Ashton: Lord of Truth (Lonely Lords Book 13) by Grace Burrowes Page A

the night sky. Noise was
    unceasing, and game girls flirted from doorways while elegant coaches tooled past mere yards away.
    Ewan had no use for London, which was some consolation. The Scottish peerage didn’t travel south en masse when Parliament sat, but rather, sent a
    small delegation, whom Ewan referred to as the hostage party or the forlorn hope.
    When Ashton had turned his steps to Pastry Lane, he’d felt as if he were arriving at a sanctuary, a small island of sanity and peace in a heaving sea
    of loud, noisome, striving humanity. Matilda’s stoop was adorned with potted heartsease, and he’d sat on her front steps in his lordly finery
    eavesdropping on the quiet exchange of the ladies in the parlor.
    Lodgers move on.
    Ashton wanted to go home, not move on, and yet, he wanted Matilda Bryce too. When he drew her to her feet, he saw acknowledgment of mutual attraction in
    her gaze.
    Acknowledgment was not the same as assent. “As much as I’d like to kiss you,” Ashton said, “I’d rather we kissed each
    other.”
    The curtains were drawn, fluttering in the mild evening breeze. Nobody would see Ashton and Matilda standing so close in the candlelit parlor.
    “What is the difference if you kiss me, or we kiss each other?” Matilda asked.
    Her husband must have been stupid in addition to cold-hearted. “This is me kissing you,” Ashton replied, brushing his mouth over hers.
    “Not quite a mutual endeavor.”
    “This dinner with your friend upset you,” she said, stroking his hair back from his brow.
    Ashton wanted to move into her caress as a cat pushed against a friendly hand. “The conversation tonight saddened me. Difficult negotiations lie
    ahead, and I’ve put them off for too long.”
    “And I’m to kiss it better?”
    As a younger man, Ashton would have taken himself upstairs and indulged in solitary pleasures rather than endure this exchange. Matilda was entitled to her
    caution, though. All ladies were, and he’d had to learn caution as well.
    “When was the last time anybody kissed your hurts better, Matilda?” He captured her hand in his and kissed the finger she’d pricked
    earlier. “I’m not proposing a marital alliance to end twenty years of war. All I’m asking for is a kiss.”
    He sought to share a moment of sanctuary and pleasure amid a season of posturing and foolishness.
    Her hand slid around to Ashton’s nape, her touch cool and confident. Matilda wasn’t anchoring herself so much as learning his contours. She
    brushed her fingers over hair growing too long for fashion, then braced her other hand on his chest.
    She glossed her mouth over his lips, repeating his overture more slowly. Ashton held still, letting her decide whether to venture on or retreat. A breeze
    licked at the curtains, and one of the sconces guttered.
    Maybe that was a sign to her, for she embarked on a kiss that fit with shadows and quiet. Her explorations were tentative to the point that Ashton wondered
    if she’d done much kissing even during her marriage.
    He brought her closer, and she yielded, becoming a sweet, soft weight against his chest. When Ashton ran his tongue over her lips, she reciprocated, but
    didn’t seem to understand that he wanted
in
. Wanted into her mouth, into her mind.
    Into her heart, to the extent a temporary liaison could involve the heart.
    He went slowly, enjoying all the curves he’d missed for so long. Feminine shoulders both elegant and sturdy, the taper of a female back, the swell of
    a woman’s hips, the fullness of her derriere. The Creator had surely improved on the initial model when he’d fashioned woman, and Ashton
    reveled in all the wonders of having Matilda Bryce in his arms.
    She warmed to the kiss, pressing close, clutching at the back of Ashton’s head and pulling his hair. Arousal tugged at him as well, a friend
    who’d been away for too long.
    “Does that qualify as kissing each other?” she asked, subsiding against Ashton’s chest.
    “We did,