Andrea Kane (16 page)

Everyone complied, filing slowly out of the dining room.

Noelle followed suit, making her way into the hall and looking about for her parents—or so she told herself.

“The games begin,” a deep baritone commented from behind her.

She started at the sound of Ashford’s voice, which was so close it shimmered through her hair.

Pivoting about, she gazed up at him. “I thought you were already in the blue salon.”

“But you were hoping I wasn’t?”

“Yes. I was hoping you weren’t.”

Undisguised pleasure flashed in his eyes. “Walk outside with me for a while. It will take almost an hour for the chattering to stop and the games to get under way.”

Noelle glanced from him to her father, who was standing about fifteen feet away, glaring at her. “Let me talk to Papa,” she replied.

“No. Let me. After our conversation tonight, I’m hoping your father feels a little less defensive about my motives.” Ignoring Noelle’s quizzical look, Ashford offered her his arm, led her to her father. “Lord Farrington,” he said respectfully. “I’d like to take Noelle for a stroll—with your permission. We won’t be gone more than a few minutes, and we won’t venture far.”

Eric frowned, clearly torn between the automatic refusal hovering on his lips and the grudging realization that Ashford was their host’s son and—based upon whatever it was they’d discussed—a decent-enough fellow who was now proving that fact by asking permission rather than just whisking Noelle off. “I appreciate your sense of propriety, Tremlett,” he began. “However—”

“I don’t think a short walk would hurt, Eric,” Brigitte interrupted, appearing at her husband’s side. “After all, the card-playing has yet to begin. Besides, that meal, however delicious, was enormous. A stroll would certainly make it easier to breathe while sitting at the gaming table. Don’t you agree, darling?”

Eric scowled.

“Eric?” Brigitte touched his arm gently.

He turned, met her reassuring gaze. “Very well,” he relented. “At least it will take Noelle away from the rest of her captive audience. But make it a brief stroll.”

“I will, sir,” Ashford responded.

Thank you, Mama,
Noelle conveyed with her eyes. Then she took Ashford’s arm and let him lead her to the entrance-way door, where they donned their coats and stepped out into the cold night air.

“Your family is wonderful,” she told him, as they strolled along the shrub-lined path.

“Too
wonderful,” he muttered with a frown. “Who do you think your father was referring to just now when he spoke of your captive audience? Blair and Sheridan were practically devouring you as the main course of their dinner. I’ll have to speak with Mother about revising the seating arrangements before our next meal. I assumed that placing you as far away from me as possible would please your father, but the last thing I intended was to leave you in my brothers’ clutches while I was at the other end of the table, too far away to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Noelle began to laugh. “You needn’t worry. Your brothers were perfect gentlemen.”

“Only because my mother was there. But don’t worry. Not only do I intend to rearrange things, I intend to speak to Blair and Sheridan. Tonight. After which, they’ll cease to be a problem.”

Noelle slanted Ashford a quick, assessing look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“You’d be right.” His jaw clenched. “And I’m not accustomed to feeling this way, so I’d rather not dwell on it.”

“All right.” Noelle fell silent—for a moment. “What were you and Papa discussing so intently?”

“You. His plans for you. My respect for those plans—and for you.”

“Really.” Noelle’s brows arched in amusement. “Did you tell him about our kiss?”

“No.” Ashford’s jaw clenched tighter. “What I did tell him is my realization that boundaries must be set and not crossed. I explained how I watched both my sisters grow up and come of age, and how I helped my father ward off more lecherous advances from unprincipled rakes than I care to recall. I understood Father’s protectiveness and concern. To a certain extent, I even shared them. So I understand your father’s motivations as well.”

“And you told all this to him?”

“Yes. I think it put his mind at ease.”

“I see.” Noelle stopped walking, inclined her head. “Lecherous advances. Wouldn’t you describe a kiss as one of those?”

Ashford didn’t look amused. “A kiss defies propriety. But it doesn’t cross those boundaries I mentioned. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.”

“I’m glad.” Noelle moved closer. “Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t kiss me again.”

Tiny orange flames flared in Ashford’s eyes. “There’s every reason why I shouldn’t kiss you again.” His arms drew her up against him, closed around her with relentless intensity. “Unfortunately, none of those reasons is going to stop me.”

