The Rebel Heir (26 page)

The power of her position over him, the ability to make him look at her that way, make him mutter soundless words to himself, was intoxicating. She could move how she wanted, take what she wanted, and he allowed her that—without judgment.

There in his eyes she could see how his confidence in what he was doing warred with his control slipping away. Sly smiles were replaced with a look of wild desperation that was building again in her as well. He moved one hand to reach between them and toy with the same sensitive place that had made her wild earlier as he pulled her down onto his body with more force than she alone possessed. She bent to his clear skill and allowed him to do what he wished with her. Arching into his thrusts, she almost cried out when he pulled her down to him in one last forceful action. He reached for her mouth, covering it with his as he pulsed inside her.

A minute later, they still clung to one another in a heap of sweat-slick and still-shaking body parts. Somewhere beyond their private world an orchestra began to tune their instruments. The intensity and power of what they'd just shared was too fragile for words. All she knew was she had to find a way to keep Ash Claughbane in her life.

They sat there until the opera began, the music filling the air around them, but neither moved to claim their seats. He'd only left her once and that was to retrieve a cloth dipped in the cool water of the bucket where a bottle of champagne sat in the corner. Returning to her, he'd pressed the fabric between her legs with a gentle touch. She would no doubt be sore tomorrow, but the gesture made her heart clench. After throwing the handkerchief back in the direction of the champagne pail, he propped himself against the wall and pulled her toward him until she was resting between his thighs, curled on top of his coat with his capable arms wrapped around her.

Turning her head to the side, she reached up to press her lips to the edge of his jaw. “The theater should always be viewed in this manner.” Her voice was a raspy whisper beneath the high notes of the soprano.

“Naked and not watching at all?” he murmured into her hair with a chuckle, the sound vibrating down her back.

“It's beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” Ash whispered as he continued to roam his hands over her body, over her hip, down her thigh, then back up across her stomach to her breast. He traced a random pattern of warmth and awareness over her body, lulling her into equal parts comfort and anticipation of where he might touch next.

She squirmed farther into his embrace, resting her hands on his thighs. “Have you ever wanted to hold on to a moment and keep it forever? I would keep this one.”

His hands tightened around her as some emotion passed across his face, but when he looked down at her a second later the emotion was gone. “It's difficult to hold on to anything for very long in my life—such that it is.”

“It doesn't have to be.” She turned her cheek into his chest. “I could hold on with you.”

“Things like moments don't like to be captured that way.” He sounded almost sad. If he wanted something, all he needed to do was say it. Wasn't that what he was always telling her?

She took a breath and voiced the questions that consumed her mind. “What about things like being together and happiness? Could we hold on to that?”

“I'm not letting go—not tonight.” He tightened his grip on her in a fierce and possessive manner that soothed her even if he hadn't answered her questions.

She could focus on where that would leave them when the sun rose tomorrow. Just now, she didn't want to think of any time beyond right now on the floor of a stolen box at the theater.

“Good,” she said, twisting in his arms. “If you aren't letting go, that leaves my hands free to roam—for tonight, at any rate.”

“The rules of your games aren't fair. You know that, don't you?” he chided jokingly, his hands sliding around her waist as she moved.

“Neither are yours,” she countered with a grin. “I learned from the best.”

He slid his hands through Evie's hair in an attempt to gather it at the back of her head and grabbed one of the pins that still littered the floor around them. Ash preferred her hair cascading down onto his shoulders as she rode him, but he would have to leave here with her at some point this evening.

“I like you better than my maid,” she almost purred as he combed his fingers gently through the waves of mahogany.

“Considering what we just shared, I'm glad of it.” He laughed as she elbowed him in the ribs.

“I meant that Jane has been instructed to pull my hair impossibly tight. You're gentle.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder at him before returning to her stance before him. “It's lovely, actually.”

“I would recommend you look in a mirror before you say that.” He pulled a concerned face as he twisted her hair up onto her head and stuck a few pins in it to hold it there. It wasn't to Evie's usual standards, but neither was the rumpled dress she now wore nor the crushed coat that he'd slung over one of the chairs. What she was wearing would, however, be enough clothing to slip out the service door to his carriage without notice.

Turning, she looked up at him. “We should leave soon, shouldn't we?” There was a resigned sadness to her voice that he didn't like. “I've heard that many lords don't arrive until after intermission, and that's already begun. We could be discovered here. The Duke of Kilburn could find us.”

Ash ran his hands down the short sleeves that covered her shoulders, partly to smooth the wrinkles in the fabric, but mostly because he couldn't stop himself from touching her. “He isn't even aware he possesses this box, not to mention the great distance he lives from here,” Ash said truthfully.

“How do you know that?” Her eyes narrowed on him, but he kept his expression blank as he looked down at her. “I'm not certain I've heard of the Duke of Kilburn. It's surprising that my mother would overlook educating me about a dukedom. She would be fortunate to tie herself to a duke by throwing me at him. The duke must be quite happily wed or a doddering old man with no use for ladies. Either way…”

Ash laughed. “Doddering, yes. That is precisely how I would describe the duke.”

