The Trouble With Being Wicked (46 page)

With a snap of her reins, she was off. Dust rose in clouds about her, filling her nose and grating her eyes, but she ignored it. Winning became foremost in her mind. The excitement of pitting her skill against another’s would have sped her pulse no matter who her opponent was, but that her opponent was Ash made it all the more thrilling. Her prize danced just before her, her competition behind her. No matter who won, she would go home victorious tonight.

Plymouth was a good three miles distant. She kept the horses at a steady trot so as to keep them fresh and searched the road ahead for rabbit holes and other traps. The three-beat rhythm of Ash’s horses pulled beside her, then fell back, then pulled abreast again, threatening her focus for the first two miles. She wouldn’t be distracted, not even when his dusty vehicle began to pull ahead.

She formed an even tighter grip on her reins. Her teeth rattled in her head from the jarring pace. As he passed, Ash doffed his hat in mock salute.

Never.
He would
not
call her out in front of everyone and then serve her defeat.

Elizabeth’s sturdy little phaeton offered little relief from the bumpy road, even well-sprung as it was. But Celeste refused to fall back. Not even when the dust drew tears. The grit coating her cheeks would be worth it, when she forced him to explain what he meant by all of this.

They came around a bend. Ahead, a short bridge crossed a stream. Just over the bridge lay Plymouth. Celeste ground her teeth and jammed her boots against the footboard. Thus secured, she urged her team faster and faster still, until she drew neck-and-neck with Ash. If she’d been able to, she would have winked at him as she breezed past. She couldn’t. All her focus was trained on taking the narrow bridge before he did.

As her team clattered onto the bridge a curse rang behind her. Then a shout of laughter. The rails of the bridge squeezed her into first place. She allowed herself a heartbeat to look over her shoulder. Ash’s handsome grin split his face. If he knew he’d been beaten—and he must know, though he still leaned forward, urging his own horses faster—he didn’t mind.

Coming off of the bridge, Celeste didn’t slow. The outskirts of town began to fly past, but still Ash didn’t gain on her. Houses crowded together, giving way to a wider market street. The dirt road turned to cobblestones. Then she espied it. A small crowd waiting outside the doors of St Matthias. The church spire pierced the blue sky above them, welcoming her. She leaned toward it, mentally reaching for it, and closed her eyes.
She’d made it
.

It seemed that last few hundred feet took her through a portal. She came through it a changed woman. When she opened her eyes a heartbeat later, she knew she’d finally outrun her fear. She’d always be remembered as one of London’s infamous courtesans. She’d made a history for herself, and in a small way, it comforted her to know she’d never be entirely forgotten. But there was a new life waiting for her now. She didn’t know if Ash would be in it. But he would always be the man who’d taught her how strong she truly was, for he’d shattered her twice. Both times, she’d put herself back together more resilient than before. Just look at her! Racing through town like a hellion, satisfied to have bested the man who’d broken her heart.

She felt not just hope, as she had when she’d first set out for Devon so many months ago, but a sureness she could move beyond her past. She’d always believed that if she could just have the respect of her friends and neighbors, she’d be happy. Now she knew it was impossible to depend on others. She must be satisfied with herself.

The motley group of spectators broke into hearty cheers. She grinned at them and reined in her team, then drew the horses to circle in a walk around the cobblestone square. Ash did the same behind her, and she further slowed her horses so that he might come abreast of her. Though she felt renewed, she still didn’t know what he’d meant by this. Now he would have to tell her.

Their race rolled off of him in steamy waves of heat. Pride lit his face. “You amaze me, Miss Gray,” he said, loudly enough for the onlookers to hear. “I never saw a woman who could drive a team with such skill.”

Her already-heated face flushed with pleasure. “I imagine you haven’t seen many women drivers, my lord.”

“Touché. My sister hounded me for a go at my team several times, but I refused. I was an ogre, you realize. I thought a man would be repulsed if she could handle cattle.” His eyes bored into hers across the widths of their conveyances. “I had no idea how very attractive a skill it is in a woman.”

Celeste wasn’t sure what to make of his compliment. “I admit this wasn’t my first time. A successful Cyprian is expected to drive a fine team.” She didn’t care who heard her say so; she’d been optimistic to ever think she could conceal her past, and insecure to think she should.

Ash’s response was a slow, smoldering gaze. Then he tossed his reins to the boy who ran up to take them and jumped from his curricle. Another lad sprinted over to collect her reins and within seconds, Ash was at her side, helping her down from her high flyer. With his dark head tipped back to look at her, she had a tempting view of his throat.

Her body slid against his as he set her on her feet. The scent of his linen lingered, luring her closer. His face split into the handsomest smile she’d ever seen. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I’m glad you can best me in a race. I don’t care who taught you, or why you learned in the first place. I was wrong. I know that now. I should have asked you why you helped Lucy. Why you let Delilah run away from me. I was mad, and I didn’t think. I was so mad, I couldn’t even look at you, and so I did the worst thing possible: I abandoned you. I’m so sorry for that. I hurt you and…” He reached for her gloved hand. “I want to make amends.”

She couldn’t move. She was close enough to step into his arms but she didn’t. Never again would she dive headfirst into the deep waters of affection without considering the consequences. Without hearing it all.

“And?” she prompted when he didn’t continue. Warm rays of sunshine beat down on them, but she barely noticed the clamminess of her dress clinging to her body.

Perplexed, he squinted at her. “I wish to continue where we left off. If you’ll have me.”

