Until You (12 page)

It was lucky for him that she considered herself to be a fair judge of character, in addition to having an extremely forgiving nature.  In spite of his best efforts to disguise his true feelings, she knew there was an amazing man capable of warmth and caring, as well as tremendous passion, hiding behind that damnable facade.  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she would be the one to mend his ravaged heart, and to heal the pain that understandably lingered within his soul, the pain that caused him to guard his emotions so fervently.  

She wasn’t exactly sure how she knew, but somehow, deep within her soul, she recognized that she and Nicholas were destined to be together.  He was meant for her, and she for him, she could feel it.  If only she could convince him of the same, she thought with a ragged sigh, before turning fitfully onto her stomach and burying her face into the soft feather pillow.

It was near dawn when Nicholas finally entered the darkness of his bedchamber, though not because he’d finally assuaged the damnable sexual desire that had been coursing through his body throughout the day and evening.  For despite the opportunity to chase Ashleigh from his thoughts, if only for a short while, he had politely declined Isabelle's offer to share her bed, telling her that he preferred to conduct his liaisons in a more private setting, placating her with a promise to visit her once he returned to London.  He had been unwilling to admit, even to himself, that he had been regrettably unable to summon the necessary desire required to bed the countess, while images of Ashleigh writhing wantonly beneath his touch, remained so prevalent in his mind.

So, instead of whiling away the predawn hours with Isabelle, he and Alex had spent the better part of the night putting a sizable dent into the generous stock of bourbon he had imported from the states.  Though Alex was clearly curious in regard to his relationship with Ashleigh St. John, he had wisely made no further mention of it.  Their conversation had revolved around business and politics for the most part, avoiding any and all mention of his current houseguest.  He hadn’t been fooled by Alex's momentary retreat from the topic however.  He knew that his friend was just biding his time.

Now, as he made his way toward his bed, he was almost afraid to close his eyes, fearing that his dreams would once again be haunted by a tempting green-eyed vixen with an all-too-reckless nature that he found both exasperating and incredibly appealing.  Disrobing, he practically fell into his bed however, far too tired to forego the welcoming comfort of the soft mattress, despite his concern.  Within minutes, the combination of the late hour and the substantial amount of whiskey he had consumed carried him off to sleep. 

Ashleigh awoke late the next morning and chafed under Annie's seemingly endless ministrations.  Taking her position as lady's maid quite seriously, Annie insisted on styling her hair to perfection and pressing every minute wrinkle from her rose-colored day gown, assuring her that there was no need to hurry, for the majority of the
Sethe’s
overnight guests had slept-in, due to the lateness of the festivities the previous evening.  For Annie’s sake, she forced herself to remain patient, though it was already past eleven. 

When she finally made her way downstairs, she discovered that some of the
Sethe’s
houseguests had already departed, while others were just sitting down to brunch.  Much to her chagrin, Ashleigh noticed that Lady
Taryton
was one of the guests who had failed to depart earlier that morning.  It annoyed her even further to note that she was seated near the head of the table, on Nicholas’ immediate right.  Gritting her teeth, she watched as the woman deliberately let her breasts brush against Nicholas’ arm, as she leaned over to whisper something in his ear. 

Forcibly dragging her gaze from the loathsome sight, Ashleigh glanced about the room.  She spotted Madeline, seated at the foot of the table, but all of the chairs in her vicinity were already occupied.  Noticing a few empty chairs near the middle of the long, fully laden table, Ashleigh made her way toward them and sat down.  Settling a white linen napkin across her lap, she looked up to see none other than the Earl of Chesterfield slide nonchalantly into the vacant seat beside her.

Casting a furtive glance toward the head of the table, Ashleigh saw that Nicholas was still engaged in conversation with the voluptuous Lady
Taryton
.  Annoyed, she turned her attention to the earl, smiling brightly.

“Good morning, Lady St. John,” he greeted with a gregarious smile.  “I was hoping that I would have the opportunity to spend some more time with you, after being so abruptly deprived of my waltz.”