“Would you? You know him, then—the owner of this box?” She sighed as she watched him. “You didn't swindle his investments away from him, did you?”

“No.” Perhaps it was time to tell her the truth anyway. He wasn't certain if this was the proper time to discuss it, but the subject was here, surrounding him as they stood by the Duke of Kilburn's box seats. Ash took a breath. It was time. “Actually, I'm attempting to return his fortune to his family.”

Evie's delicate brows drew together in confusion as she studied him. She opened her mouth, no doubt to ask some difficult-to-answer question that would have to lead to truth between them.

He couldn't hide his true identity and the ramifications of that truth from her any longer, even if it led to the end of their time together. His mind raced with where to begin. The supposed friendship between their fathers? Or perhaps how that friendship had fallen apart when her father had destroyed his? She already knew what had become of him after that. “There are things about my past, Evie. Things you don't know.”

And that was when the Duke of blasted Kilburn decided to walk through the door.

Ash ground his teeth together as he eyed the man. Evie jumped away from Ash and folded her hands at her waist in an attempt at innocence, but he pulled her back to his side with a hand on her lower back.

“Brother,” Brennen said with his eyes on Ash. “So this is where I find you.” He shut the door and turned to take in the scene before him, exhaling through flared nostrils in the same manner Ash had seen his father do when Ash had done some wrong as a child. But this man was
not
his father. Ash had a father, and that father was gone.

“Good of you to come,” Ash lied with an attempt at a pleasant smile, though he was fairly certain it fell short of genuine. “The performance is quite entertaining tonight. Don't you agree, my lady?”

Evie almost choked on a gasp at his side. “Quite nice,” she finally managed in the small, whispery voice she used when she was afraid.

Ash draped his arm farther around her waist to comfort her. Damn his brother for frightening her so. He could kill Brennen for coming here and intruding on their evening together.

“What the devil are you doing here?” Brennen asked with a defeated shake of his head. Years they'd been apart and this was how he was greeted?

“Welcome to town to you as well.” Ash turned to Evie to say, “Forgive my eldest brother. His manners have always been somewhat lacking.”

His brother's gaze swept from Evie to Ash as if trying to solve some riddle. “You shouldn't be here.”

“And yet I am.” This moment was just a further example of why they'd never seen eye to eye. Everything with his brother was about expectation and rules, and Ash had never measured up to Brennen's standards. Of course he'd made it a point to try not to, but that hardly mattered.

Brennen had the good grace to look uncomfortable. It was likely due to physical confines, considering his brother's height and size in general, and not the intimacy Brennan had interrupted, but it did assuage Ash's anger a bit to see his brother feeling awkward.

“I can see I have poor timing,” Brennan said, his gaze on Ash's arm around Evie's waist. “Or perhaps my timing is better than I could have imagined.” He shot Ash a disgusted glare before offering Evie a small bow. “My lady.”

She pulled herself straighter, seeming to find her strength. “If you are brothers, then I believe I wrote to you earlier in the season. I never received word back from you.”

“Ah, you are the lady who wrote to me. Your words about my dear brother were so poignant that I thought I would come see him in person.”

Ash shot Evie a look that could freeze bathwater, but said nothing.

She struck the pose she maintained at every ball as if it were armor, shielding herself from his blasted family. “May I ask how you tracked us here tonight? This is all rather sudden. I find I'm a bit taken unaware by it all.”

“You don't know? Ashley, did you not tell her anything of our family? My lady, I'm the Duke of Kilburn and you are in my opera box.”

“You're a duke,” she stated, turning toward Ash with accusation in her eyes. “Your brother is a duke. That means you're the son of a duke.”

“No, the title skipped my father. He passed seven years ago. The illustrious duke here is still growing accustomed to his fancy new title. Aren't you, Brennen? It's shocking his giant head was able to fit through the doorway.”

“Ashley,” Evie muttered, cutting off any retort his brother might have made. “Your given name is Ashley and you come from a titled family. How could you keep such secrets from me?”

“I haven't been called Ashley since—”

“Ashley Lashley—that's what our brothers always called him when he was young,” Brennen filled in for her. “On account of the eyelashes.” He shrugged. Did Brennen believe it was his place to dole out the family history for Evie's benefit? He wasn't a blasted volume in a library to recite such facts. How he shared a bloodline with this man was beyond Ash's comprehension.

Ash's hand fell away from Evie as he took a step toward his brother. “Go ahead and say it in its entirety,” he spat out. “It always did have such a nice ring to it. You've come here tonight, so you might as well truly have a time of it.”

“Ashley Lashley, do you have a sashley?”

“And you wondered why I never returned home. My name is Ash. Do you know what rhymes with that? Bash, smash, crash—do I need to continue, Brother?”

He took another step toward Brennen, but stopped at Evie's hand on his chest. “Ash, I know who you are. You have nothing to prove tonight.”

It was remarkable the calming effect of one gentle touch. He relaxed and looked down at her, a stirring concoction of fragile and strong as she stood between him and his brother. Against all odds, he smiled. “I told you he was old and doddering.”

