With a sob he jolted awake. His hands fell to his sides, and then he grabbed Sofia by her cotton night rail.
The candle fell from her hand and clamored to the floor, blanketing them both in darkness. Not a sound was made — nothing but Ash’s heavy breathing. The acrid fragrance of pine mingled with the musky scent of sweat.
“I could have shot you.” His voice was hoarse.
“You’re welcome.” She breathed. His hands were warm, still pressed against her body, tugging at the cloth nearest her breasts.
“For damn-near scaring me to death?” He seethed, tugging her closer.
So close she could feel the heat of his mouth tickling her neck.
“No,” she whispered. “For interrupting the nightmare.”
“I wasn’t—” He swore. “Thank you. Now leave.”
“No.”
“Damn, but you’d try the patience of a saint.”
“Probably shouldn’t use your name and saint in the same reference, all things considered.”
“Someone’s mouthy at night. Then again, that mouth seems to have a problem closing when it’s needed most.”
“Are we discussing my mouth… again?” In bed, but she left that part out. Already her entire body was sizzling with awareness.
“I believe we were discussing your inability to close it.”
“I’m sure my inability to close my mouth goes right along with your determination to touch me at every turn.”
He released her.
Chilling disappointment quickly replaced the sizzle of heat.
“You should sleep.” It was impossible to see his face, but the mattress had dipped, most likely from Ash trying to move away.
“I was worried.” Sofia sighed. “You were talking in your sleep, groaning. That, mixed with my anxiety over the ball tomorrow, well… not the best remedy for sleeplessness, I’m afraid.”
She rose from the bed.
Ash’s hand shot out, griping her wrist, tugging her back to the mattress. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you nervous about tomorrow? You are finally getting exactly what you want — what you need. Doesn’t every woman desire to marry?”
Sofia swallowed, giving herself a few seconds of preparation. “For love, yes.”
“But you’re a princess.”
“Good of you to notice.”
Ash snorted. “What I meant, Your Highness, is that you’ve been bred to marry for duty — not pleasure.”
“Pity,” she whispered.
“It is.” His voice was hoarse. “It truly is.”
“Are you feeling sympathy for me, soldier?”
Ash’s soft chuckle may as well have been a kiss on the mouth. Warmth spread out to her fingertips, making them itch with the need to cup his face, trace his jaw with the pads of her fingers, memorize the stubble she knew she’d find there.
“I don’t feel sympathy for cunning women.”
“Compliments at midnight… I’m all aflutter, I assure you.”
More soft laughter. “Go to bed, Princess.”
“And count sheep? Would that be your suggestion?”
Ash exhaled loud enough to wake a bear then slowly stood and helped her to her feet. “Tell Dominique I did this, and we’re back to frogs and buckets of water.”
“I’m calling your bluff.”
“Tell him, and we’ll see now, won’t we?”
“Well, I don’t know what I’m telling or not telling…”
Ash placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the other side of the room.
Defeated, she slumped her shoulders. So he was to push her out again?
“Stay here,” Ash whispered, his hand leaving her body for a few seconds.
He quickly returned with two glasses and a candle, casting a glowing light on his face, and very bare chest. She sucked in a breath as she noted the tight muscles around his midsection, the scars, the markings.
“Eyes up here, Princess,” Ash said with a gruff voice.
“S-sorry.” She swallowed against the dryness in her throat and pointed to the glasses. “What is that?”
“Something to help you sleep.”
“Oh.”
“Well, it won’t bite…” He lifted the glass to her. When Sofia took it, he lifted his midair. “Cheers.”
“Do I just drink it?”
“Have you never had whiskey?”
“Princesses do not drink… spirits.”
“Something tells me,” Ash whispered, “that this princess…would like a little…rule-breaking before she sets off to the marriage mart.”
Sofia gasped. “Are you offering?”
Ash went deathly quiet as she lifted the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip. It was strong, dry, but oddly warming. She tilted her head back allowing the liquid to pump through her system.
“You sure you’ve never had whiskey?” Ash asked once she’d handed the glass back to him.
“More.”
With a chuckle, Ash hung his head. “One more, and then you need to rest.”
He returned with both glasses filled. This time they clinked them together and then drank. The whiskey went down easier, but it still burned, creating a slow fire in her chest.
“Now…” Ash took her glass and set it on the table across the room with his. Then he made his way back to her with the candle in hand. “…you need to sleep.”
Sofia nodded but didn’t budge.
“In your own bed,” he urged.
When Sofia still didn’t move, on account that his body was looking more and more tempting as his muscles flexed with tension, he reached for her, his hand just grazing her arm. She jolted at his touch, causing his hand to fall to her breast, just grazing it before he pulled back with a sharply indrawn breath.
It was enough.
That simple touch was enough.
Perhaps it was the whiskey, maybe it was the whiskey combined with the touch, but it made her once again brave, and, of course, stupid, for she whispered, “Kiss me.”
Ash swore under his breath.
“Or I’ll tell Dominique about the whiskey.”
“Bloody hell,” Ash muttered, running his free hand through his silky black hair. “By God, I didn’t expect that. You’ve outfoxed me. However did you manage it?”
