A Shocking Proposition (6 page)

“Here.” Ash reached over and she pulled back as his fingers grazed her throat, flinching at the leap of her pulse. “Sit still and I’ll tie them for you.” His voice was harsh. Wonderful. Not only did he think her capable of deceiving him, he thought her incapable of putting on a simple bonnet. She sat still, shutting her eyes to block out the sight of him so close to her.

* * *

Snow swirled down in great, soft flakes as the carriage rumbled through the main gate into the outer bailey. A shout went up and a lad dashed out to help as the horses drew to a halt. The door opened and Brady looked in. “Here y’are. I’ll get that.” He bent and set the steps down, and stood back, holding the door. “Welcome, m’lord.” He cast a glance at the flakes drifting down from the leaden sky. “I’d say yeh made it just in time.”

Maddy bit her lip. It probably wasn’t quite the decorous formality Ash was used to in a ducal household, but he just smiled as if they hadn’t traveled the last mile in a frozen silence, and stepped down.

“Thank you, Brady.”

“Yeh’re welcome, m’lord.”

Ash held out his hands for Maddy. She made to put her hands in his to step down, but he set his hands to her waist.

“Ash! No, I’m too—”

She was lifted with an effortless strength that bobbled the breath from her lungs, and found herself cradled in his arms. Heat curled and tightened in her belly, tingled beneath her skin as his knowing gaze caressed her.

“Too what, my lady?” he challenged her, and strode toward the inner bailey. He crossed it without hesitation and made straight for the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs lay an enormous log and Maddy’s heart leaped. She looked over her shoulder at Brady, bringing up the rear. “Is that—”

“The Yule log, m’lady.” His grin lit his face. “Didn’t think we’d miss that, did yeh?”

She swallowed. “We weren’t going to bother.” There had seemed no point with Edward taking possession the day after Twelfth Night.

If Ash hadn’t married you
,
we’d all be packing.

“But things is different now,” said Brady. “Go on up, m’lord and lady. They’re waitin’ for yeh.”

Maddy gulped. “Ash, hadn’t I better walk—”

“Save your breath, and don’t wriggle,” he advised. His arms tightened and he started up.

* * *

Ash trod carefully up the stairs, Maddy’s slight weight in his arms a blessed distraction from the guilt. Greet her people, thank them, and they could be private over dinner while he sorted out the mess he’d made of everything.

Cheers erupted around them as he stepped across the threshold, Maddy still in his arms, and he stood stock-still, blinking. The great hall, which had been dim and peaceful that last time he was here, was full of people. A fire blazed in the hearth, all the wall sconces were lit and several branches of candles shimmered on the refectory table.

The hall breathed, simply shouted,
Christmas is come!
Ivy hung everywhere in great swathes and festoons, twisted among the roof beams. Holly, its berries gleaming scarlet, surrounded the windows, even draped artistically around the old swords by the fireplace. Pots of rosemary stood here and there and the vanilla fragrance of bays drifted on the air. From the stairs leading down to the kitchen other fragrances wafted up. Fragrances that made him realize breakfast had been a very long time ago. And the candles, candles everywhere. In the window embrasures, glimmering on an old oak coffer. Light and joy, everywhere, dancing and glowing in the eyes of Haydon’s people.

One look at Maddy’s dazed eyes, suddenly bright with tears, told him she was just as surprised as he was.

He looked around.

“Go on, m’lord,” urged Brady.

Ash obliged, walking further in the hall.

“That’ll do nicely, lad!” yelled someone. “Now, look up!”

He did. Straight at a kissing bough that looked as though several forests’ worth of oak trees must have been stripped to furnish it with mistletoe.

His breath caught.

Slowly, deliberately, he set Maddy on her feet, keeping one arm around her. His blood hammered in his veins as he reached up with his free hand and plucked a berry. He hoped to God that this time he could make sure a simple kiss remained just that—a kiss.

“I think, madam wife,” he said in a voice that reached only her, “that you are under a misconception about my reasons for marriage.”

“Am I?” she whispered.

“Yes. Perhaps this will help you understand.”

He drew her closer and time slowed as her slender curves fitted to his as if she were made for him. Gently, he traced the delicate line of her throat, felt a tremor rack her as with a soft sigh she slipped her arms about him and yielded her mouth to his.

Ash’s head spun at the sweetness of the kiss. Caring nothing for their audience, he kissed her deeply, possessively, molding her body to his, one hand buried in the coiling silk of her hair. Time slowed, stretched into a glowing infinity of promise and delight.

“D’ye reckon it’s the mistletoe?” whispered an awed voice.

