Princess Charming (30 page)

Katharine was out for the evening with Lady Isabella, and Lord Cornelius had already retired. Maura went directly upstairs to her bedchamber, where she paced the floor and debated what to do. She was still highly upset and worried for Ash. She couldn’t live with herself if harm came to him. If she hadn’t realized her love for him before this, her gut-tightening fear now would have enlightened her.

She would have to think of some way of convincing Ash to withdraw, Maura decided. Yes, she wanted her father’s name cleared, but she wanted much more to keep Ash safe.

A half hour later, she had changed out of her evening gown, yet she still had not calmed down enough to try to sleep. Resolving to make one last attempt to speak to Ash, Maura pulled on a robe over her nightdress and took up a candle, then made her way along the silent corridors to his bedchamber.

She didn’t care about being seen by the servants just now. Her reputation wouldn’t be worth a farthing to her if she allowed Ash to be killed.

Letting herself inside, she glanced around the masculine chamber, which was done in burgundy and golds. The night was warm enough that a fire wasn’t necessary, but even so she shivered as she settled in a wing chair to wait.

It was a long while later before she heard the tread of footsteps out in the corridor. Shortly, the door opened to admit Ash, but he checked on the threshold as soon as he spied her. As if making a decision then, he entered and shut the door softly behind him.

“I suppose you have a good reason for coming to my rooms and risking scandal,” he said calmly.

“You know why I am here,” Maura replied. “To convince you to abandon this mad duel.”

Ash remained silent as he began removing his coat and waistcoat. Supremely frustrated that he intended to ignore her, Maura rose and went to stand before him. Reaching up, she framed his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his.

“Please, Ash, won’t you reconsider?” she pleaded.

“I’m sorry, love. We have come too far to turn back now. I will stop when Deering professes your father’s innocence and not before.”

Maura exhaled a fretful sigh. “Then I will have to try to persuade Deering to withdraw.” At Ash’s skeptical look, she expounded. “He might, if I give him what he wants … my stallion. Your life is more important to me than any horse, even Emperor.”

His expression softened as he untied his cravat. “I
am honored, sweetheart. I didn’t realize you cared that much.”

“Of course I care.” She cared
deeply
, Maura added to herself.

“Thank you, but your sacrifice isn’t necessary.” Ash paused in his undressing to hold her gaze. “You need to trust me, Maura. My plan will work, you will see.”

There was nothing brash or cocky about his pronouncement; he was simply convinced he was on the right course. But his self-confidence made her irritation return.

“I do trust you, Ash,” she claimed in exasperation. “It is Deering I don’t trust.”

“I share your feelings. That is another reason to go through with the meeting tomorrow. It will force Deering to fight out in the open. I wouldn’t put it past him to employ underhanded means in order to win against me.” Ash pulled off his shirt. “I was actually reassured when he chose Lord Pelham as his second. If Deering doesn’t back down—which I still contend is a strong possibility—Pelham will be there to act as a reputable witness. In fact, I just spent the past hour hunting down Quinn to act as my second. He will make certain that Pelham is there tomorrow.”

“That is hardly reassuring to
me
.”

“Stop fretting, love.”

“How can I when you could be going to your death tomorrow?”

“I promise it won’t come to that.”

He continued shedding his clothing—his evening shoes and stockings, then breeches and drawers. Soon he was sublimely naked. In the soft glow of lamplight,
Maura couldn’t help but notice his loins; he was already heavy and aroused, the shaft pulsing and erect between his sinewed thighs.

Contrarily, desire began to shimmer inside her, even before he took her hand and said tenderly, “Come lie with me, Maura.”

“Ash …” she murmured, a final effort at protest.

“Hush, sweeting.”

He was done arguing, Maura realized as he led her toward the bed. He intended to make love to her instead—his way of silencing her. He knew she was helpless in his arms.

He undressed her swiftly, divesting her of her robe and nightshift, then drew her down to lie beside him on the bed and began a sensual assault designed to shred the last remnants of her resistance.

For a while he only caressed her bare breasts. Then his mouth dipped to her swollen nipples. Maura shivered as it closed hot and moist over a sensitive bud. Wet heat pulled her taut inside as Ash suckled her, his tongue laving while his palm slid along the satin of her inner thighs to find the heart of her womanhood.

He aroused her until she was moaning for him, until a desperate fire had built in her yielding, throbbing center. At her urgent pleas for release, he finally mounted her. His hard thighs pressing into her softness, he thrust inside her slick passage with exquisite care, then withdrew in a slow, sensual motion, only to sink slowly into her again.

Settling into a possessive rhythm, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss that compelled her complete surrender. As Maura clung to him, the scent of him
filled her senses, the taste of him stole her reason. And as she felt him move inside her, she experienced his spellbinding power again—that special magic only Ash could command. He made her feel whole, complete, as if they had been lovers forever and always would be.

Their whispers and murmurs and moans gave way to cries of passion from their explosive joining. When it was over, they both lay spent and shuddering and flushed with heat.

At last Ash raised himself up on one elbow. Gazing deeply into Maura’s eyes, he cradled her cheek. “Don’t worry for me, love. I want to do this for you.”

His touch was so tender. It warmed her and comforted her and made her heart ache, just as the soft light in his eyes did.

Admitting her resistance totally vanquished, Maura buried her face in his shoulder, yet her emotions were still in turmoil. She couldn’t bear to lose Ash, she thought with dismay. Not now, when she had just come to love him so very much.

Ash woke well before dawn, cherishing the feel of Maura’s warm, silken body curled against him. Judging by her soft breathing, she was still asleep—a state he hoped to maintain.

