Until You (7 page)

Eventually, seeking a diversion to cast her from his mind he summoned a bath, and several minutes later sat immersed up to his shoulders in a tub of steamy water.  Resting his head back against the smooth rim he allowed the soothing water to slowly discharge the tenseness from his muscles, and with a little effort he was finally able to clear his mind.

For a time, he reveled in the quiet serenity around him, mercifully devoid of the constant noise and clamor of London’s busy streets.  Feeling tranquil and relaxed, he soaked for several minutes until gradually he felt himself beginning to drift off.  Forcing his eyes open, he sat up slowly and then rose from the now tepid water.  After drying his body with a thick white towel, he walked languidly towards the bed, and then threw himself naked upon the sheets.  He was asleep almost the moment his head touched the pillow.

When Nicholas opened his eyes, he found himself lying within the darkness of his bedchamber.  His body was covered in a light sheen of perspiration; the sheets wrapped in a tangled coil around his lower limbs, his engorged manhood rock-hard and throbbing against his abdomen as he recalled every vivid detail of the dream that had woken him.  Slowly he untangled the sheets and rose from the bed, absently noting that the bath water had been removed from the room, the clothes he had discarded earlier were no longer where he had left them, and the lights had all been extinguished.  His valet had obviously seen to the room as he’d slept.

Walking naked across the floor, he stopped before one of the windows and opened it, allowing the slight breeze to cool his overheated body as he gazed out at the moonlit night, trying in vain to erase the disturbing image of Ashleigh St. John lying naked and sated upon his bed.

Over the course of the next several days, Ashleigh had little opportunity to test her theory regarding the duke’s behavior.  When he wasn’t closeted away in his study, he seemed to intentionally keep himself busy elsewhere.  Aside from the evening meal, where he continued to treat her with little more than cool civility, she rarely saw him.  She had the distinct impression that he was avoiding her, and it was exasperating!  With stubborn pride, she carried on with her solitary morning rides and continued to don her breeches.

Then, before she knew it, the
Sethe’s
annual hunting weekend was nearly upon them and she had made little progress in furthering her relationship with the elusive duke.  Although her frustration continued to mount, she had to admire the man's skill at evading her, which wasn't exactly easy, considering they were living under the same roof, albeit a roof that covered more than four stories and nearly one-hundred rooms. 

However, each evening at dinner she grew slightly bolder and was quickly beginning to feel more and more at ease in her new setting, despite Nicholas Leighton’s continued standoffishness.  She and Madeline chatted pleasantly about this and that and occasionally tried to engage the often-pensive duke in conversation.  All in all it proved to be a worthwhile endeavor, for in rare moments his air of indifference seemed to fade away, if only for a short while.  On those occasions, when he temporarily let down his guard, Ashleigh caught a glimpse of a man who was not only devastatingly handsome, but also charming, witty, intelligent, and not nearly as uninterested as he tried to appear.  Her infatuation with him intensified as she became more and more certain that his disagreeable demeanor was just a sham. 

It was the day before the guests were scheduled to arrive for the hunting weekend when Ashleigh finally got a moment alone with the duke.  She and Madeline had just finished luncheon and while Madeline went to check on some last minute details for the upcoming event, Ashleigh decided to spend some quiet time reading.  Opening the door to the
Sethe’s
massive library she discovered the duke standing near one of the tall windows, seemingly lost in thought.  She hesitated for a moment and then purposefully entered the room. 

Nicholas heard the faint rustle of skirts and turned to see Ashleigh approach, her expression slightly uncertain.
 
