thighs into the bed with his rigid length cradled between them, Ellie slid her hands down over her breasts and cupped them in her hands, squeezing her nipples out between her spread fingers.
“Tell me I belong to you, Stephen,” she begged. “I need to know it’s true.”
The breathless request and the sight of her nipples squeezed and displayed so brazenly nearly made Ashberry forget everything but losing his soul in her warmth. His voice was hoarse as he struggled for control. “You, Ellie, dear, are completely mine. Every precious little inch.” His teeth caught one of the nipples, tugging on it until Ellie cried and squirmed deliciously beneath him, her thighs torturing his stiff masculine heat. When he released the hard treat, it was simply to turn his mouth to her other breast as his fingers squeezed her bottom and ground it hard against him. “Every amazing little moan, every shudder, every delicious little morsel like this one. All mine.”
Ellie relea
sed her breasts to grasp his head as he sucked. When she screamed from intensity of the sensations, his hands slid down to the back of her thighs, urging them to open. Ellie did not hesitate, but wrapped her legs around her husband as Ashberry surged into her. Without hesitation, he lifted her nearly off the bed to crush her against him until both of their exultant noises turned to contented sighs.
Much later, after Ashberry rolled them onto their sides and cradled her head on his arm, Ellie confessed to him. “Stephen,” she mumbled, “Do you really think I love you?”
The man looked down at his wife’s head, at her sated and trusting body as it lay against him. “Yes, Ellie love,” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “I do.”
She sighed. “I used to think my parents loved me, but now I think my father does not. And my mother, well, of course my mother loves me as a mother does—but it has not stopped her from trying to use me to her own ends. And, and I have difficulty accepting that what you feel—what you think I feel—is anything like maternal love.”
Ashberry’s eyes closed as he wrapped her close against him, smoothing a hand down her back. “And me?” he asked. “What do you think of my love?”
She thought for a few moments, remembering the tenderness when he touched her, his determination to protect her. “I know,” she said gently, “That you desire me physically, that you find my presence comforting, that you trust me with your family and your home, that you want so much to protect me from anything that might cause me pain.”
Against his shoulder, she bit his lip. “And I know that you call that love.”
She was surprised when he chuckled softly. “No, Ellie,” he whispered softly, “Those are only the manifestations of my love. The love I feel is much deeper, in my stomach, my heart and especially in my head. Sometimes, because I love you, I overreact to situations I feel may threaten you. Because I love you, I turn to you for comfort. And while I would lust after your body without the love, because I love you I can truly cherish the gift of you have made of your body.”
Embracing Ashberry Page 31
