A Lady And Her Magic (10 page)

Ashley paced from one side of his bedchamber to the other. Perhaps he’d gone too far when he’d asked Sophia Thorne to visit him the dead of night, risking her reputation, her innocence, and her very life, if the rumors about his homicidal tendencies were true.

In the garden that afternoon, he’d nearly begged her to visit him under the cover of darkness. She’d agreed. Hadn’t she? He tried to remember their conversation verbatim. But he’d been so enamored of the way the sunlight played across her hair that he’d probably missed half the words.

Come
and
visit
me
tonight?

Will
you
be
playing?

What
difference
does
that
make?

If
you’re playing, I’ll have little choice in the matter.

Those weren’t the words exactly, but they were close. Yet it was well after midnight. All his mother’s guests were safely ensconced in their chambers, or their neighbor’s chambers, as the case might be with Finn. And Sophia hadn’t arrived.

He stopped to gaze out his window and sighed heavily. Was it his lot in life to be alone? Was it truly? He’d thought Sophia’s arrival heralded the beginning of new things to come for him. He’d attended dinner, for God’s sake. Dinner! With his mother and all of her friends. He’d labored through it with a smile on his face. Well, perhaps not a smile, but he’d been present. And he’d done it all for Sophia. She could probably snap her fingers at him and he’d drop to his knees to kiss her slippers—he was that enamored of her.

He groaned aloud. Enamored? Is that what this was? It was something he didn’t understand at all. He was two-and-thirty. And he couldn’t figure out what his infatuation was with Sophia Thorne. He felt like a green lad who’d had his first kiss. First kiss? Ashley hadn’t even had the opportunity to kiss her yet. He could imagine the feel of her in his arms. The taste of her on his lips. He glanced absently around the room and wished she was there to brighten it.

His dressing gown lay draped across the bed. Ashley had run Simmons from the room almost as soon as he’d arrived. Ashley didn’t want him to encounter Sophia when she finally did decide to grace him with her presence. He flopped heavily onto the piano bench and plucked lightly at the keys.

Dinner had been painful. His mother’s guests all had held their tongues about matters of importance and discussed things like the scandalous clothing young ladies were wearing. It was dreadfully boring. Ashley would rather discuss politics. Or finance. Anything aside from fashion.

To top it all off, he’d been unable to draw his eyes from Sophia Thorne’s person the entire night. He’d caught her looking back at him more than once, and not one time did she lower her gaze, shy away from his bold appraisal of her, or even flush when he let his eyes linger too long. She had simply smiled as though they shared a secret. Perhaps they did. Perhaps Sophia knew that Ashley was well and truly out of his league. Perhaps she was humoring an addled old idiot, making his heart and his loins swell with every bold glance she returned.

What if she was?

What if she did, indeed, feel nothing for him? He found that hard to fathom. But it was a possibility. Ashley clunked gently on the keys of the pianoforte. He let his fingers tickle the ivory keys. And it was only once he was engrossed in a song that he heard the door open behind him. His heart leapt into his throat as he turned his head and watched her glide into his room. She looked at him and smiled softly as she closed the door behind her. Into the lion’s den goes the lamb.

She was dressed the same way she had been the last time she slipped into his room in the dead of night, in a virginal nightrail with puffy sleeves and a frilly collar. She walked toward him, gazing at the piano until he stopped playing and turned to look at her.

“I thought you’d never arrive,” Ashley said hesitantly.

She laughed lightly. “I thought you’d never start playing.” She looked down at her state of dress. “Oh, goodness. I’ve done it again,” she said, shaking her head at herself as she drew her lower lip between her teeth and worried it absently.

“Done what again?” Ashley asked.

“I kept on my dress until only moments ago. Because I knew I’d be unable to resist you when you started to play. But then when you didn’t, I finally gave up and went to bed.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned heavily.

“You went to sleep?”

She nodded as she walked closer and sat down on the piano bench and slid closer to him. Ashley parted his thighs so he could feel the length and warmth of her leg through his trousers. She didn’t back away.

“I did go to sleep.” She looked up at him with a quirky little grin. “Then you began to play.” She reached out one delicate little hand and stroked it across the front of the piano. Then she turned to him, smiled broadly, and said, “Thank you for attending dinner.”

“I did it for you,” he admitted.

“I know,” she said softly. “Situations like that must be difficult for you?” she asked hesitantly.

“Quite.” He didn’t know what else to say about that. It was nearly impossible to voice his thoughts. Even he didn’t understand the muddle inside his head. How could he expect her to?

“You did very well, even amid discussions of pantaloons and tall boots.” She giggled lightly, and the sound reminded him of the tinkle of the wind chimes he’d given to her. It was happy and melodious and it turned his insides to mush.

“You were worth it,” he said as he raised his hand to brush a lock of hair from her face. Her hair hung freely down her back, her combs having been removed. It fell in silky dark waves to land at her waist, and he wanted to gather it in his hands, bury his face in it, and inhale her scent. He shook the thoughts away. They would get him nowhere.

