Page 39 of A Countess Never Tells

“To my home.” He kissed her lips tenderly. “To continue last night’s encounter to its inevitable, passionate, and most eagerly sought end.”

Chapter 17

The ride through the sunny London streets was all but a blur for Kitty. Trembling whenever she thought about what they were planning to do, she kept a tight hold on Ash’s hand. The contact steadied her. They talked little, and Kitty wondered if brides were this silent on the way to their wedding nights.

In what seemed like an appallingly short time, the carriage pulled up in front of an elegant white stone townhouse in a fashionable area of London. Why hadn’t she been paying more attention? She had no idea where Ash lived. Not that it truly mattered. Oh, dear, her nerves were beginning to fray rather badly. Kitty took a deep breath. It didn’t matter where she was, as long as she was with Ash. Still, she guessed she could ask.

“Where are we?” She peered out the window at a park across the street. “I mean, I know this is your house, but what part of the city are we in?”

“St. James’s Square, number twenty-five.” Ash rapped on the top of the carriage. “Drive around to the mews please, Mr. Hines.” He rubbed her hand briskly with both of his. “If we go in through the mews, there’s less chance of you being seen.”

“Does that really matter?” Kitty raised an eyebrow. “We are trying to ruin me, after all.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Force of habit, I fear. Most ladies strive for discretion. We can drive back around to the front…”

Kitty shrugged. “I don’t suppose it matters much. I will be just as ruined whether your neighbors see me or not.”

The carriage came to a stop, and Ash jumped out then helped her down carefully. She glimpsed the lane backing all the other townhouses before Ash whisked her through an archway and into the stables. The smell of horses, hay, and manure rose around her, familiar and therefore somehow comforting in the midst of so much strangeness.

“This way.” Ash lit a lantern and opened a door in the far wall. “Watch your step.”

A dark tunnel sloped steeply downward. She’d never seen such a thing before.

“Hold onto my arm. It’s a bit of a rough go here.”

“What is this?” Kitty clutched his arm as she glanced about. The dim light revealed smooth stone walls but little else. Fortunately, the air was cool but not musty.

“A servant’s tunnel from the kitchen to the stable.” Ash held the lantern high, and she could better make out the construction of the walls. The stone was alternating now with plastered sections, laced with thin strips of wood. “An excellent way to smuggle in unexpected guests.” The smile was back in his voice. “Although I think my father didn’t quite have this in mind when he had this constructed.”

“How fortunate for you, my lord.” Kitty clutched his arm more tightly. The impenetrable darkness outside the circle of the lantern’s light unnerved her.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed her cheek. “Now we go up a little and,” a door appeared before them, “voila. We are in the house with no one the wiser.” He opened the door, stuck his head in, then pulled her inside a deserted kitchen.

Her heart began to race.

A banked fire glowed in the grate, but there were no kitchen staff to be seen.

“This way.” He led her across the kitchen, still eerily quiet. They went down a corridor and up the polished front staircase, a strange, hushed silence all around.

“Where is everyone?” The man must have servants.

“I gave them the afternoon off.” He placed his hand on the small of her back, a comforting gesture that also made her face flush.

“All of them off at the same time? Won’t they think that strange?”

“Not really. It’s happened before.”

Well, she supposed she knew what that meant. Neither should she be surprised at that confession. The realization that she wasn’t going to be discovered here any time soon made her relax a trifle and take in Ash’s home.

The walls of the entry hall were paneled in oak with a series of portraits, his ancestors, most likely, extending up the staircase. One was a family portrait with Ash, his mother and father when Ash was perhaps ten years old. Kitty paused to peer at the cherubic face, so very like the adult one.

“This way, my dear.”

They’d reached the first floor and turned right down the richly furnished corridor. Dark blue silk covered the walls and sconces burned along the length of it. Ash led her to the first door on the right and pushed the dark-paneled door open.

Kitty swallowed hard as the door swung inward, revealing a handsomely appointed bed chamber, the major furnishing of which was a massive four-poster bed. She couldn’t move until Ash’s hand on her lower back urged her inside.

Breathing quickly, Kitty stepped inside, and Ash shut the heavy door with a loud thud. No sooner had it closed than he was beside her, taking her in his arms and seizing her lips in a searing kiss.