Embracing Ashberry (35 page)

“Stephen,” she whispered, but there was no
objection in it. He pulled her back beside him, unable to resist
her full lips, the sound of his name falling from them. Ashberry
lowered his head then and Ellie forgot all about Ashberry Park or
her responsibilities there.

Two minutes later, Ashberry sat across from
her.

Both took several deep breaths, after which
the marquess murmured regretfully, “I am sorry, my dear. That was a
delight I should have delayed until we had the privacy to savor it
properly. I have discovered that I am simply too eager to have you
all to myself to behave sensibly at times.”

Her blush was profuse, a bright red, as she
smoothed her skirts and gloves. Still, her full, well-kissed lips
were curved as the carriage climbed the final few feet of the hill
and then proceeded along the long drive to the house. Ashberry
stopped her just as she prepared to speak.

“We’re almost there,” he apologized gently,
“And the staff will be waiting—Griffin and Alexander will see to
that.” As he spoke, the carriage passed over a fortified stone and
wooden bridge built above a small stream. Upstream to her right,
Ellie saw several small outbuildings—all neat and clean with heavy
stone construction and solid roofs. The stream still ran, but frost
was edging up on it, threatening to ice it over the top.

Ashberry sat forward in anticipation and on
his face Ellie saw excitement. “It’s been too long for you, hasn’t
it?” she asked quietly.

His hand was already waiting on the carriage
door handle. “Nine months too long,” he murmured roughly. “I cannot
say I have any desire to see London any time soon.”

Ellie turned to gaze out the other window.
The chapel opened beside them, an impressive addition by Ashberry’s
grandparents to the sprawling and impressive house. The south wing
sat proudly between the chapel and the conservatory, where windows
two rooms high gleamed brightly in the sunlight.

The carriage pulled around the drive,
stopping gently. Ashberry was out the door almost before Ellie
could breathe, but she calmed herself for a moment before sliding
across to the steps and peeking out.

Before her, Ashberry was happily greeting
the onlookers. The carriage was parked at the bottom of a grand
stone staircase the led up to the massive double oak doors. At that
moment, however, Ellie could hardly glimpse the facade of the
house. What she saw were servants crowding along the edge of the
stairs, along both sides of the drive and grouping both in front
and back of the carriage. Before she had quite assimilated to the
horde of people, Ashberry had returned to the carriage and was
reaching inside for her.

With both hands grasping her waist, he
lifted her completely out of the coach without bothering to unfold
the steps, swinging her feet down onto the stone drive that faced
the house. Before her waited an elderly white-haired woman who
peered at her fiercely from behind a pair of black-rimmed
spectacles. She was nearly Ellie’s own height and stood straight
and stiff, a position that Ellie well knew bespoke of years in a
tightly laced corset.

She wore no jewelry but her gown was well
stitched and of a fine dark green wool. All the staff stood back
from her and Ellie had the impression that the world would wait
until this eagle-eyed lady passed judgment on the marquess’
bride.

The lady looked impatiently at Ashberry
after a moment, as if reminding him of his manners, but Ellie set
her chin and ignored them both. Smiling graciously, she gave the
woman a quick familial hug before kissing both her cheeks. “You
must be Miss Shelling, Ashberry’s cousin. I am so delighted to meet
you,” she began.

“And this, Cousin Sarah,” Ashberry
interposed dryly, “Is my dear marchioness, Ella Trinity, Lady
Ashberry.”

Ellie smiled again, shaking her head at her
husband. “Please, call me Ellie or Ella. I’m afraid I’m quite
unused to anything more formal among family.” Her eyes dared the
woman to contradict her as she emphasized the final word.

Sarah Shelling’s eyes rested on Ellie just a
moment longer before she spoke. When she did, everything seemed to
still around them, as if all of nature, as well as the household,
strained to listen. “You’ll do,” she pronounced, “Though you’re
hardly more than a lass yourself. Still, I can see a bit of courage
in those eyes of yours.” Her head turned and she fixed her
imperious look on Ashberry. “And now, Ashberry, I am retiring. Are
you going to do your duty and send me to London, or do I start
walking?”

Ashberry smiled gently at the sharp tongue,
kissing the cheek that held it safe. “Cousin Sarah, I accept your
resignation, but I will have to delay telling you of your travel
plans until we’ve at least gone inside.”

