Until You (14 page)

“Just what in the hell do you think you are doing?” Nicholas demanded in a low voice.

Ashleigh forced her expression to appear blank.  “Excuse me?”

“Don't play games with me dammit.”

Ashleigh supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he had seen through her ruse so quickly.  Nicholas Leighton was no fool.  Oh well, she would simply have to brazen it out.  “Games? Whatever do you mean?” she queried, with mock indignation.  “As I said, I merely sought to save the grooms the trouble of outfitting another carriage as we are both traveling in the same direction.”

“You’re lying,” Nicholas stated confidently.  “You are a fairly adept actress my dear, but I have known too many women to be taken in by such a transparent ploy.  You contrived this entire situation.  I am not a fool,” he replied stonily, staring into her unwavering green eyes.

“I know you’re not,” she admitted softly, unable and unwilling to deny the truth of his accusations.  He had clearly been lied to before, on more than one occasion no doubt.  Suddenly, it was
she
who felt like a fool.

Nicholas relaxed back against the cushioned seat of the coach, his eyes coolly sweeping her from head to toe.  He simply stared at her for several long seconds.  She refused to look away.  The silence was fraught with tension.  Finally he spoke.  “What is it exactly that you want from me, Lady St John?” he asked bluntly.

The straightforwardness of his question took her by surprise.  Suddenly she was at a complete loss for words.

He studied her a moment.  “If you are looking for a husband, I can assure you that
I
am not in the market for a wife.” 

His tone wasn’t cruel, just matter of fact, yet Ashleigh felt stung nonetheless.  “Why would you automatically assume that I am looking for a husband?” she asked, finally finding her voice.

“Isn’t that the objective of all young women about to make their debut?” he asked, his antipathy evident.  “To land themselves a wealthy, titled husband.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied honestly.  “I cannot speak for anyone but myself of course, but when
I
marry, it will be for love.”

“How extraordinary,” he replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. 

“You don’t believe me?”  She regarded him intently for a moment.  “Or is it that you don’t believe in love?”

Did he detect a note of pity in her eyes?  He was tempted to laugh.  Was she really so naive?  Of course he didn’t believe in love.  Love was for the gullible and the foolish; he had learned that first hand.  Christ, he thought in frustration, he didn’t want to be having this discussion, especially not with her.  “No, Lady St. John, if you must know, I
do not
believe in love,” he told her honestly.

The notion broke her heart, and suddenly she very much wanted to strangle the woman, or women who’d hurt him so badly.  Of course she couldn’t say that aloud.  “I hate it when you call me that,” was her unexpected reply.

“Excuse me?”  Nicholas was momentarily nonplussed.

“Lady St. John,” she clarified.  They had kissed with the passion of lovers for heaven’s sake, and more than once.  He wouldn’t even refer to her as Lady Ashleigh, only Lady St. John.  His continued formality was infuriating.  “My name is Ashleigh.”

Damnation!  He didn’t want to call her by her name.  It was too intimate, reminding him of things that were best forgotten.  “I will ask you again,
Lady St. John
, what is it that you want from me?”

Ashleigh regarded his uncompromising expression with a mixture of sadness and frustration.  He was so stubborn, and so utterly exasperating.  She longed to see him smile.  He had such a beautiful smile.  There was a wonderful, amazing man lurking behind that icy veneer.  She’d had glimpses of the real Nicholas and she wanted more.  She wanted to know the charming rogue whom she’d watched tease his grandmother with such blatant affection time and again, the man who spoke of his younger brother with such loving pride, and the man Alex considered a true friend.  He let
them
in; she’d seen it and heard it firsthand.  She wanted him to let her in too.  Throwing caution to the wind, she told him exactly what she wanted.  “I want you to kiss me, like you did by the stream.”

