Belmary House Book One (30 page)

“But what if it’s unfair? Couldn’t you right a wrong?”

“Who answers that question, Matilda? Who decides what’s right and wrong?”

Tilly nodded, feeling an ache rising in her throat. “It’s hard to get past some things,” she said. “I’m really not as brave as you seem to think.”

“Whatever you can’t get past,” he said, pulling her closer, “perhaps you can learn to let it be next to you. And I’ll be here on the other side to keep if from getting too much.”

Her heartbeat thudded slowly against her bodice. She was certain if she looked down she would see it trying to break free from her chest. Instead, she looked up at Ashford to find his eyes already locked on her. She blinked but he didn’t look away. Either she drifted toward him or he leaned closer, she knew all she had to do was close her eyes and she would feel his lips press against hers. She wanted that so very badly, but was trapped in his silvery grey gaze.

His hand moved to the side of her throat, his fingers brushing away the loose strands of hair that escaped her updo. His thumb rested just below her jaw and she lowered her gaze to his mouth. The corners quirked up slightly and as he moved closer, she could feel his soft breath near her cheek. She finally closed her eyes. Holding her breath, she waited to feel him kiss her, finally. He slid his other hand around her waist and pulled her body closer to his. Time, that dreaded thing they were constantly fighting, seemed to stand still.

A crash came from the house as someone threw open the doors and pounded out into the garden on heavy feet.

“Lord Ashford, come at once. Miss McPherson is quite ill,” the parson’s wife hollered in a frightened tone.

Ashford jumped up and ran for the house. It took Tilly a moment to come back to reality, but quickly ran after him, worry erasing every last bit of euphoria she’d worked up from the near kiss.

Kostya already directed everyone to back away and calm down, while fanning Serena, who lay on the floor. She struggled to get up, but Ashford barked for her to stay still. Tilly almost laughed to see Serena give him a look and try to stand up anyway. When she faltered, Kostya scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

Ashford scowled and followed them, waving and bellowing for someone to find the physician. It turned out the elderly man had gone home early, so someone was dispatched to fetch him back.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Tilly said, as the remaining guests stared at her for answers. “She’s been working so hard on this party, and it’s pretty late. I suppose it’s time to call it a night?”

She eventually managed to wrangle everyone out, having to practically shove the parson’s concerned wife out the door.

A short time after that, the bleary eyed doctor returned, and Tilly led him upstairs. She peeked into the room Serena used when she stayed and saw her maid and Kostya standing around nervously while Serena sat in the middle of the bed looking put upon, but still wan and colorless.

Ashford was nowhere to be seen, so Tilly dejectedly went to her own room and sat in front of the cold fireplace, trying to erase the disturbing conversation from her mind and struggling to repress any thoughts of Ashford touching her so tenderly and looking at her with such admiration.

Before the whole awful zombie tangent, he’d admitted to being smitten by her. She closed her eyes and conjured his voice in her memory as he said it, feeling more despondent by the minute at the way the night had ended. Having seen Serena looking close to normal, she wasn’t too worried about her and her thoughts kept circling back to the near kiss. She was positive Ashford would come to his senses and when she saw him the next day he’d merely inform her of when he’d be departing for France, probably without looking directly at her.

His out of the blue pronouncement that he liked her had been nothing more than an effect of the dancing, the lovely night, maybe a stress release from all the time he’d spent coming up with his undead theory. All she had to do was run out the clock here and not get hurt, physically or emotionally. She’d just have to get over her carnal cravings for the two remaining months she had here. There was plenty of needlework to be done, after all.

A hard rap at the door made her shoot out of the chair, worried Serena might need her. She hurried to open it, drawing in a sharp breath to see Ashford standing there, a slightly befuddled look on his face.

Without a word he took her by the waist and backed her into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. His eyes searched her face and she wondered what he was looking for. She nodded slightly and he smiled, pulling her closer. He pushed her loosened hair behind her ears, fingertips lingering at her throat.

“I haven’t the luxury of feeling things for people,” he began. “But I feel things for you.”

She bit her lip, feeling suffocated by her heavy dress, weighted down with wanting him, to feel more of his hands on her skin. “You do?”

He nodded, never taking his eyes from hers. “Yes. All of it bad. I worry incessantly about you. I hate when you smile at that wee fool Nick. It’s going to hurt terribly when you go back to your own time. I think it would be best if you returned to Belmary House and wait out your time there.”

Her heart, which felt like it was up in her throat a moment before his speech, roller coastered into her stomach, and a coldness crept over her. His hands were still at the sides of her face and she forced herself to look away from him, turning her eyes down to his elaborately embellished waistcoat. He was right. It was going to hurt when she went back. It was better not to make things worse.

“Okay,” she agreed quietly.

He still had his hands on her and she thought she should probably pull away, but didn’t have the strength. Every second mattered if she had to go back to London. She wanted to look at his face one more time before he left, knowing the carriage would be ready for her at first light and he probably wouldn’t even come down to say goodbye. It hurt to breathe and she blamed her beloved gown, not wanting to admit to herself what it really was. She lifted her eyes and found him still looking at her, the same way he had in the ballroom. He stroked her jaw with his thumb.

“I think I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she choked out a laugh. “Oh my God, I’ll never understand you.”

He moved closer, his lips an inch from hers. “Do you need to? Should I go instead?”

Before she could answer or shake her head, his mouth was on hers. She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her whole length against him, reveling in the feel of his strong chest against her imprisoned body.

“Get me out of this dress,” she murmured breathlessly, while his hands trailed down her back.