She nodded briskly, gesturing impatiently.
“Get on with it, then. And remember, the entire bloody estate
followed you up the drive.”

The marquess grinned a light-hearted, joyous
smile that Ellie had never before seen. She was still absorbing it
when her husband lifted her by the waist and held her high above
his head, until she could nearly sit on his shoulder. “Hear all you
who can hear!” he shouted, slowly turning in a circle. “You’ve
waited a long time for a new mistress. Today, I present to you my
bride, Lady Ashberry!” Even amidst the myriad of emotions and the
sea of faces swimming around her, Ellie heard the possessive tone
in the marquess’ voice. She tucked it away for later examination,
for at that moment, she simply held for dear life to Ashberry’s
coat sleeves alongside her hips and thighs. Before her, liveried
and non-liveried staff from the stable boys to the stewards mixed
with Ashberry’s tenant farmers and their families, villagers and
children. They thronged around the couple, starting a rousing cheer
even as Ashberry’s last words rang out.

The celebration outside the great house
continued even as Sarah Shelling and Alexander forged a path
through the staff. Ashberry kept Ellie in his arms, allowing her
only to slide down so that he could swing his arm below her knees
and hold her against his chest. He rounded the large front
staircase, heading for a sheltered entrance beneath it into the
ground floor. Alexander held open the massive oak doors so that the
marquess could carry his bride into the lower hall.

Ellie’s body slid against him as he lowered
her to the floor, her breasts rubbing down his coat. The unexpected
contact made her gasp, her eyes catching his. She saw there a
glimmer of desire but knew he could hardly indulge it in the front
of so many. Behind her, she could hear the staff crowding inside
the door. “Later,” Ashberry promised gruffly, stepping away and
turning them to face the expectant, loyal faces. With a smile to
everyone, he led her to the side, where the senior servants lined
up together formally, each seeming to already know just where to
stand. Ellie wondered with a nervous smile if they had practiced
beforehand. She would have liked to, as well.

Ashberry stepped past Alexander and Griffin.
“You already know these two.” Both men had changed since their
arrival from their riding clothes to more formal attire. Alexander
nodded in his usual deferential manner, while Griffin bobbed his
head politely. Beside them stood a plump dark-skinned woman,
dressed in gray skirts and a white apron, a pristine white cap on
her head.

“Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Jans, our
housekeeper,” Ashberry said crisply as he squeezed the woman’s
hand. The gray-haired woman curtsied as much as her aging knees
would allow.

Before she spoke, Ellie gave her an
encouraging smile. “I’ll suspect you will be able to teach me more
than I could ever imagine about Ashberry Park?” she asked
hopefully, remembering Caroline’s firm conviction that the woman
was indispensable. Mrs. Jans was neat as a pin, even to her neatly
pressed apron and as Caroline had told her, cheery and smiling.

The woman’s eyes lit with pleasure. “I’m a’
hopin’,” she said, her mouth curving even more widely. “When yah
are rested, mah lady, I’d a love to haf a chat.”

Ellie nodded. “I’ll ask for you,” she
promised. “Tomorrow.”

Ashberry smiled. “Mrs. Jans came here with
Lady Elizabeth, my stepmother, and never left.”

The woman nodded earnestly. “That’s a right.
Miz Elizabeth, she was a good woman.” The housekeeper drew out ‘i’,
until it seemed as if she was to call the former marchioness Eliza,
with the Beth tacked on as a second name. “Miz Elizabeth, she a’
bought me from a ship cap’n in London and gave me mah freedom.
Afta’ tat, I said to her, I said, ‘Miz Elizabeth, I ain’t a’
leavin’ ya.’”

“And she didn’t,” Ashberry smiled, moving
Ellie along until she stood before three austere gentlemen of
varying ages. Ashberry introduced them all together. Jefferson, the
first, was the estates steward. “When you wish to, my dear,
Jefferson and Sarah will acquaint you with the household as it is
right now, as we’ve discussed.” Jefferson, who had inclined his
head as he smiled, seemed polite enough—a middle-aged man of pale
face and owlish eyes, probably from spending too much time poring
over ledgers.

