Come Love a Stranger

Chapter Six

THE rattle of hooves faded in the distance as the sheriff and his men departed. The house settled back into a tranquil calm, but Lierin knew no such peace. She had returned to the parlor, allowing Ashton the opportunity to speak in privacy with his friend before the man went on his way, but as she perched tensely on the edge of her chair she was unable to stop shaking. An inner fear had attacked her when she heard the railing accusations, for she had been afraid that Horace Titch and his band of ruffians were right…that she was the woman who escaped from the madhouse. Since the day she had awakened from the void, she had never felt the anguish and frustration of her memory loss as much as she did now. It was like facing a blank door, knowing there was something on the other side and yet unable to find a latch or knob with which to open it. Beyond the barrier most of her life lay hidden well out of her reach. She wanted desperately to know where she had come from, who her family and friends were, and what events had led her to a collision with Ashton’s coach.

Mr. Logan had spoken in her defense, and the matter hopefully was settled. But while she watched from the foyer, she had noticed something perhaps the others had not discerned. Though Ashton had given every indication that he would protect her to the death against the mob of men, he had seemed somehow reluctant to have the gray-haired attendant see her, as if he himself suffered nagging doubts concerning her identity.

She spread her trembling hands upon her lap and stared with fixed gaze at the thin fingers and the plain, golden band until a flash of pain made her close her eyes. Slowly she rubbed her brow with her fingertips, trying to massage away the ache, and behind her eyelids a vision began to form, that of a hand clasping a long, slim poker with a spike at its head. The iron was raised high, then it came slashing cruelly downward, again and again. Of a sudden her mind was filled with a twisted mask that progressively evolved into the face of a man. The visage was contorted by a gaping maw and terror-filled eyes that bore into her very soul. Cringing away from the horrible phantasm, she mewled in fear, wanting to be rid of these fantasies that kept tormenting her.

Lierin came to her feet with a strangled cry as a hand was laid on her shoulder. In a desperate attempt at freedom, she lunged away from the tall form, but an arm reached out, catching her about the waist and drawing her back against a solid chest.

“Lierin?” Ashton gave her a light shake as she tried to fight him, bringing her back to her senses. “Lierin, what’s wrong?”

Staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes, she pressed a hand over her quivering mouth and shook her head. “I don’t know, Ashton,” she choked. “I keep seeing something…or remembering.” She averted her face, hiding it from his worried gaze, and spoke through her tears. “I see a hand raised, and it keeps on hitting…hitting.” Her shoulders trembled as she began to sob. “I wonder if I might have hurt someone. Perhaps you should have let them take me! Maybe I am the one they want, and Mr. Logan lied!”

“Foolishness!” Ashton took her by the shoulders and stared intently into the deep, tear-wet pools of emerald, as if compelling her to believe him. “There’s nothing wrong with you but a simple loss of memory. You’ve had a shock, and you can’t remember. You’re letting the accusations of those churlish louts become your memory.”

“Nooo!” she moaned. “You don’t understand. I had a similar vision before those men ever came out here.”

Ashton brought her close against him, enfolding her in his arms as he brushed his lips against her temple. “It’s probably only a dream you’ve had and nothing to be taken seriously.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Lierin leaned her forehead against the side of his neck where she could feel the strong, slowly drumming beat of his pulse. Security seemed an almost tangible substance in his arms, and somewhere deep within her a yearning grew. As if her soul commanded her to speak, her thoughts came unbidden to her tongue. “I want so much to believe that the nightmare never happened. I…really want to believe I am your wife, Ashton. I…want to be a part of you and your family, to know with certainty that I belong here in your home. I have to know what the truth is.”

Unfaltering in his effort to soothe her, Ashton gently cupped her face in his hands and probed the dark, translucent depths that were open to his gaze. “Then believe, Lierin,” he urged in a whisper. “Accept what I say as fact and trust me. I mean you no hurt. If you knew how much I loved you, you’d not be afraid.”

With deliberate care, his mouth lowered and covered hers in a slowly stirring kiss that continued unrelentingly until her fears were banished to the farthermost region of her consciousness. His lips moved upon hers, parting and playing and, with subtle persistence, demanding a response. Sleeping embers were fanned aflame, warming her and turning her mind slowly inside out. Her hands crept up his back, and she yielded her lips to his ardor. It was bliss. Heaven come down to earth. A sweet nectar that only lovers could taste. A potion to be savored leisurely and to its fullest, which indeed it might have been had the distant approach of clattering heels not warned them. Ashton raised his head, and the hazel eyes burned into hers, branding her with an unspoken promise. He stepped away and strode from the room, leaving her warmly flushed and totally unnerved. It was not a state she wished to be found in. Lifting her skirts, she followed Ashton’s exit through the dining room and into the far hall, then blushed in confusion as he paused farther down the corridor to look back. His gaze seemed to touch her everywhere, stripping the pale body bare and snatching her breath with the boldness of his stare. His eyes flared as they plunged to the core of her being, and the evidence that he accurately assessed her condition became brazenly visible in those shining hazel orbs. With purposeful intent, he began to retrace his steps. Over the pounding of her heart, she could hear the chatter of the elder ladies as they entered the parlor, and she realized the way through the main hall was now clear. She fled, knowing that if she allowed him to touch her again, all reason would be swept away.

Breathless, she raced up the stairs and sought what safety her room afforded. She locked the door and, curling on the chaise longue, stared at the bleached wood portal, while her ears strained to catch the leisured stride of booted heels. They came unswervingly to her door and paused there as knuckles were lightly applied to the panel. She chewed her lip as she waited for the second summons to come. It was followed by a third. The knob was briefly tested, and finally the footsteps moved away. She might have breathed a sigh of relief, but a feeling of disappointment rose within her, displacing any small sense of victory she might have experienced.

