“Foolishness!” Ashton took her by the shoulders and stared intently into the deep, tear-wet pools of emerald, as if compelling her to believe him. “There’s nothing wrong with you but a simple loss of memory. You’ve had a shock, and you can’t remember. You’re letting the accusations of those churlish louts become your memory.”
“Nooo!” she moaned. “You don’t understand. I had a similar vision before those men ever came out here.”
Ashton brought her close against him, enfolding her in his arms as he brushed his lips against her temple. “It’s probably only a dream you’ve had and nothing to be taken seriously.”
“I wish I could believe that.” Lierin leaned her forehead against the side of his neck where she could feel the strong, slowly drumming beat of his pulse. Security seemed an almost tangible substance in his arms, and somewhere deep within her a yearning grew. As if her soul commanded her to speak, her thoughts came unbidden to her tongue. “I want so much to believe that the nightmare never happened. I…really want to believe I am your wife, Ashton. I…want to be a part of you and your family, to know with certainty that I belong here in your home. I have to know what the truth is.”
Unfaltering in his effort to soothe her, Ashton gently cupped her face in his hands and probed the dark, translucent depths that were open to his gaze. “Then believe, Lierin,” he urged in a whisper. “Accept what I say as fact and trust me. I mean you no hurt. If you knew how much I loved you, you’d not be afraid.”
With deliberate care, his mouth lowered and covered hers in a slowly stirring kiss that continued unrelentingly until her fears were banished to the farthermost region of her consciousness. His lips moved upon hers, parting and playing and, with subtle persistence, demanding a response. Sleeping embers were fanned aflame, warming her and turning her mind slowly inside out. Her hands crept up his back, and she yielded her lips to his ardor. It was bliss. Heaven come down to earth. A sweet nectar that only lovers could taste. A potion to be savored leisurely and to its fullest, which indeed it might have been had the distant approach of clattering heels not warned them. Ashton raised his head, and the hazel eyes burned into hers, branding her with an unspoken promise. He stepped away and strode from the room, leaving her warmly flushed and totally unnerved. It was not a state she wished to be found in. Lifting her skirts, she followed Ashton’s exit through the dining room and into the far hall, then blushed in confusion as he paused farther down the corridor to look back. His gaze seemed to touch her everywhere, stripping the pale body bare and snatching her breath with the boldness of his stare. His eyes flared as they plunged to the core of her being, and the evidence that he accurately assessed her condition became brazenly visible in those shining hazel orbs. With purposeful intent, he began to retrace his steps. Over the pounding of her heart, she could hear the chatter of the elder ladies as they entered the parlor, and she realized the way through the main hall was now clear. She fled, knowing that if she allowed him to touch her again, all reason would be swept away.
Breathless, she raced up the stairs and sought what safety her room afforded. She locked the door and, curling on the chaise longue, stared at the bleached wood portal, while her ears strained to catch the leisured stride of booted heels. They came unswervingly to her door and paused there as knuckles were lightly applied to the panel. She chewed her lip as she waited for the second summons to come. It was followed by a third. The knob was briefly tested, and finally the footsteps moved away. She might have breathed a sigh of relief, but a feeling of disappointment rose within her, displacing any small sense of victory she might have experienced.
Chilling winds swept in from the north, bringing with them a roiling mass of black clouds that snuffed the last rosy glow from the western horizon. Droplets began to fall, first in a light sprinkling that washed the dust from the air and brought the sweet scent of rain into the house. Then, as the lightning pranced closer in a flashing, sizzling display of the storm’s power, a torrential downpour marched across the fields of Belle Chêne. Servants hastened to close windows and rekindle fires that had been allowed to die in the warmth of the day. Amusing speculations were made about the possible plight of Mr. Titch and his band of stalwarts. Everyone agreed that Hickory had sense enough to find shelter from the storm, but whether the rest could spend the night cooped up together in a barn without an outright war being waged seemed highly unlikely.
Willabelle came to help her young mistress dress for dinner, and though Lierin would have preferred to act the coward and keep herself hidden in her room, she gave herself over to the woman’s care. The choice of gowns was simple since a journey to the dressmaker’s had not yet been made, and the emerald green was the last of the evening creations to be worn. The garment was beautiful, temptingly so, but the neckline bared her shoulders above the full sleeves and swooped low over her bosom, while at the same time the stays of the corset pressed the higher curves of her breasts into view. For one who had been persuaded by the merits of caution, Lierin had to muse on the possible hazards of wearing such a gown in Ashton’s presence. The décolletage was perhaps more modest than the gown Marelda had worn, but considering there was a riper fullness to be displayed, she could hardly claim to present a prudish illusion. The threat seemed well tempered, however, for it appeared unlikely that Ashton would make advances while they were chaperoned by his kin.
Her confidence rallied further when she descended the stairs and heard a soft, rich melody drifting from the parlor. She would be safe enough from those knee-weakening stares and casually bestowed caresses while Ashton played the cello, she thought. Indeed, while he was involved with the music, she would have the opportunity to observe him at her leisure.
The room was softly lighted by tiny flames that danced on the tips of a dozen tapers or more. On the hearth a cheery fire burned, adding its warmth and flickering light to the tasteful interior. Beyond the windows the lightning continued to frolic across the night sky as wild and chaotic winds swirled around the corners of the house, rattling the limbs of trees and shrubs that closely hugged the structure. Ashton sat with his back to the door as he played, and her gaze did not venture beyond the man as she approached. Even with only a view of his back, she could tell that he was impeccably garbed, which of course was not surprising. He seemed to have a flair for selecting clothes that were stylish and flawlessly tailored. Such was the case with the deep blue coat he was currently wearing. The garment was a superb fit, for the lines passed smoothly from wide shoulders to lean waist without a hint of an unsightly bulge to mar the styling. The merit was not confined solely to the garment, however, for his height and muscular slenderness complemented even the old riding breeches he was wont to wear while working his horses.
Not wishing to intrude, she had taken care to soften her footsteps, but as she drew near the music stopped, and Ashton came to his feet. Putting aside the instrument, he stepped around the chair and, with a widening smile, came toward her. His gaze savored the richness of her beauty and paused in obvious appreciation on the swelling bosom. Taking her hands into his, he lowered his head to capture her lips with his open mouth, immediately startling her with the light stroke of his tongue. She had hardly expected to be greeted with such a wanton kiss in the presence of the ladies. Unnerved, she pulled away.
“You’ll shock your grandmother….” she protested breathlessly.
A lazy grin curved Ashton’s lips as his eyes caressed the delicate visage. “Tell me, madam, how I might do that when she’s not here?”