Bride Enchanted (3 page)

What could she make of Aubrey Ashford now? Except for the fact that so much as he lured her, she knew, deep down, that he was far too much for her, and she trusted nothing about him, from the top of his handsome head to his elegantly shod toes. Still, she couldn't help thinking about what his kiss would be like. He had such a beautiful mouth, such elegant manners, such a strong warm body. And surely, when he kissed, he'd close those knowing eyes, and she'd be more comfortable, not worrying about the notion that he was looking into her very soul.

The very idea of kissing him both thrilled and frightened her. He was not for her, though he insisted he was. Such a man could never be faithful, would never be constant. But he was such a man!

From time to time she shook herself free of her fascination and asked him questions. She hardly listened to his answers.

But as time went by she felt the need to be her own creature intruding on her pleasure in his company, and began to feel foolish and childish because of the way he so totally seduced her senses.

She shook her head to clear it. She felt like she was struggling out of a long, warm, pleasant dream. “Lord!” she said. “You can tell a story! So here I am, sitting mumchance, listening like a babe in its cot being lulled to sleep. No wonder you're so popular. I think you could have gone on the stage and made your fortune.”

“But I already have one,” he said mildly. “I told you about it, but you didn't seem interested.”

She shrugged. “I'm happy for you that you're not in need, but not only is asking about funds vulgar, in truth, it didn't interest me. If we were going to be wed, I'd have to know. As for now, I don't. You know,” she said, tipping her head to the side and considering him, “you've entertained me wonderfully well. But I can't say I know one more
thing about you than I did before we set out on this drive.”

“You are certainly not enchanted by me,” he said ruefully.

But she did feel easier with him. “Well,” she said, as a jest, “I do prefer blond gentlemen.”

He looked surprised for the first time since she'd met him.

She smiled. “If
you
can actually ask for a stranger's hand in marriage because she reminds you of someone long gone and not find that odd, why should my preference in a fellow's coloring be considered trivial?”

“Right,” he said with a crooked smile. “I'll have my hair dyed instantly. Gold or silver? Which do you prefer?”

She laughed. “Neither. You are who you are. As I am who I am. If we are to continue seeing each other…are we, by the way?”

“I hope so,” he said.

“Then I'd like you to remember that I am myself, and not your lost lady.”

He nodded. “I shall. Believe me, I shall. Now. Another tour of the park? I think we just have time to miss the rain I see approaching from the west.”

“Yes,” she said, sitting back, feeling very pleased with herself.

She asked a few more questions, he told her some more tales. Whenever she looked at his face and he turned his head to look at her, she had to glance away. Because the longer the time she passed with him, the more she wanted to be closer to him. As they rounded the last street to her house, she realized that she couldn't remember having a better time with a gentleman. She'd had a delightful morning with him. But she still didn't know him.

“I know,” he said, as they drew up to the curb in front of her house. “I see it from your expression. Somehow, I've disappointed you.”

“I still don't know you,” she said with a slight frown.

He laughed. He stood, gave the reins to the boy who was his tiger, jumped down from his high perch, came around and held out his hand to Eve to help her down. “Good. Now you'll have to see me again. I may not know everything about you either, but I can easily see that curiosity is your besetting sin.”

She stood, took his hand, and looked down at him. She paused. “You think curiosity is a sin?”

His face sobered. “I don't know what a sin is, exactly. I do know there are more than the seven deadly ones the priests go on about. But I'd wager my soul, if I have one, that curiosity isn't one of them.”

She took his hand. “You don't know if you have a soul?”

“A figure of speech,” he said, laughing. “Do I look like one of the undead? Or a devil?”

She stepped down and stood looking up at him, then said, “Undead? You must have been reading Monk Lewis or Mrs. Radcliffe's gothic novels. But no, never undead. A devil?” She cocked her head to the side. “Perhaps.”

His smile was genuine. “Now
that
, my dear Eve, I can promise you I am not.”

“And so you are…?”

“Your devoted servant,” he said. His expression grew tender, and he took her hand in both of his. “Ah, Eve, what a courtship this will be. I'll have to beguile you a dozen different ways. Because I very much fear if you saw how ordinary my ambitions are, I'd bore you. I want to marry you. I'm convinced you're the woman for me.

“For some reason you don't trust me. I aim to change that. And if I have to do it by telling nothing but the truth, so I will. But you will allow me to embroider it a bit, won't you?”

She nodded, too busy thinking about how warm and strong his hands felt as he grasped hers to come up with a quick witty answer.

“You will see me again?” he asked.

“You know that,” she said.

