The Tender Days of May (The Belle House Book 1) Page 25

  “I know what’s inside, May. I know that if I let it run free, it will disappoint. Worse, I will disappoint you. And hurt you eventually. And that is the one thing I don’t want. I thought I could push you away, and you will find what you are looking for elsewhere, but as soon as you were gone, I realized I was afraid I would never see you again.”

  Her lips twitched in a smile.

  “So, now you see me,” she said. “What upsets you so much?”

  “That I want you”—he smirked—“but I can’t be what you want.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “What is it that I want, Ray? Enlighten me! Since you are the expert of souls.” She looked at him with a mocking smile.

  “I could never be a good husband that you deserve.”

  “Who said I want a good husband?”

  “I would not lie to make your life easier.”

  “I don’t need your lies.”

  “I am not going to change my ways.”

  “I don’t want you to change.”

  “I would never relinquish my freedom.”

  “Neither would I.”

  “I would never let you think of me as your possession. Worse. Make you feel entitled.”

  “I know all that, Ray.”

  He looked in her eyes.

  “And you still think you can win this battle?” he smirked.

  “Life is not a battle, Ray. Love is certainly not.” She walked up to him, lifted her hand, and stroked his face, searching his eyes for the understanding. “Life is what you think it is. Your words,” she said softly. “I think life is love. I thought it all along and meeting you proved it.”

  Lord Ashbee felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to scream, to cry, to take her in his arms and not ever let go. No other woman ever loved him for what he was without wanting anything in return. How could she accept all that, all of him? Worse—why did he feel so scared yet realized he was willing to jeopardize everything to be with the woman that gazed at him with more tenderness than his heart could handle? He looked at May in astonishment and wanted to crush the world around and bring it to her feet.

  Suddenly, May smiled widely, peeled her eyes off him, and walked away towards the coffee table.

  “What’s with all this useless chat, Ray?” she said too loudly suddenly. “Let’s drink! While you are here in Southampton. Before we part again who knows for how long. Let’s celebrate life!” she was suddenly overly cheerful, hiding her emotions. “Would you like a drink?” she asked, pouring him one without waiting for a reply, her hands slightly shaking.

  “No,” he answered, watching her, his heart heavy with reeling emotions. “I don’t want a drink, May. I want you to be my wife,” he said, and it stopped her on her tracks. She froze with a glass in her hand, with her back to him, and closed her eyes as if she heard a ghost speak.

  He stood staring at her figure and didn’t move either.

  “Will you marry me, May?”

  It took her all the courage she could summon not to cry out. This man! Lord Raymond Ashbee! Somehow it always required courage to face him, even when she thought she knew him so well.

  She put the glass down, turned around slowly, and looked at him with a frown.

  “You misunderstood me. I don’t need your sacrifice, Ray,” she said and felt her body trembling.

  “It’s not a sacrifice.”

  She made several steps toward him.

  “I don’t need you to do it for me, so you can tell me later, ‘I told you so’,” she said with a lump in her throat.

  “That is not it either.”

  “You don’t need to always try to prove someone wrong.”

  “Maybe I’m trying to prove you right,” he said, slowly making a step towards her. “I am not playing games. There is no trap. No cruel intentions. I want you for myself. It’s that simple.” He walked up to her slowly. “So there it is. Will you marry me?”

  He gazed at her, tense from uncertainty.

  She shook her head, still not understanding.“Why?”

  He closed his eyes.

  Why did it have to be so complicated?

  “Why, Ray?” she insisted and looked at him. “You asked me all these things about what I want. But why would you want to marry me?”

  He looked at her and tried to smile but failed.

  “Just say ‘yes’.”

  She shook her head again.

  “Tell me why?”

  She looked in his eyes, and it was all there—his admittance of what he was and what he could be. Of what he was afraid of more than pain and darkness. The darkness in him was afraid of light. And the answer was gazing back at him through the bluish-grey eyes that were reaching the darkest corners of his soul.

  “Tell me, Ray,” she whispered.

  And he finally said it, barely audible as if he was afraid of his own words.

  “Because I love you.”

  And her eyes lit up like an ocean from within its depth, like a thousand lights that shot through the darkness all the way into his soul. He could see the emotions that swelled in them, ready to spill down her cheeks with tears, and he blinked slowly, trying to smile, for he never thought his words could have so much effect on anyone.

  He walked up to her, cupped her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb, looking in her eyes with acceptance, and kissed her softly.

  “I love you,” he whispered again, and it was easier this time.

  And she leaned to kiss him back with even more tenderness.

  “I love you, May,” he said louder as if fright was part of the darkness that was being dissolved by the light in her eyes.

  Her hands went up and caressed his hair, and every little touch resonated in his heart, healing the scars that had been open for the longest time.

  “But you still didn’t answer, May. Will you marry me?”

  She chuckled, trying to hold the tears, her heart ready to explode from overwhelming joy.

  “Yes,” she didn’t say but whispered so as if not to scare away his soul that was just starting to wake up.

