Читать книгу Christmas Wishes Part 1 - Линн Грэхем, Elizabeth Rolls - Страница 36

Chapter Seven

Christmas Day was a blur of light and laughter to Ash. He took Maddy to church in the morning, along with most of the household. The church was full and bells pealed wildly afterwards as they walked out into the biting wind, surrounded by the warmth of good wishes and blessings.

Mr and Mrs Parmenter insisted on offering brandy at the vicarage. Ash wanted nothing more than to get Maddy back to Haydon. Back home. Their home. But she accepted, saying, ‘It will give Bets and the rest a chance to get home and put dinner together.’

So he acquiesced and, when Parmenter took him aside, put away his anger at the man’s hesitance over marrying them yesterday. This was not a day for anger or grievances.

Parmenter said quietly, ‘I was wrong yesterday, Lord Ashton. Very wrong. My good wife took me severely to task. When I thought it through afterwards, your trust in Madeleine shamed me. Our Lord warned us against throwing the first stone. May I ask your forgiveness?’

Ash let out a breath. ‘Yes. A confession, sir. I was unsure, too. Oh, not of her,’ he went on, seeing Parmenter’s surprise. ‘But I did wonder if Montfort—’ He broke off, clenching his fists.

‘Quite,’ said Parmenter, his face grim. ‘A word for your ear. Be on your guard. My wife is not above listening to the chatter of our housemaids.’ He cleared his throat. ‘In short, they are all worried that Montfort may still do something foolish.’ His hand gripped Ash’s sleeve. ‘It pains me to gossip, but—’

Ash nodded. ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll guard her.’

Parmenter frowned. ‘Guard yourself, too. You made a fool of him yesterday.’ He hesitated. ‘I have known Montfort all his life. I dislike speaking ill of one of my flock, but he is not an honourable man.’ He flushed. ‘Another stone, but there I’ll take my chances.’

* * *

Maddy had been sure something was bothering Ash as they drove home from church. But when she’d asked he’d denied it. Now, watching him set up a bowl of raisins for a game of Snapdragons with several of the children at one end of the great refectory table after Christmas dinner, she wondered if she had imagined that odd abstraction.

She had not expected marriage to be like this at all. There was nothing convenient about this ache in her heart. Foolishness. How could she have fallen in love with a man she hadn’t seen for years? And yet what else could it be that had her bones to melted honey every time he called her love? A word only. Probably a casual endearment he had used with women before.

And yet she could not forget how he had woken her in the night and made love to her again, so gently, so completely, and murmured that sweet word to her as she broke and shattered.

Seeming to realise she was watching, Ash glanced up from pouring warmed brandy over the raisins and met her gaze with a smile that turned her heart inside out before he gave his attention back to the game and the children.

A delighted cry went up as Ash lit the bowl. Maddy let out a breath. He had told her once that men desired women all the time. That it was convenient if they desired each other. So she had to assume that, for him, that was all it was. Desire. Convenience. And it was not his fault if now she wanted more.

The hall rang with laughter and shrieks as, along with Ash, the children snatched raisins from the dish of flaming brandy until the flames subsided and they each had a pile of raisins in front of them. Maddy’s mind ranged ahead. Christmas was a time for promises, for hope and joy. Once, long ago, a child had been born who was all that—promise, hope and joy. By next Christmas would they have their own child? Might she already be carrying Ash’s child?

‘Right. Let’s see,’ said Ash, counting his raisins.

The children counted theirs, as well. Only one pile looked as big as Ash’s.

‘I’ve got twenty,’ announced Ash, sitting back in his chair, candlelight gleaming on his hair, and his eyes glinting a challenge at the boy with the biggest pile, who was scowling in concentration.

A moment later there was a triumphant shriek. ‘Twenty-one! I’ve got twenty-one. I beat you, sir!’

Ash narrowed his eyes, examining the challenger’s pile. ‘Young whelp. You have, too. Well done!’ He grinned at the boy, reaching out to ruffle his hair, and Maddy swallowed, imagining him with his own sons. ‘You’d better eat them now,’ he said, rising. ‘You can share mine out.’