“Although not as far away as you presumed,” she murmured.

Ash took a breath and did what he should have done from the first moment he saw his brother tonight. He took Evie's hand in his as he spoke. “My apologies for not introducing you sooner. This is Brennen Claughbane, Duke of Kilburn, and my eldest brother. Everything else I told you was the truth. I am the fourth son in my family. And my eldest brother is, in fact, a horse's arse.”

“Pardon?” Brennen straightened his coat on his shoulders as if he could physically shake off the insult.

“You are,” Ash assured him.

Brennen shook his head. “I'm a benevolent leader. It isn't easy, you know.”

Ash ignored his brother, looking only at Evie. “I've been honest with you about everything for at least eight days.”

“That's quite possibly a new record for him,” his brother added with a great deal of disapproval. But he wasn't wrong.

“It's true,” Ash conceded.

He held his breath, but then Evie smiled and her smile quickly turned into laughter. “Trustworthiness for eight entire days. I'll count myself among the fortunate.”

“No,
that
honor is mine.” When he looked into her eyes, the future seemed to unfurl before him. For the first time, he didn't want to pull away from it.

“And what of eight
more
days of trustworthiness?” she pressed.

She still didn't know of the connection between their families, but he would deal with that later. There was time. “I might be able to manage that,” he said with a wince of pain over the unfortunate turn of events tonight. “Make me one promise, though. Don't call me Ashley.”

“You have my word.”

Ash turned to his brother a moment later. “Might we continue this delightful reunion after I've returned the lady to her home lest she be missed?”

“Certainly.” Brennen gave her a nod of farewell. “I don't believe I caught your name, my lady.”

“Lady Evangeline Green, Your Grace.” The words were out of Evie's mouth before Ash could redirect the conversation.

“Green,” Brennen repeated, his voice hollow as he looked first at her, then at his brother. “Hurry and return her to her home. Then, we have much to discuss,
Ash
. You'll find me at the Humpleby Hotel.”

Perhaps they did have matters to discuss, but Ash didn't plan to seek out that conversation tonight. Not after the evening he'd spent with Evie. Some dreams one simply didn't want to wake from.

* * *

“Evangeline, darling, you have a gentleman caller,” her mother said from the door of her bedchamber. Her already pinched mouth was drawn in more than usual as her assessing gaze raked over Evangeline's ensemble. Evangeline wasn't sure whether her own simple day dress and loosely knotted hair or the gentleman waiting in the parlor had her mother in such distress, and she didn't particularly care. She gave her hair an approving pat and rose from her dressing table.

All of her thoughts were focused on Ash this morning. Her body ached in the most delicious fashion, reminding her of their night together with every movement. She hadn't wanted the carriage ride home to end. She didn't want anything with Ash to end, and for the first time, she believed he felt the same. He'd made her no promises, but there had been something in his eyes, something that looked like hope. She suppressed the smile that remained in her heart and met her mother's unceasing gaze of disapproval.

“Is it Lord Winfield?” she asked in a chipper tone that made her mother's eyes narrow. Let her glare. Nothing could shake Evangeline's bright mood today. “I know Lord Crosby had a prior engagement this morning. He told me… Well, never mind that. I'll be right down.”

“It is not Lord Winfield. It's a Lord Braxton.” Her mother twitched the calling card between her fingers with a wary eye to check the quality of the paper on which it was printed.

“I…can't remember meeting a Lord Braxton.”

Her mother's eyes flashed. “He asked for you. Clearly you have met. Chatting and dancing with Lord Crosby when you should be furthering your acquaintance with Lord Winfield, and now there's a Lord Braxton in the picture whom you can't recall? What shall Lord Winfield think of you?”

“That he isn't the only gentleman in London? Mother, I have no memory of this Lord Braxton.”

“A crime unto itself. Gentlemen should be studied, their qualities memorized.”

“I quite agree,” she said, thinking of Isabelle's rating of bums and Ash's body last night. Clearing her throat, she took the calling card from her mother. “Perhaps if I see him…”

“This is the height of unladylike behavior,” her mother stated with a shake of her head, reminding Evangeline of an irate chicken with twitching feathers. “Seeing a gentleman of whom you have no memory in the parlor, all the while keeping Lord Winfield on a string.”

“I haven't kept anyone on a string, Mother. If Lord Winfield is hanging about on a string, then it is because you placed him there. My interests lie elsewhere.” She moved past the woman into the hall, beyond the fear that had surrounded her most of her life.

“Of all the common…”

Evangeline sighed and turned back to her mother, giving her the same look of disapproval she'd learned so well. “Save your outrage. I know you long to give it full range, but I seem to have a caller waiting for me.”

“Is this the influence of your cousins?” her mother hissed as she moved forward toward Evangeline in a continuous snake-like motion, threatening a strike at any time. “I will not have you speak to me in such a manner. After all I have done for you.”

“Actually, Mother, this isn't their influence at all. This is the true Evangeline, and I like her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a caller.” She turned and left her mother gaping after her as she descended the stairs to the parlor.