“No,” she said immediately. She pulled her hand away and skirted him. Her movements jerked as she made haste to get away from him and his horrible offer. She gripped the folds of her skirt in two tight fists.
Her chin tipped down.
No.
One simple word, four quick little steps. Four separate stabs into her heart as she walked away.

She didn’t know where she was going, not with her equipage. She’d wanted to know what this was about, but she couldn’t hear it after all. No amount of him groveling and smiling that smile would convince her to be his mistress again. She wanted him, but not like that.

But there was really no other way he would allow himself to be with her. She’d always known it.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Celeste,” he called to her back, just as she made the quick decision to enter a milliner’s shop. “I want to
marry
you. I need to know if you want to marry me, too.”

She stopped. Slowly, she turned around.
Marry her.
Marry
her
. “Have you gone daft?”

He laughed. His chuckle turned deep and uncontrollable. “Yes! Yes, I have. I’m mad for you. I’ve missed you so damned much. I was going to propose to you, you know, before Delilah ran off. Before Montborne came into my library. And then—I made the biggest mistake of my life.” The spectators crowded in to hear better, but Ash continued on, heedless of their whispers. “I was wrong, you see. Delilah tells me Lucy is more content now than she ever was with me. And though it will be impossible to admit it to her, I’m so damned proud of Delilah for finding the courage to marry for love. I should have listened to her. She understands love so well.” He raised his palms in supplication. “I’ll do anything, go anywhere, so long as you’re there. Even to London. I’ll live right in the heart of the city if that is where you are.”

She couldn’t speak, only stare.
He loved her?
He hadn’t said it yet, but wasn’t that what his words meant?

He went to her, stopped a respectable distance, and fell to one knee. Then he gazed up at her with the softest, warmest eyes she’d ever seen. His voice shook as he asked, “May I proceed?”

Her answering smile trembled. She’d waited so long just to see him again, believing all the while that he’d never forgive her. Yet here he was, pledging his heart and soul to her.
Did he really mean this?
It was too much to take in.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. At last she nodded, giving him permission to plunge ahead. If he wanted to marry her, if he was willing to take on everything that meant—ridicule, scandal, her sordid past—she was hardly going to stop him.

“Celeste, I’ve been critical, controlling and trying. I’ve made you miserable and been unfair, demanding perfection when I’m far from it. I’ve yearned for you, needed you, and wanted to die without you. When I turned away, it was because I doubted myself. Yesterday, I realized I’m a fool. You loved my sisters and me completely, even when we offered you nothing but heartache. You were wronged, Celeste, by all of us. But especially by me.” His eyes burned fiercely. “I’ve loved you for what seems like forever. It took Delilah to pull me to my senses and make me see it.”

Tears trailed down her face. Was it true?
Could it be? Had he finally realized she’d never meant to hurt any of them?

He beamed at her as she wiped away her tears. Dirt came away on her leather gloves and she laughed, for she must look a fright yet he looked at her as if he saw naught but the woman she was inside.

When she nodded for him to continue, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the most beautiful emerald she’d ever seen. A single gem set on a thin gold band, sized for her feminine finger.

His eyes flicked to it. “My sisters are happier without me because I wouldn’t let them be who they are.” He held the ring up as though it were a vulnerable portion of his heart. “I hope you aren’t happier without me. Dear God, I hope you’re as miserable as I am. I need you, Celeste. Please, I beg of you, give me another chance. I’m far from perfect. But I love you. Your spectacles, your curls, your laughter and your generous heart. You are my happiness and I am asking, nay begging, you to be my wife.”

The crowd was silent. Even Celeste’s pulse, which had pounded in her ears, was quiet. He continued to hold the ring toward her, waiting. Asking, not demanding. “I love you,” he said simply.

She believed him. She pulled him to his feet and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him until he lifted her feet from the ground. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Ashlin. I never meant to hurt you, or Lucy or Montborne. I swear it.”

He set her down but didn’t release her. “I know, darling. I don’t blame you at all.” He looked deep into her eyes, the first person to ever see into her soul. “We’ll marry as soon as possible. I can’t bear another minute without you. Is that all right with you?”

Her eyes filled with tears again. “It is absolutely perfect with me.”

Epilogue

Ash married her quickly by special license. The ceremony was short, but not short enough. Never had he been as eager to be away from the watchful eyes of his friends and neighbors as he was while standing beside his bride in the same small church where they had started their phaeton race just a few weeks before.

The wedding night would be worth the wait. Nevertheless, he rushed his family through the wedding breakfast and back to Worston Heights as quickly as could be done without drawing attention. He was eager to have Celeste all to himself. Tonight would be the most special in all of his life, because it was the first he would spend in the arms of his wife.

She’d planned for it to be special in another way, too. The men she’d hired to move his childhood tree house from the chestnut to another tree, one farther away from the cottage, had made sure it was fit for habitation. She’d spent the weeks leading up to the wedding decorating the interior as a lovers’ nest, and as she and her husband climbed the wooden rails to the new trap door, her anticipation was poignant. The childhood refuge that had brought her and Ash together was the most special place she could imagine spending her first night with him as his wife. She could hardly wait to show him what she’d done.

He murmured his appreciation after they were both kneeling safely in the clapboard structure. A lantern offered just enough light to see the thick tick mattress and velvet coverlet, as an open fire would have been too risky. His hand squeezed hers as he took in the roses leaning in slim vases set along shelves. It ruined the effect of a little boy’s fortress, but adequately set the mood for the adult entertainments she had in mind.