“I am certain a man of your obvious charm didn’t lack for partners, My Lord.  In fact, I really don’t see how any woman could have refused one of your courteous
invitations
.” she teased.

Alex chuckled at her not so subtle reminder of his rather highhanded dance request.  “A young woman of your entrancing beauty and delightful wit is a rare find, Lady St. John.  I had almost decided the combination did not exist,” he replied with complete sincerity.  “I am thoroughly pleased to be proven wrong.”  

“Thank you, My Lord,” Ashleigh replied softly, a little embarrassed by the unexpected compliment.

“I would be honored if you would call me Alex,” he offered with a friendly smile.

“I would be delighted, Alex, but only if you will call me Ashleigh.  In the past two days I have been very nearly Lady St.
John'd
to death.” 

“Ashleigh it is then.”

As nearby attendants hurried to fill their plates, Ashleigh and Alex chatted amiably for the next several minutes.

Hearing the distinctive sound of Ashleigh's compelling laugh, natural and unconstrained, so unlike Isabelle's girlish giggle, Nicholas cast his glance about the table and settled it upon the two individuals seated near its center.  He frowned when he saw that she sat next to Alex, obviously amused by something he had just said.  Apparently, she wasn't heeding his advice regarding the Earl of Chesterfield.

Glancing back at Isabelle, he studied her animated features as she regaled him with yet another boring narrative regarding the last garden party she had hosted in London.  He tried to feign interest, but it was difficult.  
Hmm
he mused as his attention faltered, were her eyes set just a bit too close together, her chin slightly too pointed?  They were not the kinds of flaws one would ordinarily notice, in fact, he had never noticed them before.  So why then was he noticing them now, he wondered?  Perhaps, he thought somewhat ruefully, because he had never before compared her to perfection.  Once again, his eyes drifted down the length of the table to rest upon Ashleigh and Alex.  A moment later he shoved his plate away, his appetite lost.

“Nicholas, I asked whether or not you would be attending the
Matherton's
ball next month.  Are you not listening to me?” Isabelle asked, her tone reproving.

“Forgive me, Isabelle,” Nicholas replied automatically, returning his attention once again to the woman at his side.  “The
Matherton's
ball, hmm,” he paused as if mentally going over his social calendar.  “I am sorry, Isabelle, but I do believe that I am already engaged that evening,” he lied without remorse.

As the meal progressed, Ashleigh was distracted from her conversation with Alex more than once by the sound of Lady
Taryton's
loud giggle.  Each time she heard the grating sound, her nose wrinkled in distaste.

“I guarantee you that she is no match for your beauty and charm Ashleigh.  In fact, she has been throwing herself at Nick for years and he has never before shown her the slightest interest.”

Ashleigh blushed scarlet, not realizing that her feelings regarding the duke were so obvious.  Alex’s knowing smile reflected only friendly support however, and despite her embarrassment, she realized that she had gained an ally.

Watching as Alex leaned over to whisper something in Ashleigh's ear, followed by the immediate blush that colored her cheeks, was more than Nicholas could stand.  Pushing his chair back from the table, he rose and abruptly excused himself, striding from the room with a scowl upon his face, unmindful of Isabelle’s annoyed pout or the curious glances he received from his remaining guests.

Both Alex and Ashleigh noted Nicholas’ hasty departure from the room, as well as his disgruntled expression.  Turning their attention toward the head of the table, they noted Lady
Taryton’s
irate expression, and then looked at each other in silent amusement.

Later that afternoon, after most of the remaining guests had taken their leave; Ashleigh sat quietly in the
Sethe’s
large library, reading a copy of Homer's
Iliad
.  She was seated comfortably in a large wingback chair, her legs tucked beneath her, the toes of her satin slippers peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirt, absently twirling one of her long, fiery curls around her finger as she read.  She was so absorbed in the epic that she didn’t hear the door open and was surprised when she suddenly sensed another presence in the room.  She looked up from the book to see Alex standing behind her, casually reading over her shoulder.