Chilling winds swept in from the north, bringing with them a roiling mass of black clouds that snuffed the last rosy glow from the western horizon. Droplets began to fall, first in a light sprinkling that washed the dust from the air and brought the sweet scent of rain into the house. Then, as the lightning pranced closer in a flashing, sizzling display of the storm’s power, a torrential downpour marched across the fields of Belle Chêne. Servants hastened to close windows and rekindle fires that had been allowed to die in the warmth of the day. Amusing speculations were made about the possible plight of Mr. Titch and his band of stalwarts. Everyone agreed that Hickory had sense enough to find shelter from the storm, but whether the rest could spend the night cooped up together in a barn without an outright war being waged seemed highly unlikely.

Willabelle came to help her young mistress dress for dinner, and though Lierin would have preferred to act the coward and keep herself hidden in her room, she gave herself over to the woman’s care. The choice of gowns was simple since a journey to the dressmaker’s had not yet been made, and the emerald green was the last of the evening creations to be worn. The garment was beautiful, temptingly so, but the neckline bared her shoulders above the full sleeves and swooped low over her bosom, while at the same time the stays of the corset pressed the higher curves of her breasts into view. For one who had been persuaded by the merits of caution, Lierin had to muse on the possible hazards of wearing such a gown in Ashton’s presence. The décolletage was perhaps more modest than the gown Marelda had worn, but considering there was a riper fullness to be displayed, she could hardly claim to present a prudish illusion. The threat seemed well tempered, however, for it appeared unlikely that Ashton would make advances while they were chaperoned by his kin.

Her confidence rallied further when she descended the stairs and heard a soft, rich melody drifting from the parlor. She would be safe enough from those knee-weakening stares and casually bestowed caresses while Ashton played the cello, she thought. Indeed, while he was involved with the music, she would have the opportunity to observe him at her leisure.

The room was softly lighted by tiny flames that danced on the tips of a dozen tapers or more. On the hearth a cheery fire burned, adding its warmth and flickering light to the tasteful interior. Beyond the windows the lightning continued to frolic across the night sky as wild and chaotic winds swirled around the corners of the house, rattling the limbs of trees and shrubs that closely hugged the structure. Ashton sat with his back to the door as he played, and her gaze did not venture beyond the man as she approached. Even with only a view of his back, she could tell that he was impeccably garbed, which of course was not surprising. He seemed to have a flair for selecting clothes that were stylish and flawlessly tailored. Such was the case with the deep blue coat he was currently wearing. The garment was a superb fit, for the lines passed smoothly from wide shoulders to lean waist without a hint of an unsightly bulge to mar the styling. The merit was not confined solely to the garment, however, for his height and muscular slenderness complemented even the old riding breeches he was wont to wear while working his horses.

Not wishing to intrude, she had taken care to soften her footsteps, but as she drew near the music stopped, and Ashton came to his feet. Putting aside the instrument, he stepped around the chair and, with a widening smile, came toward her. His gaze savored the richness of her beauty and paused in obvious appreciation on the swelling bosom. Taking her hands into his, he lowered his head to capture her lips with his open mouth, immediately startling her with the light stroke of his tongue. She had hardly expected to be greeted with such a wanton kiss in the presence of the ladies. Unnerved, she pulled away.

“You’ll shock your grandmother….” she protested breathlessly.

A lazy grin curved Ashton’s lips as his eyes caressed the delicate visage. “Tell me, madam, how I might do that when she’s not here?”

“Not here?” Her gaze went past his arm to the pair of empty chairs where the ladies usually sat, then lifted to search his smiling face. “Where…?”

“She and Aunt Jenny were invited to a neighbor’s house for dinner.” He shrugged casually. “The invitation was extended to us as well, but I made our excuses.”

“Then…” She cast a worried glance about the room, and a blinding flash of lightning seemed to bring the truth home. “We’re here alone?”

“Except for the servants.” He raised a dubious brow. “Does that distress you, my love?”

Lierin answered with a slow and hesitant nod. “You’ve been very devious, Mr. Wingate.”

Ashton laughed as he drew her to the sideboard where the crystal decanters sparkled beneath the gleaming tapers. He splashed a small draft of sherry in a glass, added a dash of water, and handed it to her. “What do you expect me to do?”

She sipped from the goblet and released a long, wavering sigh before she made her reply. “I think you intend to seduce me.”

His white teeth flashed in a wicked grin. “The difference between seduction and rape, my love, is the simple word no. All you have to do is say it.”

Lierin could find no adequate response. That particular word was much like caution, which was slowly losing its flavor and hardening into a dry, tasteless crust that gave her no pleasure. Though indeed simple, it was a word that was becoming increasingly difficult to use with him.

Ashton’s gaze lowered to the swelling fullness above her gown, making her breath halt. His head came down, and her heart trembled as he dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“You’re very appetizing this evening, madam…quite a delectable morsel to savor….” His tongue briefly touched her skin, drawing a shocked gasp from her and sending the pulse leaping through her veins again. He smiled into her astonished, sidelong regard and watched the flush of color spread downward into her pale breasts. “One taste is hardly enough,” he murmured and bent lower to stroke his tongue lightly against the higher curve of that tempting roundness.

“Ashton!” She jumped as the wind scraped a branch against the window, and pressed a restraining hand upon his chest, whispering in shaky, urgent appeal, “The servants!”

Ashton chuckled as he straightened and bestowed a more proper kiss to her temple, greatly heartened by the fact that she had not denied him. “Ah, love, I’m so famished for the full feast, it’s hard to restrain myself even with so many people in this house. I yearn to take you back to New Orleans, to that same room where we once made love, where we can be alone together.”

A door slammed in the back of the house, and they moved apart as Willabelle came puffing into the dining room. “Lawsy, dat wind gonna blow dis house away if’n it gets any stronger.” She cackled as she shook her head. “Why, it jes’ mighta blown Mr. Titch clear into Natchez. Bet he ain’t had such a bath in a month o’ Sundays. Course, he be in need of it if he climbed into dat wagon. Ah jes’ wish Ah could see him right now. Humph, he musta been a li’l tetched to think we gonna hand over de missus like she was some poor white trash or somepin. Yo sho’ showed him, massa. Yassuh! Yassuh!”

