Page 68 of Ruthless, But for Her

The Daisy. Of course.

How many of its women had he been with over the years?

At the first stroke of the brush, Cassia dropped her shoulders. At the second, she let out a small sound of pleasure. Was there anything so glorious as this? He did it so gently, more so than Nell.

“You have beautiful hair,” he said.

Her heart sped up at the compliment. She’d heard it before, but this time ’twas entirely different. It came from Ashton, a man who didn’t lie, even when a lie would suit him.

“Thank you,” she said. “And for the brush, too.”

He made no further comment but just continued to brush her hair. When he finally stopped, instead of turning back around, she stood there, leaning back into him.

In an instant, his arms wrapped around her from behind, enveloping her. They stayed that way, though not long enough, when Cassia suddenly felt the hair over her left shoulder being moved. She turned her head to look up at him. Then, tilting her head down to her right shoulder, Cassia gave him the access he sought. With her invitation, Ashton lowered his head. At the first touch of his lips on her neck, a sizzle of shock, then pleasure, ran through her.

As his arms enveloped her, Cassia leaned into him. Into his chest, into his lips as they moved from the base of her neck upward, toward her ear.

She’d been kissed before, of course. By suitors. By her husband. But never, ever like this. It was all at once both gentle and…tantalizing. Suddenly, he stopped.

Cassia turned around to look at him and Ashton let her, releasing his hold.

“You stopped.”

“Nay.” He reached out, placing his finger under her chin, and lifted it. “I am just beginning.”

CHAPTER 39

Ashton

She was a recent widow, partially by his own hand, yet he wanted another taste of her. And he would take it, too. The moment Cassia leaned into him, every piece of advice Walter Crey had ever given him about thinking three moves ahead, and never taking something he could not put down, fled his mind.

He could resist the most alluring temptress, but Cassia had offered something else entirely—a tenderness, and trust, he had no defense against.

“That is, if you wish it,” he added.

Her eyes gave Ashton the only answer he needed. It was not the first time she’d looked at him that way, but ’twas the first time she openly allowed him to see it.

“I wish it.”

God’s teeth, a widow and yet still an innocent.

He guided her chin upward and leaned down, slowly, giving her time to protest. It had been a lesson from Margot, one he sometimes suspected she’d gained from an experience no woman should be forced to endure.

Cassia’s shoulders rose and fell, slowly in rhythm with her breath. She was scared. Ashton ground his teeth together, cursing Roland Heron one last time, and then vowed to never think of the man again. The brute deserved no memory.

“Close your eyes, Cassia.”

She did, as did Ashton while releasing her chin and stepping toward her. Cassia’s hands flew to his arms, holding him as if needing his aid to stand.

The first touch of their lips offered the exact reason he should not have done it.

Tender. Gentle. The very opposite of who he was, or had become. It didn’t matter that she was a widow. Lady Cassia of Grantchester had not been properly kissed. She kept her mouth closed.

Ashton aimed to open it.

Sliding his tongue across the seam of her lips was a good beginning. But he wanted more.

So much more.