Come Love a Stranger

Chapter Four

THE parlor was the gathering place for the Wingate family before the evening meal. It was a time for conversation and restful pleasantries, a goblet of sherry or a small draft of a stronger beverage, a few more tapestry stitches, or a tinkling melody played on the harpsichord. Sometimes the rich, mellow sounds of the cello flowed through the house, either as part of a duet of the two instruments, or singly, as it was played this evening. Marelda’s hopes soared as she listened to the musical strains, for she knew Ashton was the only one in the household who could make the instrument come alive with such warmth. He was a man of many talents, a perfectionist who strove to succeed in all things.

Marelda paused in front of the hall mirror to give herself a last complimentary appraisal. Her black hair was artfully arranged to set off her sultry facade, having been swept in deep, lush waves to one side, where it was gathered in a cluster of ringlets that dangled prettily from behind her ear. She had worn the gown of dark red taffeta with the hope that Ashton would be at dinner, and now that she knew she would not be disappointed, she smiled smugly to herself. She considered the selection of the gown a stroke of genius on her part. The illusion of voluptuousness had been created by the use of padding sewn inside her chemise where it would press her small breasts upward. The shallow bodice seemed unable to contain the structured fullness and threatened to dip below the line of decency and reveal the darker hues of her bosom. A man would be hard pressed to ignore such a daring décolletage, and since Ashton was very much of that gender, she expected him to be susceptible. Of course, her display might shock the elder ladies, but if it succeeded in winning Ashton’s regard and arousing his manly lusts, then it would be well worth her exposure. She would not sit idly by while the redhead made so much of her invalid state.

Moving steathily to the door of her adversary’s room, she pressed an ear to the smooth panels and listened for any sign of stirring from within. Willabelle’s voice was heard, but her tone was low and muted, making the words inaudible. It hardly mattered. Marelda had not expected the lazy twit to raise herself from her bed and join them for dinner. She had not made the effort all week, seeming rather to dote on the idea of her frailty.

The fool! Marelda smirked. While she languishes weak and pallid amid her lace pillows, I shall have my way with Ashton. He will surely have second thoughts about claiming her as his long-lost wife.

Marelda hummed gaily as she descended the stairs. She was feeling light of spirit with Ashton so close within her grasp. After all, she was quite a beautiful woman, and she was not unknowledgeable about seduction, having used it on other men at her whim. Though she had not been without certain pleasures, she had always been careful to maintain her virginity, gaining for herself the reputation of a tease. It was not that she was averse to yielding herself to such amorous adventures, but knowing the perils of total submission, she had been reluctant to endanger her chances of becoming Ashton’s wife.

Wanting the surprise to be complete, Marelda softened her footsteps upon nearing the parlor and gained a vantage point at the door without being noticed. Amanda and Aunt Jennifer sat in a pair of chairs near the fireplace and were concentrating on their needlework as they listened to the music. Ashton sat closer to the entry and seemed equally absorbed in his effort. The slightly wistful expression that flitted across his profile hinted of some deep, hidden yearning, which she could not fully fathom. She was half-afraid it had something to do with the woman upstairs. That could not be allowed!

“Good evening,” she bade warmly from the doorway and immediately gained the attention she sought. Ashton looked around, and the music stopped abruptly, causing the two siblings to glance up in wonder. Aunt Jennifer’s eyes went to the door and widened, then narrowed with a sudden grimace as the needle pricked her finger. Sucking the abused digit, she stared at the younger woman with a disturbed frown.

“Good heavens,” Amanda exclaimed beneath her breath and pressed a hand to her throat as she sagged back in her chair.

Only Ashton took their guest’s entry in stride and rose to his feet with a smile of mild amusement. “Good evening, Marelda.”