His mouth captured hers in a fierce, breathtaking caress, a combination of tenderness and desire that Noelle felt to the tips of her toes. She responded without hesitation, parting her lips to his seeking tongue, reaching up to grip his shoulders, to show him she wanted this as much as he.

Beneath the wool of his coat, Ashford’s shoulder muscles tensed, and he seized Noelle’s hands, dragged them up to entwine about his neck, bringing her flush against his powerful frame. The kiss exploded, Ashford’s tongue plunging deep, again and again, stroking every tingling surface of Noelle’s mouth before melding with hers. His left arm anchored her tightly against him, while his right arm slackened its grip, his fingers drifting up and down her spine, tangling in the thick sable tresses that spilled down her back.

Even through the barrier of her mantle, Noelle felt singed by Ashford’s touch. She was burning and drowning all at once, and she never wanted to recover from either. She tightened her hold about his neck, beginning her own explorations by mimicking the motions of his tongue, learning his taste as he had hers.

When she took over the role of aggressor, slid her tongue into his mouth, Ashford went rigid.

With a harsh groan, he yanked his head up, ending the kiss, his breathing coming in short, shallow pants as he fought for control.

Noelle studied his tormented expression, her brow furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?”

A strangled laugh, followed by a hard shake of his head. “No, sweetheart. You did everything right.
Too
right. I don’t seem to be able to maintain one shred of self-restraint when I’m around you.” Ashford rested his chin atop her head, his arms still clasped tightly about her. “This is madness. Madder still is the fact that I don’t know if I can stop it—or if I even want to try.”

“Must you?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Because of those boundaries you described?” Something about Ashford’s hesitation troubled her, and Noelle leaned back, watching him intently. “Is there some other reason?”

“There are several reasons.” Ashford released her, turning to stare broodingly into the night. “Not the least of which is your father, his plans for your coming-out. I personally think the whole formality is nonsense, but that doesn’t mean I won’t respect Lord Farrington’s decision. He’s your father. And he wants you to follow customary protocol.”

“As against your father, who believes the ceremonial rites of the nobility are senseless.”

A shrug. “My father has a different background than yours. That doesn’t mean he’d advocate defying your father’s wishes. He wouldn’t.”

“I know that.” Noelle couldn’t shake the feeling there was more. And Ashford
had
said reasons. “Other than my father,” she pressed, folding her arms across her chest, “why else are you fighting whatever it is that’s happening between us?”

A heartbeat of silence. “Because I have the uneasy feeling that whatever is happening between us is more than mere attraction. And, given the circumstances, I can’t allow that.”

“What circumstances?”

Ashford kept his face averted. “You’re young, Noelle.
Very
young. You don’t know a thing about me—
or
my life.”

She stared at his rigid back. “I’m a quick learner.”

“So I noticed.”

A smile tugged at Noelle’s lips. “I thought you said it wasn’t attraction we were feeling.”

“I said it was
more
than mere attraction,” Ashford corrected, pivoting to face her. “I didn’t say I don’t crave the feel of you in my arms, that I’m not insane with the need to possess you, that I don’t want to bury myself inside you until neither of us can breathe. All I said was that I was afraid it was more than that.”

“Oh.” Noelle’s head was swimming from the images Ashford’s words had conveyed.

“I’ve shocked you.”

“No.” A bewildered look. “Actually, I think what you’ve done is seduced me. I just never realized it could be done with words.”

“Ah, Noelle.” He reached out, rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Your frankness is as arousing as your boldness, your budding passion. It’s the most refreshing part of this stroll, far more renewing than the winter air.”

“Renewing. Exciting. Arousing. We’ve determined I’m all that.”

Ashford’s teeth gleamed in the darkness. “All that and more.”

“Then my youth shouldn’t deter you. After all, it’s hardly a permanent condition. Why, in four or five years I’ll be positively ancient.” She raised her chin, boldly met his gaze. “And you’ll be weary of aimless liaisons with shallow women.”

“I’m certain I shall be. I already am. But that doesn’t change my earlier claim: you know nothing about me.”