Her soft, breathy whisper hit Nicholas like a punch to the gut.  His eyes went immediately to her lips and he felt the familiar, unwelcoming tightening in his loins.  She was so lovely, so exquisite, her voluptuous young body so ripe for passion.  Was it possible that she thought she was in love with him?  Dare he give her the benefit of the doubt?  Certainly, there was infatuation, desire, and even lust, so easy for a young girl to confuse with love.  He had once before, he admitted, though he never would again.  Perhaps in her youth she hadn’t yet learned to tell the difference.  It was possible he supposed. 

“There is a big difference between love and desire.”  His voice was softer, gentler.  “You are still so young…”

“I am not a child,” she interrupted with quiet conviction.

No she certainly wasn’t, much as he tried to convince himself otherwise.  His eyes dipped to her lush, full breasts, rising tantalizingly above the neckline of her gown.  It had an alarming effect on his libido, her lush curves far too tempting.  She was also the granddaughter of an earl and most likely a virgin, he reminded himself, and those two facts alone were enough to dampen the raging fire in his loins.  There could never be anything between them, at least not now anyhow.  Hell, what was he thinking, there could
never
be anything between them.  “I think this conversation has gone far enough,” he said, his tone gentle, but uncompromising as well.

Ashleigh watched Nicholas closely, contemplating the various emotions as they played across his features.  She heard the sounds of her traveling case being secured upon the back of the vehicle and a moment later, felt the forward motion of the coach as the driver whistled to the horses.  Nicholas turned his gaze to the open window, where she feared it would remain for the length of their journey.

As the horses picked up their pace, the sudden silence grew heavy between them.  The coach swayed and bounced as they turned onto the road, its wheels quickly eating up the distance to the Marlowe's estate.  Ashleigh knew she only had a short amount of time before they reached their destination.  She’d meant what she had said, when he’d asked her what she wanted from him.  She longed to be held in his arms and to feel the intoxicating touch of his lips upon hers once again.  Frustrated, she knew she needed to regain his attention.

“Will you be in London for long?”  For a moment, she was afraid he was going to ignore her, but then he responded, his tone distracted, as he continued to gaze out the window.

“As long as it takes,” he muttered under his breath.  As long as it takes to get you out of my mind, or at least out of my house, he added silently.

“As long as what takes?  Setting Lady
Taryton
up as your mistress?” she queried boldly, the words escaping her lips as if they had a will of their own.

He finally turned to look at her.  They gazed at each other in silence for several seconds, each of them slightly stunned by the audacity of her question.

“You go too far, Lady St. John.”  The words were quietly spoken, but his tone was hard and flat.

Of course she had gone too far, but the words were out, and there was no sense turning back now.  She knew in that instant that if she had any hope at all of breaking down Nicholas’ self-erected barriers, cowardice was not an option, and she was most definitely not a coward.  “Why did you kiss me the other day?”

Most women would have been daunted by his harsh tone and stern expression, but not Ashleigh; her daring was unbelievable.  He struggled to portray a look of mild indifference.  “I have kissed a lot of women, Lady St. John.”

“Ashleigh,” she reminded him.  “And you didn’t answer my question?” she persisted, unwilling to be put off by his casual nonchalance.

His frustration mounting, his tone, as well as his words grew intentionally crass.  “I am a man and you are woman.  My behavior, as well as my obvious lack of judgment, was nothing more than an instinctive reaction to an inherent male need.  If you thought there was more to it than that, you were mistaken.”

She looked him squarely in the eye.  “Now I think that it is you who is lying.”

Damn her
!  He needed to bring this damnable conversation to an end before it went one step further.  Perhaps a healthy dose of fear would serve to deter her.
 
“Shall I toss up your skirts and take you right now then?  Shall I bed you right here on this very seat?” he demanded harshly. “Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not!”  His vulgarity shocked her, which was exactly what he had intended, of course.  He wanted to frighten her off.  Nevertheless, she remained undeterred.  “I just want…” she trailed off.

He arched his brows, his harsh, exacting gaze questioning.

