Ashford stared in utter disbelief. "You're considering staying on in London, inviting Sardo to paint your portrait there? Noelle, that's insane. I don't give a damn if your house is a virtual one-room shack. Limited space won't deter Sardo if the two of you are alone with only a few servants to impede his plan. What in God's name makes you believe your father would agree to that? Hell, I won't agree to that."
"Who said anything about being alone? I'll have my entire family, and you, in London with me."
A puzzled frown. "You're not making any sense."
"Oh, yes, I'm making a world of sense." Noelle's grip tightened. "Ashford, I'm not suggesting a visit. I'm suggesting a prelude to my first Season, an extra few weeks in Town. It's a splendid idea. After all, Papa is livid about André's attentions—just as you are, only more irrationally. He'll be thrilled to get me away from Farrington Manor, to take me to London as soon as possible. And of course he'll bring Mama and Chloe, too, since my coming-out is right around the corner. We can shop, settle in, prepare ourselves for the upcoming festivities. Trust me, if I present the situation properly, Papa will jump at the idea. Let's talk to him and see."
Ashford grinned, thinking that life with Noelle would never be boring. Just keeping up with her inventive mind, much less her impulsive actions, was going to be the challenge of a lifetime.
One he could hardly wait to take on.
"Our Town house might be cramped, but in terms of your overseeing my sittings with André, there's an even longer sofa and a broader ledge in that sitting-room window than in the one at Farrington Manor," Noelle coaxed, caressing Ashford's jaw. She glanced over her shoulder at her now-dozing cat. "A ledge I'm sure Tempest will gladly share, given how much she apparently likes you."
Ashford turned his lips into Noelle's palm, contemplating the sofa she was describing and conjuring up images, not of concealing himself from Sardo, but of making love to Noelle, burying himself inside her until neither of them could breathe.
Not a likelihood, given the circumstances.
"You'll leave Southampton and go to your London Town house early as well, won't you?" Noelle urged, as if reading his mind.
"Without question," he murmured, kissing her fingertips. "I can hardly wait to pack."
"That will reassure Papa."
A husky chuckle. "I doubt it."
Noelle gave a tiny shiver. "That's not what I meant. I meant he'd feel secure that you'd be there to safeguard me from André's lecherous advances."
"But not from my own." Ashford's lips brushed the delicate veins at her wrist. "Still, your reasoning is sound. Perhaps your father will like the idea after all." He released her hand, smoothed his palms over the curves of her shoulders. "If it will thwart Sardo's efforts, I'm all for it myself."
"Good." Noelle sounded breathless again, her cheeks flushed with excitement—a combination of their upcoming adventure and the same y
earning that singed Ashford's blood. "We should go find Papa." She didn't budge.
"Yes, we should." Ashford drew her against him, lifted her arms around his neck and kissed her deeply—once, twice—continuing to brush her lips with his. "But, given that he'll be finding us in a matter of minutes, why don't we take advantage of this brief time together?"
"Not so brief," Noelle corrected in a suggestive whisper. "You're spending the night."
"Don't remind me." His tongue teased her lower lip. "And don't even consider what you're considering. Because I won't have the strength to turn you away, and your father will call me out and shoot me dead—before I've had the chance to savor every inch of you … again and again and again."
"Um-m-m, I like the sound of that."
"So do I. Too bloody much." With that, Ashford raised his head, regarding Noelle solemnly from beneath hooded lids. "Sweetheart, when I finally make love to you, it's going to include it all: the words, the commitment—everything."
"When you finally make love to me…" Noelle repeated, stroking the nape of his neck with a sensual smile. "I'm not sure which sounds more wonderful: that, or the 'everything' you're alluding to."
Ashford's eyes glittered with anticipation. "Both, tempête. Both." His jaw set with purpose. "And I intend to give them to you. It's no longer a question of if. It's only a question of when."
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
Eric Bromleigh was as enthusiastic as Noelle had predicted—almost.
There were two things that caused him to hesitate before agreeing to pack up the whole family and leave immediately for London.
The first was Sardo—or rather, his proximity.