Chapter 6

Chapter Six

H ow was any of this real? Gwen was asleep in his arms, her body pressed against his, the only barrier between them the thin cotton of her nightgown. And yet, it wasn’t lewd or indecent or even tempting him for something that may be. It was the most wholesome, most tender thing he’d ever experienced.

Even as she’d sat in his lap, straddling him, her breasts pressed against his chest, it was her heart he’d craved and not her body. She’d shown him such sweet kindness. No one had ever consoled him like that before, just held him and allowed him to not be strong. Gwen hadn’t only allowed it, she’d demanded it of him. She’d seen him in the worst moments of his fear, shaking and sweating from the horrific nightmare, and she hadn’t turned away. She hadn’t sneered or judged him as lacking in some way. She hadn’t asked him to explain or tell her about his dream. Even feeling the scars on his back hadn’t caused her to recoil in disgust. She’d simply continued to hold him and soothe him, as if he were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

He breathed in her sweet scent and pressed a light kiss against the top of her head. “Thank you, my angel,” he whispered, even though he knew she wouldn’t hear it. Eventually, he drifted off for a few hours, her protective presence keeping his nightmares at bay.

When he woke, the room was beginning to lighten. She was still snuggled against his side, but her leg was now thrown over his, and lust was stirring. Carefully, he extricated himself from her embrace and slid out of bed. For a moment, he simply stared down at her precious form. He’d be eternally grateful for the gift she’d given him last night and wanted to seal this image of her in his mind to treasure forever.

He grabbed his cane and quietly left before she woke to see him standing there naked and staring at her like some depraved wolf.

An hour later, Ash chastised himself for being a coward as he rode out across his estate. Somehow, facing Gwen in the daylight, knowing what she’d witnessed, had been too daunting. He’d told Benson to keep an eye on her, and Mary to see that she had everything she needed, and then he’d simply left.

Something in the distance caught his eye. A pair of men were having a heated discussion. He slowed his horse and moved carefully into the shadows of a row of trees. One of them was undoubtedly Warwick, but Ash didn’t recognize the other. From this distance, he could really only tell that he was tall and lean with dark brown hair.

Unfortunately, in spite of the pointing and shouting, Ash couldn’t understand a word of their argument. Eventually, the younger man threw his hands up and stormed away before mounting a chestnut horse and riding in the opposite direction from where Ash watched. Warwick mounted his own horse and headed for the house. He was probably going in search of Ash, but he didn’t wish to see the man just now. Let him wait. He’d undoubtedly make himself comfortable and help himself to Ash’s liquor.

Ash nudged his horse forward. Perhaps if he hurried, he could follow the other man and see where he was headed.

His destination turned out to be a small house on the estate. He must be one of Ash’s tenants. As the man jumped down from his horse, a young girl, maybe four or five years old, sprinted out and threw herself into his waiting arms. She had messy brown curls and an excited smile. Ash stayed out of sight, but now that he was closer, he could see that the man was only eighteen or twenty. Not really old enough to be the girl's father, so perhaps she was his sister? He set her down and sent her back into the house while he dealt with the horse.

What had he been arguing with Warwick about?

Ash spent a couple more hours out on the estate. He’d been lucky to be in the right place at the right time today, but now, it was time to head back. The cold was making his leg ache, and his stomach was rumbling.

“Is Warwick still here?” Ash asked as he handed off his hat and coat.

“Yes, my lord. In the drawing room, I believe.”

“Send in some tea and some kind of food. I’m famished.”

“Yes, my lord.” The footman hurried off to do his bidding and Ash made his way to the drawing room.

He pushed the door open and strolled in before nearly tripping over his own feet as they lodged in place at the sight that met him. Warwick stood in the middle of the room, his hand resting on the head of a young maid who was on her knees before him. The two sprang apart at his sudden intrusion, Warwick hastily stuffing himself back into his trousers. A simmer of rage instantly rushed through Ash’s veins. He would kill the man. To hell with trying to figure out what he’d been doing on the estate.

The maid jumped to her feet, her gaze firmly on the floor and her cheeks as red as apples. It took every ounce of control he had not to fly into a rage, but he needed to make sure she was safe first and then he’d deal with Warwick.

“A word,” he said quietly. He didn’t know her name so he simply gestured toward the door. When she realized he was addressing her, she darted out of the room.

“I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I’m so sorry.” Tears sprang from her eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” Ash kept his voice as calm as possible.

She shook her head.

“I want you to go up to the countess’s chambers. Find Mrs. Lawrence. Tell her that I sent you and that I want her to stay with you. Do you understand?”

The girl’s brow was furrowed and she seemed unable to speak.

“She will see that you’re taken care of. Go on.” He gave her a little nudge, and with a nod, she hurried off, sobs following in her wake.

Ash finally allowed his fury to rampage fully through him as he entered the drawing room, once more. “How dare you?” he growled as he advanced on Warwick.

The filth held up his hands. “Apologies, my lord. Your father never minded if I had a little fun, so I just assumed?—”

Ash didn’t let him finish. He slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

“I am not my father.” This charade was over. Seething anger coursed through his veins as he stood over the lecherous snake cowering on the floor. He pounded his foot into Warwick’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. “If you ever lay a finger on a woman under my protection again, I will end your life before the sun rises. Do I make myself clear?”