Maddy’s mind spun as Ash eased back from the kiss and smiled down at her. Her breath hitched at the tenderness in those gray eyes.

“There was something I wanted more than Haydon,” he murmured.

He had wanted her? Desire, yes. But had he actually wanted her, Maddy? Enough to marry her despite Edward’s lies?

“Wassail!” roared someone from the back of the hall and the crowd took up the chant. From somewhere an indecently large cup was produced, filled with hot spiced ale and passed to Maddy. She took the first sip and spluttered. Ash took it from her and deliberately set his lips where hers had rested. Their eyes met. Burned. He drank. His fingers tightened on the cup, and, his eyes never leaving hers, he passed it on.

The cup was passed around until everyone had tasted it.

Ash’s plans had included meeting Maddy’s household as her husband, and dinner. Not an extended dinner. He had reckoned without her household. He’d never realized that here in this isolated spot they adhered to the old tradition of the entire household eating in the hall. And since it was Christmas Eve, after they’d hauled in the Yule log there was dancing to the lilt of Brady’s old fiddle and his daughter’s flute. It was nearly ten o’clock, before the hall was clear of revelers and Maddy’s housekeeper bustled her off to the bedchamber.

Ash reined in his impatience as he sat down at the table. He’d blundered in every way possible in the carriage. He was damned if he’d repeat the mistake.

Chapter Six

Maddy had never realized that Bets had a romantic streak at all, let alone one a mile wide. She was tenderly arrayed in her very prettiest, lace-edged nightgown, despite her protests that it was nowhere near warm enough for a winter’s night.

Bets smirked as she twitched the linen sleeve of the nightgown just so. “Never you mind that Miss Maddy, me lady I
should
say, I reckon his lordship’ll keep you warm enough and to spare.”

She twisted her hands together in her lap while Bets brushed out her hair, long sweeps of the brush. It wasn’t like that at all. Was it?

He had believed Edward!

As if Bets had read her mind, she said, “Not many men who’d have married you after what Lord Montfort said. Not without they waited to see if you was breeding.”

Maddy’s hands stilled. If he’d thought Edward had...her stomach churned—if Ash had thought that, then he must have considered the possibility that she
had
been carrying a child. Edward’s child. She’d been too hurt by his apparent mistrust to think that through clearly.

And he still married you...why?

Shame flooded her. He’d answered that in the carriage—
To protect you
,
of course!

Straight after she’d accused him of marrying her because he’d wanted Haydon.

He did trust you
,
you ninnyhammer!
Trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t have gone to Edward willingly.
And he cared enough to marry you despite the possibility you might be pregnant.
To protect you.

The little bronze horse caught her gaze in the mirror. She’d set it on the shelf over the fireplace.
He cared enough to give you that.

Bets was still speaking. “—someone ought to warn you.”

Warn her?

She looked at Bets in the mirror. The old woman had her mouth primmed. “Been a long time, it has. I’ve been a widow longer than I was married. But you don’t forget, and seeing as how your own mam, God bless her, ain’t here to tell you what’s what—”

Maddy’s cheeks scorched. “Um, I do know what happens, Bets,” she got out. Far better than she was going to confess.

Bets snorted. “That’s as may be, Miss Maddy. I know you’d know what goes where. Thing is, it might hurt a bit at first.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks were probably going to ignite. “I see.”

Bets brushed harder. “Yes. But only the first time usually.” A very womanly smile softened the old lips. “And ’specially with a man like his lordship. You can see he’s the gentle sort, for all his strength. ”

“Only the first time?” asked Maddy, trying to ignore the ache in her breasts at the thought of just how gentle Ash could be.

“Aye. After that—” Bets laid down the brush and cleared her throat. “Well, you’ll see soon enough, judging by the way his lordship can’t take his eyes off you.” Maddy realized in disbelief that Bets was blushing. Their eyes met in the mirror. “It ain’t every man who can set a girl’s knees wobbling and toss her wits out the window with one kiss under the mistletoe!”

Bets set her hands on Maddy’s shoulders. Gave them a squeeze. “Well. That’s that. I’ll be off to me bed.”

Maddy blinked and flapped a hand at her hair. “You aren’t going to braid it?”

Bets shook her head. “Waste of time.” She twitched the neckline of the nightgown just so. “Mind you, so’s this.” Her eyes twinkled. “But at least he’ll have the fun of taking it off.”

Maddy’s jaw dropped. Naked
?
They were going to do what they’d done in the carriage
naked?

* * *

When she heard his knock on the door, Maddy was behind the screen, washing her face and hands. “Come in!” She set the ewer down with trembling hands.

The door opened. Closed. “Maddy?”

