Page 5

Chapter Three

“ L ord Ashton.”

Sian blinked. Had she somehow been transported back through time?

Last year, the day following her arrival at Sheridan Manor, she had almost walked into Christopher as he was exiting the stables.

And here he was today, in the exact same place.

The similarities between the two encounters were too extraordinary to be believed.

There was a crucial difference, however. This time, Christopher knew who she was. There was no mistaking the glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

“Lady Sian,” he said, proving her right. The bow he gave her was elegance itself. “No puppy today?”

“No,” she said, her gaze flitting to the stables behind him.

She had not forgotten the reason for his visit to Sheridan Manor the previous year.

In fact, she had thought about little else, wishing she had been the woman he’d lavished his attentions on.

“Let me guess. You’ve come for another romp in the hay? ”

He laughed as if she had said the most amusing thing. Or perhaps he was shocked she had dared suggest he had just left a woman’s arms. And why not? Admittedly, she shouldn’t have been so bold, but in his presence, she couldn’t think straight.

“No. Someone is going to get his pleasure in the stables today, but it won’t be me.”

Sian blinked some more. What on earth did that mean? Did she want to know? She wasn’t sure. Her conversations with Christopher always seemed to end badly. One about pleasure, even if it wasn’t his own, was sure to end in disaster.

“The groom at Sheridan Manor has been asking me for months to bring my stallion to service your aunt’s mare,” he offered when he saw she was at a loss. “And yesterday, I finally relented.”

“Angel, you mean?” She stared at the enormous animal standing behind Christopher.

Muscles rippled under a sleek chestnut coat, betraying immense strength.

He was magnificent, if in a slightly daunting sort of way, not unlike his master.

“But … she’s the sweetest, gentlest mare you could imagine. He’s going to destroy her!”

Another laugh. Why was he so amused? Other people often mocked her for her artless comments, but he seemed to enjoy hearing them.

“Worry not, my lady. Warrior knows what he’s doing.

It is not the first time he’s been asked to perform, and it’s in his nature to service the mares brought to him without damaging them.

You cannot blame him for his powerful physique; it’s the way he was born.

As to Angel”—he made it sound as if the name was too sweet by far for any horse—“she will be just fine. It will do her good to finally be acquainted with one of the great pleasures of life.”

Sian could not help but snort. “I doubt the act is as pleasurable for horses as it is for humans. Surely, it is far too quick and perfunctory to give them much satisfaction. It is, as you say, merely a call of nature.”

“You really do say the most surprising things, my lady.” Christopher leaned in, a dangerous flame lurking in his eyes. “You know about the pleasure that can be had in a man’s arms, then? I thought ladies were raised thinking only duty and boredom awaited them in their marital bed.”

She flushed. With a mother and father who plainly loved and desired one another, such a conclusion was impossible.

She and Jane knew how fulfilling marriage could be for both parties, and they had long before decided that they would marry husbands who not only knew how to give a woman pleasure but also wanted to.

Too many men tried to please only their mistresses, relegating the wives who’d been chosen for them to the role of breeder, saving their efforts for the women who fired their blood rather than raised their children.

A man as virile as Christopher had to know how to pleasure women, and without quite knowing why, Sian sensed he would be generous enough to want to do it.

The previous year, he had hinted at the fact that Elsie needed time to recover from the attentions he had lavished on her.

That seemed to suggest he had pleasured her into a puddle rather than merely used her for his own release.

All she had to do now was make him see that he wanted to make her benefit from his skill. Her and only her for the rest of their lives. An ambitious plan, to say the least.

“Of course Jane and I know that there is more to the act than mere procreation,” she said, refusing to be daunted.

The twinkle in Christopher’s eyes became an inferno. “I see. Lord and Lady Sheridan like to keep their daughters aware of the realities of life. What have they told you?”

“It’s not so much what they say but what they do. It is clear that they are well matched in every sense of the word. And it is not just them. My aunt Branwen has such a marriage, as does her mother, Carys.”

