Page 30 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

“A shley.”

Ashley’s head whipped toward the barn door, her heart dropping at the sight of the last man she ever wanted to see. But she had known that this confrontation was inevitable. “Jordan.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, striding over, but coming to a stop when her eyes narrowed on him.

“Me?” She twirled the brooch between her fingers before tossing it over to him. She thought she’d lost it but found it stuck between one of her shawls. “This is what you came for, is it not?”

He caught it with one hand, staring at her broodingly. “What if I’m here for you, too?”

“There is no ‘me’ for you anymore.” She turned to face him. “I was told that it was my father who tried to run you off. Why did you mention Linsey in your note?”

He sighed, averting his gaze. “Well, I couldn’t very well blame your father.”

He could, but that was probably the most redeemable thing about him at this point. Funnily enough, she felt no regret. Not even an ounce. “There’s nothing further, is there?”

“Paisley,” he suddenly said. “Be careful of him. He’s the one who came to me. He might do more if you stay engaged to Linsey.”

“Thank you for the warning, but you don’t have to worry about me.”

He nodded, then, with one last glance, inclined his head and left the stables.

It’s finally over.

Ashley glanced back at the stall, where a baby horse lay, staring up at her with wide, curious eyes. Its mother was nowhere in sight. She knelt beside the little creature, gently patting its soft head.

Let’s just hug it.

She just needed to hold something.

She sighed. The little foal rested lightly in her arms whereas her heart felt impossibly heavy.

“Where is your mother? Who is taking care of you?” she murmured, stroking its downy coat. Knowing Paisley, any horse that didn’t turn a profit was likely bound for the stew pot.

Ashley cradled the foal closer against her chest, one hand resting on its tiny belly. She felt its heartbeat, a faint but steady rhythm against her fingers. The air was warm, thick with the earthy scent of hay and the subtle musk of horses. A scent she’d never expected to find soothing, let alone one that could calm her so completely.

Sunlight filtered through the open windows, casting soft patterns on the stable walls, and for the first time, she truly appreciated the haven the Linsey family had built here over generations. This was more than a place for horses; it was a sanctuary, a place that nurtured life.

No ballroom in London could rival the comfort she felt there. In town, it had all been about luxury, titles, and, of course, riches—exactly the sort of place where someone like Paisley thrived. It was no wonder, really, that Thomas felt out of place there. He may have the title, the castle, and the wealth—even handsomeness—yet his life was about something far greater than himself.

He would never drive a man off over a mere wager.

How could I have been so blind to what was right in front of me?

The hay pricked her through her dress, reminding her of the night she’d spent in the hayloft with the earl. The stables brought the memory back in vivid detail—heat and stolen kisses, a night that had left her breathless.

She should have known better back then.

She’d been foolish, caught up in the moment. Now, she wished she had admitted the truth. Her silence had woven a web of misunderstanding, each strand of it her own doing.

“You must be smarter with your life,” Ashley murmured to the foal, but mostly to herself.

The foal nuzzled closer, its soft muzzle brushing her cheek, pulling her from her thoughts. She smiled, then let out a heavy breath. She couldn’t hide here forever. She’d have to face the mess she had allowed Paisley to create—and that she had worsened.

She had to talk with Thomas.

Oh, the shame! The horror!

She suddenly laughed at herself.

You’ve been bold so far, Ashley . Don’t stop now.

Maybe her mother was right. Perhaps she had been a mere empty shell—a pretty dress draped over nothing, a woman with neither heart nor soul. But not anymore. Thomas gave her purpose. Meaning. Or rather, in him, she had found herself. Found purpose. Found meaning.

“Ashley?” a voice broke through her thoughts.

The foal’s ears pricked.

Thomas.

“Ashley?” Thomas called again, the hay crunching under his steps as he approached. “Are you here?”

Be brave, Ashley.

Yes, she was going to be brave! She scrambled to her feet and shut the stall door with a quick pull. Bravely not ready for this moment. “Don’t let him find us,” she whispered to the foal. She shut the bottom half, but as she tried to close the top, it swung back open.

“I already did!” his deep voice came.

Her hands gripped the rough wooden door as she realized, with a wave of embarrassment, that it was built with wide gaps between the planks.

“Why are you shutting yourself in the stalls?” Thomas asked with more bewilderment than anything else. He was a disheveled vision—crisp white shirt, tight breeches, and all the terrible combinations of irresistible manhood, alongside the devastating charm of a country lord.

Ashley gave the door another push, but it swung open again. “Why do you have doors that don’t even lock?”

“They lock from the outside,” he said with a smile. “Why would a horse need to lock its own stable?”

