Chapter Six

Wherein Occurs a Social Disaster of Shattering Proportions on the Banks of the River Thames, Beneath the Branches of a Convenient Weeping Willow…

Ashe was oddly content just to walk the horse quietly along the river with the intriguing armful of delightful woman that was Florinda Boothe. It felt…right.

And his feelings might perhaps be reciprocated, since she was settled against his chest with every appearance of comfort and enjoyment, her back relaxed, her breathing steady.

"Are you in any hurry?" He murmured the words close to her ear, inhaling her scent. Lily of the valley?

"Not at all." She shook her head a little. "I was expecting to be on the river for several hours at least." She chuckled. "Sir Reginald had brought a lunch that would easily have fed a dozen hungry boaters. What that man was thinking, I have no idea at all."

He let that comment settle for a moment or two.

"So it would be a fair assumption, then, to say you were not exactly enjoying the outing?"

Her shoulders moved in a little shrug, but she kept her gaze turned toward their path. "Ashe, you can't possibly know what it's like to be a young woman from a wealthy background residing in London."

Biting back a laugh, he shook his head. "That is correct. But I do have sisters…"

"Well, please don't force them into situations that will require them to be rescued, the way you have rescued me." The sigh that followed was heartfelt, and Ashe could almost feel her turmoil.

"Your parents, I would assume? I am aware that it is all about making the best match, the most suitable alliance…"

"The most financially advantageous marriages," she finished for him, a slight note of bitterness detectable beneath her words.

"Ah yes." He nodded, sobering. "There is always the spectre of money looming large over the Ton."

"Yes."

"And thus I would hazard a guess that this morning was an arrangement made by others, not yourself."

"You would be correct. Not only was it made by my Mama, but I was also not informed of it until the last moment. And I certainly did not realise that my only chaperone was the boy poling the punt."

"And denying you time to come up with a suitable alternative?"

"Exactly." She sighed. "I have caring parents, Ashe, don't misunderstand my displeasure with them. I'm aware that they're looking out for my own interests." She paused. "In their way, not mine. And therein lies the problem."

He thought for a moment or two as they progressed further upstream toward the outskirts of town. "Sir Reginald is quite wealthy?"

"Disgustingly so."

"Hmm."

"And the title goes back for many generations," she added. "Which makes it even worse."

"Oh dear," he chuckled. "I hate to mention it, but mine does too. Does that make me awful as well?"

She laughed, a pleasant sound that was music to his ears. "No, not at all." Then she turned her head, glancing at him. "Forgive me, but I've not heard of the Trease family. Sally Jersey called you the Right Honourable, but there are so many Right Honourables in town…"

"Nothing to forgive, Florinda. I am but one of many sons who will, someday, take over my father's title and lands."

She was silent, and Ashe wondered if she'd nibble on the bait he'd just dangled in front of her.

A minute later, she bit. "All right, go ahead. Tell me what you'll be in the future?"

"What I'll be? Well, I hope I'll still be me. But my title will be Marquess of Lesser Barnhope."

She straightened. "A Marquess? Really?"

"Really. With luck, that day is many years in the future, since my father is of excellent health and my mother intends to keep him that way."

"Siblings?"

"Yes. Several."

"How lucky you are," she sighed. "Being the only daughter puts one directly on the marital firing line, so to speak."

"That I can well believe."

"So, future Marquess, tell me of your estate. Is it near London?"

"A few hours," he replied casually. "There's the village of Lesser Barnhope, of course, and a nice acreage. We're lucky enough to possess a lovely country manor. Well, I should amend that by saying I think it's a lovely country manor. It's no Chatsworth, or Blenheim, but it's home."

Their horse seemed content to carry its burden steadily along the path, and Ashe noted that some distance ahead was a group of weeping willows leaning over both path and riverbank. Perhaps that might be a good place to stop and stretch their legs for a few moments before resuming their journey.

"Well, I must confess you are somewhat of a puzzle, Ashe," she said, after some silent contemplation.

"How so?"

"You are…" she held up her hand, "a future Marquess." She ticked one finger, "with expectations, as they say, of an estate," a second finger was ticked off, "and you aren't appalling to look at." The third finger crooked. "So why aren't you surrounded by a bevy of eligible brides?"

He wanted to laugh, but managed to restrain himself. "A good question, but before I answer, I must offer my thanks for your kind assessment of my situation and my person." He slowed the horse. "And I believe there is a little bench beneath those willows ahead. Would you care to rest there for a few moments? I'm sure our mount would appreciate a respite."

She nodded. "A delightful idea."

Ashe brought them to a standstill and then dismounted, easily sliding off the rump of the horse and coming to the side, holding up his arms to Florinda. "Down you come."

Grinning, she readily dropped into his grasp, and obeying a natural instinct, he held her close for a moment or two before setting her on her feet.

"You're a tempting armful, Miss Boothe."

"You're an appealingly eligible parti, Mr Trease."

Amused at the absurdity of it all, they both laughed and, after Ashe had secured their mount to the bench, seated themselves, content to listen to the rustle of the willow fronds, the soft babble of the Thames waters, and the munching as the horse grazed on the smooth grass.

"Life is somewhat odd, isn't it?" Ashe stared out over the waters at the quiet countryside.

"Overall, or at this moment?"

"Overall." He leaned back. "Here we are, defying all the conventions that surround our lives here in London by being alone with each other, and yet the world has continued to turn. Nothing calamitous has occurred, no shrieks of horror at my sitting next to you on a bench by the river, nor fainting mamas at the thought of your ruination by our actions."

