Until You (33 page)

Ashleigh was mesmerized by Nicholas' intense stare, so much so, that she failed to take note of the servants who were watching the two of them with barely disguised interest. 

Nicholas was the first to regain his senses and cast a quelling glance at those unfortunate enough not to have turned away in time.  In an instant all eyes were directed elsewhere as Nicholas quickly drew back from his wife and then with cool politeness, offered his arm to escort her up the stairs and into the house.

The sensation of being held securely in Nicholas' arms had left Ashleigh a bit dazed and it took her a moment to realize that Nicholas was waiting for her to take his arm.  With a shy smile, she grasped Nicholas' forearm and accompanied him to the house.

Ashleigh was pleasantly surprised when Nicholas made a point of introducing her to the household staff.  She noted several surprised faces when Nicholas introduced her as his wife, but most recovered quickly, and all of those she spoke with were exceedingly polite and very welcoming.  She especially liked Mrs. Barrows, the woman Nicholas had selected as Thorn Hill's housekeeper.  She was in her early fifties and reminded Ashleigh a great deal of Martha.  She wore her white hair in a tidy bun atop her head and a long white apron covered a serviceable, yet becoming grey-colored gown.  She had a friendly smile and her warm personality made Ashleigh feel instantly at ease.

It was Mrs. Barrows who showed her to her room, so that she could change her clothes and freshen up before the evening meal.

“Perhaps you would like to rest for a while, Your Grace,” Mrs. Barrows suggested thoughtfully.  “Dinner won't be served for quite some time and I'm sure you must be exhausted after a long day of travel.”

Mrs. Barrows was right.  She was exhausted.  “Yes, I think I will rest for a while,” she told the kindly housekeeper, already walking towards the large, inviting four-poster bed.  Ashleigh hadn't realized how truly tired she was until she sank down upon the soft feather mattress, barely remembering to pull off her soft leather half-boots as she laid back upon the silken counterpane.  She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, and didn't even notice when Mrs. Barrows slipped quietly from the room, pulling the door softly closed behind her.

When Ashleigh left her bedchamber a few hours later and made her way downstairs, she was clad in a tasteful cream-colored evening dress and wore matching kid slippers upon her feet.  Fortunately Mrs. Barrows had sent one of the young housemaids to help her dress, for she never would have managed to do up the row of buttons along the back without assistance.  She wore her hair up, twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck, and her mother's pearl choker encircled her throat.  In her estimation, she looked every inch the well-bred Ashleigh Leighton, Duchess of
Sethe
and hoped that Nicholas would think so as well.

Nicholas was waiting for Ashleigh in the foyer and watched as she descended the stairs, smiling in approval at her elegant appearance.  She still showed not an outward hint of her pregnancy, and her cheeks were rosy with good health.  The nap she’d taken had clearly done wonders, for she looked completely refreshed and rejuvenated.  He extended his hand to her as she reached the bottom step, and then held it a moment longer than necessary as his eyes strayed to the plunging neckline of her gown.  “You look lovely,” he said, as he finally dragged his gaze upward to meet hers.

Ashleigh smiled shyly in return, unaccustomed to hearing compliments from Nicholas.  “Thank you,” she replied softly.  Nicholas too, looked quite handsome, dressed in a dark evening jacket and matching trousers, a softly folded white cravat tied at his throat.  His thick, dark hair was neatly combed, styled and brushed back from his forehead, while soft waves brushed the collar of his shirt in the back.  She was glad that Nicholas didn't tie his hair back into a queue as some men did.  The way it brushed against his collar made her long to run her fingers through its inky softness.

“I believe we still have a few minutes before dinner, would you care for a glass of sherry?”  Nicholas asked, interrupting her lingering examination of his person.