It wasn’t altogether surprising, for he
had
been intentionally avoiding her, a fact which she was clearly aware of.  Regrettably however, despite his continued avoidance of her, he was still far too aware of her than he wanted to be.  Due to his grandmother’s presence, the evening meal was something he couldn’t avoid however, and during that time Ashleigh had continued to surprise him.  Not only was she beautiful and intelligent, but he’d quickly discovered that she possessed a delightful sense of humor as well.  She conversed easily with his grandmother on a remarkably wide and sophisticated range of topics, and aside from her unconventional riding attire and an obvious reckless streak that he had witnessed firsthand, her overall manner was gracious and refined.  In spite of himself, he found her to be remarkably intriguing and it continued to unsettle him more than he cared to admit, even to himself.  And now, here she was, and they were alone.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she said as she moved further into the room. 

Nicholas regarded her in silence, his expression reserved.  Considering that he treated her with thinly-veiled indifference on the few occasions that they were in the same room, he was amazed she hadn’t immediately turned to leave once she’d noted his presence.

“I wanted to read.  I mean... I was coming to find a book…to read that is.”  She mentally kicked herself.  She was stammering like a half-wit.

“By all means, Lady St. John,” he said, breaking his silence, motioning toward the massive bookshelves along the rear wall.  “Help yourself to whatever you like.  I was just leaving.”  He stared toward the door, eager to distance himself from her enticing presence.

“You have been avoiding me, haven’t you?”  The question seemed to escape her lips before she could stop it, but she forced herself to look him squarely in the eye nonetheless. 

Nicholas froze, his leave-taking arrested by her steady gaze.  “What would give you cause to believe that I was avoiding you, Lady St. John?” he asked, his tone intentionally laced with a touch of disdain.
 
He couldn’t allow her to see how much she affected him.

His cool regard and dispassionate tone suggested that her question was nonsensical, as though she assumed her presence was somehow significant enough to be avoided.  Ashleigh wasn’t buying it.

“Are you still angry with me because of the day we met, the day in the meadow?”

She was close enough that he could smell her perfume.  The scent was slightly musky, not the sweet, floral scent so many young women preferred.  He liked it.  Her captivating green eyes regarded him intently.  She was so strikingly attractive.  He struggled to appear indifferent.
 
“I am not angry with you, Lady St. John, I assure you.  I was merely concerned with your safety that day, nothing more.”
 
His tone was dismissive, indicating that her assumption was senseless and unwarranted.

“You don’t seem to like me very much.”

The frankness of her statement surprised him. 
Did
he like her?  He was physically attracted to her.  He admired her intelligence.  He was grudgingly impressed by her self-confidence and even with her lack of convention.  But did he
like
her?  Hell yes he liked her, which was exactly why he had been avoiding her.  “What reason would I possibly have to dislike you?” he asked, his expression blasé.

Ashleigh didn’t believe he was nearly as unaffected by her as he tried to appear and decided to test her theory.  “I think I make you uncomfortable,” she said, tilting her head slightly, a faint knowing smile upon her lips.  She watched his face, pleased to see a slight crack appear in his cool façade.  She was defiantly overstepping the bounds of propriety, but subtlety and polite manners were obviously getting her nowhere with the guarded Duke of
Sethe
.

Her boldness, as well as the accuracy of her assertion shocked him.  He was accustomed to a certain degree of daring from older women, experienced women who knew how to play the game, but seldom from one so young.  The young ones were usually more subtle.  Perhaps Ashleigh St. John wasn’t quite the innocent he had assumed her to be.  Precaution unexpectedly fell by the wayside. 

“And why would you think that,” he asked, his voice suddenly low and seductive.  He took a step closer to her, suddenly curious to see how bold she really was, testing her.

Only a few feet separated them now and Ashleigh’s pulse began to race.  He was close enough that she could almost reach out and touch him.  She gazed up into his handsome face and saw that his expression no longer bore the look of detached formality.  The words she might have spoken, suddenly lodged in her throat. 

Unable to help himself, Nicholas took another step closer.  The heart-shaped neckline of her gown allowed him a delectable view of soft, creamy white skin.  He wondered what would happen if he reached out and brushed his thumb along the top of her breast.
 
Would she recoil in shock and outrage?
 