"It's all very stupid, really, isn't it?"

"Yes. And the worst of it is that you would bear the brunt of that displeasure. Which I've always felt is utterly and completely unfair."

"Thank you for that," she leaned over and nudged him casually. "Not many gentlemen would acknowledge that fact."

"I have a hard time thinking of myself as a gentleman in that way," Ashe replied, turning to look at her. "I'm just a simple country man with ordinary tastes, and what might well be a growing dislike for London attitudes. At least some of them." His eyes drifted to her mouth. "I do, however, find myself in the position of thinking about you a lot. Is that dangerous?"

She looked at him, her eyes roaming over his face. "No more dangerous than if I were to confess that I too find myself thinking about you more than I probably should."

"I am very fond of honesty," he murmured.

"Are you?" She closed the distance between them. "Me too."

And there, in the dappled sunlight, beneath the gently swaying branches of a massive willow tree, Florinda Boothe allowed herself to be tugged gently onto the lap of Ashe Trease and eagerly welcomed some very satisfying kisses.

*~~*~~*

Ashe fell into the moment, but not without a shiver of apprehension. Every time he saw this woman, touched her, kissed her, he tumbled more deeply under her spell.

The feel of her in his arms heated his blood, the taste of her on his lips fired his brain, and the scent of her skin drifted into his nostrils and aroused his body within seconds.

He was rapidly losing control when it came to Florinda. She had entranced him thoroughly, and every time they met, every time they touched, he tumbled even further into a maelstrom of need.

"Florinda," he whispered, running his tongue along her ear and loving how it made her shiver and murmur with pleasure.

"Ashe," she breathed back into his mouth, before returning his kisses with abandon.

He found her neck, nibbling at the place where her pulse thundered, turning her head away so that he could pay thorough attention to the smooth skin leading down to the curve of her shoulder.

She moaned a little, settling even closer to his body, the two of them fitting as if made for each other.

Daringly, he slipped his hand beneath the shoulder of her dress and pushed at it slightly, nipping at the skin his movement had revealed.

She sucked in a breath. "Ashe, I like this so much." She moved even closer. "Too much, perhaps."

He stilled. "Should I stop?"

"No." The word came firmly from her lips as she raised her hand to his face. "I'm just warning you that I think my feelings are more deeply touched by you than is wise."

That made him smile. "'Tis good to hear that, Florinda. Now I know that I am not alone in my desire for your…your lips…" he kissed her. "And your caresses," he lifted her hand to his cheek.

She closed her eyes and let her touch wander to the back of his neck, where her fingers played in his hair. "No, you are not alone."

He couldn't resist. Pulling her even closer, he swung her legs up onto his knees and bent over her.

"Good," he whispered. "Then let go for me…"

The kiss was hard, passionate, demanding. His lips parted hers, his tongue dove within, and his hands stroked, caressed, discovered…

Her body was heating, his was already on fire, and they both moaned as they lost themselves in each other.

Ashe's breeches were now too snug, and the sight of two hard buds poking through the soft fabric of Florinda's dress almost did him in.

Reverently, he touched her, hearing her indrawn breath as he caressed those nubs, and watching her mouth fall open as the sensations rippled through her.

"Oh God," she whispered. "More."

He cupped a breast, letting his thumb stroke her nipple, loving the way she stared at him in astonishment and then lowered her eyelids as she lost herself to his touches.

"Florinda," he whispered, unaware of anything but the woman lying across his lap.

"Ashe," she breathed back, her eyes now fixed on his. "Oh Ashe…"

He bent to her once more, kissing her with every ounce of his ability, trying to let his body and his lips show her how much he delighted in her, how much he desired her.

Unable to restrain the need to touch her, one hand slid down to her leg and gathered her dress out of the way, finding smooth warm skin that begged to be stroked.

She moaned into his mouth, lifting her thigh a little in a silent invitation for him to continue.

He was lost, completely absorbed in this amazing woman, and the unexpected effects she was having on him. He was no virgin; he'd had women before and enjoyed the experiences. But this? With Florinda?

There was no comparison.

So involved was he, the rest of the world faded away as he continued this passionate embrace.

Of course, this was not the best moment for him to ignore his surroundings, since his horse began to fidget and toss his head as a couple of daring squirrels dropped down to the grass around his feet.

This particular beast had a marked dislike of small furry creatures, especially when they came too close.

The result? The horse lifted his head sharply, the reins tied to the bench jerked, and the bench itself tipped over, dumping both Miss Boothe and Mr Trease onto the grassy bank.

Right on top of each other.

Florinda cried out in surprise, and Ashe grunted as he managed to evade a knee in a certain area of particular concern to gentlemen.

They rolled a little, then stopped, both facing the river, Florinda catching her breath beneath Ashe.

Her skirts were up to her thighs, her bonnet sliding to one side of her head, and Ashe's hand was quite clearly on her naked skin.

As they moved to untangle themselves, a sound drew both their gazes.

There was a boat on the water, and in that boat, her eyes wide in shocked fascination, was a woman staring at them.

It sailed slowly past; Florinda and Ashe returning that stare as it drifted finally out of sight.

For a moment, both were silent. Then Florinda shifted.

"That's torn it," she muttered, struggling as Ashe moved off her and held out his hand to help her stand.

"Are you all right? Who was that?" he asked.

"That, Ashe, was Lady Cornelia Filwarde. And no, I'm not all right, and neither are you."

"What? Why? Who is she?"

Florinda swallowed roughly. "The worst gossip in London."