“But you won't say you'll marry me.”

She drew herself up, and took her hands from his. “No. I don't know you,” she said. “And I'm not a fool. Marriage is forever.”

He hesitated, a faraway look in his eyes. “Nothing is forever. As close to forever is good enough for me.” He straightened. “Tomorrow evening then? I've an invitation to a ball.”

“I'm engaged for tomorrow night,” she said with real regret.

“Then the night after? I've been invited everywhere. We can go to a musicale. Decent musicians will be there. After that? There's a ball in London every night this Season.”

“You can't mean to see me every night?”

“I can,” he said. “And do. How else are we to know each other?”

“I don't believe in rushing into anything,” she said, drawing back.

“Reasonable,” he said. “But how are you to get to know me? All right, if you have reservations, we can at least ride in the afternoons; and surely I can join you for tea, can I not?”

“Yes,” she said meekly.

He took a small notebook from his pocket. “And so what about a ball too? Say, a week from next Saturday evening? It might be even more amusing. You'll have a week to get ready. You should
know me even better by then. It's a costume ball. Will you come with me?”

“Yes,” she said, bemused. “That does sound like fun. What will you dress as? Do you want me to match you?”

“Yes, I want you to match me,” he said, looking into her eyes. “But however you dress will be right for me. Because you are.”

She scowled. This was too much passion, too soon.

He nodded. “A misstep, yes. Too much, too soon. We'll speak more about it as time goes on. Until tomorrow night then.”

He bowed, and left her at her door.

She looked after him as he strode back to his phaeton. She watched until he disappeared, still as wary as she was fascinated.

S
he leaned forward in her chair, a smile on her lips; her eyelashes fluttering, though beneath them her eyes were fastened on his as she drank in his every word and watched his every expression as though experiencing a religious revelation. Eve wanted to shake her.

But Lucinda Thompson was her best friend in London. They'd met at a party and found something in common when they realized that Society had decided they'd both stayed a bit long on the shelf. Neither was as yet four and twenty, but young women in London Society had to be plucked fresh from the ranks of the eligible, or else people started whispering. Eve didn't care. Lucinda did.

And now, on her visit to Eve this morning, Lucinda had happened to meet Aubrey Ashford. She was entranced. She was fascinated. And she was obviously trying to snare his interest.

Eve found herself annoyed, amused, and yet strangely, a little frightened too. Because Aubrey had paid her friend strict attention since the moment he met her, and was obviously bent on amusing and enthralling her. Eve discovered she didn't like that. After all, the man was supposedly trying to win her hand. He didn't have to try to seduce her best friend too. And she didn't like the fact that she didn't like it. Why should she care? The man was stunning, his attention flattering, but she didn't really know him yet. The situation was getting more and more curious. He campaigned for her and then before he'd achieved his goal, set out to captivate her best friend? They hadn't stopped talking since they'd met. Eve sat and watched and racked her brain trying to figure out his game.

If it was a game. But what else could it be? Lucinda was not the sort of female to capture a man's interest. She was tall and thin, with a figure that was as straight as her lank brown hair. When she grew old, she might be considered “handsome.” Now she was considered invisible, at least to suitors. Eve sometimes thought it was because Lucinda held herself too low, and practically fawned on any interested male, and usually frightened them away. If she were rich and a beauty it wouldn't matter. She had a tidy dowry, but nothing spectacular. She had no title, although
she was related to many titled persons. But she was sweet and considerate. Still, how could a man know that on first meeting? Most didn't opt for two. Aubrey was acting as though he were ready to propose marriage to her too.

What was he thinking of? The mystery deepened, as did the spell he seemed to have cast over Lucinda. Although Lucinda acted like this whenever a single gentleman happened to speak with her, it didn't seem to repel Aubrey, as it did so many other gentlemen. He appeared to be hanging on her every word too.

Eve's own eyes widened. Was he an incorrigible flirt? Well, better she should know that now than later. That sort of a man was not one she wanted, however handsome and clever and charming he might be. She was very glad she'd found that out now, she thought with a sinking heart.

“But we are neglecting our hostess,” Aubrey said, interrupting what he was saying to Lucinda.

“I didn't mean to,” Lucinda said, startled. “It was only when I discovered who you were, and that you came from my part of the country, I couldn't help comparing impressions. Of course, I didn't know your grandfather, but I knew
of
him. Everyone in the district did. I can't wait to tell my mother that I met you. But I won't have
to. She's coming here to collect me this morning.” She turned to look at Eve. “I honestly didn't mean to take over the conversation, Eve.”