The brunette indicated the harpsichord. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” Ashton replied, lifting his own hand toward the piece in polite response. He waited until she had seated herself, then settled into his chair again. She ran her fingers over the keys in light practice, then paused, giving him a nod to begin. The entrancing melody began anew, filling the house with haunting refrains. Then the keys of the harpsichord intruded, and the flowing strains were quickly overwhelmed by the loud twanging notes that seemed either half a beat behind or ahead of the cello. Aunt Jennifer cringed as Marelda attacked the keys, and though she tried to concentrate on the tapestry she was creating, her effort won her several more jabs from the sharp needle. Amanda kept her pained frown averted, but her inclination to nod her head in a subconscious effort to urge Marelda into a more timely pace drew Ashton’s notice. He subdued a smile and showed mercy on the two aging siblings by bringing the piece to a graceful end. For a moment he adjusted and tested the strings, feigning dissatisfaction with his own performance. As she waited for him to continue, Marelda left her bench and approached the sideboard where a set of crystal decanters resided on a silver tray. Keeping her back to Ashton, she took up a wineglass and poured herself a liberal brandy, then returned to stand before the man who consumed her interest.

Amanda glanced apprehensively toward their guest and found Marelda’s bosom straining over the top of her gown. Her own cheeks grew warm at the immodest display of a magenta peak rising above the woman’s gown. The huge grandfather clock chimed out the hour, and the elder woman gratefully consulted its face for a diversion. “Wherever is Willabelle? She’s usually been in and out several times by now, fretting about the table or fussing about the slowness of the kitchen help.”

Ashton answered without bothering to lift his gaze. “She’s probably out there now, stirring Bertha into a nervous frenzy.”

Here was a topic that had long roused Marelda’s irritation. “You allow your people far too much latitude, Ashton. Willabelle runs the house as if it were her own.”

Deliberately Ashton made the cello screech, driving the harping woman back a step, and then seeming intent upon his task, he bent closer to lend a careful ear to the tuning of the strings.

Marelda was not willing to dismiss the subject. “You pamper your servants far too much. Why, anyone would think they were family, the way you coddle them.”

“I don’t coddle them, Marelda,” he stated quietly but firmly, “but I did lay out a goodly sum of money to purchase them, and I see no reason to devalue my investments by mistreatment.”

“I’ve heard it rumored that you even allow them a credit for their services, and that after several years they have the chance to buy their freedom. Are you aware of the laws concerning the freeing of slaves?”

Slowly Ashton raised his gaze, briefly noting her display as his eyes traveled upward. He showed neither shock nor interest as he calmly considered her. “Any slave who wants his freedom above everything else ceases to be valuable to me, Marelda. At the first chance he gets, he’s going to run away, and chains would make him useless. If any are set on going, I let them work off their worth, and then I ship them to safety. It’s as simple as that, and I break no laws.”

“It’s a wonder you have anyone working for you.”

“I believe we’ve already discussed the success of Belle Chêne. I see no reason to belabor the point.” Halting further debate, he again stroked the strings with the bow, making them sing. He involved himself in a delicate air, soothing his irritation by slow degrees, while he filled his mind with thoughts of Lierin. He had paused at her door before coming down, only to be told by Willabelle that his wife was indisposed. He had felt a need to see her and, after his failure, had grown pensive, wondering how long she would hide from him and if she would ever accept the fact of their marriage.

He glanced around, and for a moment, he thought he was imagining the vision that had come to stand in the doorway. His hands paused and his breath slowed as the last trembling note of a plucked string slowly died in the sudden silent parlor. It was a sight the likes of which he had formed in his mind many times in the past three years, but now, it was very wonderfully real.

“Lierin!” Did he speak or only think the word?

Marelda swished around in surprise, sloshing the brandy over the rim of the goblet onto her wide skirts. She stared at the one in the doorway, and her mind moaned and roiled in abject frustration.

Just behind Lierin and alert to lend a hand or assistance, stood a grinning Willabelle, obviously proud of this creation and her own part in it. The housekeeper had settled the matter of Lierin’s identity in her own mind, accepting her as mistress without reservation, and wanted to aid in her advancement to that position in whatever fashion she could.

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.”

Lierin smiled as she teased: “Though I cannot be sure, sir, I suspect I’ve heard better excuses from several unworthy knaves.”