Warwick sputtered and choked, seemingly unable to speak, but he did manage a nod of understanding. Just then, a footman entered with a tea tray, his eyes wide at the ensuing chaos, the contents of the tray rattling.

“Get someone to help you and lock this cretin in a room somewhere so I can deal with him later. Otherwise, I might kill him.”

The man appeared to be frozen in place with shock. “Now!” Ash shouted, slamming his cane against the floor.

The footman jumped. “Yes, my lord.” He deposited the tray and sprinted from the room.

Ash looked down at Warwick, who was still groaning on the floor, and pressed the end of his cane against his chest. “You’ll want to cooperate so I don’t have to knock you unconscious.”

Warwick finally found his voice. “She was just a maid. Hardly a reason to be upset. I didn’t realize you wanted them all to yourself.” Ash slammed his foot into Warwick twice more.

“I suggest you stop talking now.” A chill hung on the edge of Ash’s words and Warwick closed his mouth.

Three footmen entered and hauled him to his feet. “You can’t do this, Ashdown,” he spat angrily.

“I think you’ll see I can, and I will.”

They dragged him out of the drawing room, his shouts echoing behind him as they forced him through the house.

Ash poured a glass of brandy and drained it down his throat. For a moment, he’d seen himself standing there where Warwick had been. How many times had he done the same, or worse? With a roar, he hurled the empty glass into the fireplace where it shattered. He dug the heels of his hands against his eyes wishing desperately that he could erase his past. With a weary sigh, he turned to see his butler standing in the doorway looking uncharacteristically ruffled.

“Do you need anything, my lord?”

Ash shook his head slowly. “Thank you, Moulton.”

The man was confused by Ash’s sudden show of patience. Perhaps this whole plan had been a mistake.

“Of course, my lord,” he said slowly. He bowed, and left Ash alone in the drawing room.

* * *

Gwen may have been disappointed to wake up alone in Ash’s bed, but she hadn’t been surprised. She also wasn’t surprised that he stayed away all day, out on his estate. She didn’t expect him to drop what he was doing to entertain her, but she had a feeling he was avoiding her because he was ashamed of the vulnerability he’d displayed last night. Which was ridiculous, of course, but also, not unexpected. Gwen would treasure the night they’d spent together for the rest of her days, never forgetting the warmth of his body against hers or the tenderness of his head resting against her shoulder while she’d comforted him.

She walked to the window for probably the hundredth time hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but still nothing. She had seen Mr. Warwick arrive a couple of hours ago. She had no interest in seeing that man again if she could avoid it. Something about him was oddly familiar, and he made her exceedingly uncomfortable.

A light but frantic tapping sounded at her door.

“Come,” she called.

The door opened cautiously and a young maid took a hesitant step into the room. She was obviously distraught.

“Mrs. Lawrence?”

Gwen rushed to her and ushered her inside, closing the door. “Are you hurt?” she asked quickly.

The girl shook her head. Her eyes darted about the room as tears dripped from the corners.

“What’s your name?” Gwen asked softly.

“Sandra.” She sniffled, her eyes not meeting Gwen’s.

“What’s wrong, Sandra?”

“His lordship told me to come to your rooms.” She looked up then. “He said you’d take care of me.”

Gwen’s stomach dropped. There was only one reason Ash would send a maid up to her like this. She wrapped her arms around the girl. “You’re safe now, Sandra.” The girl’s body trembled, but she didn’t sob or speak. Probably still in shock from whatever had happened. Gwen got her settled into a chair and poured her a cup of tea.

“It’s not very hot anymore, but it will do for now.” Gwen certainly didn’t want to summon someone. The last thing this girl needed was a witness to what she was going through.

“Thank you.” She sipped the tea in silence for a minute. Gwen realized she was hovering, so she seated herself in the empty chair across from Sandra. Slowly the girl looked up at her. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Angry shouts sounded from across the house and Sandra flinched, her eyes growing wide with panic. “It’s alright, Sandra. You’re safe here.” Gwen wasn’t able to make out any of the words, and the shouting quickly grew quiet.

“What happened, Sandra?”

“Well.” She stared down at her fidgeting thumbs, her pale cheeks growing pink. “Mr. Warwick wanted some company.” She swallowed before continuing. “His lordship walked in and—” The words trailed off and she raised her gaze to meet Gwen’s. “I’ve never seen someone look so angry.” She nibbled on the corner of her lip. “Is he going to sack me?”

Gwen crouched next to Sandra’s chair, taking hold of one of the girl’s hands. “No, Sandra. You haven’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t angry with you. I promise.” Gwen squeezed her hand. “Was this the first time something like that has happened with Mr. Warwick? Or has he asked for that kind of company from you before?”

“It wasn’t the first time,” Sandra said quietly.

“Nor the second?” Gwen asked. Sandra shook her head. This had been going on regularly. Gwen hooked a finger under the girl’s chin to urge her to look at her. “Lord Ashdown is a good man, Sandra, and I can promise you that he will ensure that nothing like that ever happens again.”

Her brow furrowed. “Is he staying?”

Gwen shook her head. “I don’t believe so, but he’ll find someone trustworthy to take over in his absence. Clearly, Mr. Warwick was not the right man.”