She summoned her courage.  “I just want…you.”

Cynicism, mistrust, and skepticism were deeply ingrained in Nicholas.  He didn’t believe her.  He had known a great many women in his lifetime and they all wanted something.  “I see.  You wish to become the next Duchess of
Sethe
?”

He was so wary, so guarded, so unwilling to believe that someone could love him just for himself, and it tore at her heart.  How to make him understand that she wanted only to love him and to ease the hurt he had suffered.  She didn’t care about anything else, but how to make him believe that?  “I want
you
,” she repeated with quiet conviction.

Nicholas snorted in disbelief.

“One day I will be one of the wealthiest women in England.  I do not care about your money or your title.”  Her gaze was unwavering as it met his head on.

“Already counting your grandfather’s money?”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” she retorted, annoyed that he had deliberately misinterpreted her comment. 

“Do I?”

He was baiting her, and she knew it.  She couldn’t allow him to drag her into a verbal sparring match.  Time was running out and that would get them nowhere.  Thus, she continued to forge ahead without restraint.  “You can try to skirt the issue as much as you like, but I think you want me just as much as I want you.”

Her steady gaze dared him to refute her.  Damn she was bold, and far too perceptive.  “I am sorry to disappoint you, but you are wrong,” he replied with cold finality. 

“Am I?”  

That breathy whisper again, so soft and alluring.  Denial lodged in his throat as she gently bit her full bottom lip, tilting her head in the pose of a world-class seductress.  She was playing a dangerous game, and in spite of the risk, he couldn’t help wondering just how far she was willing to go. 

Keeping her eyes firmly locked on his, Ashleigh pushed herself forward to the very edge of her seat, then slowly reached out and placed her hand upon his tightly muscled thigh.  He tensed immediately, but didn't pull away.  Slowly she slid her hand up, inch by inch along the top of his thigh, watching in fascination as his male appendage gradually stiffened and hardened beneath the fabric of his breeches.  Though a part of her wondered if she had suddenly lost her mind, the overwhelming urge to touch him seemed to rob her of her common sense.  She longed to run her hands all over his hard, muscled torso and explore every inch of his finely honed body.  She knew her behavior was scandalous, but the intense longing she felt gave her courage, as did his unmistakable reaction to her touch.

As he watched her hand move slowly up his thigh, Nicholas sat mesmerized, unable to move.  His breathing quickened as he felt the blood rush to his rapidly swelling cock.  This was insanity.  He had to stop it.  Just as he garnered the will to reach out and push her hand away, Ashleigh moved across the carriage and pressed her body hesitantly against his.  She found his mouth and pressed a light, butterfly kiss upon his unyielding lips.  He grabbed her arms to push her away, but she gripped the lapels of his jacket.  “Please kiss me,” she whispered softly, sensually against his mouth, and he was lost.

Without conscious effort he was kissing her back, and an instant later he took control.  He pulled her down against the plush velvet squabs, turning her so that she lay beneath him, gently nudging her thighs apart to rest between them as he devoured her lips.

Ashleigh felt the thick, rigid length of Nicholas' manhood through the layers of their clothing as he settled between her parted thighs, and it caused a pulsing heat to radiate deep within her core.  She put her arms around his shoulders and drew him even closer, parting her lips as he deepened the kiss.

Nicholas ravaged the inner softness of her mouth, hungrily devouring her sweetness.  She tasted like a mixture of honey and cinnamon, and he knew he could go on kissing her forever, but the white-hot desire coursing through his body demanded more.  He wanted to strip the clothes from her glorious body and take her right then and there on the velvet-covered seat.  He longed to feel his rigid staff buried deep within her soft cleft and to hear her wild cries as he took them both to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.  He was no longer capable of rational thought.  He could only feel.  Slowly he reached up and cupped the underside of her breast, brushing his thumb lightly over the stiff peak that strained against the silk of her gown.