His grin grew slightly roguish. “I haven’t forgotten that you have a very nice back, madam, certainly one worthy of admiration. You can hardly blame me for finding an excuse to view it.” Arriving at her door, he pushed it open and bore her across the threshold. “In fact, I remember quite distinctly that every part of you is noteworthy.” His eyes dipped to caress her breast, halting her breath with his bold gaze. “You’re very soft and womanly….”

Lierin hastened to redirect his attention to something less disturbing. “I fear I’ve become a burden this evening…taking you away from your family and guest.”

“On the contrary, my love, I am indebted to you for providing me an excuse to escape.”

She gave him a slanted glance and could not resist a gentle gibe. “I thought you might have enjoyed her game.”

Ashton’s eyes took on a glowing sheen as they again touched her bosom. “I’ve seen better, especially when I’ve been privileged to entertain my present companion.”

Her body tingled beneath his heated perusal, and she could not subdue a blush as a thrill rushed through her. Her voice was small as she reminded him, “I think you can put me down now….”

Despite the gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach, Ashton resumed his jovial demeanor as he placed her on the downturned covers of the tester bed. “Delivered safe and sound to your bed, madam, and I judge, with no more bruises. Yet I would say you’ve a trifle overdressed for bed. Do you care for assistance?”

She declined his offer with a soft chuckle of amusement. “I think I’ll wait for Willabelle to unfasten me.”

“What? And ignore these willing hands? Madam, surely a husband can do such a service without tarnishing his wife’s good reputation.” His white teeth gleamed beneath a widening grin. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

Lierin cocked a brow at him, conveying her distrust. “No doubt a married gentleman who takes his liberties seriously.”

“Of course!” he teased. “How else should I take them?”

She laughed. “I really don’t think I’m safe in here with you.”

“Come now, madam. Will a man ravish his own wife?”

“If he’s desperate enough,” she replied pertly.

“I am that, madam,” he freely admitted, “but where does trust begin? If I can restrain myself while unfastening your gown, will you not, then, be reassured that my first concern is for you and your rapid recovery?”

“I grow weary of the argument.” She resigned herself with far less reluctance than caution demanded. Indeed, she almost felt as if she were throwing reason and security to the wind. What was there about the man that made her so pliable with him? He was handsome; none could deny the fact, but there was a quality of manliness that very much appealed to her. “Mind well your words, sir. Trust is very important in anyone’s marriage.”

Ashton chuckled as he began to struggle with the tiny fastenings, then a moment later he sobered as the back of the gown fell apart, revealing an ugly welt. He spread the opening wider to get a better view of it, causing Lierin to catch her breath.

“Easy, love,” he reassured her in a serious tone. “I only want to examine this more carefully.” He held the lamp closer as he inspected the strip of bruised and scabbed flesh that crossed her back from her left shoulder almost to the lower middle. He frowned sharply when the memory of the switch-wielding matron came to mind, but something heavier than a willow branch had produced this. “I don’t think this was caused by any fall from a horse.”

Lierin was totally confounded by the idea that she might have suffered intentional abuse before the accident. She could not imagine such an event, much less recall the circumstances of it. She turned to discuss the matter further and suffered some shock as she found herself beneath the unswerving regard of those smoldering hazel eyes. His mood had obviously changed; his questing concern had been swept away by the onslaught of his raging desire, and he made it quite evident what he wanted. The muscles beneath the darkly bronzed visage had tensed, while his nostrils flared with his heavy breathing. She felt her heart lurch forward in a sudden frantic beating, and her senses came abruptly awake. The heat of his gaze set a flame burning within her, and yet she felt all shivery inside. She was afraid he would touch her and she would yield herself in trembling eagerness. Seeking escape from his unspoken seduction, she sprang to her feet and fled across the room, taking refuge behind the dressing screen.

It was a long painful moment before Ashton regained enough control to ask, “Do you want me to send Willabelle up to you?”

“No. I don’t think that will be necessary now.”

“Perhaps I should lend further assistance to loosening your gown,” he offered.