  CHAPTER 7

  To say that the marriage announcement set the entire Hampshire in shock, was to say nothing.

  “You rascal!” Lady Mildred cried out when she found out the news. “Men circle her for months and get rejected. And you! Six days after arriving in town! What did you promise her? She couldn’t possibly be so infatuated to throw herself at you?”

  “Maybe it was the other way around,” he said with a mischievous smile.

  “What games are you playing?” Her eyes narrowed at him.

  “There are no games, Lady Mildred, I promise you. Let’s just say, Lady Yvense and I have a common interest in the matter.”

  “The matter!” Lady Mildred mimicked him and shook her head. “Oh, you are so full of it! I might have underestimated your reputation.”

  “Maybe you overestimated it. After all, I am about to throw myself into the banalest of human contracts.”

  “Charles!” Lady Mildred cried out, theatrically covering her eyes with her hand. “Your friend is impossible!” She shook her head, failing to hold a smile. “Lord Ashbee, you are by far the best entertainment I’ve had in years. Oh, the gossips to come! I might have to get you drunk to find out the full story.”

  “Careful, Auntie,” Charles warned her. “He is the type of man that will turn your tricks against yourself. He is good at getting people drunk, among other things.”

  “Ah! Can’t wait! It’s going to be one hell of a wedding! Let’s celebrate tonight! And invite James’s sister, will you?” she exclaimed, excited at the prospect of another joyous party.

  Charles watched Lord Ashbee for a minute with curiosity.

  “Marriage! Ashbee! Really?” he said with a puzzled smile. “That’s your cleverest trick so far.”

  “There is no trick, Charles, I promise you,” Lord Ashbee said with a coy smile.

  “That’s the scary part, then!” Charles exclaimed, even more puzzle
d, and stayed quiet for a while. “It was her, wasn’t it?” he finally asked Lord Ashbee. “A year ago?”

  Lord Ashbee didn’t respond, just smiled and looked away. But Charles understood this silence, nodded. He had observed the change in his friend for a year now and knew there was a bigger one to come. But for the first time, he thought it was the one for the better and felt happy for him.

  —————

  James Yvense, on the other hand, didn’t.

  “Have you lost your mind?” He stared at May when she told him the news.

  “Ah, James, why can’t you just be happy for me?” she waved him away.

  “If you weren’t my sister, I would have thought you’ve gone mad.”

  “Why? Because I will marry for love?” She laughed.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Because of your choice.”

  “Financially, it seems to be the best one, wouldn’t you say?”

  “But the man!” he exclaimed. “I don’t want you to suffer for the rest of your life!”

  “I will be fine. You know me better than that, James.” She smiled. “Tell me, though,”—she looked at him mischievously—“Doesn’t Lord Ashbee intrigue you?”

  “You are biased.” He chuckled.

  “Oh, come, James! Doesn’t it flatter you that such a man will be your brother-in-law?”

  “You are a fool in love, dear!”

  “So, I am!”

  “I can’t believe it’s been a year, and you are so swept away by his charms. And the way it happened! Still!”

  “I-am-I-am! But James!” she said with delight in her eyes. “Can’t you see that I am happy?”

  James Yvense shook his head, trying not to roll his eyes, then came up to his sister and kissed her on the forehead. “As long as you are, my dear. But I warned you. Just remember this part.”

  “James!”

  “All right! All right!” He chuckled. “It is quite peculiar to think that you, out of all people, will be the wife of Lord Ashbee himself. Tsk.”

  She laughed in delight, and he marveled at the thought that he had never before seen her so happy.

  CHAPTER 8

  It’s only been a week since Lord Ashbee and Charles had arrived in Hampshire, but London seemed a lifetime away. How quickly the country life, full of joy and entertainment, could envelop your existence, and charm with its easiness! The picnics with freshly baked bread, local cheese, and wines. The early morning hunting trips. The lavish luncheons that extended into the afternoon cocktails. The dinners out in the courtyards, with candles, and musicians that sent the music into the air laced with bonfire smoke and the spring blooms.

  Lord Ashbee enjoyed it, much to his surprise. The country elite, so versatile with their entertainments. Their conversations, sometimes naive, but nothing short of education and wit. Their knowledge of city life and rumors. It quite amazed Lord Ashbee. He wasn’t sure whether he had lacked the understanding of the country life or had been prejudiced before. Perhaps, it was all the charm of May, or Lady Mary Anne as she was known around. For people suddenly wanted to meet him, or knew about him, or were intrigued by the man that finally conquered the heart of the famous country beauty.

  May!

  She was a different creature altogether. How blind he had been about her charms, wit, power! They delighted him!

  May…

  He couldn’t get enough.

  It wasn’t the desire you could satisfy in one night or one week. Whatever may come, he was willing to accept anything as long as he could have her next to him, share his thoughts, his adventures with her. She was a curious woman and that—that!—stirred his admiration even more.

  May…

  How much more he wanted to show her! How much more was to come!