Ashley deflated, plopping back onto the straw as the foal sidled back into her arms. She didn’t look up at the man, but she could feel his gaze resting on her.

How embarrassing!

She never seemed to make the right choices when it came to this man.

“You should be resting in bed,” he said gently. “Or are you planning to run away?”

“If I planned to do that, I didn’t manage it very well,” she muttered, “or else you wouldn’t have found me.”

So much for being brave, Ashley !

Well, there was no putting it off anymore. “I think it’s time for me to leave, don’t you?”

*

Thomas couldn’t help but want to kiss those sweet lips of hers, especially with the little foal nestled in her lap. Funny how the tides had turned in the stables—now he envied the creature everyone had pitied only days ago.

That’s until her words sank in. “What did you just say?”

“It’s time for me to leave. Don’t you think so?”

“Why the devil would you say something like that?” Thomas demanded, fists clenching.

“You still need to ask?” She swallowed visibly, brushing her hair out of her face. She sniffled and when she looked up at him, his heart shattered like a glass on the floor.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, bracing both hands on the door’s smooth rim, feeling the worn grooves beneath his fingers. With a swift movement, he vaulted over it, his landing a soft thud against the packed earth. Ashley sat just a few feet away, wide-eyed, her breath catching in surprise.

“You leapt over the door?” Ashley’s eyes were wide. “Just like that?”

“I told you before, I can navigate Almack’s dance floor, but this…” He opened his arms. The early spring air drifted through the windows, carrying the scent of budding flowers and fresh grass. “This is where I’m at home.”

He stepped closer, the crunch of straw underfoot filling the gap of the silence, and she set the foal down, rising to her feet. Their gazes locked, something unspoken passing between them, as if the stable had become a universe of its own. He reached for her face, trailing his thumb over the corner of her frown. “And what if I can’t bear to let you go?”

“I’d call your sanity into question.”

“It was always in question.” He lifted the corner of his lips. “From the moment you approached me at Almack’s. So, stay.”

“I told myself to be brave,” she suddenly said, shaking her head. “Yet I’ve found I can be quite cowardly when the moment calls for the exact opposite.”

He cupped her cheek, and she inclined her head, nestling into his hand. He noticed the subtle shift in her weight, a small movement that spoke louder than words. He could hear the faint rustle of her skirt as she breathed, each detail sharpening this delicate moment. “You are not cowardly, love.”

Then she withdrew, taking a step back, and he dropped his hand. “I didn’t tell you the truth, even after…even after I realized that I might have misjudged you.”

“That still doesn’t make you a coward.”

“Thomas. I approached you to get revenge because I believed you chased Jordan out of town and ruined my chances at love. Does that not bother you?”

He smiled at her. “Our start is our start.”

She shook her head and laughed. “Is it honestly as simple as that?”

“It’s a fact, so yes, it’s as simple as that.”

“And you don’t feel an ounce of betrayal? I planned to ruin all you held dear.”

“The only way you could do that is if you leave, love. The horses, the wager, Paisley, I can give it all up if it means I have you.” And he meant it. He didn’t need anything else but her. If he lost her… “So, yes, our start is our start. Fainting mother, secret brother, a revenge plot, I don’t care.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are a madman, you know that?”

“What about you? The Ashley who came here a short time ago would never have hugged a foal.”

A hint of a smile touched her face. “I’m still the same Ashley.”

“Converted to a country girl?”

She laughed for a moment, but tears suddenly welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Thomas froze, shocked. “Ashley?”

She covered her face with her hands. “Don’t look at me!”

“I’m not.” The response came instinctively.

“Liar.”

He chuckled and pulled her in for a hug. “I forbid you to leave me because you approached me with vengeful thoughts.” His arms tightened. “If it wasn’t for that stroke of luck, I’d never have met you.”

“Only you would call it a stroke of luck,” she muttered. “And what is it with this stall door?”

He chuckled when she changed the subject. “It’s called a Dutch—”

“I know, I know. A Dutch door,” Ashley said. “How very impractical.”

“Should I hold it shut from the inside?” He backed them both up until he could close it, leaning against the door with his back. She rubbed her face against his shirt. There wasn’t anything at the stables that could surprise Thomas. He knew how to do everything, even cleaning up what his stable boys did. But a crying lady was a new challenge. “Apology accepted,” he whispered into her ear. “I love you.”

She suddenly gripped his shirt and stared up at him. “You’re never allowed to take that back.”

“I won’t. Ever.”

Her eyes narrowed, tears still clinging to her lashes, wringing his heart as if he’d been stabbed with a pitchfork right through the ribs. “You said it; our start is our start.”

“Our start is our start.”

Her tear-stained face split into a grin. “I love you, too.”