“I’m cunning, remember?”
“I’m beginning to,” Ash murmured then blew out the candle.
Sofia felt her legs touch the back of the mattress as he gently walked her backward then pushed her onto the bed. Her entire body arched toward him when he hovered over her, his strength pressed against her softness, causing a slow throb throughout her body.
“One kiss…” Both hands were cupping her face. “…and you’ll never ask again.”
“But—”
“I have your word?”
“Yes.”
His soft lips pressed against hers, and then he pulled back.
Sofia almost groaned in frustration.
But then he was back, angling differently than before, his tongue rimming her bottom lip before pushing inside her mouth.
She gasped as his tongue touched hers. His lips were firm, the heat from his mouth mind-numbing as he deepened the kiss, running his hands from his face down to her shoulders. On instinct, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.
A low, feral growl rumbled in his throat, and the kiss turned more frenzied; his mouth slammed against hers, devouring with every single second. His fingers burned everywhere they touched.
Ash pulled back.
“More,” she begged. “Please.”
“I cannot…” Breathing ragged, he slowly pried himself from her body.
“Why?”
“You mean other than the obvious? You’re innocent? Preparing to be married to someone else? Unmarried and basically unclothed with a single man? Or would you rather I tell you the worst part of it all, the ending that isn’t so happy?”
“I’d rathe
r you be honest.” Her voice was still hoarse, shaken from the intimacy they’d just shared.
“My heart isn’t mine to give. It still belongs to the woman I loved — the woman I betrayed. So you cannot ask for something I do not have. It is because of her that I refuse to touch a woman. It is because of her that I’ve been celibate for ten years. And it is because of her that I will not kiss you again. Not now. Not ever. Goodnight, Princess. Sleep well.”
The door shut behind him.
Darkness was her only comfort.
A warm tear rolled down her cheek. She reached to wipe it away, and her fingers fell to her lips. It was a beautiful kiss by a very dangerously beautiful man, who, in his own words, wanted nothing to do with her.
She could handle rejection based on propriety.
But rejection based on loving someone else?
It caused a pain in her chest that refused to rub away, no matter how many times she willed it. For Ash had experienced one thing that she never would. He’d had love.
He’d lost it.
But he’d still had love.
And she had nothing.
Except for the memory of a taken man’s kisses.
A stolen kiss, meant for someone else.
And the promise that it would never be repeated. Those were not the thoughts for a happy sleep — but nightmares.
Sofia vowed to do better in the morning. To not show weakness. To follow through… she had no choice.
And maybe, just maybe, in the process of finding someone to marry — they’d kiss her at least once the way that Ash just had.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It wasn’t enough. And to top it off — I’d lied. But that’s what villains do. They lie. I shouldn’t have been surprised. —The Grimm Reaper
“ASH!” A BOOMING VOICE bellowed. “I’m going to murder you!”
Bloody hell, he knew about the kiss. Somehow he had spies in the form of whiskey and candles, and Ash was going to see his own murder firsthand.
Well, it was bound to happen sooner rather than later.
Slowly, Ash rose from his bed, careful not to rush. After all, if he was dying, he wasn’t going to be quick about it.
The door to his room burst open.
Dominique stomped in, followed by Hunter and Pierce. Both men crossed their arms, ridiculously cheerful grins painted on their all too arrogant faces.
“Rough night, Dominique?” Ash sighed and went over to the washbasin. He nearly made it, but Dominique jerked him back by the shoulders and threw him against the floor.
Ash sighed from his view, looking up at Dominique towering over him. His dark eyebrows pinched together. Egad, throw a walnut between those lines, and the bloody thing would crack.
“Perhaps a bit of whiskey,” Ash offered. “Takes the edge off.”
“It’s morning.”
“Doesn’t stop Pierce.” Hunter interjected.
Ash pointed behind him. “He speaks the truth.”
“We are not discussing Pierce…” Dominique spat. “…but you. We are discussing you.”
“Yes, yes, my death.” Ash fought a yawn. “Can you make it quick? After all, anticipation is everything.”
“No. It shall be slow, with a dull knife.” Dominique pulled a dagger from his jacket, a beast intent on killing.
Well, Ash had had a good run, and what better way to die? After all, he’d shared the most erotic and forbidden kiss of his life the night previous. He deserved to die, and if Dominique didn’t kill him, he’d be tempted to do it again, that and much more.
“What are you waiting for?” Hunter asked.
“At least now we know who the bloodthirsty twin is.” Pierce chuckled.
Ash continued to stare at his reflection against the sharp dagger, waiting for the inevitable, trying to calm himself. Hadn’t he asked for death every day since she had met hers? Yet, the buzz of Sofia’s kiss on his lips burned into his memory. Why not stay alive for one more? Just one more. Even though it was wrong, so very wrong. Wasn’t he lying on his back in the middle of the floor for that very thing?
“Well?” Dominique asked. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
“Er...” Ash coughed. “I’m sorry for… well, I’m just sorry.”
“For what?” Dominique seethed.
“Existing?”
“Close.”
“Breathing?”
