Читать книгу Christmas Wishes Part 1 - Линн Грэхем, Elizabeth Rolls - Страница 34

Chapter Five

Maddy got through the rest of the service in a daze. From a distance she heard Ash promise to love and cherish her. His voice was very clear, his hand clasping hers firmly. And then she was repeating her own vows, her voice shaking on the word love. Love. So easily promised. How many couples meant it? Really meant it and kept to it?

He had married her in the teeth of Edward’s accusations. Dismissed them publicly as lies.

He vowed to honour you. He has already done it.

Her heart, already besieged, shook a little at the knowledge that he had trusted her without question.

Then Ash was slipping the ring onto her finger, holding it there. ‘With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship...’

His gaze held hers and she felt the heat swirling through her.... With my body... Another vow. Spoken in a way that left no doubt he fully intended to keep it.

At last it was over, and they left the church to wildly pealing bells and heavy pewter skies.

The duke and duchess took their leave swiftly after a glass of wine in the vicarage. ‘We simply can’t stay any longer if we are to reach home and our guests tonight,’ said the duchess, pressing Maddy’s hand in farewell. ‘Do say you forgive us, and will come after Twelfth Night.’ She smiled. ‘Ash is very wise to keep you all to himself for now. Ravensfell will be quieter then, with most of our guests gone and just our sons and Gerald and Ash’s sisters for another week. They are all looking forward to seeing you.’

Maddy stammered a thank-you and the duchess leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘And don’t worry about Montfort’s idiocy. He’s done himself a very great deal of harm, if he only knew it.’

Her cheeks burned. ‘Madam, it was all—’

‘Helen,’ the duchess corrected her. ‘And you don’t need to tell me it was all lies. His mother always did spoil him dreadfully, and just see what has come of it!’ She patted Maddy’s hand. ‘Oh, dear. Poor Gerald is positively glaring at me from the door! I must go. Merry Christmas, my dear!’ She turned to Ash, fixing him with what she possibly imagined was a severe look. ‘Behave yourself.’

The duke strolled up and caught his duchess’s hand, sliding it onto his arm. ‘Not precisely the advice to give a man on his wedding day, m’dear.’ He smiled at Maddy, who was wondering if she’d heard right. ‘I’ll just wish you very happy again.’ He cast a sideways look at his own wife. ‘And assure you that he’s highly unlikely to take Helen’s bit of advice to heart, luckily for you.’

Apparently she had heard correctly. The Duke of Thirlmere had a very wicked twinkle in his eye, even as the duchess thumped his shoulder.

‘Thank you, brother,’ said Ash in carefully restrained tones. ‘Just what advice would you give me on my wedding night?’

The duke raised his brows. ‘I’d be surprised to learn you needed any.’ He frowned. ‘Actually, there is something—leave Montfort to me.’

And he was gone before Ash could do more than open his mouth.

The vicar gulped. ‘Ah, more claret, Lord Ashton? Ratafia, Lady Ashton?’

* * *

Ash handed his bride into the carriage Gerald had lent him—‘Just until you can arrange your own’—to the accompaniment of enthusiastic cheers and with a restraint that had his jaw aching. At some point he was going to have to know the truth—if Montfort had forced Maddy, or even attempted to. The thought that Maddy, his Maddy, might have suffered that sickened him. As for Gerald’s advice to leave Montfort to him—his brother had rocks in his head.

He stepped into the carriage, fishing in his coat pocket for the coins he’d put there. Leaning out, he flung the coins into the crowd of villagers, who scooped them up, still cheering.

As the carriage lurched off he settled himself on the seat opposite Maddy and saw that she had the carriage rug tucked around her as well as her cloak. ‘Are you warm enough?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. There are hot bricks under my feet, too.’ Her eyes met his shyly. ‘I think they are intended for both of us, and the rug is quite large enough to share.’

Ash’s body had an instant and predictable reaction to the suggestion that he share the rug with Maddy. ‘I’m warm enough,’ he said. Too damned warm. And he hadn’t meant to sound like a bear with a spike in its paw.

‘Oh.’ She went a little pink. ‘Er...that was very generous of you,’ she said. ‘The coins. But most of the people from the castle had gone. I mean, they weren’t there to—’

He managed a smile despite the nagging ache in his groin. Typical of Maddy to think of her people. ‘I have more for them. And I thought we would add something to everyone’s wages to celebrate our marriage.’

Her face changed. ‘It nearly wasn’t,’ she said softly, leaning forward.

He tried not to breathe, but the soft scent of lavender and Maddy wound about and through him and he reached for her hand, enveloped it in his. ‘Nearly wasn’t what?’

‘A celebration.’ A trembling smile ripped at his heart. ‘You married me despite what Edward did.’ Her fingers tightened on his.

