The activity increased in the adjoining room as other servants began bringing water for a bath. The housekeeper directed them in a muted tone, then the voices dwindled, and a brief moment later a light knock sounded on the door. Pausing to collect her composure before answering the summons, Lierin checked herself in the cheval glass, finding her hair wildly tossed and her cheeks as flushed and rosy as the body beneath the robe. Her appearance was so obvious, there would be little doubt that she had spent the night in sensual pursuits with Mr. Wingate, and any semblance of dignity would be difficult to maintain if Willabelle was less than discreet.
Resolving to give the occasion her best effort, Lierin opened the portal and found Willabelle laying out fresh linens and garments. The woman had been humming to herself, but turned to greet her young mistress with the usual cheery smile and chatter, putting Lierin completely at ease. The housekeeper seemed to accept her presence in the master’s bedroom casually and as part of the routine.
In a short time Lierin was enjoying a deliciously warm bath, and had hardly settled in for a leisurely soak when the lower hall echoed with the rapid click of booted heels. Ashton strode toward the stairs, motivating Luella May to run down the upper hall and bestow a warning knock on the master’s chamber door. Willabelle quickly slipped from the room and left her charge to whatever was about to befall her.
When Ashton entered his suite, he was drawn to the door of the bathing room by the soft, lilting melody that drifted from the cubicle. Leaning a shoulder against the jamb, he indulged himself in the pleasure of viewing this undraped beauty which was so charmingly presented to him. He considered his timing perfect. His lady was at her bath, and with the soft morning light filtering through the window and lending her ivory skin a radiance of its own, she seemed like some woodland nymph intent upon her toilet in a hidden forest glade.
Lierin finally glanced up, sensing a presence and yet expecting to find Willabelle. She suffered a start when she was greeted instead by a most wicked smile and warmly glowing hazel eyes. She was not yet at ease beneath the bold stare of a man and pinkened as his gaze dipped to her wetly gleaming breasts.
“You’ve made my day, madam…and my night.”
Her color heightened at his reminder of their passionate involvement. He was garbed casually in riding breeches, tall boots, and full-sleeved shirt, and seemed to be the very epitome of the confident male, which made her all the more conscious of her own nakedness and timidity. Seeking to divert his stare and allow her pulse to slow its reckless beating, she indicated his attire. “Have you been out riding?”
“Only to look over a portion of land that is being cleared,” he replied, watching the soapy runnels cascade over her bosom as she attempted to bathe and cover herself at the same time. “My plan for today is to take you into Natchez. You’ll be needing clothes for our trip to New Orleans.”
“But I thought we weren’t going….”
“On the contrary, my love.” Ashton strode forward and sat on the wooden stool that had been drawn up near the tub. Taking the sponge from her, he dipped it into the soapy water and began to scrub her back, beginning low and slowly working his way upward. “A trip to New Orleans might help you remember, and of course we’ll need some time to get acquainted again. What better place to do that than where it all began?”
Lierin half turned her head and sighed in obvious pleasure as his fingers began to knead her back and shoulders.
“Feels good?” he asked softly.
“Hmm, yes. Very,” she murmured, forgetting her shyness as she leaned forward, the better to receive his administerings. He waxed bolder as he lathered her side, slipping his hand forward to soap and wash her breast. Her heart took on a trip-hammer beat, and with soft and limpid eyes, she turned her gaze to his. Bending forward, he nuzzled her ear and, brushing aside the loosely dangling curls that dropped coyly from the casually gathered mass, pressed light kisses upon her throat. His hand moved freely across her bosom, then slid beneath her as he lifted her from the bath onto his lap. Neither of them gave heed to the fact that his clothes were becoming soaked, for the heat of the moment had overtaken them. They were two beings enraptured with each other, and the rest of the world faded from notice.
Hearing the soft click of heels approaching the upper landing, Ashton glanced up to find a sight that completely nourished his spirits. For the outing Lierin had arrayed herself in one of the gowns he had purchased and with stunning results. Long ago he had realized she fulfilled every aspect of his long-held vision of a desirable woman. His memory had served him well during the past three years, but when he gazed at the living, breathing woman, he knew he had not grasped the full reality of her beauty. Was it a trick of his mind that she seemed even lovelier than he had remembered?