He strolled over to where Maddy was sitting by the fire. ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ he said, bending over her. At her feet, Ketch wagged his tail.

If she said what she was thinking, would it spoil what she already had? Her heart quailed. Falling in love with Ash was going to break her heart. He had married her for convenience and to protect her. It was clear enough that he desired her. Could that be enough for her?

She managed to smile up at him. ‘Only a penny? I was thinking that it must be time to retire.’ She let her eyelashes drop as his eyes darkened. ‘I’m sure we’ll be excused.’ Her fingers toyed with the lace kerchief about her neck, unknotting it slowly while she held his heated gaze, and then gently drawing it off. ‘And I believe I have a favour to return.’

* * *

When at last Ash tumbled his wife beneath him on their bed he was hard and aching. God help him if she learned anything more about inciting a man to madness. She’d returned every favour and invented a few more. Now it was her turn.

‘I’m going to have you now, wife,’ he whispered.

Her smile was Eve incarnate as she yielded sweetly, her arms coming about him as he settled between her thighs.

‘I thought it was mutual,’ she murmured, and kissed him.

‘Maddy,’ he whispered, and took her mouth as completely as he took her body.

* * *

Ash woke with a start, unsure what had disturbed him. He’d been dreaming, he thought, but not the usual nightmares. Just an ordinary dream.

The sound came again. A scratching and snuffling at the door. He sat up carefully, trying not to disturb Maddy, snuggled next to him. There was a very faint glow from the fire—enough to see by.

‘I think it’s Ketch,’ she said sleepily. ‘Someone must have forgotten to take him to the stables. Just open the door. He’ll sleep by the fire if you tell him.’

Ash looked down at her. ‘Where does he usually sleep?’ he asked suspiciously.

She looked a little self-conscious. ‘Well, in here. By the fire, mostly. But sometimes he sneaks onto the bed, and I thought last night—’

He was fairly sure she was blushing. Just as well she had put the dog out last night.... Clearing his throat, he got out of bed and went to the door. Sure enough, when he opened it, there was Ketch.

Ash pointed to the hearth. ‘There,’ he said, employing his best commanding officer voice.

The dog gave him a very surprised look, but wagged his tail and made for the fire, curling up in front of it and looking hopeful, just the tip of his tail moving.

‘Very well,’ said Ash, fighting a grin. ‘But just remember—the bed is mine.’

The next time he woke up it was to the sensation of something wet and cold nuzzling at him. He cursed as something scratched at him.

‘Damn it, dog!’

He opened his eyes to the glow of firelight. Ketch was reared up, one paw on the bed, the other raised, apparently about to nudge him again. Ash sat up, about to explain to the dog exactly where he was making his mistake.

Ketch got down, backed up a little and growled. Then he ran to the door, still growling, and looked back at Ash.

‘Does Ketch want to go out?’

Maddy sounded half-asleep.

Was that all it was? A dog needing to go outside? Ash got out of bed, reached for his breeches and shirt and hauled them on.

Maddy sat up, clutching the blankets to her. ‘Why is he growling?’

‘He doesn’t usually growl to go out?’

‘Of course not. He stands on me and licks my face!’ She threw back the bedclothes.

But the dog had come to him. Growling. Something was wrong.

Maddy had flung on her nightgown and was belting her robe about her, sliding her feet into slippers.

‘You stay here,’ he snapped, with Parmenter’s warning in mind. He couldn’t believe Montfort would be so stupid, but...

She glared at him, pushing hair out of her eyes. ‘This time you can save your breath. I’m coming with you.’

His mind raced. ‘All right. But stay back with Ketch until we know what’s going on.’ Seeing mutiny in her eyes, he added, ‘That’s called strategy. Keeping something in reserve in case your first plan doesn’t work.’

Her eyes narrowed, but at least she nodded. Strategy, hell. If it was Montfort, he didn’t want her anywhere near him.