“It’s highly unorthodox for a lady to meet a gentleman in his bedchamber, is it not?” she asked hesitantly.

“It is,” he admitted.

“Yet you lure me here, anyway,” she said with a playful groan.

A grin tugged at his lips. “I believe I am the one who is being lured,” Ashley said.

“Directly into my web of deception,” she said with a tremulous quake to her voice. She tilted her head from side to side, as though mulling that thought over. “It’s not truly deception,” she whispered to him. “I’m here to help you.”

“You’re helping,” he croaked out. Dear God, he sounded like a lad of twelve. Only with the urges of a man. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her. He wanted to draw her into his lap and hold her tightly as he explored her body. As he gave her pleasure.

“I’m here for a time,” she said with a breezy wave of her hand. “Gone like the wind when my mission is over.”

Again with the mission? “Tell me more about this mission you refer to.”

She laid a hand on her chest. “Alas, I cannot. It’s forbidden, you see?” She blinked her pretty eyes at him, the flakes of gold that rimmed her irises glimmering in the candlelight.

He didn’t see. But he wanted to see. He wanted to see her stick her tongue out again to wet her parched lips as she had only a moment ago. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to see what lay hidden beneath that nightrail. Ashley dragged a hand down his face in an attempt to wipe away his wayward thoughts. He failed. But he gave it a valiant effort.

“You are too innocent for a man like me,” he finally breathed instead. Then he hopped up from the piano bench and went to pour himself a glass of whiskey from the sideboard. He immediately felt the loss of her as he moved across the room.

Sophia walked toward his bed and picked up his robe. “Would you mind?” she asked as she slung it around her shoulders. She waited for his nod of acquiescence before she tied the sash. “I feel a bit underdressed,” she said.

Ashley glanced down at his own jacket and waistcoat. Simmons had had a wonderful evening putting together his wardrobe. It had been quite some time since he’d been so fancily attired. But she was right. She was in her nightrail. And he was fully dressed. Something about that thrilled him.

Yet he shrugged out of his jacket, anyway. Then he loosened his cravat and tugged it free. And finally, he removed his waistcoat and pulled his shirttail from where it was tucked in his trousers. It was scandalous to be wearing only shirtsleeves and an open collar in front of a lady. “Better?” he asked.

***

Better? No, that wasn’t better. Now he was as poorly dressed as she was. Her eyes lingered at the vee of his shirt, where a sparse dusting of dark hair could be seen. She ached to pull his shirt open and look closer at it. To see what he looked like beneath his clothes. Instead, she said, “I am not here to seduce you, Ashley.”

He swallowed hard. So hard she could hear it. “Oh, how I wish you were,” he mumbled.

She covered a grin with her hand. “What would people say if anyone knew I was here?”

“They would say all sorts of unkind things. Then they would try to drag you from me before I could cause your demise.” He avoided looking at her when he said the last. Now her heart ached for him.

“Yet I do not fear you,” she said, watching his face. He sat down on the piano bench facing her, and she dropped into an overstuffed chair beside it. It was probably better to put some space between them. Though she wanted more than anything to touch him. He looked like he needed to be touched. “When was the last time someone embraced you?” she asked quietly.

He looked deep into his whiskey glass instead of at her. “Tonight, when I went to kiss Anne good night.”

That was a lovely thought. But it wasn’t the kind of embrace she was referring to. “No. I mean a hug from someone other than your daughter.”

He shrugged. And avoided her gaze some more.

She stood up and walked closer to him. He sat there on the piano bench until she was within arm’s reach. Then he reached out quickly and put his hands on her hips, and dipped his head so that the top of his head lay on her belly.

What an awkward embrace. She put one hand in his hair and one on his shoulder. The hand in his hair stroked along his scalp. He sighed long and loud and drew her even closer. He lifted his head ever so slightly so that his forehead was now on her stomach.

“Sophie,” he groaned, the sound vibrating within him.

Sophia impulsively dropped to her knees in front of him. “Ashley,” she said as she laid her elbows on his knees and looked at him. He was hurting. She knew it. But she didn’t know how to fix it. “I would like to hug you,” she said with a smile. “In fact, I would enjoy it immensely.”

He shot up quickly from his seat, wrapping his arms around her at the same time as he stood. He nearly lifted her from the ground as he set her on her feet and drew her to him. She fell into him as though she was meant to be there. Her head tucked just beneath his chin as she wound her arms around his waist. She turned her face so that her cheek lay above his heart. She listened to its beat and felt the slow, steady breaths he took in. Only his breaths were not slow and steady. They were quick and tortured. She looked up at him.

“You ask too much of me,” he groaned, swiping a hand through his hair in what might be agitation. She couldn’t be sure.

“A hug is too much?” she asked hesitantly.

“I made you a promise the last time you were here.”

She wracked her brain, trying to remember a promise. “I don’t recall.” She pulled back from their embrace to look up at him.

“I promised that the next time you found your way to my room in the middle of the night, I would kiss you.” He tilted her chin up gently with his crooked finger. His blue eyes were dark and stormy, clouded by something she didn’t fully understand.

“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.

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.