“Um, I don’t think…”
“What? Lose your nerve? Shoot me. Put me out of my misery, only be kind enough to make it a kill shot. I’ve served my purpose, delivered the girl to London — almost — and I want nothing more than to die in peace. So… shoot me.”
Pierce scowled. “I would, I truly would, but I have a mild suspicion that your so-called mission is not at an end.”
Dread pooled in Ash’s belly as he slowed his horse. “Explain yourself.”
Pierce shrugged. “Dominique sent you to fetch the girl and her guard… she trusts you and only you. Not even Dominique. He’s going to need you in order to build that trust with her, and you, my friend, are the only person who will be able to do it.”
“She doesn’t trust me.”
“Oh, but I think she does.” Pierce grinned. “I really think she does.”
That very thought plagued Ash, darkening his mood for the rest of the ride to Town. Bad enough that it had started raining, what was worse, each time he glanced at the carriage — to make sure the wheels were intact and not in any fashion to check in on Sofia — she was laughing at something Hunter was saying.
Hunter was married.
In love.
Besotted.
So why did it bother Ash as much as it did? So she laughed at his brother’s jokes. Ash could tell jokes… if he were so inclined to impress the woman, which he wasn’t.
He truly wasn’t.
Hands flexed, he gripped the reins tighter as they slowly made their way into Mayfair.
The scent of London always affected Ash in a negative manner. The stench of the streets reminded him of her lying in it. Reminded him of the one action that had stolen his very life from him — had stolen hers — and had consequently divided his relationship with Hunter for a decade.
He was so lost in thought he almost didn’t register that they were already at Dominique’s residence until it was too late.
Until The Beast himself was glowering from the top of the stairs, pistol in hand, or maybe it was just a walking stick, but one could never be too cautious.
“If you’d like to make a run for it, I can cover you, possibly for two minutes before I lose the nerve and follow suit,” Pierce whispered.
Ash grunted in response.
The footman let Hunter out of the carriage. He turned and held his hand to Sofia. Her fingers seemed to hesitate before gripping the proffered hand. Her white silk glove flashed brilliant against the cream kidskin worn by Hunter.
Her eyes were big, wide, fearful as she stepped out and glanced up at the large menacing house.
One fit for a prince.
Which, to be fair, fit, all things considered. Maskylov was a Russian prince in his own right, even though he chose to live in London with his English wife.
“Sofia.” Hunter inclined his head for Sofia to follow him, but her feet stayed firmly planted against the ground as if rooted there.
“Damsel.” Pierce disguised the word with a cough and pointed. “Distress.”
With a sigh, Ash slid off his horse and made his way toward Sofia. “Twelve steps.”
Her head shot up. “Pardon?”
“Twelve steps. It takes exactly twelve steps to make it to the top of the stairs. Worry about The Beast once you’re at the top, but it’s silly to worry about him now.”
“How do you figure?” she whispered, her face pale.
Ash nodded to Hunter.
Excused, Hunter gave a short bow and made his way toward the house while Ash took Sofia’s hand. “Well, to be morbid, a rabid dog could attack you before you hit the first stair.”
Sofia gasped. “Are you trying to make me feel better or suicidal?”
“Better.” Ash forced back a smile. “There’s reasoning with the madness I spout. Now pay attention.”
“I’m rapt with it,” she said dryly.
“Ah, there’s the lovely royal attitude I so dreadfully missed.” Ash squeezed her hand. “I admit, the dog was a poor example. One could possibly trip on the last stair and gain a head wound, making it so you don’t have to greet your cousin until you awaken, and by then, he’ll feel so horrid about you tripping that all the bark will be out of him. Besides it might give me adequate time to liquor him up.”
“I like that story better.”
“Figured you would, since it includes me taming the damn beast.”
Sofia blinked and then smiled. Ash’s insides warmed to mush, bloody intolerant emotions. “Now…” He ushered her forward. “…step one means you only have eleven to go, but think upon this… What if you do not take the steps? You’ll find yourself in this exact position tomorrow with the same problem. One does not win a war by simply staring at the enemy.”