She hauled in a breath. “Here. Behind the screen.”

“Ah.”

She leaned against the washstand, breathing carefully, shocked to realize that she was trembling. Nerves, she told herself. Perhaps he wouldn’t want to do it again? A very faint hope. Most bulls and rams, after a suitable rest, say half an hour or so, were more than happy to perform their duty again.

She stiffened her spine. She couldn’t hide here all night, even if she had made a fool of herself. With a deep breath, she walked out from behind the screen to face her husband.

Her mouth dried at the sight.
Oh
,
lord!
He had already dispensed with coat and waistcoat, the lacings of his shirt hung loose, revealing the merest glimpse of a powerfully muscled chest. She swallowed, watching helplessly as he prepared to pull it off over his head, feeling again that dizziness, the aching emptiness that he had caused, and filled, in the carriage.

His gaze caught hers and he stopped.

“Would you rather I undressed somewhere else, sweetheart?” he asked. “Behind that screen?”

The idiotish, cowardly part of her shrieked,
Yes!
Then she could dive into the bed and shut her eyes. “No.” Unless... “Unless you would rather?” Perhaps he thought it was immodest for her to be here? To watch.

He shook his head, a very wicked smile curving his lips. “Not at all. I’m more than happy to strip for your pleasure.” The smile became even more wicked. “Perhaps tomorrow night you’ll return the favor.”

She was conscious of the heat, the wetness between her legs. Knew what it meant. Did he mean that
he
would find it arousing watching her undress? Her knees shook at the thought, and prudently she backed up to lean against the high, old-fashioned bed. “I...um...” He was unlacing his shirt fully, one hole at a time. “I have to apologize.”

He looked at her. “For what?”

“For...for the things I said. In the carriage.” She swallowed. “I know that you trusted me. There’s no excuse for what I said about you marrying me for Haydon because that was exactly what I offered you. I’m sorry.”

“And will you accept my apology?” he asked quietly. “Not just for thinking you might not have told me everything, but for rushing you in the carriage? My excuse is pathetic—I wanted you too much.”

“You wanted me?”

“Oh, yes.” His gaze caressed her as he finished unlacing his shirt. Stole her breath. “And I want you now.”

“Oh.” Her voice failed her. So they were going to... Thought failed as well, but his smile told her he knew exactly what she would have thought if her mind hadn’t melted. Still wearing the smile, he hauled his shirt off over his head and dropped it.

She had seen statues of the nude male body. Of course she had. Secretly she had doubted that the real thing could be quite as godlike as the sculptors seemed to suggest.... The sculptors, she realized, had indeed not got it quite right. For one thing, they had not the advantage of working with living flesh and gleaming, supple skin. With swells of muscle that bunched as a man bent to remove stockings and shoes. With firelight that shadowed every angle and danced lovingly on every hard plane. And nor could blind, marble eyes possibly blaze with heat as his did, as she gazed, riveted, while he unbuttoned the fall of his breeches...

Her eyes widened as he slid off the breeches and his drawers. Apparently the sculptors had got something else wrong, too. No statue she had ever seen had looked remotely like
that.
There wasn’t a fig leaf in the world big enough.

He had gone very still. “It won’t hurt again, Maddy,” he said quietly. “My word on it.”

Was the man a mind reader? “It wasn’t that,” she lied. Or not entirely that.

“No? What then?”

Oh, lord! “Well, I haven’t seen a real one before,” she said, desperately. “Only statues.” And thought about it. Not quite true. “At least, not a man’s pizzle,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat. They heated even more as his eyes widened and an unholy amusement curved his mouth.

“Pizzle?” he repeated in a very neutral voice, and she knew, just
knew
, she’d said the wrong thing.

Gritting her teeth, she said, “I take it you don’t call it that.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, in the sort of voice that suggested he was trying very hard not to laugh. “That’s a little agricultural.”

“Well, what
is
it called then?” she demanded.

He grinned outright. “We’ll get to that. Right now,” and his gaze heated, “I’m much more interested in making love again. And this time we’re going to do it properly.”

Properly? “Didn’t we do it properly before?” she asked. “I mean, I didn’t know what—”

“You did it properly,” he assured her. “I didn’t.”

She blinked. She’d brought enough bulls, rams and the occasional horse to tup, to know that it was perfectly possible she was already carrying his child. Surely that constituted doing it properly?

“But—”

“Properly, Maddy.” And his voice was a promise. Or a threat, depending on how you viewed the blaze in his eyes. “Or perhaps,” he murmured, coming toward her, “I should say we’re going to do it
improperly.
Extremely improperly.” Definitely a threat. Her breath lodged in her throat as he set his fingers to the buttons of her nightgown and began to undo them. Button by button, he undid the nightgown, undid
her
, until the gown hung open and her heart beat a frantic tattoo against her ribs.