“You read Latin,” he noted, admiration evident in his voice. 

She nodded, wondering if the handsome lord would now think her a bit of a bluestocking.

“Intelligent women have always held an added appeal for me,” he admitted with a rakish grin.

“Are you always so delightfully charming, My Lord?”

“Always,” Alex asserted without hesitation, his grin widening.

Ashleigh grinned back, enchanted by his warm, charismatic personality. 

“As Nick is presently occupied with his estate manager, I wonder if you might be willing to keep me company?” Alex asked.  “If I can tear you away from your book, that is.”

“I would be more than happy to keep you company,” Ashleigh replied, quickly setting the book aside and uncurling her legs.  “What did you have in mind?”

“Hmm,” he thought for a moment, eyeing her inquisitively.  “Do you play cards?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Excellent.  Let me see if I can find a deck.”

As Ashleigh looked on, Alex walked over to the small writing desk set in the corner of the room and swiftly rummaged through the drawers, his face lighting up with a triumphant smile when he found what he was looking for.

“What shall we play?” he asked, grabbing a chair and pulling it up next to the small side table that sat beside her chair.

“Well,” Ashleigh began, her smile deceptively innocent, “I have recently learned the game of poker.  We could play that if you like.”

Alex looked at her with mock reproach in his laughing grey eyes.  “I'm shocked,” he declared with feigned dismay.  “How did a young lady such as you acquire knowledge of such a nefarious game?”

“Well, it's really quite scandalous actually,” Ashleigh began, her voice hushed.  “You see, Henry, one of our footmen, has a dreadful gambling affliction, and I dare say he taught me the game in an attempt to alleviate me of my monthly allowance.”  She shook her head ruefully.  “I only go along with the poor man because he is really a dear fellow, and in truth I don’t mind providing him with some extra pocket money now and then,” she said, lying shamelessly through her pretty white teeth.  Well not exactly lying she amended, Henry
was
one of their footmen and he
had
taught her how to play poker, but it had been at her insistence, not his, and he certainly wasn’t addicted to gaming, although he did very much enjoy it.

Alex regarded her speculatively, as if he were trying to decide whether or not he believed her story.

“Shall I deal,” Ashleigh inquired, with an artless lift of her delicate brows.

At Alex's nod, she deftly shuffled the deck, and then dealt each of them a five-card hand.  Ashleigh was so aptly skilled that Alex didn't seem to have the slightest clue that she had adeptly stacked the cards, and then dealt from the top, as well as the bottom of the deck. 

Staring intently at the incredible hand he had been dealt, he failed to notice the sly grin that pulled at the corners of her lips as she pretended to study her own cards.  When Alex looked up a moment later, his expression was blasé, revealing not a hint that the hand he held was close to unbeatable.

“Would you care to place a friendly wager, My Lady?”

“What did you have in my, My Lord?” Ashleigh asked innocently, casually glancing at the four aces she held in her hand.

“If I win,” Alex began, with a wicked glint in his eye, “you must grant me a kiss, at the time and place of my choosing.”

“And if I win?”  Ashleigh asked, delighting in their innocent flirtation.

“Anything,” he replied with a confident grin.

“Well then, if I win,” she began, and then hesitated for a moment, as if carefully pondering her options.  “You must ask Lady
Whitlunde
to dance a waltz at the very next ball you attend,” Ashleigh declared, an equally wicked gleam lighting her own emerald eyes. 

She had observed Lady
Whitlunde's
obvious interest in Alex during brunch that morning, and she had also noted Alex's politely disguised look of distaste whenever their eyes had inadvertently met across the table.  The aging widow who undoubtedly outweighed Alex by at least thirty pounds, had a large, sagging double chin that swayed when she talked, pasty white skin crisscrossed with numerous wrinkles, and a large black mole on the tip of her beaklike nose.  It had amused her to no end watching the woman practically salivating over Alex throughout the course of the meal.  She wondered if he would accept the challenge, yet knowing he held four kings in his hand, she highly doubted that he would refuse.