“I know you aren’t nearly as rakish as your reputation suggests. I know you adore your family, especially the children, and that they adore you. I know you investigate stolen items—together with the people you suspect have stolen them. I know Franco Baricci is one of those people.”

Ashford’s breath expelled in a rush, and he dropped her lock of hair as if it had scalded him. “Baricci. What made you bring up his name?”

“I’m making a point,” Noelle explained, taken aback by Ashford’s oddly vehement response. “You say I don’t know you. I maintain that I do. In your carriage, on the way to Waterloo Station, you told me you’d visited the Franco Gallery as a routine check, because a recently stolen, privately owned painting had been auctioned off there. Well, I believe there was far more to your visit than that. Especially given Mr. Baricci’s apprehension over the fact that you were my escort, the inordinate number of questions he asked me that pertained to you. I believe you suspect Baricci himself of being involved in the theft you were investigating. What’s more, I’ll wager that’s not the only theft you suspect him of. I think you believe he’s involved in several thefts. Perhaps even all the art robberies that have struck London these past months. Am I right?”

Ashford had gone deadly still. “I’ll ask you again,” he said in a steely voice, “why did you bring up Baricci’s name?”

Noelle started at the hardness of his tone, concluding that she’d touched upon a nerve that was far more sensitive than she’d realized. “I just told you. I—”

“I investigate a lot of people. Why did you mention Baricci in particular?”

“Because he’s the only one of your suspects whose identity I’m aware of. Ashford, why are you interrogating me?”

“I’m not. I’m merely asking—”

“No, you’re not merely asking. You’re firing questions at me as if I were a suspect in a crime.” Noelle searched his face, trying to make out his expression through the limited light cast by a nearby gas lamp. “Is it the confidentiality of your work? I didn’t mean to violate that. Nor will I repeat any of my theories to another soul. I was just using them to make a point.”

“It has nothing to do with secrecy. Although I am curious how you drew your rather extreme conclusions.”

“They’re not extreme. Not when it comes to you. I
do
know you, Ashford—perhaps by instinct. You don’t ask routine questions, especially not of a scoundrel like Baricci. And he, in turn, doesn’t fear many people. Yet he fears you. The two add up to only one thing: he’s the fly and you’re the spider.”

“You know him well then?”

“I never met the man before two weeks ago.”

“Did you correspond?”

“No.” Noelle’s small jaw set. “That’s it. The interrogation is over. At least until you explain why you’re conducting it. And please give me an honest answer. I think I deserve one.”

For a moment, Ashford said nothing, visibly debating how to respond to her demand. Then he leaned forward and caught Noelle’s shoulders in his hands. “You’re right. You do. But so do I. I need you to answer one question for me. Now, before I provide you with an explanation—
and
before things go any further between us.”

“Very well,” she replied warily.

“Why did you
really
go to London two weeks ago?”

Whatever Noelle had been expecting, it hadn’t been this. Nevertheless, it was obvious from Ashford’s tone that he already knew there had been an ulterior motive behind her sudden excursion into Town
and
that the very existence of that ulterior motive angered him. Well, neither of those details should surprise her. After all, she was a dreadful liar and he was a very shrewd man—and a man who valued honesty in others. Wasn’t he always applauding her candor? Clearly, her evasiveness on this one subject had been apparent throughout their day in London—a fact that had probably troubled him for a fortnight.

Well, it was time to alleviate his anger. She’d intended to tell him the truth anyway, not only to keep things open and honest between them, but to lend credibility to—as Ashford termed it—the extreme conclusion she’d drawn with regard to his suspicions of Baricci.

Extreme? Hardly.

Once Ashford knew the ugly details to which she was privy, he would understand why she was so ready to mistrust that scoundrel, to add her own suspicions to the ones Ashford obviously harbored. Given Baricci’s sordid character, his unscrupulous conduct and total disregard for anything other than self-gratification—a blackguard such as that was capable of anything.

Ashford wanted the truth? Now was as good a time as any to disclose it.

Noelle opened her mouth, intent on revealing all when, abruptly, she was struck by just how closely Ashford was watching her, just how challenging was the look in his eyes.