She laughed nervously, tugging the ties of her petticoats free and pushing the billowing folds down with the pink garment. “I think you have the heart of a rake, Mr. Wingate.”

Ashton chuckled as he meandered about the room. “That’s what you said three years ago.”

“Then I haven’t entirely lost my wits.”

He met her gaze above the screen. “You’re still as beautiful as ever.”

“Will you hand me my gown and robe from the armoire?” she requested, avoiding the path where his statement might lead.

Ashton selected garments that would more readily reveal her curves and draped them over the top of the screen. As he waited for her to emerge, he doffed his own double-breasted dress coat and loosened his vest and shirt, tossing the cravat over a chair atop the coat. When she stepped around the screen, his hungry gaze devoured her softly clad back and swaying hips as she went to the dressing table. He followed her, feeling much like a rutting swamp cat prowling after a mate. Lierin sensed his approach, and her whole body tensed as he laid a hand upon her arm. A flooding excitement washed through her body, and she could not subdue the quickening pace of her heart as she was turned to meet the full force of his hunger. He studied her reaction as he lowered his face to hers. The green eyes flickered with uncertainty, then just before his open mouth captured hers, the eyelids came slowly downward and almost haltingly she yielded her lips to his. The kiss began as a gentle questing, with his mouth moving slowly upon hers, but the fires ignited like dry kindling in a roaring blaze. Passion sparked and flared ever brighter beneath his torching demands, turning her mind inside out and uncovering a need in her that she had not known existed. His hand slipped downward over her buttock, pressing her to him as his mouth slanted crushingly across hers, and with a soft moan she rose against him, molding herself more intimately to his body.

A knock on the door jolted them back to reality. Ashton raised his head with a muttered curse and tossed a glare over his shoulder at the offending portal. Though he was tempted to ignore the summons, it came again, this time louder and more insistent. With a growl he stood away from Lierin and moved across the room to the windows where he flipped a catch and pushed out the crystal panes to allow the night air to cool his mind and body.

Lierin found she had to settle her own jangled emotions before she could call out with any semblance of calm. “Yes? Who is it?”

An all too familiar voice answered through the closed portal: “Marelda Rousse. May I come in?”

Angrily Ashton ran his fingers through his hair, muttering sourly, “I’ll wring that woman’s neck yet!”

“Just a moment, Marelda,” Lierin bade and, glancing back at him, waited for him to give a nod of approval before she went to open the door.

“I left a book of prose in here earlier this week,” Marelda bubbled hurriedly as she pushed into the room. “I’d like to read it before I go to bed. It does so help to relax me.” Her eyes quickly searched the room until she found the one she had come to fetch. “Oh! Ashton!” She managed to sound surprised in spite of her suspicions. She noted their relaxed attire, and though she kept her smile, her eyes grew cold. “I’m sorry if I…ah…interrupted anything, dahling.”

Ashton’s irritation had not eased as he returned her gaze with a frown.

“I’ll get the book,” she said, reading his annoyance. “I left it over there by the chair.” She swept across the room and picked up the volume that she had seen on the table when she first visited Lierin. Though she had concocted the lie out of desperation, knowing that Ashton would probably still be in the room, it had given her an excuse to get in and hopefully halt whatever amorous play might be taking place.

“Oh, Ashton…” Marelda paused at the door. “I thought I heard a ruckus in the stables before I came up. Do you suppose there’s any trouble with the horses? Should I send someone out there to see? Or will you be going out?”

“I’ll see to it,” Ashton growled, by now thoroughly incensed with the woman.

“Do you want me to stay with Lierin while you go?” she offered in the guise of sweetness.

Lierin answered for herself, somewhat stiffly. “That won’t be necessary, Marelda.”

“Well, good night then. Pleasant dreams.” Marelda fairly sang the words as she waltzed out of the room.

Ashton gnashed his teeth as he retrieved his coat from the chair and flung it over his shoulder. “She came in here on purpose.”

Lierin was in full agreement, but having no wish to set spurs to his anger, she refrained from voicing her opinion. “I hope there’s nothing wrong with the horses.”