“Yes,” he agreed, already tugging at the fastenings. He kissed her some more, finally coming up for air with an impatient sound. “I should have tarried a bit more, perhaps you would have been in your outlandish nightwear.”

She grinned triumphantly, popping open the buttons of his waistcoat. She’d been wanting to do this for weeks now, and her fingers itched to get under all his clothes.

“I knew you secretly liked those.”

He returned her grin, finally getting her dress loose enough to slide over her shoulders.

“I liked them very much.”

He paused as her dress and shift fell low enough to expose her breasts and he nodded appreciatively, running his hands over them, lingering at her nipples.

“I imagined your body would be beautiful, but goodness, Matilda. You’re simply amazing.”

His words filled her with giddiness, and a deep, urgent desire grew with his touch. Her hands shook as she got the damn waistcoat open, jerking his shirt out of his breeches to finally be able to reach his skin. He was hot and firm and his breath hitched when she ran her hands up his chest, then back down to tug at his breeches. He pulled her close and she squeaked at the feel of him pressing hard against her.

“I like that sound you made,” he said against her throat.

“I like everything about you,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat up at the reckless admission.

His questing hands stopped roaming down her back and he nudged her chin up with his nose so she’d look at him. He held her tightly, his eyes full of inquiry.

“Do you?”

The tender smile that took over his face erased any trace of his aristocratic haughtiness and her heart broke a little. A little more. Surely she’d be finished if she continued on this path. How could she leave him? While he held her in his arms and looked down at her in such a way, she didn’t think she ever could. She linked her hands behind his neck and kissed him deeply before reality could completely take over.

Her gown was in a pile at her feet and he was assiduously working his way under her corset, but she couldn’t make any headway at all with his shirt or breeches and she wanted more than the tantalizing glimpses of his rock hard abs whenever she pulled at his clothes in vain. She wanted all of him in her view and available to run her hands over, and her greed finally made her pull away with a restless huff.

He cocked an eyebrow in an annoyingly smug and perfectly Ashford way, then picked her up around the waist and backed her toward the middle of the room. He set her down when her legs hit the bed and she sat on it, reaching for his jacket to pull him along with her. He smiled and disentangled himself from her grip, slipping out of his clothes in a blink, but still feeling like an eternity to her. His tall lithe body, which looked lean in clothes, was rippled with solid muscles and she forcefully held in a groan of anticipation, wanting nothing more than to wrap herself around him.

“Go fast this time,” she gasped, when he eased her back onto the feather mattress, his stroking fingers making her shiver with need. “We’ll go slow next time. I just want you so much right now.”

“I love the way you talk, Matilda,” he said, glancing up at her as he kissed his way down her body. “But you’re going to have to be patient, because I want to taste every part of you.”

She squirmed and ran her fingers through his hair, mussing the rich dark waves, then tugging as a punishment for the exquisite torture he was putting her through.

He paused and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ll recall I like that sort of thing?”

She burst out laughing as he nuzzled her belly button, a bit shocked at his words. Surely he was joking?

“I was wrong,” she sighed. “You’re actually pretty fun.”

“You thought I wasn’t?” he asked in a stern voice, and she shivered as his lips brushed across her hip.

She stroked his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his skin, almost floating from his feathery touches. “Maybe once or twice,” she admitted.

“Then I shall certainly endeavor to prove you wrong.”

He gripped her hips and slid her closer to him, winking at her devilishly before he dipped between her thighs. His velvet tongue laved her and she purred voluptuously, melting into his caresses.

“Oh my goodness, Lord Ashford,” she sighed some time later, lying limp and sprawled across the big bed. All of her senses were alive and completely relaxed at the same time.

He looked concerned for a moment before edging his way back up to kiss her throat. “That sounds rather odd in this situation. You needn’t act as if you’re really my secretary, you know.”

“Julian,” she whispered, feeling suddenly shy.

She pushed him away, hands planted on his shoulders so she could study his cool grey eyes, which were now dark and glinting.

“What am I to you?”

He kissed her sweetly and she felt his smile against her mouth. “I’m not sure, Matilda,” he said seriously. “Someone very important.”

His tone was dangerously close to mournful and she didn’t want him thinking about the future, when he’d have to leave for France, when she’d have to go back to her own time. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, burying her face in his tangled hair. It wasn’t exactly what she would have wanted to hear, but it was enough. Really, it was all she could hope for in their bizarre situation. Talk about a long distance relationship.

No, she didn’t want to go there, she wanted to stay right here in his strong embrace, getting showered with his kisses. She’d thought she was sated but now her skin heated up again everywhere his hands passed.

She stroked his sides, relishing the feel of his lean muscles tensing under her fingertips. She gripped his thighs and arched into him, wanting him closer, shaking and breathless with fresh need. Still, he was determined to continue his greedy exploration of her body with his hands and mouth, raising eager goosebumps on her flesh. As much as she wanted the bliss to continue forever, she wanted his hard length inside her.

“Julian,” she said again, more forcefully, wrapping her legs tight around him and drawing him down so his chest brushed her breasts.

“Yes, Matilda, all right,” he agreed, taking her mouth in a forceful, sensuous kiss as he sank into her, slow and deep.

He’d drawn her so close to the edge already, her fall into ecstasy was almost instantaneous. Every caress and stroke and kiss brought her to new heights, freeing her from the circular worries she had about staying or going. The only thing that mattered was him, and by the time he fell beside her, spent and gasping, she could only cling to him breathlessly, savoring the sound of his heartbeat under her ear, and the rise and fall of his chest.