Until You (11 page)

“Alex, what on earth are you doing here?” Nicholas asked in surprised greeting.  “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Amelia and Lizzie are finally on the mend, so mother ushered me out of the house, insisting that I come tonight and make an appearance on behalf of the family.  She sends her regrets of course.”

“Well it’s good to see you, and I am glad to hear that your sisters are recovering.  Please give them my best.”  He was aware that both of Alex’s younger sisters had been suffering from a recent illness and was pleased to know that their health was improving.

 “I will,” he said with an appreciative nod.  “So, you haven’t answered my question.  What is it that has you tucked away in this shadowy nook my friend?  Or do I even need to ask?”

Nicholas rolled his eyes.  “Will it never end?”

“Not until you are officially leg-shackled and put hopelessly beyond their reach, I’m afraid.”

Alex’s tone was sympathetic, but Nicholas didn’t miss the amused twinkle in his friend’s eye.
 
“At least when Brendon is about I have some measure of peace,” he lamented with a wry grin.
 
“When he returns from his latest voyage, I fully intend to box his ears for abandoning me during the hunting weekend.”

Alex chuckled.
 
“Yes, if anyone can draw the ladies attention from you it’s definitely your charming rogue of a brother.”

He was about to respond when he noted Ashleigh’s partner spinning her in their direction from the corner of his eye.  Unwittingly, he turned to follow her with his gaze as they whirled past.  He thought she might have noticed him standing there, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Good lord, who is she?” Alex demanded, following Nick’s steady gaze.

Nicholas, recognizing the look of blatant male admiration in Alex’s expression, stiffened slightly. 

“She is Ashleigh St. John, the Earl of Dexter’s granddaughter.  She also happens to be our houseguest for the next couple of months.  Madeline has offered to take the girl under her wing while Dexter is abroad, and help prepare her for her first Season.

“She’s stunning,” Alex said, his eyes following her until she disappeared once again within the crowd. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Nicholas replied, a bit more forcefully than he had intended.

Alex turned back to him, brows raised, a speculative glint in his eye.  “Already staked your claim?”

“Hardly,” he snorted.  “You know I don’t involve myself with innocents Alex.  The girl is under my protection for the time being, that is all.”  He hoped he sounded convincing, but one look at Alex's face told him he hadn't succeeded.  Alex knew him too well.

“I see.”  Alex’s tone was slightly sardonic, his expression bemused.  “Well, if you will excuse me for a moment, I haven’t yet said hello to your lovely grandmother.  And of course, it would be remiss of me not to at least introduce myself to your lovely
houseguest
.”

 Nicholas watched in mild irritation as Alex abruptly turned and walked away, purposefully weaving his way through the crowded ballroom.

Ashleigh was more than a little relieved when Philip Bancroft, Viscount Huxley finally led her off the dance floor to where Madeline was seated in one of the many chairs set against the north wall, with several of her closest friends in attendance.  Ashleigh's toes were throbbing from being repeatedly trod upon by the young viscount's ungainly feet and she was tired of feigning laughter at his rather inept attempts at humor.  She knew she was not being entirely fair to the eager young lord, but it seemed that he, like the vast majority of gentlemen she had met that evening, came up sorely lacking when compared to Nicholas Leighton.

Just as she was about to lower herself into one of the vacant chairs near the duchess, she felt her elbow grasped from behind.  Turning in surprise, a look of ill-disguised annoyance stamped clearly upon her features, Ashleigh was startled to see the man who had been standing in the alcove with Nicholas just moments before.

“I believe this waltz is mine, Lady St. John,” he proclaimed smoothly.

Before Ashleigh could utter a protest, she was led once again into the midst of swirling dancers.  “I do not recall promising you this dance, My Lord,” Ashleigh said, as they began to move in time to the music. 

“You didn't.”

