Belmary House Book Two (7 page)

She trusted him though, and kissed him before turning to roast the potatoes. If he needed to recuperate for a day before laying his only remaining family to rest, then she would try to make him as comfortable as possible.

They wouldn’t be able to stay long with the meager food available. She wondered if people would return to the village, or if it was destined to be a ghost town now. When she picked the vegetables, there hadn’t been the oppressive, gloomy air that she felt before, and thought it must be Camilla’s hexes wearing off now that she was gone.

She shuddered again, hoping Ashford wouldn’t take too long. She didn’t relish the thought of going back into that desecrated church, but something had to be done. She didn’t think she could live with herself if she just blithely got on a ship and left it all behind.

“Maybe we should move to Paris,” she called to Ashford, turning to find he’d joined her in the dining hall.

“Thinking about boarding a ship again?”

She nodded grimly. “I was, actually.”

She’d never been on a sea voyage before they first came to France, and found out she was prone to violent motion sickness.

“The journey will be shorter this time,” he promised, stretching his arms over his head and smiling. “Do you feel the difference in the air?”

She nodded some more and slithered under his raised arms to sit on his lap. He dropped them around her shoulders and pulled her close, sighing deeply against her hair.

“You mustn’t worry about me, Matilda. I promise I’m not on the brink of going mad.”

She sucked in a breath and leaned back to look at him. How could he possibly know she skated around that worry?

He laughed at her, but she saw the sadness in his eyes. “I like that you worry,” he continued. “I like it very much. It’s different, but nice, having someone clucking around me like a mother hen.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t make anything even close to a clucking noise,” she said. “But of course I’m worried about you.”

He hugged her tight and kissed her softly on the mouth before dumping her off his lap. “I’m going to take a quick stroll to see if the rest of the hexes have worn off as well.”

His voice was now distant and she could see she wasn’t invited. As much as it pained her to let him walk out the door alone, she plastered a smile on her face as he left. She knew the potatoes would take a while, and not wanting to start down another spiral of grief or obsess about Ashford’s mental state, she gathered some blankets and pillows from the upstairs rooms and made herself a nest in the dining hall.

She hoped Ashford was all right on his own, and felt bad that he didn’t want to show his feelings in front of her, but he was a man from a different time, and probably thought he needed to stay outwardly strong. She longed to comfort him as she rolled herself in a blanket, close to the crackling fire, and finally dozed off.

The noise of him trying to be quiet woke her and she surreptitiously watched him for a moment before letting him know she was awake. His brow was in furrow overdrive and he kept shaking his head as if confused about something.

“How was it out there?” she asked, startling him.

He smiled manically and came to sit by her, tossing aside pillows to get close. “It seems clear. I don’t know if people will come back, though.” He showed her a cloth wrapped bundle. “Look what I found for you,” he said proudly.

She opened the cloth to find some dried mushrooms, a jar of honey, and a wheel of hard cheese. Delighted, she asked him, “You looted the abandoned buildings?”

He frowned. “Certainly not. Well, one building. But, won’t these things improve our supper?”

He looked so concerned she didn’t like his offering that she grabbed him behind the head and kissed him hard, her heart aching with love.

“These things pretty much saved supper. Are you hungry now?”

He shrugged. She should have been ravenous by now, but truthfully the thought of eating even something delicious didn’t excite her, let alone their meager meal.

He was quiet while they picked at their food, and declined going for another walk afterward. He kept looking out the window until it was too dark to see anything, finally turning to her with a bewildered look. But he wouldn’t explain what he seemingly waited for, only shaking his head at her questions or so masterfully changing the subject in the way that he had, that she didn’t realize she’d been put off until it was too late.

Finally, he took her in his arms, kissing her deeply and running his hands down her back.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

Even through her worries she felt a shimmer of wanting him and pressed against him as they went upstairs. In their room, he added another log to the fire before pulling her close to him, his hands absently undoing the buttons of her dress. He gently kissed her and she searched his face for signs of what he felt, but all she could see was his desire for her.

“I’m fine,” he told her once again. “It’s bearable, anyway.”

She slid her hands under his shirt, fingers warmed by his skin. “Promise you’ll tell me if it gets unbearable,” she said.

“Stay close to me and it won’t,” he breathed against her throat.

Shivers of desire coursed through her, even as she felt guilty for enjoying the feel of him so much after everything they’d endured. Surely it was okay to want to continue living, to try and find the small bits of joy that were left scattered here and there for them to pick up? She offered a silent prayer for Kostya and Camilla, and hoped if it was possible that they’d found peace.

Her dress completely undone, he pushed it off her shoulders. Twining his fingers in her hair he pulled her head back and kissed the side of her neck, roughly pulling her body tight against his. She clung to him, sensing the urgency of his hands as they roamed down her back, the brush of his teeth against her collarbone. He shoved the shift off her shoulders, shaking his head in frustration at the sound of tearing fabric.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, feverishly pulling at his buttons.

Her skin was burning up, hot at his touch and hotter still where he hadn’t reached yet, every part of her yearning for him.

She pulled away from him and whipped the shift over her head, frustrated that he was still fully clothed. As if reading her thoughts, he kept his eyes locked on her while he got out of his jacket and waistcoat, quickly working the buttons of his shirt until that too was thrown to the floor. As soon as his lean upper body was exposed, she pounced, pushing him backward onto the bed, unable to stay on her feet another second, she needed him so much.