The door that led from the corridor into the hall was closed. Ash set his hand lightly to the handle, listened. Muffled footsteps sounded. Ash tensed. It sounded as if someone wearing heeled boots was trying not to make too much noise. Only old Bets and Cally Whitfield slept in the house. They didn’t wear boots.

He glanced over his shoulder. Maddy stood halfway along the corridor, Ketch’s collar gripped in one hand, a candlestick in the other. He held up one hand in a ‘no farther’ gesture and eased the door open a couple of inches.

The hall was lit only by the fire. The fire they had left banked. Someone had stirred it up again. In the flickering light a man moved around quietly, pouring liquid from a can. He wore a heavy coat and a hat pulled down low over his face, but for a moment the firelight caught his features. Montfort.

Ash sniffed. Lamp oil. His gut twisted. The bastard thought he was going to burn them out. Even as he watched, Montfort started laying the trail of oil towards the fire. Ash cursed mentally. He had to try to stop Montfort before he got any closer to the fire. If the blighter was armed, he was in trouble, but there was no time to find his own pistol and load it. By the time he did the hall would be ablaze.

He opened the door fully and strolled in. ‘Good evening, Montfort. You’re a little late for the Christmas goose.’

Montfort swore and dropped the can. Oil flooded from it but, thanks to the uneven old floor, did not flow towards the fire.

‘You’re a bloody nuisance, Ravensfell,’ he said.

Ash shrugged. ‘I do try. The magistrates are going to take a rather dim view of this, you know.’

Montfort laughed. ‘The magistrates? They aren’t going to hear anything except what a tragedy it was that Lord and Lady Ashton Ravensfell died when Haydon burned to the ground. I’ll be chief mourner for my poor little cousin. Might even persuade the courts to award the estate to me.’

He took a pistol from his pocket and trained it on Ash.

Time slowed to a crawl. He was too far into the hall to reach the door. But it didn’t matter if he died. He couldn’t risk Montfort getting to Maddy, and he had to warn her that the bastard was armed.

‘You don’t think they’ll find it odd that I died in a fire with a pistol ball in me?’

Montfort snorted. ‘That’s assuming there’s enough of you left for them to find.’

Ash gathered himself to rush Montfort. At the very least he’d be a moving target in very poor light....

* * *

Terror coursed through Maddy. Ash. Oh, God. Ash! She pressed against the wall beside the door, cold all over as she listened, hanging on to Ketch. Low growls sounded in the dog’s throat and his hackles were up.

One shot. Unless he had a second pistol, Edward had only one shot, and she’d be damned if she’d let him murder Ash. A distraction—she needed to distract him...

Please, God...

She stepped out into the hall. ‘Edward!’

Both men whipped around.

‘Maddy! Get back!’

Ash’s voice rang out, but the pistol was no longer aimed at him, and Maddy released her death grip on Ketch’s collar. ‘Take!’

Ketch hurtled low across the hall in a blur of movement and sprang in silent fury. The pistol roared as Edward went down under the dog’s weight, the ball smashing into the doorway beside Maddy. Splinters flew, stinging her cheek.

Ignoring that, she ran forward, grabbed the crossed swords down from the wall beside the fire, shaking them free of the holly. ‘Ash! Here!’ She flung one sword, hilt first, and he snatched it from mid-air.

Ash breathed again. He wasn’t sure he’d ever stop shaking after seeing Montfort’s pistol trained on Maddy, but at least he was armed now. He advanced to where Montfort was curled in a ball, arms over his head, protecting his throat from the dog.

‘Call the brute off! Call him off!’

‘Lie still, Edward, and I’ll call him off,’ snapped Maddy, coming up, sword at the ready. ‘But I warn you—if you try anything else I’ll set him on you again.’

‘Please! Ow!’ Ketch had found an opening and bitten an ear.

‘Ketch! Enough. Sit and guard.’

Clearly reluctant, the dog released his quarry and sat, still growling.

