Andrea Kane (15 page)

“I will.” Noelle slipped out of the manor.

The late afternoon was cool, but not frigid, and the fresh air actually did feel quite good, as did stretching her legs. Noelle walked a bit, then halted as another peal of laughter accosted her.

It came from a grove of trees a short distance away.

Gathering up her skirts, she scooted toward it.

She hadn’t gone ten steps when a little girl exploded from the trees and crashed directly into her.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The child, who appeared to be about seven years old, pressed her palm to her mouth, staring up at Noelle through distressed grey eyes. “I didn’t know anyone was out here except us.”

Noelle squatted down and smiled. “You don’t need to apologize. It was
I
who collided with
you.”
A mischievous twinkle. “I’m actually quite a good runner myself.”

“Really? Would you like to join our game then? I’m sure Uncle Ashe wouldn’t mind.”

“Uncle Ashe?” Noelle nearly leaped to her feet, her heart skipping a beat.

“Um-hum.” The child twisted a strand of tawny hair about her forefinger. “My name’s Cara—after my great-grandmother. What’s yours?”

“Noelle—after Christmas. That’s when I was born.”

“Do you get two celebrations or one?”

Noelle’s lips twitched. “Two. I insisted on that when I was a child.”

“I don’t blame you.”

A rustle from within the cluster of trees interrupted them, and Cara tugged at Noelle’s skirts. “We’d better hurry or we’ll get caught.”

“I hear you, moppet,” came an all-too-recognizable baritone, drawing nearer with each word. “And I suggest we head back to the manor. Your mama will worry herself sick if we’re out here after dark.”

Cara’s eyes widened. “What time is it?” she hissed to Noelle.

“About half after four, I think,” Noelle whispered back.

“Uncle Ashe is right. Mama will be upset.” Cara backed off in the direction of the manor. “You finish the game for me—okay, Noelle? Better yet, start a new one.” She pressed a conspiratorial forefinger to her lips, lowering her voice to a hush. “Tell Uncle Ashe I’m making a dash for the manor.” Her dimples flashed. “Oh, and tell him I win.”

She shot off like a bullet.

“Where are you, moppet?” Ashford called, emerging from the trees.

“By now? Inside the manor,” Noelle supplied, savoring the look of utter astonishment that crossed his face. “She said to tell you she wins.”

“Noelle.” He breathed her name in a way that made her bones turn to water.

“Hello, my lord. Your niece is precious. We had a lovely chat, during which she instructed me to take over her part in your game.” Noelle had no idea what she was saying. All she knew was that she couldn’t tear her eyes off Ashford. Even mussed, his hair and clothing tousled from running about with a child, he was magnificent.

He strode right over to her, capturing both hands and bringing them to his lips. “When did you arrive?”

“A few minutes ago.” She stared at his mouth as it brushed her palms, shivering at the incredible sensations caused by his lips against her skin. His effect on her was astounding—even more so than a fortnight ago. “I never got farther than the entranceway. I heard your niece playing. … I was restless. … I stepped out for some air. … I …” She inhaled sharply. “I came out here looking for you,” she confessed in a rush.

Tiny flames flared in Ashford’s eyes. “Damn propriety to hell,” he muttered. Abruptly, he drew Noelle against him, tipping up her chin and covering her mouth with his. “God, I’ve dreamed of doing this.”

Noelle was sure her knees would give out. She clutched Ashford’s forearms, her lips tingling at their first contact with his. His mouth was warm, insistent, molding to hers in a series of slow, drugging kisses she felt to the tips of her toes. Beginning lightly, coaxingly, the kisses intensified until they were heated explorations, his lips urging hers to part. As if in a dream, she complied, opening to the penetration of his tongue, moaning softly as his tongue captured and caressed hers, his arms tightening like steel bands around her, drawing her closer.

Then, forcibly, almost against his will, Ashford tore his mouth away, his gaze probing hers with fiery intensity. “I know I should apologize,” he stated flatly, his arms still holding her close. “But I have no intentions of doing so. Not given the number of times I’ve imagined doing that since I left you at the station.”

“I’m glad,” Noelle managed, her entire body trembling with reaction. “Because an apology is the last thing I want.”

“Should I ask what the first thing is?”

“Not until I can form a coherent thought.”

Ashford’s chuckle was a warm breath against her overheated skin. “Does that mean you’re as glad to see me as I am to see you?”

