Wellington nodded his head and gave me a smile. “I wouldn’t have allowed us to come if I didn’t know that, Ashington. Rest assured,” he replied, then with a nod he headed for the door. I thought of asking if he required help but he appeared to be walking straight enough. I did not want to insult him.
Once he was headed up the stairs, I sat back down leaving my door open. It was time I retire as well, but my thoughts would only keep me awake. Sleep wasn’t something that had ever come easy to me. Oft times I found myself waking up on the sofa in this very room. Tonight, my head was even more crowded than most.
Wellington’s description of Miriam’s life had stirred anger inside me for a man that was now cold in the ground. The dislike for my own father didn’t equal that of what I felt for Miriam’s father. She had been just a girl. Emma’s face came to me and I felt my stomach tighten at the thought of her having been left at the doorsteps of someone other than me. Her life could have been similar and the idea made me ill. Miriam deserved to be loved and to be happy. She’d had enough of the other.
I did feel as if I could possibly love Miriam one day, but would I love her the way she deserved? I’d truly never loved anyone until Emma. Once I had loved my brother, but we had been young. With years, he had changed and those feelings had changed as well. Loving Emma was easy. She was a child in need of a family.
Loving a woman, that was another thing. I had seen the ugliness in marriage and the bitterness that changed a female. Although Miriam was nothing like my stepmother, once the former countess had been someone my father had loved. Marriage changed them both and so very quickly.
I stared at my empty glass and considered one more drink before heading up to my chambers. Perhaps a good liquor would aid in my sleep. That thought was lost when movement near my doorway caught the corner of my vision. Turning my head, my gaze landed on Miriam. I was sure I had not had enough port to conjure the image before me. Yet, the idea that she was real also seemed impossible. For never had I laid eyes on anything so utterly enchanting.
Long, thick, red hair curled at its ends as it cascaded freely over her shoulders. The simple white nightgown was covered by a thin shawl, but did little to hinder my imagination as I took in the sight before me.
“I’m sorry, Lord Ashington. I fear I could not wind down enough after such a full day to fall asleep. I thought I would search for the kitchen in hopes of some warm milk,” Miriam explained, her cheeks stained pink, making her even more stunning.
I stood slowly for she appeared on the verge of fleeing. “If you are in search of the kitchen, I fear you are lost,” I teased.
She blushed even brighter. “Yes, it does appear that way.”
“Come, I will lead the way. I too could use an aid in finding sleep,” I told her as I reached her side. She stepped back so that I could exit the room without our bodies touching.
“I believe your port may help with that more so than warm milk,” she said with a touch of humor in her voice.
“Perhaps, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I left a lady to wander the dark halls alone?”
“If the lady carelessly left her bedroom, not knowing the path to the kitchen, then I would say she deserved to wander,” Miriam replied.
“This may be true however another truth is that I am, in fact, a man and when a vision of beauty such as yourself arrives at my door lost and in need, I want nothing more than to assist in the matter.”
There was no quick response this time. I glanced down at her as we began to walk and saw the whisper of a smile on her perfectly shaped lips. Lips so pink against her pale skin, it made it hard to think of anything more than tasting them.
I thought of taking a much longer path to the kitchen but decided to stay on course. I preferred to look at her not walk beside her. The fact there was nothing under the nightgown and she was walking so close to me in her bare feet, clasping a thin shawl around her shoulders as her only covering, had my head in places that weren’t safe for either of us.
I had been with mistresses barely covered by French silk meant to raise a man’s desire but not once had I been struck by sheer beauty as I had tonight. Miriam dressed in slips of French silk would be something I may never recover from. The image, however, was now in my head and I wanted nothing more than to see her thus so.
By the time we reached the kitchen, my blood was pulsing and my need to touch her had become uncontrollable. Stepping inside the warmth of the large area, it was still lit by a lantern. I wasn’t one to visit the kitchen, especially at this hour, so I did not know if we were to be alone in here or if someone would be returning. Not that it mattered to me.
“Have you enjoyed your stay here?” I asked her simply because I wanted to hear her voice again.
Miriam tilted her head back just enough to look up at me and a soft smile played along her lips. “Who wouldn’t enjoy this place? It’s almost magical. Whitney oft spoke of the sparkle and shine of London. She used the word glitter when speaking of it. However, this has been so much more than any ball in London could ever be.”
I had expected a simple yes or no. Not something so eloquent in response. Perhaps if she had said yes or no then I would have been able to control my burning desire to press my hand on her hip and draw her to me so that I may feel the curve of her body. I lowered my head to finally taste the lips that had mesmerized me from the first moment I laid eyes on her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Miriam Bathurst
In my most secret of dreams, I had imagined this moment. Granted, I wasn’t standing in a kitchen wearing my night gown, but when Ashington’s lips met mine none of that seemed to matter. The world around us fell away and it could have been the most indulgent of balls and I dressed in a gown of the finest silks, but it would not change this moment.
No man had ever kissed me. My lips tingled in response to his and my body trembled. Did kissing always feel this way? If so, I understood why there were songs written of it and such description in the novels I read when they spoke of it. I was well read and I knew there was so much more to what happened between a woman and a man. I may be untouched, but I wasn’t innocent of mind. This led to much more and if I were being smart, I’d step away.
I wasn’t smart, however, I was blissfully lost in the moment and I wanted to remain so. Ashington’s hand tightened on my waist and the thin materiel of my night gown fisted in his hand. The shawl I had been wearing as a cover fell from my shoulders when I let go of it to place my hands on his arms. I felt the need for support as my knees began to feel weak.
Twas as if our lips were made of the softest Italian satin as they moved so easily against one another. Ashington opened his mouth and this was once again something I had read about. One did not read the Marquis de Sade and not become well-educated in intimate things. However, I realized my education by the written word only was incomplete. One must experience such things to truly understand them.
Slowly, for I wasn’t sure if the next moment I would regret this or not, I too opened my mouth beneath his and inhaled sharply in anticipation. Was this to be sweet and easy or something more intense? My hands gripped his arms tightly and as I did so, Ashington’s right hand slid to my back, pressing me closer until our bodies had nothing but the fabric of our clothing between us. My breathing hitched at the thought, but I had little time to dwell on it when I was lifted from the ground and placed on a table.