Lovely.
“Yes, tell us!” Cornelius commanded, joining Dunlan on the trunk and leaning forward.
“He jumped off his horse. It was as if he was trying to break his neck!”
Cornelius gasped and grabbed Dunlan. “Did he hurt himself?”
“No.” Pierce nodded leaning toward his captive audience. “’Twas as if he had wings like a bird or an angel. He near flew off into the air with a war cry of triumph.”
The rest of the guard, ones who were actually doing their jobs, stopped immediately and hovered around Pierce.
“Did he slice his throat?” Serafano.
“Gut him from head to toe?” Gerald.
“Cut off his head!” David.
“Bash him in with a rock!” Samson.
Sofia snorted and wondered briefly if they would have even protected her from Pierce and Ash had they been assassins bent on killing her.
“No.” Pierce shook his head, and grief replaced the joy once on his face. “His sword fell from his hand as he tackled the man to the ground. They scurried, each of them trying his best to retrieve the lost weapon and end the bloody mess.”
Sofia tried not to listen, she really did, but she found herself pausing as she waited for the rest of the story.
“The traitor grabbed the sword before Ash had a chance.”
“No!” Dunlan wailed. Good heavens, was he weeping?
Cornelius patted him soothingly on the back.
“Yes.” Pierce nodded. “He stabbed Ash thrice in the back, just here and here and… here.” Pierce pointed to areas on David’s back and sighed. “We thought him dead.”
“Good story?” a voice whispered behind her.
Jumping out of her skin, Sofia gasped and then slapped Ash across the shoulder. “I was merely…”
“Listening,” he supplied with a grin. “You were listening. Tell me, do stories of my escapades endear me to you? The wounded hero left for dead, closed out to the world, only to find that true love was the answer all along?” He chuckled.
Glaring, she turned away from him and waited for the rest of the story.
“I survived.” Ash pushed past her. “You can tell stories later, Pierce. The hour grows late.”
Eyes alight with mischief, Pierce gave a sarcastic bow. “To be continued.”
Groaning rose from around the circle before the men scattered. They jumped on their horses and readied themselves for the journey ahead.
“I cannot ride with the princess,” Pierce announced suddenly. “It seems that riding in carriages does not agree with me.” He looked blandly at Ash and then at Sofia. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken in.
“Will you be alright to travel?” Sofia put her hand on his shoulder. It was bad enough that she had seven guards who were at this very moment weeping over a ridiculous story!
“If the good Lord allows it.” He looked down at his feet. His shoulders heaved.
Next to him, Ash snorted. “Terrible time for you to suddenly develop such an… ailment, wouldn’t you say?”
“Ash!” Sofia scolded. “Be reasonable. Look at the man. Anyone can see he’s clearly ill!”
“All that lavish storytelling make you sick, hmm?” Ash glared.
“You will ride with me,” Sofia commanded.
Ash sputtered, “Pardon?”
“I did not stutter.”
“I know. I am just hoping my ears deceived me.”
“They didn’t.” Pierce smiled and then, as if remembering he did not feel well, held his stomach and stumbled away.
Sofia squinted after him and then shrugged.
“I cannot—” Ash touched her arm.
The minute his gloveless hand touched her skin she felt singed, burned.
“You must.”
His eyes flared for a brief moment before he looked down. “I have a horse.”
“Good for you.” She flashed him a grin. ““I have a horse as well. His name is Apple, and I’m quite certain he can walk on his own while I ride in the carriage. As will yours.”
“But—”
“Tell me...” Sofia fought to keep her temper in check. “…do you work for my cousin?”
“Yes.”
“And has he hired you to look after me? To obey me? Deliver me safely?”
Ash’s jaw flexed. “Yes.”
“Then I order you to sit in the carriage with me and be my protector. If the task is too difficult for a man who just months ago went flying off his horse, dagger raised, then go along and tell one of the guard you are too much of a coward to be alone with a woman.”
Curses exploded out of his mouth as Ash pulled her flush against his body, his grip on her arm tightening to a near pain. “I do not fear being alone with a woman.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Impossible chit.” He swore and then released her. “You are asking for trouble, mark my words.” With that, he marched off, swearing a blue streak through the peaceful Scotland air.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sometimes we hide from the world because we are afraid of what it will reveal to us if we were to truly open our eyes and accept its honesty. I’d rather live in ignorance than face the ugly truth of my existence. —The Grimm Reaper
AN HOUR INTO THEIR journey, and Ash was truly wishing God would have allowed him to breathe his last breath.
As it was, he was already painfully uncomfortable after watching Sofia sleep.
Yes. He was aroused by her sleeping.
Good God¸ he was going mad!
He clenched his teeth and looked out the window. Perhaps he could simply break the glass. Air, he needed air.
A sigh escaped her lips.
Ash told his eyes to stay put. But blast if they didn’t glance at Sofia and remain there.
His chest heaved as he watched each little sigh escape her lips, and, with each sigh, his body grew tighter, and he became more and more uncomfortable. Her pale skin was flawless. Rosebud lips pressed together and then relaxed. He found himself unable to look away from her small form as she tried to lie across the seat.