“I think it’s safe to say that, yes.” Slowly, Noelle eased herself away, inclining her head quizzically. “Did you ask your parents to invite my family to their charity ball?”

“Yes.” Ashford’s reply was as direct as Noelle’s query. “I hope you don’t mind.” A grin. “You did imply that I should find a way for us to see each other.”

Laughter danced in Noelle’s eyes. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? And the method you chose was most creative.”

A mock bow. “I’m pleased you approve.”

“Oh, I do.” Her smile faded. “Unfortunately, Papa doesn’t.”

“So I gathered.” Reluctantly, Ashford released her, his arms dropping to his sides. “What’s more, I don’t think my keeping you out here, unchaperoned, for any length of time will endear me to him. I’d best escort you back to the house.”

Noelle nodded, lowering her lashes and making no attempt to disguise her disappointment.

“We’ll have time together,
tempête,
” Ashford assured her softly, hooking his forefinger beneath her chin and raising it to meet his gaze. “I promise.”

Her smile returned. “
Tempête?
That’s the first time I’ve heard the word ‘tempest’ translate into something so poetic.”

“It suits you. Beauty and recklessness combined.” Ashford paused, his thumbs caressing Noelle’s cheeks. “We have a great deal to discuss—more than even I realized. But I don’t want to tempt fate. So let’s delay this conversation until later and, instead, head back to the manor. Before I give your father more cause to distrust me.”

Another reluctant nod. “Will I see you at dinner?”

“At dinner—and perhaps at the card table afterwards.”

Noelle gave him a measured look. “Must I play with the ladies? All they do is cast random cards while they gossip. It’s tedious and unchallenging. Not to mention that their wagers are pathetically low.”

Ashford chuckled. “I take it you’ve witnessed countless such boring games at Farrington?”

“Countless. Other than those times when I play with Papa.”

“In that case, we’ll have to place you at a gentlemen’s gaming table.”

Noelle’s whole face lit up. “Truly? You’ll let me join them?”

“Could I stop you?” Ashford teased. “Besides, I’ve already boasted to my parents of your great skill. I hope you’re as accomplished at whist as you are at piquet.”

“Oh, I am. I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”

“Disappoint me?” He shook his head, all teasing having vanished. Slowly, sensually, his knuckles drifted over her cheeks, caressed the fine contours. “On the contrary,
tempête,
I suspect you’ll exceed my wildest expectations—and not only at the gaming table.”

Noelle’s insides melted. She stared up at Ashford, entirely aware of his underlying message, wondering just how much of it was mere flirtation and how much of it an expression of his intentions.

She couldn’t wait to find out.

A provocative silence swelled between them, broken by the rustling of a squirrel as it darted up a tree to seek shelter—a blatant reminder that dusk was descending.

“Damn.” Ashford sucked in his breath. “Let’s go inside.” He withdrew his hand, his expression as taut as his tone. “Because in another minute I’ll be discarding whatever good intentions I still possess.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Noelle admitted.

Something flickered in those amazing eyes. “Wouldn’t you?” he murmured huskily.

“No.” She searched his hard, masculine features, trying to discern his reaction. “Does that disturb you?”

“No,” he confessed, bringing her palm to his lips. “It excites me.
You
excite me. Far more than you should.” He pressed his forefinger to her lips, stifling the protest she was about to utter. “Later,” he promised softly, easing her in the direction of the manor. “We
will
continue this—later.”

“The conversation or its essence?” she asked.

A dark smile. “Both.”

DINNER WAS AN ELEGANT
AFFAIR, ENJOYED BY THE SEVERAL
dozen guests who had already arrived. The entire Thornton family was in attendance, except Ashford’s younger sister Laurel, who Noelle learned was recovering from childbirth and had, therefore, remained at home with her husband, their two-year-old daughter, and their newborn son.

Juliet, Ashford’s twin, was a stunning woman with tawny, upswept hair, steel grey eyes, and a quick, witty tongue—the perfect counterpart to her handsome, dry-humored husband, Carston. Blair and Sheridan, Ashford’s two brothers, were both impossibly handsome, although each in a different way. While Blair boasted classic aristocratic features and brooding forest green eyes, Sheridan exuded a roguish sort of charisma, with twinkling grey eyes and a devilish grin that made you wonder what mischief he was contemplating.