The housekeeper chortled again before she turned to contemplate the table setting. She busied herself moving one place setting from the end to a position close to the head; then with a satisfied nod she bustled from the room. In a moment Willis appeared and decorously announced that dinner was about to be served. As the servant returned to the kitchen, Ashton presented his arm to his young wife and led her to the place Willabelle had rearranged, which, when they were seated, would bring her under his close scrutiny. His hand lightly stroked along her ribs as she stepped forward to take the chair, and when she glanced back inquiringly, their eyes held for a long, eternal moment.

Ashton was not a man to ignore an opportunity, and once more his lips found hers. When he raised his head again it was to probe the translucent green depths. Lierin felt as if she were being mesmerized by the hypnotic strength of his stare, and she was only distantly aware of his fingers gliding from her throat over her collarbone and then tracing downward. Her lips were parted with her rapid breathing as his mouth began a similar descent, and her senses swirled in a wild and giddy torrent. With casual ease his hand slipped down to cup her breast, but the scalding caress was enough to startle Lierin into full consciousness. Trembling, she moved away from his touch and settled into the chair, and when he had also taken his place, her eyes lifted to search his in worried appeal. She could not utter the words she wanted to say, the pleas that would caution him to take care with her emotions. She wanted love, but it was all going too swiftly. How could she clearly discern right from wrong when she had no sure knowledge of who she was?

During the meal Ashton’s gaze never wandered far from the one who whetted his appetite, and it was not for that which was placed before them. As for Lierin, the sherry had been effective in subduing her qualms, and she began to enjoy the intimate dinner and the soft touch of his hand as it came to rest now and then upon her arm.

When they ventured back to the parlor, Ashton closed the french doors behind them, shutting off the dining room and securing their privacy. Lierin wandered back to the harpsichord and sought to plumb the depths of her memory as her fingers moved over the keyboard. Ashton stood close beside her, sometimes supplying the missing notes when she paused in confusion, but mostly admiring the delectable view of bare shoulders and soft bosom. She smiled up at him with glowing eyes as he brushed his knuckles along her nape and lost herself in the pleasure of his nearness. Her contentment diminished slightly as he moved away, but when he reached for the poker iron, a sudden horror seized her and her hands froze on the keys. A brief flash of an iron being brought down on a man’s head rudely snatched her mind from the tranquillity of the moment.

Ashton glanced around in surprise as the melody halted on a discordant note, and when he saw the expression of frantic fright on her face and the slender, shaking fingers pressed tightly against her temples, he dropped the iron into the stand and ran back to her. Knowing full well what was tormenting her, he pulled her to her feet and held her close against him as he murmured against her hair. “It’s all right, my love. It’s all right. Try not to think of it.”

“The poker iron…” Lierin shivered against him. “It’s the same! Over and over! A man being hit by an iron. Oh, Ashton, when will it ever stop?”

Ashton held her from him as he questioned, “Do you know who the man is or what he looks like? Have you ever seen him before?”

“It’s all a blur.” Tears began to spill down her cheeks. “Oh, Ashton, I’m so afraid. I don’t know why I keep seeing such a thing…unless…unless I’m being tormented by a memory of something I’ve done. Are you sure Mr. Logan…?”

“You had nothing to do with that, Lierin,” Ashton insisted. “The man was stabbed with a knife, and he was large, fully twice your weight and more. Even with the poker iron, your best effort would not have been good enough. He’d have turned on you before you could have done him serious harm.”

“But the place on my back…you said it looked as if someone had hit me. Perhaps…”

Ashton stressed his words as he stared intently into the troubled green eyes. “Peter Logan said you were not the woman from the madhouse, Lierin. Accept that as fact. You’re not the one! You’re Lierin Wingate, my wife!”

His authoritative tone seemed to put matters in the proper perspective, and she took hold of her fears with a growing determination. If she was to survive this portion of her life with her sanity intact, she had to act with firm deliberation, refusing to be cindered beneath the weight of her trepidations. Calming herself by dint of will, she brushed the wetness from her cheek as Ashton stepped away to the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy.

“Here, drink this,” he coaxed, returning to her. “It will help.” He watched as she took a cautious sip of the strong spirits and smiled when she shuddered in distaste. With a finger beneath the glass, he urged it back to her lips again. “All of it, my love.”

Lierin obeyed, reluctantly downing the fiery liquid in small gulps until only a few drops remained. With a last convulsive shiver, she returned the glass, already feeling the brandy’s warmth spread through her. Ashton took her hand and led her to the settee where he leaned back in the corner and gathered her close. Lierin’s emotions unfurled as she relaxed against him, and with a trembling sigh she snuggled closer, needing the tenderness he so freely bestowed upon her. It seemed natural to curl against him and rest her hand upon his chest.

A long and silently blissful time passed between them as the frolicking flames flared up and slowly died. The room began to take on a chill before Ashton reluctantly left her to throw several more pieces of wood on the fire. When he came back, he sat on his haunches before her and laid a hand upon her thigh, casually caressing it as he asked, “Are you going to be all right?”

“I think so.” She was struck by the intimacy of his touch and, finding no cause to remove herself from it, accepted the tender feelings of contentment. Beneath his silent regard her cheeks grew steadily warm, and she turned her gaze toward the hearth to ease her confusion.

“There’s another bedroom adjoining my quarters,” he stated and waited to continue until her gaze came back to rest on him in wondering silence. “I’d like you to move in there tonight.” A lazy smile accompanied his words. “I know the temptation will be greater for me, but it’s what I’d prefer…at least for the time being.” His lips widened into a teasing grin. “I think it’s clear by now what I really want. And it’s not separate rooms.”

Her eyes delved deeply into his as she whispered, “Have a care for me, Ashton.” Her smile turned wistful. “You have such a way about you…I’m not sure I can resist you.”