One touch.
What would it hurt?
A battle ensued in his mind. One where he told the beast within to stay put — that nothing good would come of touching her, of wanting her.
The carriage jolted. Sofia’s eyes flashed open, yet he did not, could not look away. No, he stared, like a ravenous wolf ready to pounce on its next meal.
She stared right back.
They sat in silence.
Finally, he closed his eyes, and greedily inhaled her scent. So often he used his nose as a way to hunt those that needed killing. His finely tuned instincts were exactly that, sharpened so he could be painless about finding traitors and killing them.
But now. It was all wrong. For his sensitivity was working against him. The air twitched with her slight breathing; he felt the heat radiate from her body. Want, she smelled of want. Curse him for desiring the very same thing.
Palms sweating, he kept his eyes closed.
That was, until a soft hand touched his face.
Praying for strength, he opened his eyes, only to see Sofia squinting at his neck. He knew what she was seeing: the scar beneath his chin that ran down his neck and beneath his cravat. Her hand reached out, perhaps to trace it. Ash’s skin tingled with awareness at her blatant stare. Nobody had dared touch him for ten years—a man could forget what it was like to have a female caress his face as if it wasn’t ugly, as if he wasn’t tainted and scarred. Flushing with irritation, he leaned back, away from her, away from the sirens call she had no idea she was giving.
He grasped her wrist and thrust her back into her seat. “It is rude to stare.”
She snorted. “Hello, kettle. My name’s black. Pleased to meet you.”
“Chit.”
“Grumpy old fool.”
“Old?” Ash shook his head.
“Don’t forget grumpy.”
He hadn’t, but he’d be lying if he said h
e wasn’t still stuck on the reference of aging. “I am not old.”
“Being old isn’t so bad. It is probably why Pierce tells stories of your escapades. It is common when men have… peaked.”
“Peaked?” A wry chuckle slipped out. “My dear, you have not even begun to see me peak.”
She blushed red and looked away.
“Would you like to?”
“How old are you?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Old enough to know how to peak.”
“I worry we have different definitions for that word.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at him pointedly.
“Allow me to demonstrate,” he teased with a wink.
“I’d rather you stay where you are.”
He shrugged. “Your loss.” And perhaps mine as well.
At that she snorted.
Momentary silence fell between them and then, “I believe you to be in your late thirties. Am I correct?”
Offended, Ash opened his mouth to respond but then snapped it shut. “Whatever caused you to guess that particular age?”
Sofia licked those beautiful plump lips and leaned forward. Curses, but her smell was intoxicating.
“Your eyes.”
He drew up sharply, “My eyes?” He’d always known he and his brother had peculiar eyes, like that of a wolf or hunter, but none had ever said it made him look elderly. Every bone in his body screamed in outrage! He was a man in his prime! “Whatever is wrong with my eyes, Princess?”
“They are old.”
“Eyes cannot be old,” he scoffed. ”They are mere objects of a person.”
Sofia leveled him with a stare that left him breathless and a bit uncomfortable, leaning forward so her dress strained against her breasts she whispered, “Your eyes are angry and sad. Perhaps it is not your body that is old, but your soul. You seem… tired.”
He used a laugh to push away the truth of her statement. The truth that pierced his very body and went straight into his soul, causing his dead heart to thump wildly in his chest. “I am eight and twenty. And I am anything but tired. Again, allow me to demonstrate.”
“Empty threats.” She waved him off. “If I was fearful of you demonstrating anything, I would not have invited you to ride with me.”
“Ordered.” Raising one eyebrow, he inclined his head and challenged her. “You ordered me.”
“I like to think of it as an invitation.” The smile she flashed had the capacity to both blind and stupefy.
“Minx.”
Her smile glowed even more brilliantly for a second before she leaned back in her seat, thank God, and looked out the window. “I miss home.”
He thanked the Almighty again for the subject change and relaxed as much as was physically possible, being celibate and riding in a carriage alone with the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered. “I’m sure, once you find a husband, you may return.”
“No.” She shook her head and swallowed, tears pooled behind her crystal eyes. “I will not.”
“Why?”
She took her lower lip hostage, chewing on it for a minute before answering, “I wish to live.”
“And if you return home, what? You die?”
“Murdered,” she whispered hoarsely. “I will be murdered. Oh, look! The North Sea!”
But Ash wasn’t looking at the sea. He was looking at the woman he’d just rescued and wondering what in the blazes Maskylov had failed to tell him about his cousin.
CHAPTER NINE
I cannot breathe when she is near. When I inhale, my body is permeated with her goodness. When I exhale, it is as if her scent steals all my reasons for being who I am — directly from my soul. I do not want to be fixed, but blast if the little minx isn’t trying. —The Grimm Reaper
WELL. THAT COULD HAVE gone better. Silence enveloped the carriage as it jolted this way and that.
Ash, with his calculating eyes, had quieted immediately with her confession. She cleared her throat and tried to discuss the North Sea again, but Ash had put up his hand, as if that would cause her to cease talking.
Well, it had worked. She huffed out a frustrated breath. Why the devil was he always silencing her?