A disarming smile accompanied his blunt statement and Ashleigh was sorely tempted to smile in return, then she noticed how his gaze strayed from her face to the exposed flesh of her bosom, where it lingered for just a moment too long.  She wasn't sure whether she should be insulted, flattered, or amused when he looked back up, met her knowing gaze, and then gave her an audacious wink.  As she studied the handsome face mere inches above her own, she realized that he was quite attractive.  His hair was light-brown and held the hint of a curl and his eyes were an arresting shade of grey, eyes that at present seemed almost devouring in their intensity.  Ashleigh knew without a doubt that she was being held in the arms of an unabashed rogue.

Instantly the image of Milton's lustful, self-indulgent fallen angel came to mind and Ashleigh could not resist pricking the man’s arrogant, self-assured persona.  “If I didn't know any better, I might begin to think that I was being held in the arms of Belial himself, incarnated in human form.”  Her voice held the slightest degree of censure, and her eyebrows were raised as if she were seriously pondering the likelihood of such an implausible occurrence.

“Belial eh?  An interesting theory, Lady St. John, however, most of my friends call me Alex,” he said, with a teasing grin.

She laughed, unable to resist his playful tone and delightfully charming smile.  He was the first man all evening, aside from the duke of course, who had even come close to capturing her interest.

“Lady St. John, may I be so bold as to say that you have by far, the most enchanting laugh I have ever heard?”

“Why of course, My Lord, if
I
may be so bold as to say that you are by far the most charming rogue I have ever danced with.”  He moved with the easy grace of one who had danced a thousand times, and had not once trod upon her tender toes.

Alex was about to reply when he was tapped none too lightly upon his left shoulder.  He stopped, turning to see Nicholas standing directly behind him, a scowl darkening his taut features. 

“I think you have monopolized enough of Lady St. John's time.  The remainder of this dance is mine.”  Without giving either of them a chance to respond, Nicholas pulled Ashleigh into his arms and then swept her into the dance, leaving Alex to walk jauntily off the floor with a wide, knowing grin plastered across his face, and several nearby couples staring at him with their mouths hanging open in shock.  He barely noticed.  He had been watching them from across the room, his temper rising steadily, until he had no longer been able to stand the sight of Ashleigh held in Alex’s arms.  Like him, Alex was handsome, wealthy and titled, and had never had the least bit of difficulty attracting women.

“I see you have made yet another conquest, Lady St. John.  I am impressed,” Nicholas remarked, his tone clipped.

Though she had longed to be held in the duke’s arms all evening, she was momentarily nonplused by his biting tone as he spun her across the dance floor.  As she gazed upon his harsh features an interesting notion entered her thoughts.  Could her plan have actually worked?  Was Nicholas jealous?  Hoping to confirm the notion, Ashleigh boldly met his icy regard with an equally cool look of her own.  “Jealous, Your Grace?”

She was instantly gratified as a combined look of surprise and irritation crossed his face.  Her pointed question had clearly hit its mark.  Her delight was cut short however, by the austerity of his next words.

“I fear you put far too much value upon your appeal, Lady St. John,” he said offhandedly.
 
“Children, or rather,
young ladies
,” he amended with a slightly mocking tone, “fresh from the schoolroom hold little interest for me.”

“It did not seem that you considered me a child this afternoon, Your Grace,” Ashleigh replied brazenly.

“Indeed?”  He eyed her derisively.  “I was under the impression that
spankings
were reserved solely for the punishment of disobedient children.”

Ashleigh sucked in an angry breath, unable to believe that he had deliberately referenced her humiliating chastisement, when he knew very well that she was referring to his passionate kisses.  “I don't believe your friend Alex thinks of me as a child, Your Grace.  In fact, I am quite certain that he doesn’t,” she proclaimed, with a slight lift of her brows and a challenging gleam in her eyes.  She knew she had scored a point as Nicholas stopped dead in his tracks, his hand tightening almost painfully on her slender fingers. 

Abruptly, in the midst of the waltz, Nicholas turned and strode toward one of the many sets of open French doors that lined the rear of the ballroom, pulling Ashleigh along behind him, unmindful of the shocked stares they received along the way.   