What Edward did?

He floundered for words to explain that he knew, whatever had happened, it hadn’t been her fault. That he’d never blame—

Her mouth brushed against his—the merest promise of a kiss, a feather of a kiss.

‘Thank you.’

The soft words breathed against his lips and he was lost. When she pulled back his arms closed about her gently and he was on the wrong side of the carriage, on the seat beside her, sanity incinerated as desire ignited. There were reasons he shouldn’t be doing this. In some distant corner of his brain he knew that. He was supposed to be talking to her. Reassuring her. But he no longer cared. With a groan Ash released the death grip he’d imposed on his self-control and kissed her instead.

Her mouth was a miracle of sweetness, soft and yielding under the demands of his, kissing him back. He wanted that. He wanted everything. Everything and more. Wanted the shy touch of her tongue, stroking against his, the spicy Maddy taste of her, the silk of her hair as he disposed of her bonnet and slid his fingers into the fragrant curls. Hairpins pattered on the leather squabs and to the floor as her hair tumbled free around her shoulders, coiling, twining around his fingers like living silk.

Nothing else mattered. Just Maddy. In his arms, giving herself freely until he could scarcely breathe for wanting her. Under the heavy pelisse he found the slender, supple curve of her waist encased in velvet, the gentle swell of her breast above. She stilled and he deepened the kiss, cupping her breast through velvet and her stays. Heat hammered in his veins as he traced the tender curve of her breast beneath the confining material.

His mouth consumed a soft gasp and he was lost in the kiss, in her. Swiftly he unbuttoned the pelisse, slipped it from her shoulders and sank back into the enchantment.

Too many clothes and he needed to touch her, touch Maddy. His body on fire, he stroked down one leg, over the richness of velvet—and slid beneath, her skirts rucked over his arm. She gasped as he caressed her knee, as his fingers slid higher and found warm, bare skin that shamed silk and velvet....

* * *

Struggling for breath, Maddy pulled back from the kiss.

‘Ash!’

Somehow she found the breath for his name, stunned at the intimacy of his touch there on her thigh. Stroking, maddening, on her inner thigh. Higher he slid, and higher, until she wanted to scream with need.

There! Higher... Please!

Somewhere, someone made a frantic little noise and his hand withdrew. She realised that she had cried out and nearly wept in frustration.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ His voice, tight and strained, sounded exactly as she felt.

‘No. Please. No.’

The words were barely out before his mouth took hers again, complete and deep.

* * *

Madness took Ash. Never breaking the kiss, he lifted her over him so that she straddled his thighs, petticoats and skirts spilling over him in a froth of velvet and muslin.

Slipping his hand back under her skirts, he found her, hot and damp, and consumed the frantic little cry of shock as he explored the melting folds. For an instant she was utterly still in his arms, and then on a moan she pushed against him, her body pleading, begging for more, her mouth frantic on his as he stroked.

* * *

Her body was no longer hers, but his to command. Thought was long gone. There was only the ache in her breasts and the deepening ache in her belly and lower, where he touched her with such shattering intimacy, there where she was open to him. And his kiss—all dark heat—the surge of his tongue, taking her mouth in the same possessive rhythm as his wicked fingers between her thighs.

* * *

He should stop. He knew that. But instead he was unbuttoning the fall of his pantaloons, freeing himself. His mouth devouring hers, he guided himself to her entrance, gripping her hip with his free hand as he eased her down to meet the savage ache of his erection. Liquid silk spilled over him, over his fingers, and he fought not to just take her. He eased in a little farther, shaking, burning... So tight, so hot and wet... And then he felt it. Not just tightness. A resistance that could mean only one thing....

His mind fought free for an instant of the heat engulfing him.

Not like this. It shouldn’t be like this!

‘Maddy, no. Wait, sweetheart!’ His voice was harsh, scarcely recognisable to himself.

But she squirmed against him, pressing down, sobbing in a wordless plea. And his body responded, thrusting upwards into the welcoming warmth, his mouth taking her shocked cry as he breached her maidenhead and slid deep into paradise.

* * *

Pain cut, sharp and swift, and Maddy fought for breath, slowly realising that although he was buried inside her, Ash wasn’t moving at all. That his fingers were clamped like a vice on her hips, holding her still. She couldn’t believe how stretched she felt. How deep he was inside her. She took a careful breath, not entirely sure there was room inside her for anything other than him.

‘Don’t move.’

She froze. The words sounded as though they’d been chipped out of solid granite. His breath was harsh in her ear.

‘Are you all right?’

She wondered if he was in pain, his voice was so rough. ‘No. Yes. I...’ She tried another breath. ‘I don’t know.’

But even as she spoke she realised that the pain had faded, was only memory, leaving behind a restless need to move, to ease the ache.