  —————

  He had just arrived at Sir Yvense’s estate and entered May’s bedroom.

  It was noon. She lay on the side, propped on an elbow, on the bedsheets, only a white translucent gown over her body. He could see her curves, the shapes that excited him so much. They haven’t had much time to be alone for long. At nights, they ravished each other as if tomorrow was not to come.

  “I thought we were going to meet your aunt,” he said with a smile, studying her body.

  She smiled in return.

  “I decided we are not in a hurry.” She lifted the bottom of the gown up to her thighs and changed the position of her legs that gave him just a peek of her sex. Lord Ashbee gave it a glance and saw her biting her lip. “Will you join me?” She patted the space next to her.

  He smiled and came up to the bed, but she shook her head.

  “Not like this”—she gave him a backward nod—“take it all off.” She bit her lip again and blushed.

  Oh, May.

  He felt his member stiffen.

  “I need to go back to London soon,” he said, taking off his vest with a smile. Oh, the distraction game! “I want you to come with me.” He started unbuttoning the shirt.

  “I would love to. Though I can’t say I’m not nervous thinking about it,” she said, watching his movements.

  “The marriage thing…”—his shirt was off—“Tell me what you want, but I would like it very simple.”

  “Ah!” she exhaled. “Here in the country, we like simple!”

  “We could get married next week.” Off came his shoes, and his hands started unbuttoning the trousers.

  “We could do a lot of things,” she echoed, her eyes fixed on his fingers that were about to reveal him in full glory.

  “You will be Lady Ashbee soon,” he said, and the fact so banal suddenly aroused him even more. In front of him was the woman that will take his last name.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, gazing at him, then sat up and slowly removed the gown, revealing her body.

  His eyes swept over her flawless white skin.

  Beautiful!

  How can he ever have enough!

  “I told you about the business in Paris,” he said, studying her, while slowly taking off his trousers and undergarment. When he finished, he straightened up in all his nakedness and made a step towards the bed.

  God, how May loved this man!

  “Paris,” she murmured as her eyes traveled up and down his body, pausing to study his erection, “the city of love…”

  Oh, how easy men got aroused, she thought, feeling her own body stir with desire.

  “I want you to come to Paris with me,” Lord Ashbee’s voice lower now as he slid onto the bed next to her.

  Her eyes lit up with delight.

  “I’ve never been!” she said, breathing heavily, excited by the closeness of him.

  “I think you will like it.” He slid his fingers gently over her shoulder, pushing away a strand of hair. “It’s famous for fashion and art.”

  “Ah! Perfumes and pastries, too!” She watched his fingers move down to one of her breasts, tracing its shape.

  “Wild entertainment and cabarets,” he said and circled her nipple.

  “Brothels…” She cocked an eyebrow, and his lips stretched in a smile.

  “The French are said to know a lot about the art of love,” he leaned closer to May, and his hand slipped to her hip.

  Suddenly, she pushed him, jumped on top, and straddled him. With one quick motion, she grabbed his hands and pinned them to the bed up above his head.

  He laughed at the unexpectedness of it, the strength with which she lunged at him. The confidence! He felt a wave of desire surge through his body, his erection aching for her attention.

  “Yes”—she grinned—“I would love to go to Paris. I’d love to explore new things!” Her eyes above him lit up with a devilish sparkle.

  “You are a fast learner,”—he chuckled—“Too fast!”

  “Ah! Let me show you then.”

  “Show me?” he smiled with anticipation.

  She picked up one of the stockings from the side of the bed and started tying his wrists.

  Oh, May.

  “I like
this,” he said in a husky voice, studying her body, her perky breasts right above his face as she worked on his hands. He lifted his head and caught one of her nipples with his lips. She giggled and shook him off and used the loose end of the stocking to tie his hands to the metal pole of the bed.

  When she slid back down, she kissed him, teasing him with her soft tongue, moving her sex on top of his erection.

  “What do you have in mind, sweetheart?” he asked with a smile, moving his hips to press his hardness tighter against her.

  She opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a feather.

  A feather?

  Long and dark, with a white tip—he recognized it. The one of the huia bird!

  “Sweetheart…” He chuckled at the memory of that evening, and the wave of pleasure rushed through his body.

  His eyes met hers, and she gave him a mischievous look, then picked up another stocking, and blindfolded him.

  “I hope you enjoy it,” she said in a low, seductive voice.

  Her lips touched his with a soft kiss, and she drew the tip of the feather across his chest. It sent the goose-bumps on his skin, and she smiled in satisfaction.

  “May…” he exhaled in pleasure.

  “Shhhhhhhh”—she calmed him—“Just relax”—guided the feather to his navel and further down to his hardness—“You deserve the most exquisite things”—her whisper soft and seductive as she smiled cunningly and added, “Sweetheart.”

  THE END

  Vlad Kahany was born and raised in Lithuania. He studied philology and social psychology. “The Tender Days of May” is his debut novel.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR