Angel of Ash (6 page)

“
I only pray that we shall arrive before it is time,” Angel commented, feeling as if the space between them was too small, even though the carriage was large, comfortable and well sprung.

“
No, matter, ships arrive late,” he said, and this Asher was nice, attentive and cordial. “I am just thankful that you have arrived here, safely, I pray, my lady, that you enjoy your visit to our country.”
Angel felt a shiver of pleasure course through her, when he said, ‘my lady’ she had never been spoken of thus. “I am quite grateful for your attention, sir and I know that I will enjoy my stay, I have recently discovered that I have an aunt in attendance, perhaps you know of her?”

Asher cocked one thick eyebrow. “Perhaps, what is her name?”
“She is my namesake, and I believe my father has said that she is a lady, married to an earl, her surname is Jacobson.”

Asher nodded his head. “I know of the Jacobson family but I have not met her, I believe her marriage to him, was recent was it not? They both widowers.”
“Yes, in fact, you are correct, father tells me she lives not far from Hunter and her husband, which I am grateful of, I wish to visit them as soon as I get settled.”
“As you will, my lady.”
Angel smiled slightly. “But you mustn’t call me, ‘lady’ I have no title, sir.”
Asher settled back into his comfortable seat, eyeing her like a tiger eyes his prey; he smiled slightly, flashing his deep dimples and white teeth. “It is a term…of endearment,” he finally said, nearly whispering the last word.

Angel blushed, again, turning towards the open window and finding herself near speechless. She wanted to ask him to open the window but decided she’d give herself away if she so asked. Instead, she kept her eyes glued on the passing landscape, the many and numerous shops and buildings, trying to gather her wits about her, once more. Deciding that she had no answer for his shocking statement, Angel instead felt as green as possible, and totally naïve, she was not use to any man so blatantly flirting with her and had no idea how to respond, to what she was sure, was gentle teasing.

Nodding, slightly, she pointed towards a passing building, a large clock upon the top. “Sir, what is that orifice?” She asked.

“I shall answer only if you call me Asher.”

Turning sharply, she looked at him, her eyes wide, before once again nodding and then licking her suddenly dry lips, where his eyes dropped. Oh, this man must be the merriest of rakes, Angel thought to herself, men her father had warned her away from during her stay in London. Yet, she could understand why, surely women fell in droves around his booted feet, hoping for a peek of dimple, a flash of clear, cat eyes, the touch of his hand. “Alright…Asher.” And then smiling, she asked. “Well, are you going to tell me what building that was we have long since past?”

“Our tower, Big Ben, it was built…roughly three hundred years ago,” he started.

“Three hundred years…my, there is not one city in America that is that old, unless of course you count the Indian towns, but they are small, tiny by comparison.”

“Indians, I have seen pictures…there are a few here…you look, slightly like them, what is your background?”

She wasn’t use to such blatant curiosity, but still answered him. “My father is white, his family is from Germany and my mother was African.”
“Oh, no wonder…” he said before trailing off.

Love’s curiosity was piqued. “No wonder, what?”

But Asher only smiled, lifting his left lip slightly in a half grin. “No, reason, ms, tell me is there any sights you wish to see, once we get you settled in?”

“I am not sure, I studied books about England as soon as I learned I was to come, there are the Druid ruins, and the tower of London and its’ famous Market square…and the theater,”

“You wish to take in a show?” He asked.

“Oh, yes…father has taken me a few times in Boston but he as most people do tells me there is nothing compared to a London stage and production.”

“He is quite right, even though, we like all countries, having our share of disreputable theaters.”

“
Oh, I am sure, but in all this the thing foremost upon my mind is getting to Hunter as quickly as possible, I have missed her dreadfully in the past years.”
Asher nodded, she was so expressive, so open, something that Asher knew was to be a rarity indeed in most, if not all women. But she too was probably like most women; he had no expectations as to her behavior, no questions as to the thought of her lack of innocence. He could not wait to bed her, but the anticipation was also in the waiting. “As she has missed you, too,” he returned. “From her words, herself, she tells us, how you helped her escape, how you were her only friend during her…trial, our family is indebted to you, forever, and my lady.”
Angel tried waving his words away, nodding slightly. “Those times, they weren’t all bad…we had each other, sir, I mean Asher. I always knew, deep in my heart, that Hunter was strong, that she would one day escape.”

“She could not have without you.”

“Oh, yes, she is too strong, she knew there was something out there, waiting for her and he….his hold upon her would be relinquished. I was there, to help, to listen and to comfort, we formed a bond that can never be shaken, I believe Hunter is my sister, in spirit and she has said more than once that I am hers. She deserves as much happiness as possible, more than anyone I know.”

Asher could not find fault with her words, except her seemingly small role in Hunter’s life. “You helped save her, Angel, don’t ever lessen your role upon and in Hunter’s life. It was you, Gabriel, her husband tells us, who told him of her and how you wanted more than anything for Gabe to take her away. Hunter told me in no uncertain words that if it were not for you she would have died a long, long time ago, but your will and your spirit made her want to risk everything, in honor of everything that you had done for her.”

Angel could do nothing, staring at her hands blindly as tears formed in her eyes. She rarely cried unless she was moved more than words, the last time she had cried had been upon finding her father. And before that, had been the time when she thought Hunter would die after Laird had beaten her brutally.

She felt Asher move, before her, sitting directly in front of her, even though she kept her eyes upon her tightly clasped hands, she saw his move on top of her hands, hold hers gently, while one hand cupped her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes. “The time for tears is now over, my lady, it is a time for celebration, you are to be reunited with your dearest friend and my sister upon the eve of her first child, why then, the tears?” He asked gently.

Shaking her head, Angel bit her lip, the tears standing upon the crevice of her eyes before falling over to her cheeks, she felt dumb and young, before Asher. “I know, you are right, sir, it is a time for laughter.”
“And so, shall you grace me with your laughter, something of which I had yet to hear and am curious as to the sound.”

Asher made her smile, and she did, her tears slowing as he handed her a small handkerchief. “Oh, I must be incredibly silly to you, sir,” she said, wiping her eyes.

Nodding she could only take him for his word before Asher began regaling her with tales of London life, an innocent more censored version for a young, woman’s ears and in no time, Asher had Angel forget her tears, as she tried in vain to stifle her laughter, before it erupted from her softly, a short chuckle at first which became deeper laughter as she held her stomach.

And Asher knew that her laughter would be just as he thought, warm, husky and open, and he watched her, wanting to make her laugh and smile for as long as possible.

“You jest, Asher, surely you do? He ran through the streets?” Angel managed to get out after she thought she would laugh herself silly.

“Yes, but I have not told you the worse part,” he commented a slightly devilish look in his eyes.

Angel became even more interested in the story. “Oh, do tell, sir, do tell, I promise, it shall be our little secret.”

Asher had her in the palm of his hands, he leaned closer to her, and she inadvertently leaned to him, until his mouth was close to her ear, brushing the curls upon her temple with his breath. “You promise that it shall be our little secret…Angel,” he said.

Angel’s lips became dry again as her breath eased out of her body in short, little gasps. She inhaled his scent, something so uniquely different; she knew if she inhaled it long enough, she would simply float right off her seat, through the roof of the carriage and straight to Heaven. And the way he said her name, it caused a shiver of pleasure to overtake her entire body. “I promise,” she said, her voice unusually husky.

Asher was so close that if he turned his head just slightly he’d be able to touch those soft, vulnerable lips which kept him engrossed; he didn’t instead leaning back against his seat, watching as she opened her eyes widely before sitting back herself. “Oh, what were you, about to say?” She asked, her brain muddled.

“
I seemed to leave out the part that as he ran for his life from the cuckolded husband, he quite aptly forgot to take a few choice articles of clothing, namely, his breeches and shirt and jackets. All he had in his hands were his boots and delicately plumed hat.”