His brows came up in surprise. It amazed him that she would make such an admission when she knew how anxious he was to test the full measure of her resistance. “Madam, do you know what you’re putting into my hands?”

Lierin feigned sweet innocence. “Trust?”

His forehead twisted in an annoyed frown as the single word seemed to squelch his hopes. “Mmm.” He rose and offered a hand to her. “Come, madam. I’ll escort you to your new chamber before I ravish you here and now.”

“But I thought you said that trust is important in marriage,” she pointed out as he pulled her to her feet.

Ashton responded with a doubtful stare. “That word is coming up much too often for my comfort, madam. I shall dispense with your idea of trust by taking you back to New Orleans. It that fails, there’s no doubt I’ll perish from wanting you.”

She was unable to read his expression. “Are you serious? I mean, about taking me to New Orleans.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” he stated as the idea took deeper root.

“But you just came back from New Orleans.”

“This trip will be solely for our pleasure, madam,” he assured her warmly.

Lierin regarded him with an air of skepticism. “And of course you intend to complete this seduction of yours.”

“Aye, madam, and the sooner, the better.”

He bent and lifted her in his arms, dropping a kiss against her throat as she settled contentedly against him. He was fascinated with the way the gown gapped from her bosom while her arms were about his neck. It was a most tempting sight and one he repeatedly reviewed as he carried her to his bedroom door. He turned the knob and, with a shoulder, nudged it open to bear her across the threshold. They passed through the suite of rooms and paused in the bathing room where he stood her to her feet.

“You’ll probably want to undress in here. The bedroom may be a bit cool yet.” Ashton inclined his head toward a small chest where a neatly folded stack of clothing lay. “I had Willabelle bring in a few things while we dined.”

Lierin recognized the garments as her own green robe and batiste nightgown and realized that the invitation to move her into a bedchamber near his own had not been a spontaneous offer at all. Not only had he given prior thought to the matter, but he had made arrangements, assuming she would agree. She regarded him with some amazement. “I think I underestimated you.”

Ashton returned a lopsided grin to her dubious gaze. “I didn’t think you’d object.”

“Are you always so sure of yourself?” she queried, conscious of how deftly she had been maneuvered.

“It’s a matter of logic, madam. The accommodations are more comfortable here….”

“And handier to you.”

“Yes, that, too,” he admitted with rakish aplomb. Doffing his coat, vest, and cravat, he hung them on a wooden clothes tree near the door, then took her hands and brought them to his lips while his eyes played with hers. “I’ll stir up the fire while you get undressed.”

The door closed behind him, allowing Lierin a few private moments to settle back to earth. She was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that whenever she was with him, she gave little thought to resistance. He was like a strong magnet that drew her progressively nearer. He was totally a man, and having all the cravings of a woman, she found herself very susceptible. Despite her attempts at logic and restraint, she was beginning to relish the idea of being married to him. Whether it was reasonable or not, she desired the intimacy and the familiarity of a husband-and-wife relationship.

His robe hung with his other garments on the clothes tree, and beneath the stroke of her hand a clean, masculine scent drifted from the velvet garment, filling her whole being with soft yearnings. She drew in her breath, surprised at her wayward will, and deliberately set her mind to the matter of getting undressed. The nightgown slid with silken softness over her naked body, and distantly she wondered what it would be like to have Ashton make love to her, if she would find the moment pleasurable, or if the anticipation was far more entertaining than the actuality.

She stared dreamily across the small space of the room, doubting the possibility of such a thing happening. The man exuded an unceasing current of virility, which could not be denied. Though she could imagine the hazel eyes growing cold with rage, there was a fire that burned in the man which could be effective in thawing the resistance of almost any woman.

Lierin shook her head angrily. Once again her thoughts took her into reckless meanderings. Rather than rein in her wayward musings, she was letting her mind run far afield. It was illogical to think of coupling with the man when he was still very much a stranger to her. Why did she persist in these frivolous ponderings when she knew the wisest choice would be to keep her distance?

Belting the green velvet robe about her slender waist, she entered the adjoining bedroom and moved on bare feet across the luxurious carpet while she admired the fine furnishings and soft colors. The boudoir dwarfed the memory of the guest room in her mind, for it was everything a woman could wish for. Indeed, if she had viewed the accommodations first, she would have been reluctant to question Ashton’s sincerity.

He had turned from the fireplace to watch her approach, and she stepped near, slipping her arm through his and giving him her answer with a soft smile. “It’s beautiful, Ashton, and you were right. I could not have rejected it.”

Lierin raised on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned his face to meet her lips with his. She had no desire to withdraw and leisurely savored the rising warmth of his response. His mouth opened and snatched hungrily at hers, drawing and compelling her to answer. The hesitant intrusion of her tongue encouraged him, and he faced her, bringing her full against him. His embrace tightened, and the kiss intensified for a long, blissful moment. Torn between yielding and denial, she trembled in his arms, aware that he was becoming increasingly aroused. It came to her that if she did not immediately halt this whirligig world, she would not find the strength to deny him.

“I must have time, Ashton,” she whispered pleadingly as she broke away from the kiss. “Please let me find myself.”

Ashton’s brows gathered in a pained frown as he set her from him, and she saw the agony of her denial in his face. Not knowing how to ease his plight, she followed him to the bed and waited as he folded down the covers. When he faced her again, he let out his breath haltingly and raised his hands as if to lay them on her shoulders. She waited expectantly, wanting him to, but he turned away with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll go.”

“Please, Ashton…” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “Won’t you stay and talk for a while?”

Ashton responded with an abortive laugh. “Madam, you have either underestimated your charms or overestimated my ability to resist you. The temptation is beyond me. If I stay a moment longer, a simple no will no longer suffice.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and his jaw tightened as he glanced away. “I am sorely beset with my passions, so please, madam…have a care. Just get in bed while I still have my wits about me.”