She should, but somehow he doubted that she would, and
that
troubled him almost as much as his own sudden and overwhelming desire to touch her.
 
Testing her had been a mistake, a big one.

“Nicholas, are you in here?”  His grandmother’s voice was like a dash of cold water, instantly jolting him back to reality.  He took an immediate step back just as the duchess entered the room, followed closely by their head chef. 

“Oh hello, dear,” Madeline said, noticing Ashleigh’s presence.

Ashleigh smiled in response, praying her warm cheeks didn’t reveal her sudden disconcertion.

“Lady St. John was about to spend some quiet time reading,” Nicholas said, moving swiftly toward his grandmother.  “Let’s not disturb her with our conversation.”  He gently grasped her arm and turned her toward the door.  “Now, what is it that I can do for the two of you?” he asked, leading her out into the hall as Monsieur
LeFeve
followed dutifully behind.

Ashleigh suddenly found herself alone in the library feeling a bit dazed.  Good gracious, Nicholas Leighton certainly had the most extraordinary effect on her.

That evening at dinner the duke was conspicuously absent.  According to Madeline, he was occupied with a pressing business matter, but Ashleigh couldn’t help but wonder if their earlier conversation in the library was the true cause of his absence.  In addition, she could only speculate as to what might have happened if it hadn’t been for Madeline’s untimely interruption.  Unfortunately,
that
was something she would never know.

The following morning dawned bright and clear, with the sun shining brightly over
Sethe
Manor.  The hunt was scheduled to begin at eleven o'clock and there was a tangible sense of excitement and anticipation in the air as the hour drew near.  Ashleigh could almost feel the energy and enthusiasm as she unobtrusively made her way downstairs and then slowly edged her way into the crowded foyer.   Glancing about, she was amazed to see so many people in one place.  Feigning a mild indisposition, she had skipped breakfast, remaining upstairs in her chamber.
 
And then later, sneaking across the hall, she’d watched from another room as dozens of elegant carriages had stopped before the front of the manor, discharging their stylishly clad occupants.  Living with her grandfather in the country, Ashleigh was unaccustomed to such large crowds and aside from the local fairs, she had never before seen so much activity in one place.  To say that she was overwhelmed would have been a drastic understatement.

The guests invited to
Sethe
manor were always the crème de la crème of society, Annie had informed her, and this weekend was clearly no different.  From what Annie had told her earlier when she was helping her to dress, there were several dukes, at least a half dozen
marquesses
and numerous earls and viscounts in attendance, not to mention a few extended members of the royal family.  According to Annie, an invitation to the
Sethe's
annual hunting weekend was purportedly the most coveted invitation of the Season.

Doing her best to remain inconspicuous, she drifted toward a relatively unoccupied corner of the room.  However, it didn't take long for Madeline to spot her and signal for her to join her, where she stood surrounded by at least a dozen people.  Since Ashleigh had spent most of the morning in her bedchamber, she knew that Madeline would be eager to begin her introductions to the
ton's
most elite members.  Making her way slowly through the crowd, she was acutely aware of the curious stares she was receiving from nearly everyone she passed and was intensely relieved when she finally reached Madeline's side.

People looking to make her acquaintance immediately surrounded her and the duchess, and the vast number of names and titles she was bombarded with soon overwhelmed her.  Panicking, she knew there was no way she could possibly remember them all.  As if sensing her dilemma, Madeline leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Don't fret, dearest, I can hardly keep all of the names and titles straight myself.  You’ll be fine.
 
Just try to relax and be yourself.”

For the next several minutes, Ashleigh took Madeline's advice and simply responded to each new face with a friendly smile and a warm greeting.  She would do her best to sort the names and titles out later.  Fortunately she was saved from further introductions when the call to mount was finally announced by the huntmaster, and with a rousing cry everyone eagerly headed toward the door.  Ashleigh held back for a moment to avoid the crush, and then politely excused herself from Madeline and the other ladies who had chosen to remain at the manor house during the hunt.