“Yes, that would be fine,” Ashleigh replied, moving with Nicholas toward a doorway down the hall and to the left.  As Nicholas walked to the far side of the room to pour their drinks, Ashleigh's gaze traveled about the masculine room.  It was obviously intended for Brendon's study, for a large, beautifully carved teak desk occupied a large section of the floor space.  She then noticed a small table placed between two large, comfortable-looking chairs set before the fireplace.  Upon it sat a magnificent chess set.  Eagerly she moved forward to examine the finely-crafted pieces.  Delicately she lifted one from its resting place, and then held it up to the light.  The craftsmanship was exquisite, each piece hand carved with the most intricate detail.  The grandeur of the set far surpassed even the one that she'd had specially made for her grandfather's birthday two years past.  “How beautiful,” she breathed, more to herself than to Nicholas. 

Nicholas, having finished pouring their drinks, had walked over to stand directly behind her and heard her comment.  “Do you play?” he asked, handing her the glass of sherry.

Somewhat piqued by his slightly dubious tone, Ashleigh couldn't resist the urge to lure Nicholas into a game.  “Occasionally” she replied, with deceptive innocence.  In truth, her grandfather had first taught her to play chess when she was only six-years-old.  Then, after her parents had died and she had gone to live with him, she and the earl had made their chess games a weekly ritual.  She was quite good and her grandfather was rarely able to beat her.  “We could play if you like, but I am sure your skill will far surpass my own,” she said with beguiling modesty. 

Suddenly remembering the way she had charmingly gulled Alex into playing poker with her, his eyes narrowed in speculation.  “Let me guess,” Nicholas began with a sardonic glint in his eye.  “To cure your scandalous penchant for gaming, the gardener taught you to play chess?”

“Actually it was my grandfather,” Ashleigh said with a mischievous grin.

“So the question is, are you as good at playing chess as you are at playing cards?”

“Perhaps you would care to find out firsthand,” Ashleigh challenged, longing to engage Nicholas in a battle of strategy and skill.

Nicholas’ answer was to immediately pull out a chair for her on the nearest side of the chessboard.  Once Ashleigh was comfortably seated, he drew his own chair up to the table, positioning it directly across from her own.  

Forty-five minutes later, Nicholas was debating the wisdom of accepting Ashleigh's challenge, for he was very close to being beaten, a rare experience for him.  Her moves were well thought out and executed with surprising confidence.  Her strategy was brilliant and Nicholas knew that he was facing a formidable opponent.  He was definitely impressed.

With each passing minute, it was getting harder and harder for Ashleigh to maintain her air of confidence.  Her complete concentration was riveted upon the pieces on the board, for Nicholas’ skill was glaringly apparent, his moves bold and decisive and unfailingly astute.  It was as if he anticipated her every move and knew exactly how to counter it.  She was definitely impressed.

Soon they were so engrossed in the match that they completely forgot about dinner.  It wasn't until Mrs. Barrows poked her head into the room to inform them that dinner was waiting, that either one of them realized how long they had been playing.

Loath to interrupt the match now that it was well underway, Nicholas suggested that they take their meal in the study.  Ashleigh eagerly agreed, and soon two footmen were wheeling in a silver cart laden with the sumptuous fare the kitchen staff had prepared.  Between moves, Nicholas and Ashleigh dined on tender roast beef, steamed vegetables, fresh-baked bread, and frosted sherbet. 

Long after their meal had been cleared away, Nicholas and Ashleigh remained in the study, elbows resting on each side of the table, eyes glued to the board between them.  Although the game was intense, the atmosphere was surprisingly light as she and Nicholas bantered back and forth, each attempting to disrupt the other’s concentration.  Soon however, it became apparent that Nicholas had finally gained the upper hand.  Ashleigh was beaten and she knew it, another two moves and she would be in check.  She was hopelessly thwarted; the game was his.  With a woeful grin, Ashleigh leaned back in her chair and threw up her hands in defeat.  “I surrender, My Lord, and graciously accept my ultimate defeat.”

“You surprise me,” Nicholas said, leaning back in his chair as well.  “I was under the impression that the word surrender was not a part of your vocabulary.”  He was not talking about their chess game and they both knew it. 

Ashleigh wondered if he was remembering the time she had shamelessly tried to seduce him in the carriage before he'd left for London, yet she met his gaze without flinching.  “Perhaps I have learned that it is easier to accept defeat graciously, than to pursue the inevitable disappointment of false hope.”

