“Are you angry at me?” she asked, sliding her hands down to hold his forearms.
“God, no,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m angry at myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you with an abandon I haven’t felt in quite some time. And I don’t know what to do about it,” he said softly.
“I think you should kiss me, Your Grace.” He lifted a brow at her. “Ashley,” she corrected with a laugh.
“You think I should kiss you, Miss Thorne?” he teased. Goodness, he was gorgeous when he smiled. He threaded his hands into the hair at her temples and tilted her head slightly. And then he dipped his head toward hers.
Thirteen
Oh, goodness! He was finally going to kiss her. He looked so hesitant, so unsure of himself as he lowered his head toward hers. His eyes skittered from point to point on her face, as though he searched her closely to see what she was feeling. She couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he’d kissed a lady. But she wouldn’t dare break the spell by asking.
The faint smell of whiskey tickled her nose as his lips finally brushed hers. He stole her breath with that one touch. But the moment his lips grew firm, a heavy knock sounded at the door.
Ashley groaned loudly and raised his head. “Go away,” he called out. Then he stood still and listened.
“Robin,” a woman’s voice called. “I know you’re in there. And I know you’re awake. I’m coming in.” The door handle jiggled. Ashley covered his mouth with his index finger and mouthed the word “quiet” at Sophia. She nodded.
“A moment, Mother. I’m not dressed.” The door handle stilled immediately.
Ashley took Sophia’s hand in a firm grip and pulled her over to his dressing room. He shoved her gently through the door and said, “I’ll be right back to collect you,” with a grin. Then he quickly kissed her forehead and pulled the door shut behind him. He left it cracked barely enough to allow a sliver of light to enter the room. She turned her ear toward the opening and adjusted her body so that she could see through the slit.
Ashley opened the door to his mother and leaned against the casing, effectively keeping his mother out as best he could, with one arm reaching to hold the door. “How lovely to see you, Mother,” he said, his voice droll and lifeless.
The dowager duchess ducked beneath his arm and slid into the room. He spun to catch her. “Robin,” she began to speak.
He glanced once toward the room where Sophia hid. “This is not an appropriate time, Mother,” he tried to interject.
But she would have none of it. “What on earth were you thinking, coming to dinner the way you did tonight?” his mother asked.
Ashley’s brows arched and he looked down his nose at his mother. Sophia had never seen him look so imperious. But he certainly could do lofty with the best of them. “The last time I checked, this was my house, that was my dinner table, and that was my food.” He scowled at her. “Did you misrepresent yourself? Or did you truly come to my chambers to tell me I’m not welcome at my own table?” The room crackled with energy. His or hers, Sophia wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was the two of them bouncing off one another. Goodness.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” the duchess said with a heavy sigh. “I was simply surprised, is all.” She reached a hand toward his forehead as though to check for a fever. “Are you feeling all right?” Ashley dodged her and sat on the chair Sophia had just vacated.
“I’m feeling quite well, Mother. Thank you for asking.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t ask questions. He just looked at her and waited. “Did you have something you wanted to say? Or did you simply come to tuck me in.”
Sophia covered a smile with her fingertips.
“I had told everyone you were ill,” his mother said quietly.
“I gathered that,” Ashley said with a nod.
The duchess began to pace and wring her hands. “So, I believe you should continue to be ill, Robin.”
Sophia inhaled harshly at that. Ashley must have heard it because he glanced toward the room where she hid.
“I should continue to be ill?” he asked. His voice was hard as steel.
“Well, yes…” She let her voice trail off. “It’s much simpler that way.”
Ashley closed one eye, cocked his head, and said, “So you would prefer to use my home, my hospitality, and my staff, but have me not attend the events. I hardly find that to be favorable.”
“Robin…” she started to equivocate.
“Spit it out, Mother,” he snapped.
“You’re a recluse, Robin. Everyone expects you to be recluse.”
“Did you not tell me you wanted me to attend your party?”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think you would do it.”
Ashley nodded slowly. “I think I understand.”
“And what is your relationship with that girl?” his mother spit out. Sophia bristled.
“That girl? You’ll need to be more specific.”
It was all Sophia could do not to rush from the dressing room and point her finger in the duchess’s face. How dare she call her “that girl”?
“Sophia Thorne,” his mother said with a roll of her eyes. “You barely took your eyes off her all night.”
“You invited her.”
“I invited her grandmother. The girl came with her.” She waved a breezy hand of dismissal in the air.
“We should discuss this another time, Mother.” Ashley glanced toward the door. He obviously didn’t want Sophia’s feelings to get hurt. But it was very nearly too late.
“She’s a nice girl. From a quiet family.”
“What do you know of her?” Evidently, he was curious. Too curious to pass up the opportunity.
“I know you spent the night watching her,” his mother snapped. “You mustn’t be so obvious, Robin.”
“What was I obvious about, Mother?”
