“Well, you must be exhausted after your long ride,” Taylor said. “A room is ready for you.”
“My old one?” Asher said with a grin. He wondered if his initials were still carved on the wooden beam by the window.
Taylor’s face twisted in something akin to horror. “Of course not, sir. You have a chamber prepared for you in the guest quarters. The Rose Room.”
Asher’s eyes went wide. He had never considered that he would be placed as a guest in the house he’d once served. And in the Rose Room, so named because it overlooked the gardens. It was the one of the best chambers in the guest side of the house.
“I see,” he said slowly.
“Shall I show you up?” Taylor asked.
Asher shook his head. “No, I remember where it is. You go to bed, Taylor.”
The butler seemed a bit uncomfortable with that idea but then nodded slowly. “Very well. The boy who took your horse will also bring your valise up and leave it by your door before he goes to bed. You’ll find it there in the morning.”
Asher smiled. “I remember performing that duty myself not so long ago. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.” Taylor gave one of his smart bows and left the foyer.
Asher stared around him once more, then sighed deeply. He was here so late, it seemed he would have one more sleepless night before he discovered the truth…before he faced Felicity again. He wasn’t certain if that fact made him pleased or frustrated. Both, perhaps. He needed the time to prepare himself, but he also longed to see her.
He took a deep breath and then climbed up the stairs. He’d slid down this banister once as a child, following behind the current Earl of Stenfax. Oh, how his father had railed on him for that. He’d reminded Asher he was allowed to pretend, but he wasn’t truly one ofthem.
Of course he wasn’t.
At the top of the stairs, he paused. Go left and he would find his way to the guest quarters and the Rose Room, where he could rest his head. Go right and he’d slip toward the family doors. He still knew Felicity’s by heart. How many days and nights had he passed by it and gotten a powerful thrill knowing she was just behind it? Wondering what she was doing or wearing. Or not wearing.
He would have moved to his room, but just as he allowed himself a quick peek down the hall, Felicity’s door opened and she, herself, stepped outside.
Asher nearly pitched over backward down the steep staircase at the sight of her. Her blonde hair was down in long waves around her shoulders and back, and she had a dressing gown tied tightly around her slender waist. Her feet were bare and she held a candle in her hand.
She turned toward him and her breath caught at the same moment their eyes met. Her expression brightened with a brief moment of pleasure and for a flash she looked just like the innocent, bright and happy girl he’d known and wanted all those years ago.
But then she swept that reaction away, her expression becoming guarded. And even from five feet away, even by candlelight and dim lamp light, he saw something that broke his heart.
He saw the hollow emptiness in her eyes. It was masked as bored sophistication, but he saw the truth.
“Asher,” she murmured as she took a long step toward him.
His body clenched at the sound of his given name formed almost in half-time from those full lips he’d only tasted once. Lips he still dreamed about, fantasized about.
Even now, his body lurched with want. His hands shook with the desire to stride across the short distance between them and sweep her up against him, feel her mold into his body until there was no space, no breath, nothing but her and him and them.
But it wasn’t six years ago and he understood life so much better now. What he wanted wasn’t possible. His father had said as much then, now Asher knew the truth.
A woman like Felicity was out of his reach.
“Hello, my lady,” he choked out, reverting to formality to protect him from desires.
It was all he could do, in the end.
Felicity stared across the dim expanse that stood between her and Asher and winced as he called her “my lady”. They’d never stood on such ceremony except in public before and this moment was most definitely private.
She might have thought she was dreaming. After all, she’d had many dreams like this one over the years where she found Asher in her hall or her garden or her bed. Except tonight he stood away from her, watching her but not making any attempt to touch her or get close to her.
And by God, but he was handsome. He’d left this house at twenty-five, and then he’d been something to look at, something to desire. But six years had made him stronger, his jaw more angular, his eyes more focused. He had a shadow of scruffy facial hair and she felt the strongest urge to step up and rub her hand across it, her cheek.
She blinked and cleared her errant mind, hardening herself to her desires and to the distraction he embodied.