“Matthew, the land steward here at the Park,
knows each of the tenants,” Ashberry continued, “And can introduce
you to each family if you wish, when you’ve settled in.” He left
time for Ellie to greet the young man with a Yankee accent before
turning her toward the third man. “And Scott, our librarian
cum
secretary, will act as your assistant if you need help
with organization, correspondence, anything at all.” Scott bowed
slightly. The lady noted with some inner amusement that the man who
had earned the honor of being her amanuensis was as elderly as
Captain Finnigan had been and leaned on a crutch, though his eyes
were bright and twinkling behind his glasses.

“A pleasure, Mr. Scott,” she smiled. “I’m
sure I shall be calling on you soon.”

“Of course, my lady,” the man returned,
watching as Ashberry drew her away. The marquess led her to the
stairs and began to climb them before Ellie’s hand on his arm
stopped him. She turned back to the staff, swallowing deeply and
ignoring Ashberry’s questioning eyes.

They waited expectantly, unusually quiet to
Ashberry’s memory, until Ellie’s voice addressed them. It rang out
confidently, sweetly, in the hall and the marquess could barely
contain his surprise. She seemed so self-assured that he nearly
stopped to check he had the right Ellie beside him. “I am very
grateful for your warm welcome,” she announced, even as Ashberry
regained enough of his senses to step away. He, too, wished to see
her face. Her eyes focused behind him on the men and women gathered
there. “His lordship told me that he is encouraging you to
celebrate our marriage with an afternoon free of household duties,
especially with winter setting in again soon, and I imagine many of
you are eager to begin your time away as soon as possible.” She
delivered a brilliant smile that radiated into the room, warming
it. “I’m quite excited to meet each and every one of you over the
next few days and I’m sure, with the help of each of you, that we
shall adjust to one another easily. Have a wonderful
afternoon!”

It was later, much later, when Ashberry made
his way to the sitting room they shared at Ashberry Park. The suite
was large, luxurious in size and amenities. To enter, one had to
pass through a single sitting room, but lord and lady each had a
dressing room, bedchamber, and an additional room for storing all
variety of things. He smiled as he saw dinner waiting for them, and
locked the door that shut them away from the rest of the world.

Returning to doorway opening into his
chamber, he beckoned to Ellie. “Come here,” he said gently. “We’re
alone.”

Despite the smoothness of the words, she had
no illusions. He was not asking. Her gut tightened and her chin
trembled. “Like this?” she asked, wrapping his shirt more closely
around her.

“Just like that,” he confirmed, eyeing her
closely. Her legs stretched out in silken smoothness, her tousled
hair framed her face. He knew he could reach underneath the linen
of his shirt and find the lush skin of her bottom or the fragrance
of her breasts. She stepped nimbly to the chairs, arranged with a
table between them by the fire. Her toes, toes he had kissed until
her back arched and her hands had clutched at him, curled into the
carpet as she sat in one of the chairs.

Ashberry joined her, shaking his head as she
fingered the ties that would close the top of the garment. “No,” he
said simply as he served them both. He had indulged himself
shamelessly in her body over the last few hours, pressing her to
the edge of sensation and then pulling back, anxious to have her
and yet even more determined to wring as many moans and screams
from her as possible. After he had finally spun her into orgasm and
taken her body as completely as possible, burying his staff so
deeply inside her that he had pulsed against the edge of her womb,
she had slept the slumber of the exhausted.

To his surprise, he had discovered that her
exhausted, satiated form asleep in his bed was nearly as endearing
as her body arched and shuddering in the midst of her climax.

“Why,” she asked quietly as she laid her
hands in her lap, “Do I so easily obey you, especially in things
like this?” She bit her lip, glancing at the door. “Suppose Wendy
or Griffin come in?”

“They won’t,” he smiled, pouring her a glass
of wine. “I locked the door.” The expression on his face as she
took the glass made Ellie catch her breath. “As to the first
question, I believe the answer is just as simple, Ellie.”

Ellie trembled, for the look on his face was
so tender, so unlike the emotionless aristocrat she had believed
him to be at their first introduction. Now, his eyes changed when
he looked at her, his lips changed when he spoke to her, and when
they were alone, every emotion from passion to laughter danced on
his face. She watched him move lazily, garbed only in a pair of
trousers, as he ate the simple fare on his plate. “Eat your meal,
Ellie,” he said softly, when she seemed content to stare at
him.