No Marriage Of Convenience - No Marriage Of Convenience Part 19
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No Marriage Of Convenience Part 19

breath, calling for Lord Ashlin, for anyone to help her...

Footsteps clattered from the murky shadows and she knew she had to keep moving-keep ahead of them...

As she turned a dark corner, Clyde and his filthy grasp caught and pulled her into his loathsome

embrace.

"Yer a dead one now," he whispered into her ear.

Riley awoke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes blinking at the unfamiliar

surroundings. Where was she? Then she remembered what was real and what was a dream.

Though it hadn't all been a dream. Clyde was only too real, and still out there, somewhere in the darkness.

She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the shivers that were not entirely from a chill. The

candles had burned low, and she rose quickly, lighting more to illuminate the darkness and chase away

her demons.

Even as she lit the last one she could find, she heard the sound of someone creeping up the stairs, the poorly maintained steps of Ashlin House groaning and complaining with the person's every move.

She opened her mouth to cry out, but closed it just as fast. Her gaze flew over the room, looking for a place to hide, but there was little in the way of cubby holes to provide cover. But she did see one thing that gave her some measure of comfort-a heavy fire iron leaning against the grate.

She crept as silently as she could to her newfound weapon and snatched it up. Weighing it in her hand,she knew she'd only have one chance to stop her assailant.And it was a chance she couldn't waste.

Mason returned home just after one from Mrs. Evans's musicale. The house was dark except for thelibrary, where it appeared someone was still up.Riley.She was hard at work on her future, and he'd spent the night hard at work on his...

Unlocking the door, he let himself in. He'd instructed Belton not to wait up for him. The man had enough duties at his age, and sitting up all night didn't have to be one of them. He was relieved to see the stalwart butler had taken his orders to heart and was nowhere in sight.

Now Mason would seek his own respite-exhausted and weary from the music and chatter that had filled the Evanses' ballroom to an overflow.A crushing success he'd heard someone call the evening-a crushing bore, he thought a more aptdescription.

One young lady after another had come forward to delight the audience with her musical skill, or lack thereof. Miss Pindar had been singled out for her performance on the pianoforte and had been asked to play a second time.

The girl had beamed at Mason the entire time, as if to say, I would make the most perfect Countess.

And she was right, she would, but she wasn't...

He stopped himself right there. He had generations of Ashlins, not even counting his nieces, to whom he

owed a duty to see the family name restored to some level of respectability.

Freddie was probably even now chuckling over his brother's moral dilemma.

Climbing the stairs toward his chamber, he stopped on the first floor; at his feet a sliver of light illuminated

a narrow path to the library door.

It beckoned him, teased him to follow its shadowed course.

Go on, little brother, he swore he could hear Freddie whisper. She's waiting for you.

As tempting as that notion might be, he straightened his resolve and turned the corner to the next floor

when the door burst open, and the light from within opened its arms to envelop and blind him.

"Oh, my lord," he heard Riley say, "'tis you."

Then, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw her and marveled at the ethereal sight before him.

Silhouetted as she was, she looked like an ancient warrior queen in her simple muslin gown, her fierce weapon held aloft. Her breathing was erratic, her chest fluttering up and down, her breasts straining against the low neckline. Her hair, the color of wheat, resplendent in its shimmering warmth, was bound in a single loose braid falling nearly to her waist. At the hem of her gown, her bare toes peeked out.

Boadicea never looked so fierce or so beautiful. Nor had she, Mason knew, ever carried a fire iron.

"Do you know how to use that?" he asked.

She glanced up at her improvised weapon. "If I get the first strike, I do."

Despite her warning, he stepped closer. "Remind me to have my arrival announced from here on out," he

teased, using one finger to push the iron down from her armed stance. He was so close he could almost

feel her trembling.He'd done this-frightened her with his untimely arrival. While he could tell himself it was his duty as agentleman to offer his protection, he also found that being this close to her all he wanted to do was foldher into his arms and promise her that she'd never know another moment of fear.

A promise he'd seal with a burning kiss.

"My apologies," she said, turning away hastily, as if she could read his errant thoughts. "I heard someoneabout, and I...well, I didn't expect you back so early, and I thought...""I'm sorry to have startled you. Where is Hashim?" Mason had only gone out because Hashim had promised to stay by Riley's side until his return.

As if on cue, the man rose up out of the shadows like a phoenix.

Mason nodded to him, marveling at his stealth. "Go to bed, sir. I shall guard our lady well," he told him in

Persian.

Hashim bowed and took to the stairs.

Riley leaned out the door, watching her servant's departure. "What did you say to him?"

"That, Madame," he said, "is between Hashim and me."

"Harumph." She blew out an impatient breath, and stomped back into the library, the fire iron still at her

side.

Mason couldn't help himself. He followed her, hypnotized by the saucy sway of her hips. He tried to

reason with himself that he had given his word to Hashim that he would watch her, but he doubted that included eyeing her form.

Or the line of thoughts that came to mind with each seductive movement she made.

Did the woman know how she affected him? He hoped not.

Riley put the iron back into the holder next to the fireplace, then settled down cross-legged on the floor,

where apparently she'd been working. Scattered pages, account books, and bills formed a semi-circle of litter around her.

Along with a pair of stockings and two red garters.

"How do you work in all that clutter?" Mason asked, his gaze lingering over her discarded undergarments. Why didn't it surprise him the lady wore red satin garters?

"Quite well, thank you," she snapped, gathering her unmentionables up and hiding them beneath herpapers. "If you must know-I prefer to work in my corset and petticoat, but decided, for propriety'ssake, only to relinquish some lesser items. It won't happen again."

Mason hoped not. He could well imagine the sight that would have greeted him if she'd donned, or rather un-donned, her usual coverings.

The idea of her in red garters was bad enough.

After a few moments, she took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm sorry, my lord. I'm quite out of sorts tonight."

For good reason-she'd had a hell of a day and his untimely arrival had probably frightened herthoroughly."I'm sorry if I startled you," he said.

She made an indifferent shrug, so he decided not to pursue the matter. At least, not right away. Besides, she was probably still angry over his earlier interview.

The interview where she'd claimed she'd never had a lover.How could that be? The woman's every move spoke of sensual promise. Her damned penchant forfeathers, her rich tangle of hair, her luminous skin.

And those green eyes...every time he looked into them he found himself waxing between poetics and something all too Ashlin.

His gaze meandered back to the hint of red satin peeking out from beneath her papers.

Red satin garters? And she claimed not to have had any lovers?

"Uh-hum," she coughed, her gaze flitting toward the door in an unabashed hint.

He decided not to take it.

Removing his jacket, he joined her on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him, toes up against the grate where the coals glowed with a cozy warmth. "What is all this?"

"Revisions, schedules, blocking notes, orders for all the items we need for costumes and to finish the

sets." Her tone bordered on curt, and with a not-so-subtle message-leave.But he didn't want to-leave, that is. After the senseless din of Mrs. Evans's, the quiet disorder of Riley's world called to him like a lone flute.

"I have quite a bit to do," she said, hinting once more, this time with a glance and a pointed shrug toward the door.

He continued to ignore her. "And you've chosen to do it all at once?"At this, she finally smiled. "You wretched man," she said. "Here I am, trying to stay mad at you, but youwon't let me." She reached over and playfully squeezed his arm.