As she paused in indecision at the head of the stairs, he slowly smiled and lifted up a hand to her. His eyes touched her warmly as she descended, taking in every delicious detail. The gown seemed an added touch of perfection with its iridescent, blue-green taffeta bodice and off-white skirt of the same fabric. A crisply pleated ruff fanned out from her throat, and similar ruffles added trimmings at the wrists. The sleeves were puffed and full at the top, but closely fitting for the major portion of the arm. Scalloped cream lace formed a pleated lining for the tall-brimmed, blue-green bonnet, and a wide bow of the same hue was tied beneath one side of her chin, lending her a pert, saucy look.
“Madam, you would make the sirens of ancient lore thrash upon their rocks and moan in envy,” he vowed.
Lierin laughed gaily and placed her arms around his neck as he settled his own about her waist and swung her from the stairs. He held her suspended from the floor while they exchanged an ardent kiss. Her tongue readily answered his, and it was a long, enjoyable moment before they parted. Ashton sighed and reluctantly set her to her feet. “I’m tempted to take you back to bed when you answer me like that.”
Caressing his vested chest, she responded with an enticing smile. “We can always delay our trip.”
Ashton groaned in mock agony. “Oh, madam, I’ve never been so wont to stay abed before, but I owe you a nightgown, remember.” He smiled down into her sparkling eyes. “We’ll need a goodly supply for the rest of the nights we can spend together.”
She raised on her toes to whisper in his ear. “I can understand why Marelda hates me so. You’re very nice to go to bed with.”
Ashton peered at her skeptically as he led her across the hall. “Madam, Marelda would have no scale to judge that by. I’ve never been intimate with the woman.”
Hugging his arm tightly against her breast, Lierin smiled into his eyes. “That makes me very, very happy.”
Hiram stood waiting at the open door of the carriage. As they emerged from the house, he swept off his fine beaver hat and greeted them with a wide grin. “Lawsy, y’all sho’ make a pair all duded up.”
“Why, thank you, Hiram,” Lierin replied blithely. “Mr. Wingate does look fine, doesn’t he?”
“Yes’m, jes’ like he always does,” the coachman agreed, then chuckled as he expanded on his statement: “But he ain’t nearly as pretty as yo, missus.”
Their warm laughter rewarded him, and with a bright smile Lierin accepted her husband’s assistance into the carriage. Settling into the leather seat, she lifted her skirts aside as Ashton sat close beside her. He laid his arm along the back of the seat behind her and, with a hand on her shoulder, urged her to nestle close against his side.
“I love you,” he whispered.
The bonneted head turned to present a softly smiling visage to his loving gaze, and her eyes touched his face in a gentle caress. “The feeling is mutual, sir.”
The landau swung around the curving drive, and the journey into Natchez took on a new measure of delight for Ashton, who had traversed the road on numerous and widely varied occasions. For the first time in many months he felt settled, both in mind and in spirit. The night of lustful pleasures had given him a release he had sorely needed, but the
cause of his contentment lay in the person who snuggled so willingly against him.
Lierin picked a piece of lint from his trouser leg, and her hand lingered to rub the firmly muscled thigh lightly. Lifting her gaze, she met Ashton’s smiling regard and reached to receive his kiss when his face lowered to hers. The ride continued in a most delightful fashion until Hiram maneuvered the conveyance to a halt in front of the couturiere’s.
Ashton assisted his young wife to the boardwalk and spoke a word with Hiram about the estimated time of their return before slipping his hand to the small of her back and escorting her inside the dressmaker’s shop. Miss Gertrude hurried from the back of the shop, straining her long neck to see around the bolts of cloth that were stacked on the tables. When the gawky, parrot-faced woman saw who had entered, she threw up her hands and rushed forward to greet them.
“Oh, I’ve been so anxious to meet your young wife, Mr. Wingate,” she warbled.