Surprised by the suddenness of his action, Ashleigh was nearly forced to run to keep up with his long strides as he led her out onto the empty terrace, and then down the stairs and out into the dimly lit garden beyond.  He continued on, not stopping until they were deep into the garden and hidden within the inky darkness that was lit only by the thousands of twinkling stars that hovered in the night sky, far away from any prying eyes or ears.     

Ashleigh was breathless when he finally stopped and then spun around to face her. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were on a first name basis with the Earl of Chesterfield, Lady St. John.  I must admit, you do work fast,” he bit out, his voice angry and accusing.

Good Heavens, she’d had no idea that Alex was an earl, but all the better she thought smugly.  The duke certainly appeared to be jealous, which was exactly what she had wanted.  However, she hadn’t expected him to behave quite so rashly. 

“How dare you drag...” she began, before being abruptly cut off as Nicholas reached out and jerked her up against his solid frame.

“Stay away from Alex, Ashleigh!  You are much too young to be playing such a dangerous game.  He is not a man to be trifled with, and neither am I.”  As if to prove his point, he bent his head and captured her lips in a bruising kiss.  He made the kiss deliberately harsh and demanding, thrusting his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth, intending to teach her a lesson for her brazen behavior.  However, Ashleigh didn’t struggle or pull away as he had anticipated.  Instead, he felt her arms slide up his chest and then wind purposely around his neck, where they remained locked as she returned his kiss with unrestrained zeal.

Ashleigh was lost to all but the dizzying sensation of Nicholas’ kiss as he ravaged her pliant lips.  She clung to him, wanting to be close and closer still.  Her breasts were crushed tightly against his chest and she longed to feel the heat of his muscled body without the annoying barrier of their clothing.  The notion was utterly shameless and even a little shocking, but Nicholas Leighton made her feel things she never had before.  She felt like one of those scandalous women she and Tiffany had read about in the romantic novels they sometimes snuck into her bedchamber to read, procured for them in the local village by one of
Glenbrooke’s
housemaids, and she liked it, she liked it a lot.

Ashleigh’s lips were warm and soft, and she tasted so good that Nicholas almost lost himself in the kiss, very nearly forgetting his original intent.  Her body was lush and yielding, pressed wantonly against his, just begging to be explored.  He wanted to take her right then, to lay her down upon the soft grass and slowly peel the clothes from her delectable body.  She was so lovely, so spirited, and so passionate; and such a danger to his wellbeing he reminded himself with the last thread of rationality he possessed.  Furious with himself and with her, he broke free from her embrace and pushed himself away from her.  It was far more difficult for him than it should have been, and for one crazy moment, as she looked at him uncertainly, her eyes glazed with passion and unfulfilled desire, he longed to pull her back into his arms.

Not trusting himself to speak, Nicholas clenched his jaw in frustration, and then, without a word, he simply turned and stalked back toward the house, leaving Ashleigh standing alone staring after him.  He thought he heard her call his name, but he didn't stop.  He kept walking, having every intention of locking himself away in the solitude of his study and then drinking himself into a blessed oblivion. 

Unfortunately, as he reentered the ballroom, he was immediately halted by Isabelle
Taryton
.

“You haven't asked me to dance all evening,” she chided, her voice husky and seductive as she laid a perfectly manicured hand upon his arm.

A moment later, Ashleigh stepped through the door behind him, her eyes instantly fastening upon him and Isabelle. 
Why the hell not
, he decided, and immediately swept the countess onto the crowded dance floor.  Unable to help himself, he watched as Ashleigh made her way to Madeline's side, spoke a few words, and then walked away, exiting the ballroom through the wide front archway.    

Lying upon her bed, within the shadowed darkness of her room, Ashleigh’s thoughts continued to whirl as she went over and over the events of the previous day and night.  It was almost dawn but sleep had eluded her.  Seeing Nicholas lead the lovely brunette onto the dance floor just moments after he’d held her in his arms, had made her feel sick to her stomach, and she had hastily made her apologies to Madeline before seeking the privacy of her room.  For possibly the one-hundredth time, she asked herself how she could have allowed herself to become so infatuated with someone so positively maddening.  The man was absolutely infuriating, expertly igniting her burgeoning passion one moment, and then pushing her away in the next.