The duke, who was an older replica of Ashford, sat at one end of the endless mahogany table; the duchess, one of the loveliest, most gracious ladies Noelle had ever met, at the other. Noelle herself was seated near the duchess and among Ashford’s siblings, something she thoroughly enjoyed because it gave her the opportunity to get to know them. Ashford, on the other hand, was seated way down at the other end, alongside the duke and, interestingly enough, her father. Chloe had eaten earlier with Juliet’s children, an utterly enchanting experience, according to the rushed description Chloe had given Noelle when they’d passed each other in the hall. Chloe’s verdict was that Cara was a darling to look after, and Lucas—though a year younger than she—was both intelligent and fascinating.

All in all, the young people’s dinner had proven to be a rousing success.

Happily, the adults’ meal was well on its way to following suit.

The formality of Markham’s dining room, with its crystal chandeliers, gilded trim, and plush carpet, was belied by the relaxed chatter and careless teasing taking place at Noelle’s end of the expansive mahogany table. Juliet and her brothers kept up a lively banter—so lively, in fact, that on several occasions Noelle almost managed to forget Ashford’s presence at the other end of the table.

Almost.

Twice—two breathless, heart-stopping times—she turned her head only to find him staring at her, his gaze heated, probing, and the effect nearly brought her to her knees. To preserve appearances, not to mention sanity, Noelle looked away quickly, reimmersing herself in the conversation around her. Still, she couldn’t help but sneak an occasional peek in Ashford’s direction, noting with more than a twinge of curiosity that he was deeply engrossed in conversation with her father, while her mother, seated across the table, chatted amiably with the duke.

“Forgive us, Lady Noelle,” Sheridan apologized gallantly over their last mouthfuls of dessert. “After our raucous display tonight, you must think all the Thorntons are heathens.”

“On the contrary,” Noelle assured him, “I think you’re all wonderful. As for the display you’re referring to, I view it as a heartwarming expression of your love for each other. Actually, you remind me a lot of my own family. We’re smaller in number but equally as vocal in our affection. Just ask my father,” she added with a grin. “He’ll tell you how noisy mealtime at Farrington can get. Trust me, you’re no more boisterous than we.”

“Don’t make that claim until you’ve met Cara,” Blair suggested dryly. “She’s a whirlwind disguised as a child.”

“How true,” Juliet concurred with a sigh.

“But I
have
met her,” Noelle declared, turning to Juliet. “Your daughter is a delight. We met this afternoon during her romp with Lord Tremlett. She reminds me of myself at her age—bursting with energy and resourcefulness. And her laughter is positively contagious.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “Especially when she’s playing with Ashford. Cara loves us all, but I firmly believe she thinks Ashe walks on water. My son Lucas is not much better. He’s determined to be just like Ashford when he grows up—Lord help us all.” A flicker of curiosity. “Did I hear Ashe say you two had met before tonight?”

“Yes.” Noelle lay down her fork and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. “Lord Tremlett and I met on the railroad going to London. We played piquet. The earl lost. As payment for his defeat, he gave my lady’s maid and me a ride into Town.”

“You beat Ashe at cards?” Juliet sounded surprised, impressed, and terribly smug. “I wish I’d been there to see that.” She finished her pie with a flourish. “Well, good for you. Ashe could use a few lessons in humility. In fact, all my brothers could.”

“Could we?” Blair’s brows lifted good-naturedly. “If that’s the case, you’re hardly the one to provide them. You’re cockier than Ashe.”

“True,” Sheridan put in blandly. “Just ask your husband. Right, Carston?”

“Oh, no,” Carston refuted, holding up his palms and laughing. “I’m not being drawn into this debate. Besides, assessing which Thornton is the most self-assured is like deciding which of the desserts on this table is the sweetest. They’re all sweet; that’s a statement of fact. As to which surpasses the others, now that’s simply a matter of opinion.”

“Spoken like a loyal husband,” Sheridan commended, returning to his dessert. “
And
a smart one,” he added, shooting Carston a sympathetic look, “since we all know that Juliet would win the arrogance contest. Compared to her, we Thornton men are as meek as lambs.”

A chorus of good-natured laughter—and a denial from Juliet—erupted. Then Daphne Thornton rose to her feet, stifling her own laughter as she requested that everyone take their coffee into the blue salon, where card tables had been set up for whatever family and guests were already present.