Ashton came to his feet and could feel the quickening thud of his heart as he savored every detail of his wife’s beauty. Her red hair had been gathered on top of her head in a loose swirl and formed soft waves where it had been brushed up and away from her face. The effect was as alluring as her gown, which seemed to float around her in a pale pink cloud. The long, voluminous sleeves were made of sheer silk and were bound at the wrists with satin cuffs that matched the band about her neck. A high, frothy ruff rose from the narrow collar and seemed prim to a fault, but he knew that the fullness beneath the bodice was all woman. Though pale from the exertion of reaching the parlor, she was a living portrait of feminine beauty. All thought of Marelda fled his mind. Indeed, it was as if only two people were in the room. Their eyes met and held, and all he could see was a lovely face with twin green vortices that threatened to engulf him.
A worried smile tugged at her lips, but her gaze never wavered from his, though she addressed them all. “Willabelle said it would be all right if I came down to join you for the evening meal,” she murmured in half-apology. “I don’t wish to impose, so if you’ve planned otherwise, I can dine in my room.”
“I will not hear of it!” Ashton’s words were almost an explosion as he set the cello aside and stepped forward to take her hand. Tucking her arm safely through his, he spoke past her: “Willabelle, see that another place is set.”
“No need, Massa Ashton.” The woman chuckled as she saw her charge delivered into another’s care, and she shuffled off, continuing over her shoulder, “It already been took care of. Yassuh! Yassuh!”
“Please.” Leirin lifted her gaze to the warmth of his. “I heard you playing. Will you continue?”
“If you will join me,” he murmured.
“Join you?” Lierin suffered through a moment of confusion until he indicated the harpsichord; then she hurried to deny the possibility. “Oh, but I can’t…or at least, I don’t think I can….”
“We’ll see if it comes back to you.” Ashton led her to the instrument and picked out a brief, brisk tune on the keyboard as she sank to the tapestry-covered bench. Tentatively she placed her fingers where his had been and ran through the same ditty. She laughed at her accomplishment and glanced up at him. With a growing smile, he played a longer portion, and she repeated it with rising enthusiasm. When he brushed her skirts aside, she quickly slid over on the bench, allowing him more room as he sat beside her. They played a short duet together, Lierin’s pale fingers flicking over the higher keyboard, while Ashton dealt with the lower. Much to her own surprise, an amusing verse came to mind, and she sang it in a lilting voice, shrugging in amazement as the words seemed to flow unbidden from some unknown source. At its conclusion, they dissolved in laughter, and when his arm came around her and brought her close, it seemed a natural reaction to relax against him.
“That was most delightful, madam. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir,” she responded brightly.
Marelda ground her teeth as she saw her plans for the evening tumbling in a wasted effort around her heels. Listening to the sounds of their gaiety while she had to watch the two of them nuzzling each other almost made her nauseated. It was extremely humiliating to be sitting with her bosom overflowing her gown while she was ignored and all but forgotten by the same man whose eyes brazenly devoured the auburn-haired wench. If not for her pride, she would have risen to her feet and stalked out of the room.
Marelda’s repugnance was not shared by all. Amanda was grateful for Lierin’s presence, for the young woman had lifted her spirits as much as she had Ashton’s. When Amanda considered the pair and how well they complemented the other, Marelda’s attire faded from mind. Lierin was as beautiful and feminine as Ashton was handsome and masculine, and the good looks of each were enhanced by the contrast with the other. Truly, the match seemed without flaw.
Amanda exchanged a pleased smile with her sister, and no words were needed to communicate their mutual satisfaction. Their only regret was that it had taken so long for them to meet this delightful addition to the family, this Lierin.
Dinner was announced, and Ashton escorted his wife to the place reserved for the mistress of the house, at the opposite end from where he sat. Marelda was left to make her way unattended into the dining hall, and following them, she suffered several jabs from the sharp horns of jealousy as she noted the way Ashton’s hand lingered on the narrow waist and lightly stroked above it. Petulantly waving away Willis’s help, Marelda waited beside her chair for Ashton to lend her aid. When he finally turned to give assistance, she let her handkerchief fall to the floor in the guise of carelessness and deliberately waited until he had stepped forward to pick up the cloth before reaching for it herself, thereby allowing him an unrestricted view of her bosom. The two older ladies were just entering the room and missed the exhibition, but Lierin saw the ploy for what it was. She realized Willabelle had spoken the truth concerning Marelda. The brunette was out to snare Ashton, and apparently she had no reservations about the tactics she employed.
Ashton’s gaze did not waver as it passed the magenta-crested breasts and dropped to the handkerchief. Retrieving the delicate linen, he placed it beside Marelda’s plate, then looked back to see Lierin’s reaction. At her wondering stare, he gave a quick shrug of his brows, knowing of no other way to reassure her while they were in the other’s presence.
“It’s certainly good to have you with us, my dear,” Amanda said as she paused at Lierin’s chair and patted her arm affectionately.
“Oh, it is,” Aunt Jennifer agreed.
Lierin was moved by their sincerity. She blinked back the sudden moisture that blurred her vision and smiled in gratitude. “Thank you.”
During the meal Marelda found no relief from her anxieties. Even though she translated Lierin’s shyness and demureness into caution and coyness and observed her with the eagerness of a snake ready to devour its prey, she failed to find any definite flaw that she could point an accusing finger to. She was distressed by the thought that this would be the way things went henceforth, that she would forever see this usurper at the focal point of attention, while she looked on from a distance. She could hardly ignore the eagerness of family and servants to accept the red-haired woman as Ashton’s wife.
When the meal was concluded, Lierin’s strength began to flag, and she begged to be excused, knowing how quickly total exhaustion could come upon her. Ashton asked the same for himself and, ignoring Marelda’s glare, carefully assisted his wife from the room. Lierin had grown stiff from sitting, and her gait was cautiously slow. Ashton noted her difficulty and paused in the hall to lift her in his arms. He was just as observant of the grimace that briefly touched her features.
“I’m sorry.” His face was touched with concern. “Did I hurt you?”
“It’s nothing, really,” she hastened to assure him. “Just a bruise on my back.” Her cheeks grew warm as she settled cautiously against him and slipped her arms around his neck. Whenever she touched him, her mind was overwhelmed with a searing awareness of his hardened frame and the manly virility he exuded. She was beginning to understand Marelda’s reluctance to give him up. In truth, the idea of being this man’s wife was beginning to settle in with a multitude of pleasing aspects.
Ashton’s brows came together as he recalled Willabelle’s comments about the place on her back. “Do you know how you got the bruise?”
Lierin replied with a small shrug. “From the accident, I suppose.”
“Willabelle thought someone might have hit you. Can you recall anything happening like that?”
“No, not at all. I can’t imagine why anybody would do such a thing.”
“Would you be averse to showing me the place?” he asked. He met her surprised and somewhat wary gaze, and his eyes sparkled into hers. “Only to appease my curiosity, my dear.”