“Would you care to give me some example of what ‘such a marriage’ consists of? I’ll confess to being curious to the extent of your knowledge, Little Lamb.”

Oh, dear. She had been right. She should never have gotten involved in a conversation about pleasure with Christopher. If she was a lamb, he was a wolf, ready to pounce.

“I … I can’t …”

To her relief, he didn’t insist. For a moment, she had feared he would force her to reveal all she knew about what men and women did together.

She was pleased to discover he had some sense of restraint.

It was one of the first encouraging signs she’d seen that he might, after all, be the husband she had hoped to find.

Perhaps he had grown out of his most scandalous phase.

He took a step back and placed a hand on Warrior’s neck. “So we’ve established that I was here to bring him to get a foal on Angel. What about you, Lady Sian? What brings you to Sheridan Manor? You haven’t been to England in almost a year, have you?”

The comment surprised and pleased Sian in equal measure. Had he kept himself abreast of her activities? She hadn’t dared hope as much. Another encouraging sign.

“Jane and I accompanied my mother, who came to see my aunt. Father and the children stayed behind, as he had some business to see to. They will join us as soon as they can.”

As she spoke, her gaze followed Christopher’s hand, which was still stroking Warrior. The signet ring on his middle finger reminded her there was something she had always wanted to tell him.

“You know, I was surprised when I found out the heraldic animal on the coat of arms of Lord Ashton is a fish. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

His arched brow showed his delight at the comment. “Doesn’t it? Pray tell, what would suit me in your opinion?”

She wasn’t sure. Not a fish, for certain, though. Too slimy, wet, and limp by far. He needed something powerful and majestic. “I couldn’t presume to say. I don’t know you.”

“That is true. Shall I tell you something about me to try and remedy the problem?”

Yes. Anything. Everything.

She forced herself to shrug to hide her desperation. “If you wish, my lord.”

Christopher had no idea why that might be, but he was suddenly seized by the desire to tell Sian something deeply personal.

Something no one else knew or even suspected.

Was it because she constantly took him by surprise?

Was it because she didn’t know him and didn’t seem to have any preconceptions about his character?

Or was it because he’d always secretly wanted to admit to the truth out loud?

Perhaps. He felt as if it would allow him to shed some of the burden he was carrying.

He might feel better for it. At least, he would not feel worse.

“It’s odd that you should mention the fish because I always thought the animal suited my father perfectly. Cold. Slippery. Utterly alien to me.”

The man had belonged to another world. Almost literally.

The two of them had not mixed in the same circles or even lived together.

The late Lord Ashton had sent him and his mother away from his seat in Kent to live at Throckmorton, a castle that had already been a near ruin twenty years ago.

Over the following sixteen years, his father had visited him merely a handful of times.

Every time he’d come, he’d been more prone to criticizing his son than anything else.

It had been a lonely existence because his mother had been no help.

The poor woman had died a year after they’d arrived, and, as a boy of five, Christopher had been left with his grandfather, a bitter old man who’d resented having been saddled with his grandson.

Indeed, the Lords Ashton had been cold fishes from father to son.

Which was why he had been so gratified to hear Sian tell him that she thought the symbol didn’t suit him.

It was the best compliment anyone had ever paid him.

“You didn’t get on with him, then?”

He smiled at Sian’s deliberate understatement.

“No. I can’t say that I did. And my grandfather, who raised me, was no better.

” It had been a relief to see both men die and know he was finally able to live his life.

Another disloyal, forbidden thought he berated himself for.

People were not supposed to be relieved when their parents died.

“What about your mother?”

Her determination to find a sliver of joy in his life was endearing. Christopher would have liked nothing more than to tell her his mother’s love had compensated for the two men’s indifference. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

“She died when I was five. I barely remember her, but I do know she never loved my father, who had been forced to marry her when she swelled with his child, or me, who reminded her of the man who’d treated her so callously.

Apparently, I am his spitting image even if his eyes were both brown.

” One final confession slipped past Christopher’s lips before he could stop it.

“As a child, I swore to myself that one day, I would have a big family so I would never be alone.”