“No,” Sofia whispered. “But how? How do you win the war without even knowing if they are your enemy?”
“That’s easy.” Ash was nearing the fifth step with Sofia. “You must first say hello.”
“Hello?” she squeaked.
“How are you to know if they are your enemy if you do not first know if they are your friend?”
Sofia’s mouth opened and then closed.
“And the last step…” Ash whispered. “Bravery becomes you.”
“Cousin,” Dominique stepped forward, damn-near shoving Ash out of the way as he embraced Sofia and kissed her on the cheek. “Are you well? Unharmed?” His eyes narrowed in on Ash. “Untouched?”
“Bloody hell, I must give every person the impression I have no self–control,” Ash muttered, while, from somewhere behind him, Pierce laughed.
Dominique only glowered more, as per usual.
But Ash stayed by Sofia’s side.
Until she sent him away — he’d stay. Because he’d promised to keep her safe, and he wasn’t satisfied she was — not yet.
“Ash…” Dominique’s voice was low, his accent thick as it always was when he was annoyed at the world. “…you will stay for dinner.”
“I will,” Ash repeated numbly.
“I have another task that needs… your touch.”
Ash sighed and moved past Dominique. “Tell me, am I to stay with you while I’m in London as well?”
“Your rooms have been ready for a week.”
“I was joking.”
“I never joke,” Dominique said sternly.
Pierce moved slowly back down the stairs and gave a silent nod of acknowledgement. Lucky bastard was most likely making an early escape before he too was roped into the chaos.
“Bloody brilliant mansion!” Cornelius all but shouted.
Dunlin, following too closely, slammed into Cornelius, who tripped into Sofia, who then gripped Dominique’s lapels like a lifeline.
“What is… this?” Dominique clipped.
Naturally, that was when Samson approached and promptly sneezed in Dominique’s face.
Serafano yawned and mumbled, “Bless you.”
Gerald and David rolled their eyes while Benedict stayed back.
“This—” Ash held his hands out wide. “—is the Royal Guard sent to protect your lovely cousin. Now do you see why I was… detained?”
“Good God.” Dominique glanced at the men then back at Ash, his eyes pleading.
“They shall stay here as well… right?” Sofia asked in a soft voice.
And suddenly Ash felt so much better about being in residence, especially considering he was going to get a front-row seat to the madness it would cause the great beast.
“I, uh—” Dominique stuttered, glancing to Ash for help.
Ash was silent.
Dominique’s eyes blazed.
“Of course!” came the female response as Dominique’s wife Isabelle made her way toward them. “We wouldn’t have it any other way. Why, they’re practically family. Right, Dominique?”
His eyes narrowed. “Er, right.”
“Whiskey?” Ash offered Dominique, but he was already two steps ahead of him, bounding toward his study. Ash followed as the sound of Isabelle’
s voice filled the great hall.
“Ah, great of you to join me.” Hunter lifted the decanter of whiskey into the air and pulled out another two snifters.
“What. The. Hell.” Dominique spat. “Tell me those aren’t the men sent to protect her?”
Hunter grinned, offering Dominique the glass. “All right, those weren’t the men sent to protect her.”
“Thank God.”
“He lied,” Ash interjected, taking his own glass and sitting on the settee. “Why else do you think it took me an age to bring the chit here?”
“Chit?” Dominique repeated darkly.
“Woman.” Ash’s eyes narrowed. “Would you rather I call her a dove? A lovely creature with perfect skin and—”
Hunter’s chuckle mixed with Dominique’s growl and cut off any further suggestions, though that was probably for the best, considering he was arousing himself with such talk. Never good for such things to occur in the company of men.
Dominique sat, his face a stern mask. Then again, the man always appeared harsh and uncompromising. From his strong jaw to his cold blue eyes and wickedly dark hair, he hadn’t gained his nickname for smiling at children and helping the elderly.