Angel’s eyes widened, her mouth opened in shock before a startled laugh erupted from her mouth, she smacked one hand over it, still staring at him, before pulling her hand down to hesitantly ask, “You jest! Sir, you jest!” She whispered horrified, before an image of the overweight prince came to mind and a decidedly large and pale behind was seen running through the streets of London. She couldn’t stop the laughter even if she wanted to, feeling ashamed at laughing at such a horrible predicament the prince had gotten himself into but unable to refrain from chuckling royally. “Oh, I do not believe you, Asher, that is utterly horrid,” she exclaimed, still chuckling softly after long moments.

“I would never, jest, and about such a view, never, my lady, you wound me. I saw it myself, personally and thought at first, I was viewing a bleached donkey, skittering madly through the streets with a large, purple hat upon his wig of blond curls. But alas, it was worse than I feared and I stopped, horrified, like so many others, nearly clipping my horse into a passing carriage which nearly ran over a street vendor which nearly hit a visiting duke’s carriage from France. It was not a sight I would ever wish to set my eyes upon again, my lady.”

They both laughed this time as Asher regaled her on other tales of London’s society and its’ high and lofty peers whom he brought down to the level at which he knew they all were. No better than anyone else. The time seemed to fly by as the couple regaled each other of stories of their pasts, happy memories, Angel more often than not listening with rapt attention as Asher would tell her of a young Hunter, with his brothers and the many hours of fun they had upon the countryside.

It was with little wonder that the hours passed amazingly fast, for both of the couple until they were forced to stop, the hour late, at an inn Asher knew of and had visited often upon the road.

“We shall stop here, for the night, so the horses may rest, we must arise before dawn, tomorrow morning, if we wish to be there by evening tide.”

“Oh, yes,” Angel said absentmindedly, staring at the picturesque country inn with its’ cobble stoned entryway. “I cannot believe it is evening time, already, Asher. I will readily admit that your company made the hours fly by. What time is it, perchance?”

Asher took out his watch, looking at it. “Just after eleven, the kitchen I am sure is closed, however I will see what I can rustle up and have it sent to your room, is that agreeable?” He asked, opening the door of the carriage and dropping the step box, before reaching out, grasping her small waist to help her down.

He let his fingers trail away from her warm body, regretfully, knowing she felt as he did, achingly aware of each other, before turning, the innkeeper, Oswald, in his night clothes, met them outside.

“Mr. Davis, sir, hello! Hello! And who is this, you have with you?” The innkeeper asked impishly a large smile beneath his gray mustache.

“This is Ms. Barrett, a dear and close friend of the Lady Barony, whom is visiting from America; would you perhaps have a spare bedroom or two and food for my company?”

“America! Why isn’t that marvelous!” He cried out, his lantern hitting Angel as he looked with wide eyes at her exotic face. “Are you an Indian?” He asked excitedly, nearly bobbing up and down, shorter than both Asher and Angel.

“No, sir, I am not,” Angel returned, quite amazed at this comic like character before her.

“
Well, no matter, you are still an American! Come! Come! Your men can saddle your horses then come to the kitchens for their meal while I escort the two of you to bedrooms, separately, of course and I shall personally deliver your meal. Or perhaps, even better than that, perchance you would wish to sup in my personal dining room, with my wife and I, as I ask you questions about the Americas. How exciting! Marvelous! Marvelous!”
“Oswald, Ms. Barrett has had a long trip, she has just gotten off a boat this very afternoon and we have traveled many hours with nary a respite.”
But it was Angel who interrupted. “Oh, Mr. Davis, please, I am not in the least bit tired, kind sir. I would be delighted to share a light repast with Mr. Oswald and his wife who have seen fit to open their doors to us, so late in the evening.”
Asher was about to argue further, but one look at Angel’s large, luminescent eyes and his thoughts faltered. Nodding, hesitantly, he turned towards the expectant Oswald. “Alright, then, Oswald, but first, have water sent up to the lady’s room, so that she can refresh herself.”