He spoke again. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—’

His voice broke off as she moved, and his fingers gripped savagely. She tightened around him on a gasp.

‘Damn.’

He groaned and began to move beneath her, hard and fast. There was no pain now; her body was flaming to life as he thrust again and again. Need, pressure coiled and built. Dimly she heard a frantic voice, sobbing, pleading, and realised she was sobbing, she was pleading.... And then his body hardened as he groaned, thrust up into her and held still and deep, shuddering as warmth flooded her. She took a shaky breath, aching with need as she understood—it was finished...he was spent.

* * *

Very slowly, Ash returned to his wits. Maddy. He’d taken Maddy’s virginity in a damned carriage. Gently, he lifted her from him. Hell’s teeth! She had deserved better than that for her first time. Deserved better than to be deflowered in a carriage by a bridegroom who, for whatever reason, had doubted her innocence. She had deserved a bed and a man who had at least taken care to satisfy her before taking his own selfish pleasure. And if he had been right about Montfort then she had deserved those things all the more!

‘Here.’ He handed her his handkerchief. She stared at it and he said carefully, ‘You might like it to...cleanse yourself.’

‘Oh.’ Crimson flooded her cheeks.

Tactfully, he looked away while she dealt with matters and he put himself back together.

‘Thank you for the handkerchief,’ she said at last.

He turned to look at her. She was still pink, her hair tumbling wildly about her shoulders, her eyes uncertain.

‘Are you all right?’ He’d hurt her, and the knowledge ate at him.

‘I— Yes.’

He swallowed. ‘Sweetheart, it will get better. It was only because it was your first time. I should have waited—if I’d known—’ He broke off, realising what he’d implied.

‘But...you did know.’ Then, with dawning horror, ‘Didn’t you?’

He shut his eyes. He could only hope that when his wits returned from wherever they’d gone begging he would know what to do with them.

* * *

The truth crashed over Maddy. He had thought she wasn’t a virgin.

‘You believed Edward,’ she whispered. It felt like breathing broken glass. ‘How could you think that I would have let him—?’

‘I thought he probably hadn’t given you much choice,’ said Ash, his voice very quiet. ‘Maddy, it wouldn’t have been your fault.’

‘But you thought I’d deceived you.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘That I hadn’t told you.’

‘Damn it, Maddy!’ His voice was tight. ‘I didn’t think you’d deceived me, just that—’

He reached for her, but she jerked back. ‘No. Don’t touch me. Why did you marry me if you thought—?’

‘That he’d forced you?’ The ugly word was matched by his harsh voice. ‘To protect you, of course!’

‘Even though you thought I was deliberately deceiving you?’ Bitterness welled up. ‘You must really have wanted Haydon.’

Grey eyes narrowed to blazing slits. His hands shot out, gripped her shoulders, forcing a gasp from her.

‘You were the one who changed the settlements, Maddy,’ he ground out. ‘My version left Haydon entirely in your hands. Is that the action of a man who wanted your property? And I didn’t see it as deception! You were trying to protect your home, your people.’ He let out a breath, releasing her, and said quietly, ‘I didn’t like it, but I understood.’

She couldn’t think. Logic was beyond her, so she didn’t answer at all. Instead, fingers trembling with hurt, fury, a nameless ferment of emotion, Maddy fumbled with the hairpins remaining to her and forced some order into her unruly locks. She snatched her bonnet up and jammed it back on, but the bonnet ribbons defeated her.

‘Here.’

Ash reached over and she pulled back as his fingers grazed her throat, flinching at the leap of her pulse.

‘Sit still and I’ll tie them for you.’

His voice was harsh. Wonderful. Not only did he think her capable of deceiving him, he thought her incapable of putting on a simple bonnet. She sat still, shutting her eyes to block out the sight of him so close to her.

* * *

Snow swirled down in great soft flakes as the carriage rumbled through the main gate into the outer bailey. A shout went up and a lad dashed out to help as the horses drew to a halt.

The door opened and Brady looked in. ‘Here y’are. I’ll get that.’ He bent and set the steps down, and stood back, holding the door. ‘Welcome, m’lord.’ He cast a glance at the flakes drifting down from the leaden sky. ‘I’d say yeh made it just in time.’

Maddy bit her lip. It probably wasn’t quite the decorous formality Ash was used to in a ducal household, but he just smiled, as if they hadn’t travelled the last mile in a frozen silence, and stepped down.

‘Thank you, Brady.’

‘Yeh’re welcome, m’lord.’

Ash held out his hands for Maddy. She made to put her hands in his to step down, but he set his hands to her waist.

‘Ash! No, I’m too—’

She was lifted with an effortless strength that bobbled the breath from her lungs, and found herself cradled in his arms. Heat curled and tightened in her belly, tingled beneath her skin as his knowing gaze caressed her.