Lierin dared not ignore his warning and hurried to comply, not even pausing to doff her robe before slipping under the covers. He went back to the fireplace, threw another log on the blazing kindling, then stood frowning down into the shifting orange and gold flames. She studied him against the brightening firelight, crushingly aware of how quickly she had come to desire him. Somewhere in the inner core of her being was the sure and unmistakable knowledge that she had experienced moments of intimacy with a man. If she closed her eyes, she could almost envision a man rising naked from a bed and moving away from her. Though vague and indistinct, the form left an impression of towering height, wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips, and short hair curling in feathery wisps against a bronze-hued neck. Willabelle had assured her that Ashton was a man among many, and she was swiftly coming to that same conclusion. Indeed, if she could accurately judge a man’s merits in so short a time, he was just what she needed for a whole lifetime of loving and caring regard.

“Ashton?” Her voice was a soft murmur in the room.

He glanced around. “Yes?” Her answering silence drew him back until he stood beside the bed. “What is it, Lierin?”

She searched the handsome visage in the meager light of the room. She knew she risked much at this moment, for she was very vulnerable to his manly persuasion. She could be hurt in the outcome of it all, and yet she wanted him to make love to her. She yearned to feel that strong, firmly muscled body against her own and to give herself unreservedly to him. Her eyes were limpid pools of deep emerald green as her hand reached to the edge of the bed to pull down the covers invitingly. “I don’t think you have to take me to New Orleans, Ashton. You can have everything you want right now.”

The leap of Ashton’s heart started the blood surging through his veins, and his long-starved passions seized control of his body. His eyes flared their answer in heated lust as his fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. In a moment his brown shoulders gleamed naked in the candlelight, and he sat on the bed to remove his boots. Lierin rose to her knees, and her robe slipped from the end of the bed where she tossed it as she pressed close against him. She laid her arms over his shoulders, and Ashton’s mind reeled with the ecstasy of her soft breasts rubbing against his back, tantalizing him and stirring his passions until they became a hot, sweet ache in the pit of his belly. This was Lierin, tempting, warm, responsive, capable of setting his very being on fire. The last boot thudded to the floor as her hands slipped down his hard chest, pausing momentarily as her right hand found a scar, then stroking firmly over the swell of muscles while her fingers threaded through its thick matting of hair.

“Hurry,” she whispered in his ear and traced it teasingly with her tongue before she sat back on her heels. Reluctant to be parted, he sprawled back upon the bed, twisting slightly as he reached for her, pulling her down upon him. As his mouth reached to entrap hers, his hand wandered up, moving from her buttock to her breast, then further still, catching his thin fingers in the top of the gown before being joined by his other hand. She gasped in surprise as he ripped the garment apart, spilling free the ripe fullness of her bosom before his hungering eyes. His mouth touched her breast with a moist, burning heat that took her breath away and set her heart racing wildly within the cavity of her chest. She shivered, feeling consumed by the slow, licking flame of his tongue, and her whole being throbbed with each wet, languid caress.

With another tug he finished parting the nightgown and, pulling it from her, tossed it to the end of the bed. The hazel eyes struck sparks against her flesh, and with a hint of a mysterious smile she raised upright, taking his hand and drawing him to his knees until they faced each other on the bed with her limbs tucked within the spread of his. His hands slid about her waist and glided down over her buttocks, while her lips pressed light, eager kisses against his throat and the line of his jaw. The soft, pale peaks of her breasts brushed his furred chest, tormenting him with the sweet ecstasy of it.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” she breathed. Her fingers curled in the hair at his nape. “I want you…. Oh, Ashton, I really do….”

His arms caught her close, and his mouth seized hers with a fervor that took her breath away. Their lips blended with a crushing urgency that readily conveyed the craving impatience of each. When they came apart, their eyes smoldered with a common heat. Her hands slid admiringly over his muscular ribs to the waistband of his trousers, and then stroked down lean thighs, while his own plucked the buttons free. His breath sucked in through clenched teeth as her fingers slipped inside the top of the loosened garment and teased him with a feathery light caress against his hard belly. The hot blood shot through his loins and thudded through him, cauterizing his mind with his ravaging needs.

He rose briefly to his feet, then came back in full, naked glory, taking her against him and pressing hard and hot between her thighs. His mouth came down on hers with a rapacious hunger, twisting, devouring, awakening passions she hardly knew existed. He laid her down, and his hands and lips glided over her silken flesh with the bold confidence of a man who had no doubt in himself. With purposeful intent he plucked at the strings of her senses, and she responded with soft, melodic sighs. Swept by building passion and brought ever nearer to that dam of restraint, she began to tremble and writhe. Their eyes melded in warm union as he braced himself above her, then came ecstasy, plunging in with the bold thrust of a knight’s lance and forging them together in the knot of love. A flooding tide of emotions washed through Lierin, and her whole being came alive with pulsing joy. The strokes of his body were smooth and languid against her own until the lusting heat made them both greedy for more, and it became a wild, frenzied search for fulfillment. She arched against him, answering his hard, thrusting hips with a fervor that equaled his. She gasped as she was snatched to a lofty firmament, where the vapors were sweet and heady and where the stars blazed in a blinding, brilliant display. A myriad sensations fell like sparkling dust against her skin and burst in tiny shards of rapturous bliss. She clung to him and he to her as they were lifted ever higher on the crest of their passion. They soared together in this iridescent world until finally the heavenly spheres released them from their celestial orbit, and they descended on light, airy cushions of thistledown. Contentment gave fragrance to their sighs as their lips blended in the warm afterglow of their passion. The raindrops trickled down the panes of glass, but the pair gave them no heed as they sipped the sweet nectar of sated desires.

The master’s suite was shaded from the morning sun, and only a minimum of light leaked in around the velvet drapes drawn over the french doors and crystal windows. Lierin stirred, reaching out a hand searchingly to the far side of the bed. Finding the place empty, she sat up and glanced quickly about the room, but to no avail. Though she listened carefully, she heard nothing to indicate Ashton was anywhere in the suite of rooms. Sometime during the night he had carried her to his bed, ending the matter of separate rooms with the firm declaration of where she belonged. It was a massive room, tasteful in its accoutrements and decor. Teal blues and soft taupes were in abundance, while velvets, tapestries, leathers, and deeply hued woods gave the room a masculine warmth. The fact that the accommodations belonged to a man with whom she had become enamored only made the prospect of being ensconced here more appealing.