The scars on Dominique’s hands seemed to illuminate with the crackling fire, making him look even more daunting. No wonder Sofia had been terrified. Anyone who’d heard the story of Dominique’s youth would wonder if he too was cursed like his father — cursed to bring about nothing but death and madness to those he came into contact with.
Fortunately for her and for the rest of society, Dominique was more of a trained housecat. He had a temper, but he also had a wife willing to knee him in the family jewels when necessary.
“She told you… what happened?” Dominique finally asked.
Hunter stood quietly by the fireplace.
The only sound was that of the crackling wood and the light tapping of rain against the house.
Swallowing, Ash nodded. “She told me enough.”
“Then you understand why her safety is of the utmost importance.”
He wasn’t so sure he liked the general direction of the conversation, but Ash gave another nod just the same.
“I trust you to be discreet.” Dominique swirled the whiskey in his glass then took another long sip. “As discreet as you know how to be in your certain line of work.”
“He means killing people,” Hunter offered helpfully.
“What exactly are you asking me to do?” Ash asked.
Dominique stared into his glass. “I thought it was obvious.” His head lifted. “You are to be her protector, her shadow, her chaperone, her everything… until she is safely married. You will be her other half. That is the job you took over a month ago, and I will see it carried through.”
A cross between a moan and a growl erupted from Ash’s lips.
Hunter grinned, chuckling into his glass before taking a sip. “The Season just became so much more… entertaining.”
“You cannot—” Ash sputtered, throwing back the entire contents of the glass before slamming it onto the table. “You cannot mean for me to… attach myself to her person. It is not proper!”
“Since when have you cared about propriety?” Dominique scowled. “Better yet, when have I ever cared?”
“But if she is to find a husband—?”
“She’s a damn princess,” Hunter interjected. “Finding a husband is the least of our worries.”
“And the most?” Ash was almost afraid to ask.
Dominique’s eyebrows arched while Hunter poured himself another hefty glass, his lips curving into a knowing smile.
Ash groaned.
“Why,” Hunter said as he lifted his glass into the air, “that much is obvious. It should be interesting… how mad she will be able to drive poor Ash before he turns on his own sword.”
Ash barked out a laugh. “A mere child would not evoke enough emotion for that type of drama, believe me.”
“A child?” Hunter circled the room slowly. “Is that what you think when you see the princess?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re positive?” Hunter pushed harder.
“Yes! Damn it!” Ash almost stomped his foot. “She is nothing but a child, not even a woman, yet. Hell, she has seen nothing of the world! I am not tempted by innocence… no matter how pretty you may dress it.”
Hunter glanced at the door. “Well then, that settles it now, doesn’t it?”
Slowly Ash turned.
Isabelle and Sofia both stood at the door, faces impassive. They had to have heard it all.
“Not that I needed your reassurance.” Dominique stood and slapped Ash on the shoulder. “But I appreciate it all the same.”
Unsure of what to say, Ash could only stare at Sofia as she averted her eyes, finding great interest in the Persian rug, and none whatsoever in Ash. Then again, he had just made a complete ass out of himself, so there was that.
“Ahem.” Hunter strode forward. “I should be off to see my wife. I’ve been delayed long enough.” He reached for Sofia’s hand and bestowed a kiss across the top. “It truly was a pleasure, Princess. Remember, the bark is worse than the bite… or the bite is worse than the bark, if that’s what you prefer.”
What the devil was he spouting?
Sofia’s cheeks blushed bright red before she whispered “Thank you” and curtsied.
Hunter left.
Ash wasn’t sure if he should follow suit or just apologize.
The decision was made for him when Isabelle, with a forced smile, turned to Sofia. “Why don’t I show you to your room?”
“Yes,” Sofia croaked, her voice weak. “Yes, that would be lovely.”
They left.
And Ash was still standing there — feeling like a fool.