‘Too what, my lady?’ he challenged her, and strode towards the inner bailey. He crossed it without hesitation and made straight for the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs lay an enormous log, and Maddy’s heart leaped. She looked over her shoulder at Brady bringing up the rear. ‘Is that—?’

‘The Yule log, m’lady.’ His grin lit his face. ‘Didn’t think we’d miss that, did yeh?’

She swallowed. ‘We weren’t going to bother.’ There had seemed no point, with Edward taking possession the day after Twelfth Night.

If Ash hadn’t married me, we’d all be packing.

‘But things is different now,’ said Brady. ‘Go on up, m’lord and lady. They’re waitin’ for yeh.’

Maddy gulped. ‘Ash, hadn’t I better walk—?’

‘Save your breath and don’t wriggle,’ he advised. His arms tightened and he started up.

* * *

Ash trod carefully up the stairs, Maddy’s slight weight in his arms a blessed distraction from the guilt. Greet her people, thank them, and then they could be private over dinner while he sorted out the mess he’d made of everything.

Cheers erupted around them as he stepped across the threshold, Maddy still in his arms, and he stood stock-still, blinking. The great hall, which had been dim and peaceful that last time he was here, was full of people. A fire blazed in the hearth, all the wall sconces were lit and several branches of candles shimmered on the refectory table.

The hall breathed, simply shouted, Christmas is come! Ivy hung everywhere in great swathes and festoons, twisted among the roof beams. Holly, its berries gleaming scarlet, surrounded the windows, was even draped artistically around the old swords by the fireplace. Pots of rosemary stood here and there, and the vanilla fragrance of bays drifted on the air.

From the stairs leading down to the kitchen, other fragrances wafted up. Fragrances that made him realise breakfast had been a very long time ago. And the candles—candles everywhere. In the window embrasures, glimmering on an old oak coffer. Light and joy everywhere, dancing and glowing in the eyes of Haydon’s people.

One look at Maddy’s dazed eyes, suddenly bright with tears, told him she was just as surprised as he was.

He looked around.

‘Go on, m’lord,’ urged Brady.

Ash obliged, walking farther in the hall.

‘That’ll do nicely, lad!’ yelled someone. ‘Now look up!’

He did. Straight at a kissing bough that looked as though several forests’ worth of oak trees must have been stripped to furnish it with mistletoe.

His breath caught.

Slowly, deliberately, he set Maddy on her feet, keeping one arm around her. His blood hammered in his veins as he reached up with his free hand and plucked a berry. He hoped to God that this time he could make sure a simple kiss remained just that—a kiss.

‘I think, madam wife,’ he said in a voice that reached only her, ‘that you are under a misconception about my reasons for marriage.’

‘Am I?’ she whispered.

‘Yes. Perhaps this will help you understand.’

He drew her closer and time slowed as her slender curves fitted to his as if she were made for him. Gently, he traced the delicate line of her throat, felt a tremor rack her as with a soft sigh she slipped her arms about him and yielded her mouth to his.

Ash’s head spun at the sweetness of the kiss. Caring nothing for their audience, he kissed her deeply, possessively, moulding her body to his, one hand buried in the coiling silk of her hair. Time slowed, stretched into a glowing infinity of promise and delight.

* * *

‘D’ye reckon it’s the mistletoe?’ whispered an awed voice.

Maddy’s mind spun as Ash eased back from the kiss and smiled down at her. Her breath hitched at the tenderness in those grey eyes.

‘There was something I wanted more than Haydon,’ he murmured.

He had wanted her? Desire, yes. But had he actually wanted her? Maddy? Enough to marry her despite Edward’s lies?

‘Wassail!’ roared someone from the back of the hall, and the crowd took up the chant.

From somewhere an indecently large cup was produced, filled with hot spiced ale and passed to Maddy. She took the first sip and spluttered. Ash took it from her and deliberately set his lips where hers had rested. Their eyes met. Burned. He drank. His fingers tightened on the cup and, his eyes never leaving hers, he passed it on.

The cup was passed around until everyone had tasted it.

Ash’s plans had included meeting Maddy’s household as her husband and then dinner. Not an extended dinner.

He had reckoned without her household. He’d never realised that here in this isolated spot they adhered to the old tradition of the entire household eating in the hall. And, since it was Christmas Eve, after they’d hauled in the Yule log there was dancing to the lilt of Brady’s old fiddle and his daughter’s flute.

It was nearly ten o’clock before the hall was clear of revellers and Maddy’s housekeeper bustled her off to the bedchamber.

Ash reined in his impatience as he sat down at the table. He’d blundered in every way possible in the carriage. He was damned if he’d repeat the mistake.