"He wants you."
"I am going with you," she told him. "It is you I love, Max."
And then she heard the sharp ting of the Channel bell, and she awoke in her bed. Wow! Ashley thought. That was some wild night. But I've been more than sexually satisfied. Ryan must think I'm a saint, she thought. And she giggled. Where the hell did sex with Caesar come from? she wondered. I didn't intend to add any more men to the picture. Sometimes the Channel scared her. It was everything she wanted, but now and again something she had never considered seemed to pop up-like a Roman orgy and a sexually insatiable emperor. Maybe I ought to practice a little abstinence for a while. And what was she going to do with the Channel when she was married? Other married women had it. Hell! Probably all of its subscribers were women. And what if sex between she and Ryan didn't work out? Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. But it was a temporary arrangement. Both of them had the right to be with people they loved.
Love. Everyone talked about love. But what exactly was love? Ben had thought he was in love for real just before he was shipped out. He had told her that he would probably ask Marianne to marry him when he got back. But he never came back. And Marianne had married someone else less than two years later. If you honestly loved someone, could you really do that? Could you love two men in a lifetime? Of course you could, she thought. She certainly had. Or had she really? What would have happened if she had married any one of the three? She probably would never have had sex with Carson if he had had the nerve to go through with their marriage. It would have ended in an annulment. And in disaster with Chandler, because there had to be more to love than just wild monkey sex. As for Derek, or whatever his real name was, he probably would have serviced her regularly as long as he got to spend her money. But that wasn't love.
This time she knew the wedding would come off. She was marrying to save her inheritance. Ryan was marrying to save his inheritance. They were crazily sexually attracted to each other. But love had nothing to do with it. It was all about money. And yet the lady Cordelia had told her tribune husband that she loved him. And he had looked just like Ryan Finbar Mulcahy. Subconsciously she had wanted him to look like Ryan. What else did she want subconsciously? It was starting to get very confusing, Ashley decided, and then she realized she had a headache. It was the kind she got maybe once or twice a year. Her temples began to pound and her stomach began to roll. She got up and stumbled to her bathroom, where she threw up. Thank goodness, Ashley thought. It always relieved the tension when she threw up, but she was not going to work today.
Ryan called her in midafternoon. "Are you all right? Nina said you were home sick today. What's the matter? Did you call Dr. Sam?" He sounded worried.
"I get a knockdown tension headache maybe twice a year," Ashley told him. "I think all the excitement and secrecy got to me. It's almost gone now."
"I've got to fly to London. I'll be in England for the next two weeks," he said.
"The wedding is in two weeks," she reminded him.
"I'll be back Thursday of that week, Ash. You and Frankie behave yourselves while I'm gone, okay? She says she's coming out to the house this week to start setting everything up in the master suite. Am I going to like it?"
Ashley smiled. "I think so," she said. "And if you don't we'll do it all over again," she told him.
He laughed. "Hey, babe, just because you and I are rich doesn't mean we should waste money. Just as long as Frankie hasn't done it up all Laura Ashley. I'm not much for flowers and butterflies."
"Oh, no!" Ashley gasped. "You don't like flowers and butterflies?"
He laughed again. "Nice try, but I'm not buying it, Ash."
She giggled. "It'll be very unisex," she assured him. "But remember, we're sharing, and it can't be all Ralph Lauren and leather, Ryan. What are you doing in England?"
"There are some house auctions I want to go to in London and out in some of the counties. Sometimes I buy; sometimes I just photograph details for the reproduction business. The newly rich want it authentic, even if they aren't quite certain what authentic is at first. They do learn," he said dryly. "And they expect value for their money. Our work isn't cheap, and we use the best materials. I think I may have found a new source for clock corners and drawer pulls up in York. They claim to have the original molds. I'll know when I see them. I can't just take anyone's word."
"When are you going?" Ashley wanted to know.
"Tonight," he said.
"Travel safe then," she said.
"Thanks. You take care now," he replied.
"I will. Thanks for calling."
"Yeah. Bye." And the phone clicked off.
Geez, Ashley thought. Could their good-byes have been any more impersonal? She lay back, but as she did she noticed that the pain had gone. But she knew she would have to relax for the rest of the day and evening. August was never the busiest month in the shop. But this week she had to go over the new catalog proofs. They would be waiting on her office computer for an okay. The printer would have to do a runoff this week if the catalog was going to be out on time. Then the pages needed to be bound and put in their envelopes for mailing at the end of September if they were going to get the Christmas orders out on time. She would have to do it tomorrow. Frankie was coming out on Wednesday.
She had seen Ryan's mother and youngest sister since that initial meeting several weeks ago. She had spoken at length with Frankie several times as they discussed what they were going to do in the master suite. Her sister-in-law-to-be arrived at nine thirty on a rainy morning, roaring up to the house in a sporty little red Miata. Byrnes was immediately outside with an umbrella to escort her into the house.
"Miss Ashley is waiting in the breakfast room," Byrnes said as he led her to it.
"Good morning," Ashley said, coming forward to greet her guest. They kissed. "How about some coffee or tea?" she asked.
"I don't suppose you have a cappuccino on you?" Frankie said.
"Byrnes, would you see to it, please?" Ashley said.
"You're kidding!" Frankie said as she sat down.
"We're very accommodating here at Kimbrough Hall." Ashley grinned.
"I'll say!" Her eye lit on a plate on the table.
"They were baked this morning," Ashley told her. "In your honor. Ryan told me how much you loved bialys."
"Can I live here?" Frankie said, smiling. "Please?"
Byrnes returned with a cappuccino and set it before the guest. Then he disappeared.
"Cappucino and a fresh-baked bialy," Frankie said. "I'm in heaven." She sipped, and then she took a nibble of her bialy. "Every bit as good as Rome!" she pronounced.
"You can tell Mrs. B. She'll be delighted," Ashley said.
"Ryan flew to England last night," Frankie said as she ate.
"I know. He called me to tell me." Ashley sipped her black tea. She always had black tea for breakfast the morning after a tension headache.
"Wow! He's getting thoughtful. Even Ma doesn't always know when he's going off," Frankie said. "I called his cell last night to yak, and he was at Kennedy waiting to board. I had to remind him to give her a jingle. So, tell me. No cold feet yet?"
"I can't afford cold feet," Ashley admitted. "Your brother seems like a nice guy, and at least he isn't after my money. We'll do fine."
"Have you signed the prenups yet?"
"Yes, last week," Ashley said.
"Ryan hasn't told Ma yet that this is only a business arrangement," Frankie said. "She thinks it's like when she and Da got matched up by the priest, and married. She just got the invitation Saturday, and wondered why you're not getting married in a church."