“Are you telling me that those misfits traveling with us are trying to keep you from being murdered?” Each word he said made her feel like a child being scolded.
Sofia thrust her chin into the air. “But, of course. They are my Royal Guard.”
“Royal Guard, my a—” Ash coughed. “They would find the task of killing a flea difficult, let alone protecting a person.”
“They are trained in the art of—”
“Foolishness,” he finished. “Yes I’m quite aware of that. Half of them are young enough to have been sired by yours truly, and wipe that ridiculous smirk off your face before I give you a better reason.” He cleared his throat. “The other half are as dumb as Pierce, which is saying quite a lot.”
Yes, it does. About Pierce… She raised an eyebrow but kept silent.
“And the last one is so old he fell asleep talking to me this morning! I had to push him awake, and even then it took him at least ten minutes to remember who I was and why I had woken him up.”
“But—”
“No,” Ash growled. “How in blazes did you make it this far? Devil take me, I’ve just helped a runaway princess flee the country.”
“To be fair, I fled all on my own. You are merely delivering me to London.”
“To be fair…” He copied her sentiment, his words dripping with sarcasm. “…you should be dead by now.”
“The queen doesn’t…”Fear paralyzed her until she felt she could not breathe. “She is not aware of my escape yet, at least, I hope she is unaware.”
Ash sighed. “And when she discovers you’ve left?”
“I’ll be married.”
“Brilliant plan. You better hope it takes only a month to find your suitor, lest she come chasing after you. Until you are married, you are her property.”
“I am nobody’s property,” she all but yelled, clenching her hands into tiny fists. Breath whooshed out of her lungs as she leveled her gaze. “I will never be owned.”
“My dear, what the devil do you think holy matrimony is? A partnership? A fun little game? Mark my words, you will be owned, perhaps you should pray it will be by someone who doesn’t beat you.”
“It would not be the first time,” she whispered, willing the tears to stay put in her eyes where they belonged.
In an instant she felt a warm hand cup her chin, lifting it into the air as if he somehow needed to examine her. “Who would mar such perfection?”
She shook her head. “It does not matter.”
“Who?” he demanded, clenching her chin tighter. “Tell me now or, by God, I’ll discover it myself, if I have to kill every one of your royal protectors.”
“M-my stepmother… Ash you’re scaring me.”
His eyes were distant, and then the warmth returned to them. He released his grip on her chin and swore under his breath. “Apologies. I cannot…” He laughed bitterly. “…I cannot fathom it. That is the cruel joke that is my life. I am a hired hunter, a hired killer, yet I cannot, for one second, fathom someone laying a hand on you. It makes me—”
“What?” She breathed.
“—feel,” he snapped. “It makes me feel. A useless little emotion in my business.”
“Assassin.” Saying the word aloud made it feel more real. Her cousin had sent an assassin to rescue her? Was he mad?
“Shall I kill her for you, Princess?” Ash asked softly. “Say the word, and it is done.”
“Wh-what?” He could not be serious!
“I will make it painless, unless you’d rather I make it agonizingly slow. I will do whatever you order. All you need do is ask, and I will not hesitate to end her life.”
Stunned, Sofia’s mouth dropped open as she watched Ash close his eyes and relax against the seat. Though he was anything but relaxed — every visible muscle was flexe
d against his skin, as if one touch and he would explode.
With a shuddering breath, she blinked back a few ridiculous tears and muttered, “Thank you.”
Without opening his eyes, Ash responded, “For you. Anything for you, Princess. You may irritate me to no end, I may threaten and bark and bite, but I will protect you till my death. I will avenge your honor, and I will keep you white as snow.”
“White as snow?”
“Pure.” His voice was hoarse. “By God, you’ll be pure, and not just from any man that lays his hands on you, but from the ugliness of the world. I failed once in protecting someone from the darkness. I haven’t failed since. I will not fail with you.”
The rest of the carriage ride was met with such a tense silence that Sofia found herself so eager to exit the carriage she was tempted to jump from it. At long last, they reached the first and only coaching inn where they would be staying for the evening.
“Put this on.” Ash handed her a dark widow’s mask used for mourning.
“Are you intent on killing someone, then?” She tried to tease, but his scowl deepened.
“I mean to protect you from gossip. You are traveling with nine men, Princess. The ton may forgive many things. They may even look the other way when married women stray from their men, but traveling with nine of them? Alone? Without a maid? You may as well wear a sign that says Russian Whore.”
Sofia managed not to gasp at his rash words and jerked the mask from his hands and nodded. “Very well.”
“Thought you’d agree.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Who died?”
His face went pale; he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing escaped but a slight crack of his voice.
“I m-mean, who shall I say died? A husband?”
Color returned to his face; again his eyes were lit with yellow. “A brother. And I am your husband.”
In a moment of panic, she asked, “Why can’t Pierce be my husband? Or Cornelius?”
“Oh, that’s simple.” He turned his back to her and walked off. “I am much better looking.”
“Arrogant wretch”
His chuckle warmed her body. Stupid man. Why did he have to be so difficult? And attractive. Heavens, but he was correct about that. Never had she seen a man whose smile melted her insides so completely she swayed on her own two feet.