“Better.” His teeth snapped. Ash half-expected fire to erupt from Dominique’s eyes.
Ash opened his mouth to speak.
“You slept in the same room!” The roar was quite loud and impressive, even for Dominique.
Wincing, Ash lifted his hands helplessly into the air. “I was doing my job, a job you commanded I do well, lest I find my body detached from my head. Were those not your exact words?”
“Yes but—”
“So, I protected her all night from men who would use her for their own personal form of bed sport. I protected her, didn’t sleep a wink, and lived in my own personal hell while she tossed and turned on what could only be described as the most uncomfortable mattress ever created. And you want to kill me? For doing my duty? For doing a damn good job? Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
Dominique’s brow furrowed.
“He always was good at talking himself out of a corner,” Hunter said in a confident voice.
“I wonder who told.” Pierce’s voice cut in. “I was too drunk to remember.”
“And I knew this would be his exact reaction,” Hunter agreed.
“You knew?” Dominique roared, turning his sneer behind Ash toward Hunter and Pierce.
“But of course…” Footsteps neared Ash’s head. Hoby boots that were shined to perfection framed his face from the floor as Hunter shrugged and pulled the knife carefully from Dominique’s grip. “I was also clearly smart in my decision not to tell you what you clearly did not need to know. The girl is safe, untouched, happy… and soon to be wed. Now, about that whiskey—”
“Who told you?” Ash got up from his place on the floor, dusted off his body, then took a few steps away from Dominique, just in case the man had another sudden change in heart and felt the need to impale him in the chest.
“Montmouth.” Dominique shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Seems the duke was needed in town and stopped by to explain the situation about putting both of you in the same room at the inn.”
“That loose-lipped bastard son of a whore!” Hunter stomped his foot. “I’ll meet him at dawn, brother, just say the word.”
“Word.” Pierce coughed.
Ash peered around Hunter and fought the urge to pull out his pistol to silence his partner. “Ever so helpful, aren’t you, Pierce?”
“I do try.” He grinned.
Ash’s eyes narrowed. “Try harder.”
“Nobody is shooting anyone!” A female voice rang out down the hall, and suddenly Isabelle was standing in the door, hands on hips. “Dominique! How dare you threaten our guests?”
Dominique’s nostrils flared. “But he—”
“I don’t care if he seduced her under our very roof! We simply do not pull weapons on family members until we hear their side of the story. Bloodthirsty Russians!” She stomped her foot.
“Love…” Dominique held up his hands. “…last I checked, I was the man.”
“He has to check?” Hunter elbowed Ash and smirked.
Dominique growled. “And as the man, nay, the leader of this household, it is my job to…” He flailed his hands.
“Stop talking.” Hunter slapped Dominique on the back. “Put the shovel back in the shed and step away from the hole you’re about to tumble into.”
Isabelle’s eyes flashed.
Ash took a step back.
“My love—” Her smile was tense. “—I do hope that you do not get trampled by a horse this evening when I lock the leader of this household outside!”
“Now, Isabelle.”
“Ash!” Isabelle yelled.
“My lady.” Ash damn-near stu
mbled toward her.
“If you’d be so kind to accompany the princess and myself to Bond Street, I’d be most appreciative. I believe my husband will be otherwise detained while he tries to discover where his manhood has indeed run off to during this conversation.”
Hunter snickered while Pierce covered his mouth and averted his eyes.
“Of course.” Ash gave a slight bow. “Shall I meet you downstairs in twenty minutes?”
“Yes.” Isabelle turned her attention back to her husband. “Well? Are you going to stand there or begin the grievous and humbling process of groveling?”
“Groveling.” Hunter coughed. “Pick groveling.”
“I’m sorry,” Dominique muttered and walked slowly to Isabelle. When he reached her, he stretched out his hand.
She stared at it but finally took it and tugged him down the hall.
“Ah, if these walls could talk.” Pierce sighed longingly. “Lucky bastard’s going to get a good set down and enjoy at least fifteen minutes of aggressive lovemaking while we drink tea.”
“Vivid imagination, that one.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “Ash…”
Ash turned and faced his twin.
“Apologies. The minute I arrived at the house, Dominique was already in a mood. I tried to get him drunk, but the man wouldn’t even take a sip of tea. It took the force of two men to keep him downstairs as long as we did.”
Ash nodded, unwilling to trust his own voice to speak, mainly because he knew he was guilty of that and so much more. Not just sharing a room, but a bed, two forbidden kisses, and the inability to shake all of the above from his thoughts.
“Ash?” Pierce cocked his head to the side. “Say, are you all right? You look positively flushed.”
“Having a knife pointed at my chest sometimes causes such ill effects. It will pass. Always does.” Ash coughed to hide his discomfort. Perhaps it would also dislodge the forbidden thoughts racing through his mind.
“Well then…” Hunter slapped him on the back. “…we’ll be off. I was only stopping by to discuss this night’s festivities with my brother.”
“Tonight?” Ash repeated.
“The ball.” Hunter nodded. “Added security, compliments of the Crown. I’ll have two of my best spies and, well… Pierce.”