Stroking his muscular chest, she raised goosebumps along his ribcage as she dragged her fingers lower to tug at his waistband. He grabbed her hips, pulling her toward him for a kiss, moving his hand to the back of her hair to keep her there, finally rolling her over so he was atop her, looking down with such dark intensity that tears sprang to her eyes.

She quickly blinked them away in case he misunderstood, not wanting any part of reality for the moment. He leaned down and licked her lower lip, gently nipping at it with his teeth, finally claiming her mouth with his tongue. She dizzily forgot everything except his heated body, his questing hands and mouth. He’d somehow got out of his breeches while she was lost in his kisses, and when she felt his hard length against her, she sighed and wrapped her legs around him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she murmured, brushing his hair away to better see his eyes.

They were dark and intent on her. He shook his head slightly before dropping his forehead to the crook of her neck.

“Let’s go fast this time, Matilda,” he said raggedly before pushing into her, sliding away sinuously, and advancing again, kissing away her eager sound of agreement.

He’d never been this way before, desperate and greedy, almost frantic to be as close to her as possible. She felt the same, needing his body to wash away the lingering fear and grief, even if it was only for these moments, and ruthlessly dug her fingers into his back to keep him near.

It only took a moment until she was lost in the swelling pleasure he always gave and as she lay breathlessly coming back to herself, she wondered if it was healthy that he could have her gasping at the barest touch. Even his smile made her melt.

“You’re dangerous,” she said.

He quickly rolled off her, misunderstanding. He kissed down the side of her, resting his cheek against her heart and she curled her arms around him, trying to kiss the top of his head as he lay alongside her. He chuckled and stroked her breast, running his thumb across her nipple before taking it in his mouth. She arched her back and tried to get him back on top of her, but he was going to be leisurely now. Realizing he didn’t want it to end enveloped her in a warm glow.

The feeling of being special to someone who loved and wanted her as much as she did, was something she’d never experienced before. She wanted to make sure he felt the same and pulled his head back so she could kiss him, wriggling to straddle him. Pushing his shoulders into the bunchy straw mattress, she sinuously slid her body along his length. He trailed his fingers down her sides, finally gripping her behind and pulling her close.

“You’re the one who’s dangerous, Matilda.”

She slowly, slowly made her way down, kissing and licking and taking note of each freckle or scar. She had a fleeting, desolate feeling that she needed to hold onto him as if this was goodbye, and she tried to drive it away, showing him how much she needed him with her touch.

It was some time before they were exhausted and spent and still they clung to one another long after the candle burned itself out, the only light left the soft glow of the dying fire.

She watched him eyeing the fireplace, his relaxed and sated face slipping back into its familiar scowl, and she knew he planned to get out of bed any second. She got him in a grapple hold, as tight as she could in her weakened state.

“Don’t worry about the fires,” she said. “Just rebuild them in the morning.”

“You’ll say otherwise when your bones are creaking from the cold. What’s that warm place you come from, that you talk about every time the wind blows from the north?”

She laughed, and let go of him, watching with appreciation as he loaded more logs onto the fire and expertly got it blazing again. He wrapped his old dressing gown, that she’d been using since she arrived in his time, around his naked form and ran downstairs to check the fire in the dining hall. She dozed off a little while waiting for him to return, and smiled sleepily as he got back under the blankets with her.

“We’ll finish it tomorrow, I suppose,” he said, sounding like someone who’d given up hope. But what had he been hoping for?

Those thoughts brought her back to grim wakefulness. She snuggled close to him, listening to his slow, deep breathing for a long time before falling asleep.

***

The next morning Ashford woke her, already dressed and looking harried.

“Are we leaving? Right now?” she asked, trying to shake away the sleep haze. “How long have you been up?”

“We’re not leaving yet,” he said. “I’ve been up for a while, took another look around.”

“Did you find anything?” she asked, thinking if she was as cryptic as he was, maybe she’d trick him into answering a question.

He looked pained, for the first time showing that he might truly be upset about everything that had happened.

“No,” he said dejectedly. “I didn’t.”

She wanted to scream, or shake him, but merely rolled out of bed and wrapped her arms around him. She was much better at getting dressed without his help, but still liked it, and after getting into her undergarments and gown with lightning speed, he did up the buttons she couldn’t reach, but without any lingering kisses, much to her disappointment.

The more she studied him, the clearer it became to her that it must finally be hitting him. The loss of his sister and Kostya, and the unsavory chore of having to do something about their remains had finally settled in. As terrible as it felt to her to leave it all behind, she was ready to suggest doing that, to spare him the agony it was sure to be. To spare herself as well. The thought of it gave her palpitations of anxiety, and she paused to marvel that she hadn’t gone off the deep end worse than she had after what they’d seen and done. If it was that bad for her, it had to be pure misery for Ashford.

Downstairs, he must have noticed her shivering, and nodded toward the dining hall.

“Go sit by the fire. I found tea leaves when I was out this morning. I’ll get water to brew you some, then we can … be on our way.”

They weren’t packed up yet, so she had to assume he meant to the church. Her stomach rolled over and the bereft look in his eyes only made it worse. He hurried over and kissed her forehead.

“Don’t start crying, if you can help it, please,” he said, squeezing her shoulder bracingly. “I won’t be able to bear it.”

She blinked and nodded. “It’ll be fine,” she said.

“It’ll be over soon,” he amended bitterly, looking past her out the window. His face fell into that look of confusion he’d had off and on since the day before. “I really thought, though …” he shook his head and shrugged. “I guess they didn’t lie after all.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, forgetting to be sensitive and caring.