Smoothing her tumbled hair away from her cheek, she leaned back into the pillows with a dreamy sigh. She had memories of the past hours to content her until he came back to her again. The master of Belle Chêne had seized her mind and body with his irresistible charm, and now her heart was hopelessly entangled with the man. Wrapped up in the rapture of her infatuation, she conjured an image in her mind of that sleek, bronze form with its rippling muscles, hardened belly, and iron-thewed thighs. Her face grew warm as her imagination completed the man with more intimate detail, and her lips curved into a secretive smile as she recalled the warmth he displayed beneath her exploring hand. Later, when he had moved away from her during the night to lay more wood on the fire, she had been fascinated with the play of lithe brawn across his back and, beneath the line that separated dark skin from light, the tautly muscled buttocks.

The opening and closing of the door in the far bedroom snatched Lierin from her musings, and she threw back the covers, recognizing Willabelle’s heavy tread, then gasped as she was abruptly reminded of her nakedness. Grabbing up Ashton’s robe from the end of the bed, she quickly donned the oversized garment, but paused to listen as the housekeeper entered the bathing room. The door was pushed shut, allowing Lierin to slump back on the bed in relief. She was reluctant to face the woman in such a state of dishabille only a short time after she had vowed not to be rushed in accepting Ashton as her husband. Still, she knew she would have to admit her status as mistress of the house sometime before the hour was out. She could hardly hide from Willabelle much longer than that, even in this huge house.

The activity increased in the adjoining room as other servants began bringing water for a bath. The housekeeper directed them in a muted tone, then the voices dwindled, and a brief moment later a light knock sounded on the door. Pausing to collect her composure before answering the summons, Lierin checked herself in the cheval glass, finding her hair wildly tossed and her cheeks as flushed and rosy as the body beneath the robe. Her appearance was so obvious, there would be little doubt that she had spent the night in sensual pursuits with Mr. Wingate, and any semblance of dignity would be difficult to maintain if Willabelle was less than discreet.

Resolving to give the occasion her best effort, Lierin opened the portal and found Willabelle laying out fresh linens and garments. The woman had been humming to herself, but turned to greet her young mistress with the usual cheery smile and chatter, putting Lierin completely at ease. The housekeeper seemed to accept her presence in the master’s bedroom casually and as part of the routine.

In a short time Lierin was enjoying a deliciously warm bath, and had hardly settled in for a leisurely soak when the lower hall echoed with the rapid click of booted heels. Ashton strode toward the stairs, motivating Luella May to run down the upper hall and bestow a warning knock on the master’s chamber door. Willabelle quickly slipped from the room and left her charge to whatever was about to befall her.

When Ashton entered his suite, he was drawn to the door of the bathing room by the soft, lilting melody that drifted from the cubicle. Leaning a shoulder against the jamb, he indulged himself in the pleasure of viewing this undraped beauty which was so charmingly presented to him. He considered his timing perfect. His lady was at her bath, and with the soft morning light filtering through the window and lending her ivory skin a radiance of its own, she seemed like some woodland nymph intent upon her toilet in a hidden forest glade.

Lierin finally glanced up, sensing a presence and yet expecting to find Willabelle. She suffered a start when she was greeted instead by a most wicked smile and warmly glowing hazel eyes. She was not yet at ease beneath the bold stare of a man and pinkened as his gaze dipped to her wetly gleaming breasts.

“You’ve made my day, madam…and my night.”

Her color heightened at his reminder of their passionate involvement. He was garbed casually in riding breeches, tall boots, and full-sleeved shirt, and seemed to be the very epitome of the confident male, which made her all the more conscious of her own nakedness and timidity. Seeking to divert his stare and allow her pulse to slow its reckless beating, she indicated his attire. “Have you been out riding?”

“Only to look over a portion of land that is being cleared,” he replied, watching the soapy runnels cascade over her bosom as she attempted to bathe and cover herself at the same time. “My plan for today is to take you into Natchez. You’ll be needing clothes for our trip to New Orleans.”

“But I thought we weren’t going….”

“On the contrary, my love.” Ashton strode forward and sat on the wooden stool that had been drawn up near the tub. Taking the sponge from her, he dipped it into the soapy water and began to scrub her back, beginning low and slowly working his way upward. “A trip to New Orleans might help you remember, and of course we’ll need some time to get acquainted again. What better place to do that than where it all began?”

Lierin half turned her head and sighed in obvious pleasure as his fingers began to knead her back and shoulders.

“Feels good?” he asked softly.

“Hmm, yes. Very,” she murmured, forgetting her shyness as she leaned forward, the better to receive his administerings. He waxed bolder as he lathered her side, slipping his hand forward to soap and wash her breast. Her heart took on a trip-hammer beat, and with soft and limpid eyes, she turned her gaze to his. Bending forward, he nuzzled her ear and, brushing aside the loosely dangling curls that dropped coyly from the casually gathered mass, pressed light kisses upon her throat. His hand moved freely across her bosom, then slid beneath her as he lifted her from the bath onto his lap. Neither of them gave heed to the fact that his clothes were becoming soaked, for the heat of the moment had overtaken them. They were two beings enraptured with each other, and the rest of the world faded from notice.

Hearing the soft click of heels approaching the upper landing, Ashton glanced up to find a sight that completely nourished his spirits. For the outing Lierin had arrayed herself in one of the gowns he had purchased and with stunning results. Long ago he had realized she fulfilled every aspect of his long-held vision of a desirable woman. His memory had served him well during the past three years, but when he gazed at the living, breathing woman, he knew he had not grasped the full reality of her beauty. Was it a trick of his mind that she seemed even lovelier than he had remembered?