“Marelda probably made that up, too,” Ashton replied. His mood softened as he brought Lierin close again. “It will be torture to leave you.”

“It will be torture if you stay,” she whispered back. “I’m not ready for this yet. Go,” she urged, “see about your horses, and give me time to think.”

Ashton glanced up from his ledgers as a soft rapping came upon his door. Almost in unison, the tinkling chimes of his desk clock began to herald the hour of eleven. He rose and stretched his arms over his head to release the knot that had formed between his shoulder blades. After he had been called out to the stables on a fool’s errand, he wondered what other crisis awaited him outside his chamber door. Alas, it was far more than he had expected. Marelda had come brazenly adorned in a loosely flowing peignoir that hung open over a diaphanous gown. The gossamer cloth held nothing from his regard. Indeed, it was hardly more than a transparent web over her body. Her hair fell in a dark torrent around her shoulders, and when she moved forward into the room, his senses were assailed by a heavy, liberally used fragrance. Smiling seductively, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, thrusting out her small breasts until they strained against the sheer cloth. The invitation in her eyes was for him to reach out and accept all that she offered. When he made no such attempt, she advanced toward him with a slow, undulating motion that was meant to captivate her audience, forcing him to retreat before the imminent threat of contact.

Ashton’s brows twisted dubiously as he considered the woman. “I believe you’ve made a mistake, Marelda.”

“No mistake, Ashton.” Her red lips parted in a seductive smile as she slipped the peignoir from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “I have grown tired of chasing you betwixt your marriage and your infatuations. I have come to offer myself so you can no longer mistake what I have to give you. No other woman can fulfill your needs and your desires as well as I…because I know you far better than those strangers whom you seek out. They are no more than passing fancies. You’ll grow tired of them eventually, but I shall always be here to love you.”

He shook his head, bemused by her persistence. If he had pursued her in a heated passion at any previous time, he might have been able to understand her refusal to let go. “Marelda, I’m sorry…I’m…not the man for you, and even if I were, I’m not free to accept what you offer.”

Not willing to yield the field, she cajoled in soft supplication: “You’re as free as you wish to be, Ashton, and I have come willingly to give myself to you. You know you love me. Why do you deny it?”

Ashton stared down at her for a moment, somewhat astounded by her reasoning; then he let out a long, slow breath and tried to soften his words with a halfhearted smile. “The mistake is yours, Marelda. Truly yours. You must understand that I love my wife.” He let his smile fade and then slowly, deliberately stressed his next words. “I love Lierin.”

The truth of his words finally penetrated, and the metamorphosis was swift. The silken sultry smile became a snarl of rage. The dark eyes flared and then glared, and she fairly hissed as she came at him with fingers curled, ready to claw his face.

“Calm down, Marelda,” he commanded sharply, catching her wrists and holding them away as she fought with wild-eyed fury. “This will do you no good.”

A growl came from Marelda’s throat as she jerked away. Snatching up her robe, she thrust her arms in the sleeves and wrapped the belt securely about her. The rouge and kohl stood out boldly on her rage-twisted face and made her resemble a rejected street hussy in amorous disarray. With quick, angry movements she knotted her long hair off her neck, and gave vent to several gutter-born epithets with a voice that was sharp and piercing. Ashton’s brow arched in some amusement as he heard a brief dissertation on possible aspects of his parentage, birth, and rearing. She ignored no phase in his life until she reached the recent past.

“You river-running scum! You tempt me with your damned tight breeches and twitching buttocks until I’m led to disgracing myself by coming here! I placed my tender heart as a helpless offering in your hands, but you rend it apart and cast me aside like a shred of half-eaten fruit; then you turn away, smug in your conceit, leaving me to find solace at some stranger’s whim.” She laid a hand upon the doorknob, but hurled more insults before she left. “You vile bastard! Rogue! Bah! Men! Fools to the last!”

The door was snatched open and slammed behind her with a vengeance. A moment later her own closed with echoing finality.