The duchess sniffed loudly. It wasn’t a snort. But close. Duchesses didn’t snort, did they?
“You want her. It’s easy to see.”
“Weren’t you just telling me that I needed to find a mistress?” Ashley asked with a laugh. “Which is it, Mother? You can’t have it both ways.”
A mistress! Over Sophia’s dead body. That was her initial reaction. Then her heart twisted within her chest when she realized that her mission would soon be over. She wouldn’t be able to fault him if he did turn to a strange woman when she was gone. Or now, for that matter. She was nothing to him. She couldn’t be anything to him. Not at all.
His mother didn’t answer the question.
“Are we done, Mother?” he asked with a heavy sigh.
“Hardly,” the duchess said.
“Then please finish it so I can go to bed.” He rubbed at his weary eyes. He did look tired.
“Do you intend to frequent the rest of the party?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“If you do, please don’t make reference to homicide, the dead, or… parts!”
He smiled. “I shall just think them to myself, then.” He chuckled. “And it wasn’t me who brought up parts. You all were discussing that before I arrived.”
“Your grandmother is incorrigible,” she grunted. But then she did smile at him.
“Are we done yet?”
“I assume we are,” she said as she bustled toward the door.
“So, no discussion of homicide, dangly parts, or the dead. I think I can do that.” He appeared to mull it over. “But can the rest of your guests?”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Good night, Mother,” Ashley urged.
“Good night, dear.” She slipped out as quickly as she had slipped in. Ashley walked slowly toward the dressing room where Sophia hid. Sophia’s belly dropped toward
her toes when she saw the look on his face.
***
Ashley could still feel the taste of Sophia on his lips. He hadn’t even kissed her. Not the way he wanted to. He’d brushed his lips against hers and then his mother intruded. Blast and damnation. He had been so close.
He pushed the door open and found Sophia leaning against the wall in the dark room. She looked at him askance, her hazel gaze dark in the night-shaded room. “Would you care to come out of the closet?” he asked her. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it for a moment. Then she reached for his hand and let him lead her out. He wanted to be the one to nibble that lip.
Ashley stopped suddenly, and Sophia bumped into him. When she would have sprung back, he pulled her to him instead. “Where were we?” he asked.
“I don’t think she likes me,” Sophia said quickly.
He tipped her chin up with his index finger. “She doesn’t have to like you. I like you enough for everyone.” Her eyebrows drew together. Evidently, his mother’s ramblings worried her more than they should. “Did her comments offend you?” If so, he would fetch his mother right back to the room and make her apologize. Propriety be damned. He would not allow Sophia to be wronged.
“I’m not really offended. Just a little worried.” If she tugged on that lip any harder, he would have to kiss it to make it better.
“Don’t be,” he cajoled. “She means well.” Or at least he hoped she did.
Sophia sighed heavily then flopped down into the overstuffed chair. She turned her back to one arm of the chair and dangled her legs over the other. He’d never seen such an awkward yet comfortable pose. Her bare feet poked out from beneath her nightrail. A grin tugged at his lips at the sight of them.
Her trim ankles were exposed, too. She made no effort to cover them. He liked that. He could almost imagine hours spent in these very chambers with her sitting like that, only she would be naked. His manhood reacted to that thought, and he forced himself to picture Finn in his head instead.
“It appears as though I’ll be attending the festivities of the house party after all,” he said carefully, watching her face. “If you don’t mind spending time with me, that is.”
Her smile nearly melted his heart. “I’m only here for three more days,” she said with a rueful smile. “Then Grandmother and I must return home.”
“Where is home?” he asked as he picked up her foot and absently stroked across the bottom of it. She jerked in his grasp, stiffening her leg so that her nightrail slid even higher up her naked shins and then up over her knee. His gaze was riveted on that knee until she reached down and covered herself with a quick fling of his dressing gown.
“I’m sure you’ve never heard of the place I’m from.” She avoided his gaze.
“Why won’t you tell me where you’re from?” he asked, realizing how harsh he sounded the minute the words left his mouth.
“It’s forbidden,” she whispered. Then she sighed heavily and said, “I wish I could change my circumstances, but I can’t.”
“Tell me you’re not already married.” She couldn’t be. She was too much of an innocent. When he’d kissed her, she hadn’t fallen all over him, as a whore or even a tried lady would do.
“I am not married,” she said with a smile. She laid her head back against the arm of the chair and looked at him. She didn’t say another word. Just looked at him. God, she could undo him with those eyes.
Damn it, he wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. It had taken him this long to find someone who interested him. “I like you, Sophia,” he admitted.
She lowered her feet and turned to face him. “I like you, too.”
He sat down in front of her and turned his back to the chair. It was too painful to look at her. And he needed to tell her some things. She laid one hand on his shoulder, and he pulled it lower so he could rub his bristly chin across her hand. She giggled.
“I killed my wife,” he blurted out. She stilled behind him. Completely stilled.