As she paused in indecision at the head of the stairs, he slowly smiled and lifted up a hand to her. His eyes touched her warmly as she descended, taking in every delicious detail. The gown seemed an added touch of perfection with its iridescent, blue-green taffeta bodice and off-white skirt of the same fabric. A crisply pleated ruff fanned out from her throat, and similar ruffles added trimmings at the wrists. The sleeves were puffed and full at the top, but closely fitting for the major portion of the arm. Scalloped cream lace formed a pleated lining for the tall-brimmed, blue-green bonnet, and a wide bow of the same hue was tied beneath one side of her chin, lending her a pert, saucy look.

“Madam, you would make the sirens of ancient lore thrash upon their rocks and moan in envy,” he vowed.

Lierin laughed gaily and placed her arms around his neck as he settled his own about her waist and swung her from the stairs. He held her suspended from the floor while they exchanged an ardent kiss. Her tongue readily answered his, and it was a long, enjoyable moment before they parted. Ashton sighed and reluctantly set her to her feet. “I’m tempted to take you back to bed when you answer me like that.”

Caressing his vested chest, she responded with an enticing smile. “We can always delay our trip.”

Ashton groaned in mock agony. “Oh, madam, I’ve never been so wont to stay abed before, but I owe you a nightgown, remember.” He smiled down into her sparkling eyes. “We’ll need a goodly supply for the rest of the nights we can spend together.”

She raised on her toes to whisper in his ear. “I can understand why Marelda hates me so. You’re very nice to go to bed with.”

Ashton peered at her skeptically as he led her across the hall. “Madam, Marelda would have no scale to judge that by. I’ve never been intimate with the woman.”

Hugging his arm tightly against her breast, Lierin smiled into his eyes. “That makes me very, very happy.”

Hiram stood waiting at the open door of the carriage. As they emerged from the house, he swept off his fine beaver hat and greeted them with a wide grin. “Lawsy, y’all sho’ make a pair all duded up.”

“Why, thank you, Hiram,” Lierin replied blithely. “Mr. Wingate does look fine, doesn’t he?”

“Yes’m, jes’ like he always does,” the coachman agreed, then chuckled as he expanded on his statement: “But he ain’t nearly as pretty as yo, missus.”

Their warm laughter rewarded him, and with a bright smile Lierin accepted her husband’s assistance into the carriage. Settling into the leather seat, she lifted her skirts aside as Ashton sat close beside her. He laid his arm along the back of the seat behind her and, with a hand on her shoulder, urged her to nestle close against his side.

“I love you,” he whispered.

The bonneted head turned to present a softly smiling visage to his loving gaze, and her eyes touched his face in a gentle caress. “The feeling is mutual, sir.”

The landau swung around the curving drive, and the journey into Natchez took on a new measure of delight for Ashton, who had traversed the road on numerous and widely varied occasions. For the first time in many months he felt settled, both in mind and in spirit. The night of lustful pleasures had given him a release he had sorely needed, but the cause of his contentment lay in the person who snuggled so willingly against him.

Lierin picked a piece of lint from his trouser leg, and her hand lingered to rub the firmly muscled thigh lightly. Lifting her gaze, she met Ashton’s smiling regard and reached to receive his kiss when his face lowered to hers. The ride continued in a most delightful fashion until Hiram maneuvered the conveyance to a halt in front of the couturiere’s.

Ashton assisted his young wife to the boardwalk and spoke a word with Hiram about the estimated time of their return before slipping his hand to the small of her back and escorting her inside the dressmaker’s shop. Miss Gertrude hurried from the back of the shop, straining her long neck to see around the bolts of cloth that were stacked on the tables. When the gawky, parrot-faced woman saw who had entered, she threw up her hands and rushed forward to greet them.

“Oh, I’ve been so anxious to meet your young wife, Mr. Wingate,” she warbled.

He made the introductions, and through the small spectacles perched on the bridge of her thin, hawkish nose, Miss Gertrude gave Lierin a careful inspection from bonnet to soft leather slippers, then smiled and nodded in approval. “Your grandmother was in here yesterday morning, Mr. Wingate, and the way she was bragging about your wife, I thought she had been inflated with a lot of hot air, but I can see for myself that her claims are true.”

Miss Gertrude took the slender hand into hers and patted it affectionately. “When the ladies see you wearing my creations, I shall be deluged with a brood of chirping biddies wanting to look exactly like you. I’ve done a few miracles in my time, Mrs. Wingate, but none of that sort. You’re such a lovely thing, I can already see trouble coming.”

Lierin laughed at the unorthodox compliment and gently teased, “Perhaps we should forget about the clothes if there’s going to be such a problem for you.”

Miss Gertrude’s gangling form straightened abruptly, and she stared at the young woman in comic disbelief. “What?! And have you gowned by someone else? My dear, that is positively ridiculous. No one else will do you justice.” Her mouth lifted in a lopsided grin as she shrugged. “They’ll come all right, jealous as all get out, but have no fear. I can handle them.”

Envious they would be. About that Miss Gertrude had no doubt. Long ago she had heard rumors about the handsome Ashton Wingate and all the beautiful young women who had set their caps for him. The most persistent of these had been Marelda Rousse, who had frequented her shop and often prattled about how much the man adored her. His hasty marriage had caused her a great deal of embarrassment, and she had given tongue to a multitude of rationales on the probability of Ashton having been forced into the marriage by some outraged father. When pressed as to how that might have been accomplished with the obstinate Mr. Wingate, the brunette had simply shrugged and said he must have spoiled some girl’s maidenhead while he was drunk and then been prompted to do the honorable thing while in that same condition. The explanations had reeked of envy at the time, but once one chanced to view the lady in question, they lost all semblance of truth. If the tales had been factual, then in his drunken heat the man had blindly selected a jewel of unmatchable beauty.

The dressmaker gestured for them to follow and led the way toward the back of the shop. As the woman moved away, Lierin leaned near Ashton. “I do believe Miss Gertrude has a bit of blarney in her, especially if she tells the same thing to all her customers.”

