Page 34 of The Last Kiss

Harry lifted his eyes to Ash’s. “No.” Turning his hand, he tangled their fingers together, expression softening. “Not everything.”

Voices drifted from within the church and Ash dropped his hand. Under his breath he said, “When can we see each other again?”

“I don’t know.” Harry eyed the church door. “We have to be careful.”

“We are.”

“John Pierson — ”

“Is a little shit. So what? What’s he going to do?”

Harry didn’t answer, but it was a stupid question anyway; it was obvious what he could do if he knew what they’d done. Ash pushed himself to his feet and took a step forward, close enough that his fingers brushed Harry’s again. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll go riding this afternoon — somewhere secluded.”

When Harry swallowed, Ash could see his throat move and he stood so close he could hear the hitch in his breathing. “Yeah, alright. You’ll come to the stables?”

“As soon as I can get away. I want — ” He almost lost his nerve. “I want to kiss you again.”

Harry’s lips parted and Ash had a flash of memory — the warmth of his lips, the press of his strong body against Ash’s own. “Yeah,” Harry said roughly. “Me too. And more.”

More. Ash felt a twitch below his belt, a flush of heat across his skin and goosebumps rising on the back of his neck. “Christ, Harry,” he said just as the first of the congregation emerged into the sunlight.

Harry took a casual step back and Ash turned away, staring out across the church yard until he was master of himself again. When he eventually heard his father thanking Reverend Pratham, Ash turned around and re-joined his parents.

“Ashleigh, darling,” his mother said. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.” To the vicar, he added, “I’m so sorry Reverend Pratham, I hope I didn’t disturb the service too badly.”

“Not at all, Mr Ashleigh. You did look rather green about the gills. But now look, here’s Miss Allen come to say good morning. She’ll put you right.” He offered Ash’s mother an unctuous smile. “Just the ticket, eh?”

Good lord, had his mother been dropping hints? Feeling ill for an entirely different reason, Ash turned around to see Olive striding toward them. She gave a perfunctory nod to Pratham, then looked Ash in the eye. “Are you in pain? What happened?”

“I’m fine. Felt a little light-headed is all.” Suddenly afraid he’d be stopped from riding, he added, “Nothing that fresh air and exercise won’t cure, I’m sure.”

“I quite agree. That’s what Major Edwards tells all the men at Chewton, Mrs. Allen. Fresh air and exercise is a cure-all.”

His mother smiled and Ash tried not to think of the poor bastards in their bath chairs.

After saying good morning to Reverend Pratham, Olive turned to walk with Ash back toward the road. Conscious of his mother’s knowing smile, Ash felt like the worst kind of fraud. He was letting them believe what they choose about him and Olive while his heart beat only for Harry West. He couldn’t think of anything else but this afternoon’s ride. Not even Olive’s conversation was enough to distract him from wondering where they could go that would be secluded. How long they could stay away without raising an alarm, how much they’d be able to —

“I say, Ashleigh.” Olive looked amused. “You’re rather dreamy this morning. I don’t think you’ve heard one word in ten I’ve said.”

He felt himself flush, chagrined. “I’m so sorry. How rude of me.”

“Oh, as if I care about that. I’m more interested in what’s put that smile on your face.” Her expression softened. “It’s rather nice to see. You don’t smile often enough.”

Christ, was he such an open book? Too bloody sensitive, his father had always scolded. But it wasn’t just his own secret he was keeping now and he knew he must do better, even with Olive. She may be a friend, but he daren’t trust anyone when it came to Harry. Of the two of them, Ash was fully aware who would bear the brunt should their secrets come to light. “I had rather an enjoyable ride yesterday,” he said, hoping that would be explanation enough. “You were right, I should have started riding again months ago.”

“Yes. Next time, perhaps, you’ll listen to me.”

“Naturally.”

Olive’s intent gaze pinned him, however. Bright, like the glint of wet stone in sunlight. “You rode out with West, I take it?”

“Yes.” He looked away, past the rowan trees at the churchyard gate toward the road back toward Highcliffe House. He could see Harry walking with Boyd, Pierson and his mother behind them. He’d recognise Harry’s broad shoulders and long-legged gait anywhere.

“I like West,” Olive said. “He’s good for you. Brings you out of your shell.” Ash looked at her, startled, but now it was Olive gazing straight ahead. “I hear you’re going to London on Tuesday.”

Ash swallowed hard. “I — Apparently I am, yes.”

---