He made the introductions, and through the small spectacles perched on the bridge of her thin, hawkish nose, Miss Gertrude gave Lierin a careful inspection from bonnet to soft leather slippers, then smiled and nodded in approval. “Your grandmother was in here yesterday morning, Mr. Wingate, and the way she was bragging about your wife, I thought she had been inflated with a lot of hot air, but I can see for myself that her claims are true.”
Miss Gertrude took the slender hand into hers and patted it affectionately. “When the ladies see you wearing my creations, I shall be deluged with a brood of chirping biddies wanting to look exactly like you. I’ve done a few miracles in my time, Mrs. Wingate, but none of that sort. You’re such a lovely thing, I can already see trouble coming.”
Lierin laughed at the unorthodox compliment and gently teased, “Perhaps we should forget about the clothes if there’s going to be such a problem for you.”
Miss Gertrude’s gangling form straightened abruptly, and she stared at the young woman in comic disbelief. “What?! And have you gowned by someone else? My dear, that is positively ridiculous. No one else will do you justice.” Her mouth lifted in a lopsided grin as she shrugged. “They’ll come all right, jealous as all get out, but have no fear. I can handle them.”
Envious they would be. About that Miss Gertrude had no doubt. Long ago she had heard rumors about the handsome Ashton Wingate and all the beautiful young women who had set their caps for him. The most persistent of these had been Marelda Rousse, who had frequented her shop and often prattled about how much the man adored her. His hasty marriage had caused her a great deal of embarrassment, and she had given tongue to a multitude of rationales on the probability of Ashton having been forced into the marriage by some outraged father. When pressed as to how that might have been accomplished with the obstinate Mr. Wingate, the brunette had simply shrugged and said he must have spoiled some girl’s maidenhead while he was drunk and then been prompted to do the honorable thing while in that same condition. The explanations had reeked of envy at the time, but once one chanced to view the lady in question, they lost all semblance of truth. If the tales had been factual, then in his drunken heat the man had blindly selected a jewel of unmatchable beauty.
The dressmaker gestured for them to follow and led the way toward the back of the shop. As the woman moved away, Lierin leaned near Ashton. “I do believe Miss Gertrude has a bit of blarney in her, especially if she tells the same thing to all her customers.”
He chuckled and squeezed her waist. “Miss Gertrude has been known to be brutally honest at times, and I can’t see any reason to believe she’s filling your pretty ears with rubbish now. If you’re not aware of it, madam, you’re definitely a pleasure to look at. Indeed, it has become my favorite pastime.”
Ashton had already taken note that it was other men’s wont to stare at his young wife and admire her beauty, too. The reaction was the same among the male customers at a nearby inn where they later went to enjoy a light repast. The hour was well after midday, and the number of patrons had dwindled to a double handful of men who were scattered about the common room. A few were acquaintances of Ashton and pressed for introductions, then, clapping him on his back, offered their good wishes. Some were strangers who stared in mute appreciation, while others were bolder and openly ogled her. With a brow raised in deliberate challenge, Ashton stared these men down until they turned away. He escorted her to a table near the back and placed her where he could enjoy what he had not been willing to share with others. Even there he found he had to contend with the curious glances of the gaunt, rawboned innkeeper. Ashton knew the man as a somewhat dull individual who had never shown too great an interest in eyeing women, seeming rather to prefer to watch over his own meager wealth. His unswerving interest in Lierin seemed highly out of character, and Ashton was more than mildly surprised when the man approached them.
“Pardon me, missus, but did I overhear Mr. Wingate say that you’re his wife?”
Lierin nodded hesitantly. “Yes.”
The innkeeper scratched his head, seeming bemused. “I guess I was mistaken. I thought you might have been that lady Mr. Sinclair was looking for.”
“Mr. Sinclair?” Lierin repeated in a questioning tone.
“Yes’m, Mr. Sinclair said his wife had been kidnapped from their home and brought here by the man who had taken her, but I guess you’re not her, being Mr. Wingate’s wife and all.”
“I don’t believe I even know a Mr. Sinclair,” Lierin murmured quietly, feeling somewhat unsettled. “Why did you think I was the one?”