Their gazes locked, the pleasant rapport of the past hours suddenly evaporating.  As Nicholas looked into Ashleigh’s eyes, he could see the hurt she was trying to hide, and instantly regretted having brought unpleasant memories to mind.  They had spent such an enjoyable evening together and he wanted to see her smile again.

“Ashleigh, I…” he began, but his words were interrupted by a soft knock upon the door.  Seconds later, Mrs. Barrows bustled into the room with a smile directed towards Ashleigh.

“I have taken the liberty of preparing a bath for you, Your Grace, if you are ready to retire.”

“Thank you Mrs. Barrows, it has been a long day and a warm bath sounds wonderful.”  In truth, she simply longed to escape the room before she and Nicholas said anything that would further spoil their evening.  She wanted nothing to damage their newfound amicability.

As Ashleigh rose from her chair, Nicholas stood as well.  “Ashleigh…”

“Good night, My Lord.  Thank you for a wonderful evening and a stimulating challenge,” she said, motioning toward the chessboard with a faint smile.

Nicholas silently cursed the housekeeper’s good intentions, as he watched Ashleigh leave the room with Mrs. Barrows following closely at her heels.

The next day, while exploring the rear wing of the house, Ashleigh located a room filled with a vast array of weaponry, many items dating as far back as the twelfth century she was sure.  A highly polished suit of armor stood at attention near the entrance of the room, looking so real and lifelike that Ashleigh couldn't resist the temptation to flip up the metal visor and peer inside.  As she had expected, the ancient warrior had long since abandoned his armor, leaving only an empty shell to entice her imagination with images of medieval warriors and gallant knights, such as those who had once graced King Arthur's round table. 

As she glanced about the rest of the room, she saw that the walls bore a vast collection of arms, ranging from swords to pistols, a tasteful combination of both ancient and modern weapons.  It wasn’t long before her gaze focused upon a pair of silver rapiers mounted upon the wall near a massive stone fireplace.

Quickly her eyes scanned the room until she found what she was looking for.  Tucked away in a far corner she spotted a small footstool.  As she approached, she saw that the beautifully embroidered cushion portrayed an ancient battlefield and for a moment she hesitated.  She was loath to use the exquisite piece of artistry as a stepstool, but eventually her desire to get a closer look at the rapiers won out over her reluctance.

With stanch determination, she dragged the stool over to the wall, positioning it directly below the crossed rapiers.  With a quick glance over her shoulder to assure herself that she was quite alone in the room, she lifted the hem of her skirt and then carefully stepped up onto the stool, reaching a hand toward the blades.  Unfortunately, they were placed very high upon the wall, and Ashleigh had to stretch up onto the tips of her toes in order to reach them.  When she managed to grasp the jeweled hilt of one of the blades, she smiled in triumph.  However, she soon discovered that the blade was quite securely fastened to its mounting.  Frustrated, she increased her efforts to remove it, unwilling to give up the prize without a fight.  As she gritted her teeth and tugged at the stubborn blade, Ashleigh suddenly felt her footing give way and knew that she was about to lose her precarious balance on the stool.  There was nothing for her to grab on to and with a small shriek of dismay, she felt herself pitching backwards.  Just when she thought she was going to land smack on her derriere, two strong arms reached out to catch her, cradling her against a powerful male chest before gently setting her upon her feet.  Ashleigh blinked in surprise as she looked up into the face of her amused husband.

“Nicholas, what are you doing here?” she asked, flustered by her near mishap and Nicholas’ sudden presence.

“I happened to be passing by on my way to the stables and noticed the open door.  Curious, I stopped to have a look inside, and what do you suppose I saw?”  When Ashleigh merely lowered guilty eyes, Nicholas continued.  “Well Madame, I shall tell you what I saw.  Much to my surprise, I observed my daring young wife teetering on the edge of a footstool as she sought to attain a dueling rapier of all things.”  He shook his head from side to side, staring at her in bemusement.  “Might I ask just what you intended to do with the blade if you had managed to wrest it from its mounting?” he asked, with an inquisitive lift of his brow.