Montfort started to sit up, but cringed back when he found Ash’s sword at his throat. Ketch lunged, snapping.

‘Sit.’

The dog sat again on Maddy’s command, still growling.

Ash, keeping the point of his sword against Montfort’s flesh, asked, ‘Will he obey me?’

‘Who? Ketch?’ said Maddy. ‘I don’t know. Why?’

‘Because I want you to fetch the men.’ He wanted her away from Montfort. Safe.

‘Oh.’ Maddy smiled. ‘Well, if Edward does try to get up, Ketch will take him down again whether I’m here or not. But I don’t know if he’ll obey if you try to call him off.’

‘That,’ said Ash, in savage satisfaction, ‘doesn’t really matter.’

‘What in the world—?’

Maddy looked around to see Bets and Cally standing in the doorway that led out to the old garde tower.

‘Why,’ said Bets, ‘that’s ’is lordship! And what’s that stink of lamp oil?’

* * *

‘You bloody little idiot!’ snarled Ash, his face white in the fire’s glow as he slammed the bedchamber door behind them half an hour later and rounded on her. ‘Walking in like that when the bastard was armed! What the hell were you thinking?’

Maddy glared at him. ‘That he was going to shoot you!’

Ketch, who had followed them in, made for the bed and slunk under it.

Ash said a couple of words she’d never heard.

‘Instead, he nearly shot you!’ he went on. ‘What do you—? Damn it!’ His voice changed. ‘Your cheek—there’s blood on it!’

Maddy became aware that her left cheek really did sting. She raised a hand to it, surprised. ‘Oh. Splinters, I think. The ball hit the door.’

Ash reached her, caught her chin in one shaking hand and turned it. His mouth was a grim line. ‘Yes, splinters.’

Maddy let out a breath. ‘Well. Nothing to worry about, then.’

His hand tightened on her. ‘It could have been your eye, and it could still fester! I should put you over my knee and spank you. I told you to stay back with Ketch.’

She lifted her chin. ‘You said we were the reserves.’

‘What?’

His eyes bored into her, but she held her ground. ‘In case the first plan didn’t work.’ She fixed him with a glare. ‘And it didn’t. If you even had a plan. He had only one shot, so I thought we had a chance if I could distract him. Hopefully waste the shot.’

His mouth flattened. ‘You were nearly killed! What the hell did I matter? Sit down while I get the splinters out.’

She sat and he lit every candle in the room, banishing darkness and fear. They were safe. Edward was locked up in the root cellar, with a single blanket and no light and two men on guard. Given that he had tried to burn the house down, his plea for a candle had been dismissed. He would be taken to a magistrate in the morning.

Ash found a cloth, heated water over the fire and dabbed carefully at her cheek. She sat very still, trying not to wince as he searched for splinters in grim silence.

* * *

Ash could barely speak for remembering the sickening swoop of terror as Montfort’s pistol had swung towards Maddy. Knowing he couldn’t reach Montfort in time, believing she was going to die.

At last he spoke. ‘I’m not saying your plan wasn’t a good one,’ he said, each word feeling as though it had been ripped from him. ‘But you still shouldn’t have done it.’

If a junior officer had handled himself like that in action, coming up with a spur-of-the-moment diversion and counterattack to save a comrade, he’d be commending the young idiot.

But Maddy wasn’t a junior officer. She was his wife, and he’d thought she was about to die. He eased his fingertips over her cheek, searching. All the splinters seemed to be gone.

‘Can you feel anything?’ he asked.

What he could feel, tearing at his heart, was a damn sight worse than splinters. He’d have to get used to it because, no matter how painful, he couldn’t imagine not loving her.

She shook her head. ‘I think you got them all. And, for what it’s worth, you do matter. To me.’ She met his gaze. ‘You can be as cross as you like, but I’d do it again.’

He groaned, drew her into his arms. ‘I know you would. And it terrifies me. What the hell would you have done if you hadn’t had the dog with you?’ He shuddered, glancing at Ketch under the bed. A tail thumped. ‘No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.’