“I know everyone thinks you killed her,” she said.
“It’s true.” He turned and looked up at her. “Now I’m sure you want to run screaming from the room.”
“I want no such thing.” Her voice was soft and not the least bit provocative. Yet it touched his heart. It made a place long dormant within him ache. “If you want to tell me about it, I’d like to listen.”
He tucked her hand into the softness of his neck and leaned into it. He’d never felt this need to cuddle. Her suggestion of a hug was at the forefront of his mind. “You do something to me, Sophie,” he murmured, his lips now against the back of her hand. “You’ve enchanted me in some way.”
She laughed lightly. “I told you that I don’t have the powers to do that.”
“And yet you have.”
“Then call me fortunate,” she said playfully.
“Call me fortunate,” he corrected.
Sophia leaned down toward him, closer and closer, until her mouth was a hairbreadth away from his. “Call us fortunate,” she said. Then she touched her lips to his. Her touch was tentative, and he wanted nothing more than to devour her. To tease his tongue into her mouth and invade her. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman. But this was different. This was her trusting him.
Her lips grew a little firmer and he opened his mouth slightly, then tickled the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue. She opened for him, and he swept inside. She startled at first, but then she melted. He turned, wanting to be closer to her, and pulled her down to the floor with him, cradling her in his arms as he kissed her. His heart was pounding in his chest at her gentle responses, at the little whimpers she made in her throat. She melted in his arms. And it felt so damn good that he didn’t ever want to stop.
Ashley let his hand drift up her side, and she didn’t stop him. She didn’t react because she was so absorbed in the kiss. So, he took a moment to explore the arch of her back through her robe, but he could not get close enough. Not close enough at all. He pulled one hand down to untie the robe, wanting to press his skin against hers. Her mouth still let him plunder, and those sounds still escaped her throat. He tugged loose the sash of the robe she wore, and spread it open.
But then there was a heavy knock on the door. Ashley lifted his head, groaned loudly, and swore beneath his breath. She giggled in his arms. It made him want to smile along with her. And tickle her to make her do it some more.
“Yes!” he called, more than a little bit frustrated.
The door opened slightly and Wilkins poked his head through the opening. He startled for a moment at the scene before him, but quickly composed himself. He looked everywhere but directly at Sophia.
“I didn’t say for you to open the door,” Ashley groused as he brought the edges of Sophia’s robe together. She burrowed her face in his neck, and he liked it immensely.
“Beg your pardon, Your Grace. But it’s Lady Anne.”
Ashley sat up straighter. “What about her?”
“She’s having a night terror,” Wilkins said.
Sophia crawled from his lap so he could rise. Ashley adjusted his trousers and pulled her to her feet. “Wilkins will see you back to your room.”
She nodded, her brows drawn together with worry. “Do you need some help? With Anne, I mean?”
He shook his head. Anne didn’t respond to anyone but him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said with a soft smile. Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. He wanted to drown in her once again. But Wilkins cleared his throat.
“See Miss Thorne to her room,” Ashley barked at Wilkins. The man merely nodded once. “And your discretion is warranted.” He nodded once more.
With that, Ashley started down the corridor, wit
h the taste of Sophia Thorne on his lips and the feel of her in his hands. And all he could think about was how much he wanted more.
Fourteen
Wilkins said not a single word to her as he navigated the maze of corridors that led back to her chambers. He walked stone-faced, not showing a hint of emotion. It made Sophia want to stick her tongue out at him, or pull her nightrail up around her knees and dance around him, just to see how he would respond.
The very thought of it brought a smile to her lips. She probably looked like the cat that ate the canary when the butler stopped at her door, opened it for her, and stepped to the side.
“Good night, Wilkins,” she murmured.
“Miss Thorne,” he said with a serene nod of his head.
Sophia stepped into the room and leaned heavily against the door. She hugged her arms tightly around herself and squeezed, a giddy laugh escaping her throat. Ashley had kissed her. He’d really kissed her. And it was nothing like Sophia had expected a kiss to be. She hadn’t expected at all for it to be like that. For him to taste like that. For him to take over her senses like that. She spun quickly in a circle, his dressing gown billowing around her.
“Where have you been?” a deep voice barked from the chair beside her bed.
Sophia stopped spinning and turned to face the noise. “Marcus?” she asked. Faint light shone on half of his face, casting the rest of him in shadow. He looked none too pleased, and Sophia raised her chin a notch to stare back at him. “What are you doing here?”
He crossed one foot over the other knee, shifting slightly in the chair in a relaxed pose, a pose Sophia knew well wasn’t relaxed at all. “I came to collect my wayward sister,” he said. “Both of them.”
“Both of us?” What did he mean by that? She’d left Claire at home.
“Claire followed you.”
“How did she get past the fish?” Sophia asked. Sophia had bribed them with clothing. Men who could only walk the earth on the night of the full moon desired clothing over all else.