Aubrey rose. “You didn't. It was equally my fault; I found your recollections fascinating. But my rudeness is soon corrected. I've overstayed the allotted time for a morning caller. I look forward to my time as an evening caller. It's dinner for us tonight, Eve. And then the Swanson's for a musicale. Good day, Miss Lucinda. I hope to see you again. Good-bye, Eve, for now. I'll see you soon, but not soon enough to suit me.”

He smiled, bowed, and left.

“Oh!” Lucinda breathed when he'd gone from the salon. She sat back and put a hand on her heart. “He
is
courting you. You lucky, lucky girl! There isn't a female at home who wouldn't envy you. The Ashfords are famous in our district. Such handsome men! Not that they ever stay around very long. They travel all the time. His grandfather charmed everyone, or so everyone remembers. They say his grandmother was a beauty, but when she began to ail they left the country to go to Italy for the climate. That's where your Aubrey's father was born. He came back to visit his estate once, but left soon again. I vow, I was only a child, but I never forgot the glimpses I got of him before he returned to Italy, which he considered his home.
I hear he married there. This Mr. Aubrey was his only child and now
he's
back. I vow your Aubrey is his father's spit and image.”

“Not
my
Aubrey,” Eve corrected her, sitting back, vastly relieved.

“Why not? He has everything. What fault do you find in him?”

“None,” Eve said gloomily. “That's the problem. I've plenty of faults. Why should this magnificent, faultless person want to marry me at first sight?

“It's so romantic,” Lucinda sighed. “Why not just accept it? I would, should such a person want to marry me, for whatever reason.”

“He says I remind him of someone,” Eve said. “A woman he obviously adored. But that's no basis for marriage either. I know you consider me mad, Lucy, but I want more from my husband. That's why I've waited this long. Marriage is forever. I don't want to make a misstep.”

Eve sat up suddenly. “Tell me about his family. He's answered my questions about them, but not at length. All he says was that he was orphaned in Italy and came home to find his roots. I accepted that because, well, you know how it is when he's talking. He changed the subject and I never got back to it. I can now. Tell me all about them. Everything you know, or guess, or have heard.”

“Didn't you hear when I was talking with him?” Lucinda asked.

Eve's cheeks grew pink. “I was distracted,” she said. “Tell me now. And tell me all.”

 

The dinner was delicious, the conversation witty, and Eve seldom stopped smiling. Aubrey was a wonderful host. The restaurant was elegant and in fashion. Sheridan was beyond thrilled to have been invited along. The newlywed young couple, friends of Aubrey's, were charming, when they stopped staring into each other's eyes and remembered where they were.

The musicale they went to next routed Sheridan after a half hour. He sat looking agonized, gazing around the room to see how he could make his getaway. Eve realized his plan even before he suddenly stood. He sat again when she tugged on his sleeve and whispered, reminding him that he'd agreed to be chaperone this evening. A maid wasn't enough for a well-bred young woman. She began to think that a cloister of nuns wouldn't be enough chaperonage for her when she was with Aubrey.

Sure enough, when they said good night to the young couple and returned to Eve's house, Sherry bowed, said his thanks, and dashed off to meet some friends at a nearby tavern. Eve allowed her
yawning maid to go to bed. And all the while, Aubrey stood in the hallway with a slight smile.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Eve finally said, looking up at him, suddenly aware that she ought not to have sent her maid to bed so soon.

“No, thank you,” he said. “Ready to accept my proposal, Eve? Then you wouldn't have to look so stricken because we were left alone.”

“You read my face, and not my mind,” she countered, annoyed at how transparent she was to him.

“Did I?” he said in a soft voice, stepping closer to her. “I think not. Let us be done with the problem, Eve. Once we know, we'll know a lot more, and you'll either dismiss me…or not.”

“Know what?” she said weakly as he bent to her, although of course, she knew. She closed her eyes, so as not to see his handsome face and be influenced by it or the tender look in his shockingly perceptive eyes. His lips were warm and soft on hers. Velvet and yet electrifying, she felt the tingle of first contact down to her toes. His mouth moved over hers, teasing, cajoling, gently urging her on. He was strong and yet under restraint. It reassured her. Soon, she felt entirely under his control and didn't resist, because to surrender brought her so much pleasure and it was so wonderful to be taken out of herself, to be able to stop thinking.

She stood on her toes to taste more, because he was so close and yet still too distant. Then he took her in his arms and deepened the kiss, and she opened her lips against his to seek more of the sweet dark taste of him. She'd never experienced such a kiss.