“Off limits,” Dominique whispered gruffly. “Do I have your word?”
Ash glanced back at Dominique and kept his expression void of emotion — something he’d practiced over the years, though this was the first time he had a bit of struggle keeping the mask in place. “I’ve been celibate for ten years. Why the hell would I take a bite of the damn apple when I’ve been without fruit for so long?”
“Good.” Dominique’s blue eyes flashed. “Because if I hear otherwise, I’ll shoot you.”
“Reassuring.”
“Thought so.” What could be mistaken as a grimace or possibly a smile flashed across his face before he left Ash alone in the room.
Alone to think about what he should have spent more time thinking about ten minutes prior.
How the hell he was going to keep his damn body from responding to the girl who was so much more than a girl, but a woman, a treasure? An innocent treasure, whom he had just soiled with his harsh words.
“Bloody hell, I’m in deep.” He cursed and poured himself another two fingers of whiskey. Four weeks in a month.
One month, and she would be married.
And he would be rid of her.
The catch? Would four months be enough to exorcise her face? Her lips? Those eyes? From his very existence.
Or would he always want?
Would he always crave?
Would he always wonder?
What it would be like… with her…
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Better she hate me than know the truth of the matter. I would stare at her for an eternity — if she let me. I’d give up those ten years for one drink of her lips. —The Grimm Reaper
THE UPSTAIRS WAS A complicated maze of bedrooms, with artwork placed strategically along the walls. Everything seemed expensive, old, and Russian.
“Dominique has a certain… taste.” Isabelle’s eyes twinkled. It still felt odd addressing her so familiarly. Then again, they were cousins, though they hardly knew one another. “Ah, here we are.” Isabelle pushed the door open and allowed Sofia to step inside first.
The room was large enough to fit a few carriages side by side — with horses.
A large bed was pressed ag
ainst the right wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast an early evening glow across the rich ruby-hued fabric draped across the bed. A small balcony was visible between the black velvet curtains.
The entire room seemed too heavy and rich with fabrics to be beautiful — but it was… beautiful, that is. What should have appeared gaudy was fascinating, something fit for a princess.
The fireplace roared. Sofia turned. A large wardrobe faced the fireplace along with a beautiful gold mirror and writing desk.
“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed, carefully pressing her palms against her travel-sodden dress. “Are you sure this is my room?”
“Very.” Isabelle chuckled. “Dominique wanted you to have one of the master suites so you’d be close.”
“Close?” Sofia’s brow puckered. “Close to what?”
“Ash, of course.”
“Pardon?”
“Ash, good-looking fellow with the weight of the world on his shoulders, currently drowning his sorrows in whiskey and pretending he doesn’t have two good working eyes so that he doesn’t have to admit his attraction to you.”
Heat marched across Sofia’s face. “He isn’t attracted to me. I think he made that much clear.”
“Men are fickle creatures.” Isabelle closed the door behind her and walked toward Sofia, her smile warm. “Many times they say things they don’t mean, often out loud, in order to argue with their minds what their hearts already know.”
Sofia looked down, shaking her head. “His heart and mind are of one accord… and that is dislike — a very strong dislike — for royalty, me in particular.”
“If you say so.” Isabelle offered a light shrug of her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips. “I hope you do not mind, but I hired a lady’s maid to help you ready yourself for the next few weeks. Tomorrow, we’ll shop for whatever’s needed for the remainder of the Season. Until then…” Isabelle inclined her head. “…dinner is served in two hours. I’ll send Ana in twenty or so minutes.”
“Thank you.” Sofia’s voice was a mere whisper as she watched Isabelle quit the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Sighing, she turned around the room and tried to imagine what the next few weeks would entail. Would she find someone to care for her? To protect her? With a huff, she sat on the bed. Who was she attempting to fool? People didn’t fall in love in four weeks. Love was out of the question for her. What she needed was a protector, someone who could help stand up to her stepmother, someone powerful enough to help Sofia fight for her country, for her throne.