“Oh, she come in here, and I got to see her from a distance. She was a fine slip of a woman, just like yourself, ma’am. At first, I thought the man she come in with was her coachman, ’cause he was driving her carriage, but then, he got himself a room next to hers and they kept kind o’ secluded while they were here. She seemed powerful upset about something, but I never got to talk with her or see her up close. Whatever was goin’ on, it had to be somethin’ strange, ’cause they both seemed sorta nervous. He weren’t much to look at, but that Mr. Sinclair is a right nice-lookin’ dandy, he is. Anyway, when Mr. Sinclair showed up, the other man skedaddled out o’ sight, taking her with him, I suppose. Mr. Sinclair searched for the pair of them for a while, then loaded his wife’s trunks in her coach, hired a man to drive it, and left. I seen him in here a time or two since then, but he ain’t from around these parts, an’ he don’t talk much.”
“When did all this happen?” Ashton queried.
The innkeeper scraped a hand over his bristly chin as he mused on the matter. “Seems like it were shortly ’fore the madhouse burned.” He thought a moment longer and then gave a decisive nod. “Yep, that’s about it.”
A nervous fluttering attacked Lierin’s stomach. Though she kept telling herself the man had mistaken her for someone he had not clearly seen and she was really and truly Lierin Wingate, she was assailed by sudden doubts. If she did not bear some resemblance to this unknown woman, why had he made the inquiry? On the other hand, the portrait had given incontestable proof that she was precisely the one Ashton claimed her to be. Holding on tenaciously to that thought, Lierin regained her composure and thrust aside her qualms.
Ashton had watched her with gentle concern throughout the meal and was greatly heartened to see her cheerfulness return. He was presented evidence of this when they emerged from the inn, and she halted him on the vine-draped gallery. With a delicious grin, she slipped her arms about his neck and pulled his head down to press parted lips upon his. He was more than willing to cooperate and delayed the moment by lengthening the kiss into a more passionate play of mouth and tongue.
A sudden gasp startled them, and pulling apart, they turned to face a tall, sandy-haired man who stared at them in wide-eyed surprise. He seemed frozen with shock as he gaped at one and then the other. With an embarrassed giggle, Lierin ran past the intruder and Ashton followed with a grin and a murmured apology. Rushing to the thoroughfare, he beckoned to Hiram, and soon they were exchanging laughing comments about the aston
ished, dapperly attired young man in the privacy of their carriage.
That same gentleman was still on the veranda when a brief moment later Horace Titch strolled past with Marelda on his arm. The woman had seen the flight of the Wingate couple and was sharing her complaints with her escort as they neared the man.
“I simply don’t know how that woman convinced Ashton she was Lierin Wingate, when all the time she’s been claiming a complete loss of memory. Why, she said she can’t even remember who she is or where she came from, and who knows if she’ll ever remember again. I still say she’s from the madhouse.”
“But, sweetie, Mr. Logan swore that she wasn’t,” Horace dared to argue.
“Well, considering what Ashton did for the man, don’t you think Mr. Logan said that only because he didn’t want to upset Ashton? While you were out there with all those men, you should have insisted that she be taken in for the murder of that attendant, but, no, you let Ashton make a fool of you.”
Horace clenched his pudgy hands into tight fists as he mumbled, “I’ll never forgive him for that, and I swear someday I’ll have my revenge.”
“You’d better have a large army with you the next time you face Ashton Wingate,” Marelda advised dryly. “He seems to thrive on gaining the advantage in such situations.”
Marelda’s eyes settled on the tall man and flared in bold admiration. Though younger and somewhat heavier than Ashton, there was something about the stranger that reminded her of the other. It was easy to surmise from the cut of his clothes that he enjoyed at least a reasonable wealth, but even without that added attraction, he was definitely more appealing to her senses than the company she was presently keeping.
The tall man tipped his hat to her, but his neatly clipped mustache barely twitched as he gave her a bland smile. Marelda was disappointed by his lack of response and wondered if some great problem of the world rested on his shoulders. She was accustomed to more zealous reactions to her flirtations and her sultry look of promise.