He chuckled and squeezed her waist. “Miss Gertrude has been known to be brutally honest at times, and I can’t see any reason to believe she’s filling your pretty ears with rubbish now. If you’re not aware of it, madam, you’re definitely a pleasure to look at. Indeed, it has become my favorite pastime.”

Ashton had already taken note that it was other men’s wont to stare at his young wife and admire her beauty, too. The reaction was the same among the male customers at a nearby inn where they later went to enjoy a light repast. The hour was well after midday, and the number of patrons had dwindled to a double handful of men who were scattered about the common room. A few were acquaintances of Ashton and pressed for introductions, then, clapping him on his back, offered their good wishes. Some were strangers who stared in mute appreciation, while others were bolder and openly ogled her. With a brow raised in deliberate challenge, Ashton stared these men down until they turned away. He escorted her to a table near the back and placed her where he could enjoy what he had not been willing to share with others. Even there he found he had to contend with the curious glances of the gaunt, rawboned innkeeper. Ashton knew the man as a somewhat dull individual who had never shown too great an interest in eyeing women, seeming rather to prefer to watch over his own meager wealth. His unswerving interest in Lierin seemed highly out of character, and Ashton was more than mildly surprised when the man approached them.

“Pardon me, missus, but did I overhear Mr. Wingate say that you’re his wife?”

Lierin nodded hesitantly. “Yes.”

The innkeeper scratched his head, seeming bemused. “I guess I was mistaken. I thought you might have been that lady Mr. Sinclair was looking for.”

“Mr. Sinclair?” Lierin repeated in a questioning tone.

“Yes’m, Mr. Sinclair said his wife had been kidnapped from their home and brought here by the man who had taken her, but I guess you’re not her, being Mr. Wingate’s wife and all.”

“I don’t believe I even know a Mr. Sinclair,” Lierin murmured quietly, feeling somewhat unsettled. “Why did you think I was the one?”

“Oh, she come in here, and I got to see her from a distance. She was a fine slip of a woman, just like yourself, ma’am. At first, I thought the man she come in with was her coachman, ’cause he was driving her carriage, but then, he got himself a room next to hers and they kept kind o’ secluded while they were here. She seemed powerful upset about something, but I never got to talk with her or see her up close. Whatever was goin’ on, it had to be somethin’ strange, ’cause they both seemed sorta nervous. He weren’t much to look at, but that Mr. Sinclair is a right nice-lookin’ dandy, he is. Anyway, when Mr. Sinclair showed up, the other man skedaddled out o’ sight, taking her with him, I suppose. Mr. Sinclair searched for the pair of them for a while, then loaded his wife’s trunks in her coach, hired a man to drive it, and left. I seen him in here a time or two since then, but he ain’t from around these parts, an’ he don’t talk much.”

“When did all this happen?” Ashton queried.

The innkeeper scraped a hand over his bristly chin as he mused on the matter. “Seems like it were shortly ’fore the madhouse burned.” He thought a moment longer and then gave a decisive nod. “Yep, that’s about it.”

A nervous fluttering attacked Lierin’s stomach. Though she kept telling herself the man had mistaken her for someone he had not clearly seen and she was really and truly Lierin Wingate, she was assailed by sudden doubts. If she did not bear some resemblance to this unknown woman, why had he made the inquiry? On the other hand, the portrait had given incontestable proof that she was precisely the one Ashton claimed her to be. Holding on tenaciously to that thought, Lierin regained her composure and thrust aside her qualms.

Ashton had watched her with gentle concern throughout the meal and was greatly heartened to see her cheerfulness return. He was presented evidence of this when they emerged from the inn, and she halted him on the vine-draped gallery. With a delicious grin, she slipped her arms about his neck and pulled his head down to press parted lips upon his. He was more than willing to cooperate and delayed the moment by lengthening the kiss into a more passionate play of mouth and tongue.

A sudden gasp startled them, and pulling apart, they turned to face a tall, sandy-haired man who stared at them in wide-eyed surprise. He seemed frozen with shock as he gaped at one and then the other. With an embarrassed giggle, Lierin ran past the intruder and Ashton followed with a grin and a murmured apology. Rushing to the thoroughfare, he beckoned to Hiram, and soon they were exchanging laughing comments about the astonished, dapperly attired young man in the privacy of their carriage.

That same gentleman was still on the veranda when a brief moment later Horace Titch strolled past with Marelda on his arm. The woman had seen the flight of the Wingate couple and was sharing her complaints with her escort as they neared the man.

“I simply don’t know how that woman convinced Ashton she was Lierin Wingate, when all the time she’s been claiming a complete loss of memory. Why, she said she can’t even remember who she is or where she came from, and who knows if she’ll ever remember again. I still say she’s from the madhouse.”

“But, sweetie, Mr. Logan swore that she wasn’t,” Horace dared to argue.

“Well, considering what Ashton did for the man, don’t you think Mr. Logan said that only because he didn’t want to upset Ashton? While you were out there with all those men, you should have insisted that she be taken in for the murder of that attendant, but, no, you let Ashton make a fool of you.”

Horace clenched his pudgy hands into tight fists as he mumbled, “I’ll never forgive him for that, and I swear someday I’ll have my revenge.”

“You’d better have a large army with you the next time you face Ashton Wingate,” Marelda advised dryly. “He seems to thrive on gaining the advantage in such situations.”

Marelda’s eyes settled on the tall man and flared in bold admiration. Though younger and somewhat heavier than Ashton, there was something about the stranger that reminded her of the other. It was easy to surmise from the cut of his clothes that he enjoyed at least a reasonable wealth, but even without that added attraction, he was definitely more appealing to her senses than the company she was presently keeping.

The tall man tipped his hat to her, but his neatly clipped mustache barely twitched as he gave her a bland smile. Marelda was disappointed by his lack of response and wondered if some great problem of the world rested on his shoulders. She was accustomed to more zealous reactions to her flirtations and her sultry look of promise.