He didn’t want her waking until after he was gone, for he knew she would try to plead with him again. Yet he intended to follow through with the duel this morning. It was in his power to give Maura what she wanted most in the world, and he wasn’t about to give up now. He wanted—needed—to defeat her nemesis
for her. If that entailed mortal risk, then so be it. He would die for her, defend her to the death, just as he would for any member of his family.

He considered Maura his family now.

So what did that say about his feelings for her? More crucially, what were her feelings for him?

Maura was concerned for his safety, he knew that without a doubt. It touched him deeply that she was willing to sacrifice her precious stallion for his sake. The trouble was, he wanted more from her. Much more.

Lying here with her now in the dim, predawn light, Ash could acknowledge that he’d crossed a final line last night. He had claimed Maura for his own, with no regrets for any potential consequences. Their joining had felt like a true mating, at least on his part. As far as he was concerned, they were irrevocably bound together.

He was loath to leave her now. He relished waking by Maura’s side, reveled in her sweet passion and the incredible pleasure she gave him.

Putting duty before pleasure, however, Ash silently untangled himself from her warm body and eased from the bed. For a moment as he stood gazing, gazing down at her beautiful face in the faint light, that powerful, familiar sense of possessiveness and protectiveness welled up inside him.

Quelling the urge to caress her soft cheek, Ash picked up his clothing from the previous evening and carried the bundle to his dressing room, where he quietly lit a lamp. He checked his pocket watch and noted the time was just after five
A.M
. More than an hour before he was to meet Deering for their duel.

He dressed and shaved. Then, needing sustenance, Ash went downstairs to the kitchens to raid the pantry for breakfast. He surprised a sleepy scullery maid who was stoking the fire in the hearth. After eating a cold but hearty meal of beef and bread, Ash spent the next half hour in his study, putting some final affairs in order and penning instructions for his family in the event of his hopefully unlikely demise.

When the time drew near, Ash moved to the entrance hall to await the carriage he had ordered for six o’clock. Quinn was to meet him at Granger Hill, so Ash intended to drive directly there. Frankly, he was surprised that his carriage was not already standing at the curb. The footman on duty in the hall had no idea what was taking so long, either.

When five more minutes had passed, Ash felt himself growing impatient, especially since he worried that Maura would wake and come downstairs before he could make his escape. Deciding he would be wiser to depart now, he proceeded to the rear of the house and let himself out.

By then the morning had grown light enough that he didn’t need a lantern as he strode down the path to the mews beyond the gardens. Oddly, though, the carriage house was dark, and while the wide doors were open, Ash could detect no sounds of activity from within. Stranger still, he could see that his team of chestnuts was harnessed to his coach, but when he entered the carriage house, there was no sign of his coachman or grooms or stable lads.

“Tom?” Ash called out, but received only silence to his query. His servants were superbly trained and rarely
slack in their duties, so their disappearance was not only puzzling but disquieting.

He repeated his coachman’s name more loudly, and this time heard a soft groan in reply. His instincts for danger now on full alert, Ash took another step, just as a dark shape came barreling at him across the passageway.

The attack caught
Ash off guard, and it took him more than a second to react. He felt himself being shoved to the cobblestone pavement, the breath knocked from his lungs. Rolling, he struggled to his feet just in time to ward off a savage blow from a night watchman’s baton.

His assailant must have been lying in wait, Ash realized as he tried again to defend himself from the swinging club. When he regained his balance, he lunged forward in a surprise offensive. A lucky blow from his fist managed to knock the lout down, but then another one immediately took his place and was quickly joined by a third.

There were at least three attackers—all armed with batons or cudgels. Big, brawny fellows who looked determined to beat him to a bloody pulp, if not worse.

Raising his fists protectively, Ash danced back out of range, but the two upright thugs came after him at the same time. For what seemed like endless moments he fought off both brutes, while out of the corner of
his eye, he saw their even taller comrade lurch to his feet.

Not certain if he could take all three at once, Ash redoubled his efforts, yet he knew he was losing the fight as his shoulders and ribs took the painful brunt of the attack. At the increased ruckus in the carriage house, the nervous horses began snorting and stamping as if preparing to bolt, which shook his coach in its traces, despite the brake being set.

An instant later, Maura’s cry of alarm chilled Ash’s blood. He didn’t want her caught in the melee, yet the moment she ran into the carriage house, she threw herself into the thick of the battle, charging one of his attackers with her bare fists.

When the miscreant whirled toward her threateningly, Ash felt a surge of fear-driven rage more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced.

In reaction, he let fly a punishing blow that sent his second opponent sprawling. Responding just as swiftly, Maura scrambled after the fallen thug’s baton and swung it with all her might at the first tough. With a yelp, her target went down hard, like a felled oak. Ash was left with only a final assailant to dispense with.

By the time he succeeded in knocking the lout unconscious, Maura was standing over the other two prone thugs, pointing a cocked pistol down at their heads.

“Don’t even think about getting up,” she warned in a deadly tone. Ash could hear the fear trembling in her voice, but her eyes were fierce and bright.

She was angry and shaken, but he had never been more proud of her—or more grateful. The fight had concluded almost as swiftly as it had begun. Yet he knew he could not have survived without her intervention.
He was still more concerned about Maura just now, however.

“Are you all right?” Ash demanded as they stood staring at each other, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” she said unsteadily. “Are you?” Distraught, she scanned his face, noting the scrape on his jaw where it had grated against the cobblestones, and a bruise on his left cheekbone from a beefy fist.