And yet, drowning in the bliss of it, she soon found herself wanting more. Her body itched and tingled and yearned. Even the stableboy had tried for more. Now, one kiss led to another, and yet another. But he didn't put his hands on her or over her, as she'd hoped he would. She crowded up to him; her thin gown allowing her to feel the heat of him. She knew he was not unmoved, but he made no further demands. Eve reached up and felt the clean thick silk of his hair under her hands, and sighed against his mouth.

Finally, her common sense started to overwhelm her senses. Why didn't he try to sweep her entirely away? Her breasts were peaked against his chest; her breathing was quickened, she was burning, and she clung to him. Couldn't he tell she wanted more? He who knew so much, how could he not know that? Impossible. He must be holding back. But why?

She moved back a step to look for an answer in his expression. But she wasn't as good at reading him as he was at knowing her thoughts. She saw
his raised eyebrow, and could only guess that was laughter at the back of his eyes. It made her take a breath, step further from him, and raise her chin. “I amuse you?” she asked shakily.

“No,” he said. “I'm only happy because I was right. Didn't you feel it? That knowledge that we're suited, mind and body?”

“I felt our mouths suited,” she said crossly. “That's all.”

He threw back his head and laughed heartily. “But, Eve, I didn't want to beguile your body unless I already had your mind, and I know I don't. Nor did I want to compromise you, and then have you saying you only married me because of that for the rest of our lives. The answer must come from here,” he said, cupping her chin in one hand and raising her head, “and here,” he added, touching a fingertip to her breast, right over her beating heart. “And so, your answer is…?”

“I don't know,” she said. “You stir my senses so much I find it hard to think. But then, when I do think, I have reservations. The same ones, and still with not enough explanation to ease my mind. Why me? Why so suddenly? I remind you of someone you loved? Surely that isn't enough, not for me, at least. Because I'm not her, and never will be, nor do I want to be loved for who I resemble.”

“That spirit, that glow,” he said, touching a lock of her hair. “That's the same. Little else is. And I do know you, Eve, apart from memories of yesterday. But if you want more time, I have all the time in the world to convince you. I only wish I didn't have to use it, waiting. I yearn for you, you know.”

“I know,” she said miserably. Because he'd finally said everything a suitor ought. Except he hadn't said he loved her, because it would be a lie. They both knew that. He wanted her, and that was very different. She knew that too, for herself.

“I'll wait then,” he said. “Now then, my Miss Eve, you will see me tomorrow for tea?”

She nodded.

“And the next night, for the masquerade ball. Maybe you can learn more about me when I'm in disguise? You're so contrary, that may turn the trick. I can't wait to see what disguise you've chosen. Whatever it is, I'll wager I'll be your partner.”

“At the ball, yes. But maybe not in our costumes. Unless you wish it?”

“Oh,” he said, “I think you'll find we will match in everything.”

“You have a spy in my house?” she asked in astonishment. “It can't be Sherry. I didn't tell him. But he has a way of talking the housemaids and
the footmen around anything…he didn't!”

“He did not,” Aubrey said. “I'm gambling on how well I know you.”

“What's the wager to be?” she asked, hands on her hips. When they teased like this, she didn't mistrust him.

“Name it.”

“So sure? This will be interesting. No material wager matters,” she said airily. “I just look forward to victory.”

“Then if material doesn't matter to you, a kiss will to me. That's the wager. If you win, you can come to me, anywhere, anytime, and kiss me. If I do, I get to kiss you, any time, anywhere. Agreed?”

“Yes,” she said brightly. “There's no way I can lose if I win.” She laughed. “And you won't win, we won't be a pair in our costumes. But I'll forgive you that.”

He laughed, took her back into his arms, kissed her speechless, and left her looking after him. She watched him go out into the night, bemused as always at how much she could want a man, and how suspicious she could be of him at the same time.

She slowly went up the stairs to her bedchamber. She could have asked her brother or her maid to stay until Aubrey had left. But she'd wanted
what she got, even though it turned out she didn't get half of it. He was still a mystery to her, but a more alluring one every moment.

Eve changed to her nightclothes, and then sat cross-legged on her bed and thought, her chin on her knees. She had a costume. She wouldn't use it now. He'd said he'd know. Which was ridiculous. He couldn't know. He didn't even know what costumer she'd gone to. Still…

She needed a new costume. A good one. This wasn't a public masquerade, where, Sherry told her, people dressed in unlikely costumes so no one would recognize them, so they could flirt and worse with their own maidservants and footmen or their best friends' husbands and wives. This was a top-notch affair, where people wanted to be seen in all their glory.