Ash’s mouth dried at the sight as he reached for control. For the strength not to simply rip the gown from her, throw her on the bed and ravish her. That prim, demure, lace-edged linen gown was possibly the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He steadied his breathing. Light and shadow played over her, over the half-revealed sweetness of delicately curved breasts, the slender sweep of her waist and the swell of her hips. Hands shaking, he pushed the gown from her shoulders.

She gave a startled gasp as it pooled on the bed, leaving her naked to the waist. In a defensive gesture her arms came up to shield her breasts. He smiled, and encircled her wrists gently. “Are you going to be shy with me?”

She flushed and bit her lip so that he immediately wanted to nip at it just there himself. Nip it and soothe it with his tongue. He leaned forward and kissed her.

He was lost in wonder as he kissed his way down her throat, heard the gasps and moans she tried to hold back. She lost the battle as his mouth closed gently over her breast and he sucked. She arched on a moan and he bit with exquisite care.

His control nearly broke at the soft scream, but he hung on. This time she was going to have everything he could give her before he took her. Every pleasure, every delight. Slowly, he released her breast, eased back, straightened.

Her eyes opened, and she looked down at his hand, tanned against the cream silk of her breast, his fingers gentle on the damp pink nipple.

“May I touch you?” she asked softly.

His lungs locked at the husky tone in her voice. “Please.”

One small hand reached out and she traced the curve of his shoulder, trailed her fingertips along his biceps, igniting fires in her wake. He gritted his teeth and hung on to his sanity while she discovered his chest. One finger circled a nipple and he groaned as it tightened.

“Ash?” Uncertainty quivered in her voice and the fingertip slowed.

“Don’t stop,” he told her. He didn’t care if it killed him.

“Oh.” The fingertip took up its travels again. “You kissed me. There.”

His mind blanked. That probably would kill him. “I’d like that, too.” And took a death grip on his control as her wet, warm mouth closed over his nipple. She bit very gently and he groaned at the fierce pleasure. “Is there anything else you’d like?” she whispered against his hungry flesh.

Aching, he grasped her hand, led it lower.

“There?” she whispered.

“Oh, yes,” he breathed. And then stopped breathing as she stroked his straining length, explored him with a shy curiosity that nearly unmanned him. Shaking, he closed her fingers around him, showed her how to reduce him to burning, savage need.

“Enough,” he said at last, and eased her hand away, clamping down on the urge to tumble her back and simply take her.

Instead, he slid to his knees before her and tugged gently at the nightgown still caught under her bottom, his eyes never leaving hers. “Lift up for me, Maddy.”

She obeyed, and he slipped the nightgown from beneath her. It fell to the floor, God knew where. He had eyes and thought only for the delight before him.

He set his hands to her knees and, ignoring her gasp, pressed them gently apart, exposing her fully to his gaze.

“You’re looking at me,” she said, in a high shocked voice.

“Yes.” His whole body was an aching mass of need, but he reined it back. “And I’m going to do a great deal more than look.” Not giving her time to think, let alone ask questions, he leaned forward and kissed her belly. The soft skin flickered and bunched under his caress and he slid a finger into the dimple of her navel, probing gently.

Maddy couldn’t think, only feel, as that finger played in her navel, the movement matching the pulsing ache between her legs so that her body shifted in restless need. His hand shifted away, lower, and was replaced by his mouth, his tongue, swirling wet, hot circles on her quivering flesh. Fire danced and burned along each nerve at the wet probe of his tongue, as his fingers slid over her inner thighs, teasing, seeking. All strength fell from her and she collapsed back onto the bed as his tongue left her navel, as he bit gently at her shivering belly, and his coaxing fingers found the damp secrets between her thighs. His fingers stroked, teased and seduced.

Shock seared every nerve, every fiber as his warm breath drifted along her thigh. His breath, the nip of his teeth and the sweep of his tongue, tracing the path his teasing fingers had blazed, and where they stroked now...

He wasn’t...he couldn’t... He did, and her mind fractured as his mouth closed over her in the most shockingly intimate kiss. Heat speared her, dark demanding heat, as his mouth and tongue ripped the world away. One arm lay in heavy possession across her waist, holding her there helpless while he pleasured her.

Slowly, carefully, he penetrated her with one finger and she tightened around him, frantic, urgent. Another finger and her body bucked against the searing delight. He pressed up and found something inside her, something that exploded fireworks behind her eyelids, drove pleasure through her body, forcing her close to a beckoning, terrifying edge.