When Ash Falls

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “You’re fortunate,” he said in low clipped tones, “that it was me and not Dominique who stumbled upon you alone with his cousin.”

  “Dominique is aware I’m celibate.” Ash desperately fought to keep his teeth from gnashing, that or pushing against his brother’s chest.

  “Yes,” Hunter growled. “But the rest of the world is not. Kindly keep yourself from imposing on her innocence before he ends your life while you slumber.”

  “Empty threats.” Ash rolled his eyes. “Besides, how else was I to protect her?”

  “She has guards.”

  “Have you seen them?”

  “Yes well…” Hunter coughed. “The first sneezed in my face, the second fell asleep mid-sentence…”

  “Exactly my point.” Ash clenched his teeth until his jaw popped. “They are useless.”

  “And Pierce.”

  “Someone singing my praises?” Pierce sauntered down the hall, his arm around a serving maid. “Listen up, love, they’ll tell you all about how Pierce slew a dragon with his bare hands.”

  Hunter elbowed Ash. “He reminds me of someone.”

  “You. He reminds you of you. That’s why you like him so much.”

  “Handsome fellow.”

  “That I am!” Pierce gave a low bow then staggered up to his feet, the barmaid giggling at his side.

  “And drunk.” Ash swore. “Pierce, how the devil are you to protect the prin — the lovely lady — if you are foxed?”

  Pierce shrugged. “She has you.”

  Just then the door opened, and Sofia stepped out. “Did someone mention chocolate?”

  “Ah yes.” Hunter offered his arm. “Follow me, my lady, and I’ll escort you while my twin says his prayers.”

  “Prayers?”

  “For his soul.” Hunter nodded. “One does not become a hired assassin without starting his morning with God. It is how he shall start life and end it.”

  “Deep.” Pierce hiccupped.

  Rolling his eyes, Ash pushed past his brother and barricaded himself in the room, giving himself a few minutes of peace before having to face the firing squad again.

  Hunter had been right. It was careless of him, stupid. He shouldn’t have had her alone. But that didn’t change the way his body hummed with the memory of having done so — or the desire that flared to life at the thought of doing it again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When one doesn’t touch a woman for ten years then is suddenly thrust into her presence… well, no good can come from that. No good at all. Yet, as a man, stupidity seems to be in the forefront. I should flee… yet I stay. —Grimm Reaper

  THE DUKE’S EYES WERE terrifying. The yellow surrounding his pupils seemed to enlarge when he stared at Sofia like he was doing. In fact, he hadn’t stopped staring since they sat at the table and ordered food.

  “So…” She cleared her throat. “…you’re twins?”

  “Yes, well…” His Grace winked. “…one of us had to receive the looks, while the other received the brains.”

  “Highly doubtful.” She narrowed her eyes as his smile grew.

  “And what makes you say that?” He leaned forward, his fingers tapping slightly against the table.

  “You’re…” She shook her head. “…perceptive.”

  “Most men are.” He waved her off.

  Sofia snorted.

  The duke’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, the woman disagrees?”

  “Wildly.” She grinned. “Your Grace, if I may be so bold—”

  “Boldness gets you everywhere, my dear. Where is that dratted brother? Did you know he saved an elephant from drowning once?”

  “Er, pardon?”

  “An elephant.” His Grace nodded and held up his hands, making a long motion in front of his face. “Ghastly creatures, very noisy, forgetful, have long trunks and hairy backs.”

  “How does an elephant drown?”

  “Lovely, so glad you asked. You see, the trunk was stuck in the water. Ash, upon seeing the elephant’s horror at having his trunk stuck, went to pull it out. The elephant panicked, sinking deeper in, and that’s when the lightning struck.”

  “Lightning?”

  “Yes, well, it sounded like lightning when really it was pirates.”

  Did lightning make a sound? “Pirates?”

  “Of course. Are you going to repeat everything I say? Makes the story go so much slower…”

  “Hunter...” Ash’s voice was irritated. “…stop telling falsehoods in order to see how deep she’ll plunge into the rabbit hole of your insanity.”

  His Grace flashed a smile, and he leaned back. “It is my favorite embellishment, you and the elephant.”

  “Yes, well…” Ash sat down next to Sofia, his thigh brushing hers, causing chills to run up and down her legs. “…Pierce was telling an entirely different tale yesterday.”

  “The one about the rabbit?” the duke asked.

  “No.” Hunter sighed.

  “Ah…” The duke snapped his fingers. “…the fox? It was the fox, wasn’t it?”

  “Do you ever stop?” Ash clenched his teeth together. “Where’s the damnable food?”

  “Apologies, my lad.” His Grace shook his head. “My dear brother becomes such a bear when he’s hungry. Now,” he said, nodding, “that’s a good story. There once was a cottage with three little bears—”

  Ash clamped his hand over His Grace’s mouth.

  Sofia gasped at the rudeness. Had they any decency? The man was a duke! One simply did not put his hands on a duke!

  The duke moved out of Ash’s grasp. “No manners. The lady is going to think you’re a barbarian, Ash.”

  “He is,” Sofia said at the same time Ash said, “I am.”

  The duke looked between the two with rapt fascination. “Interesting development.”

  The food arrived the very next second the duke opened his mouth, which was a welcome interruption as far as Sofia was concerned. She hadn’t slept very well, considering she’d shared the bed with Ash. She’d been beyond mortified when she’d woken up to discover herself practically on top of him. She remembered being cold and then… warm, so very warm.

  She shivered.

  “Bit chilly?” The duke’s eyebrows arched in what she could only assume was far too much perception and amusement for her taste.

  Sofia chose not to answer, instead grabbing a piece of bread and chewing it to keep herself from insulting the man. One minute he was so perceptive it was unnerving; the next he was spouting out nonsense about elephants and pirates. Perhaps he was a bit loose in the head?

  “Have you met him?” The duke directed his question toward her.

  “Him?” She swallowed the last remnants of her dry bread. “Beg pardon, Your Grace? To whom are you referring?”

  “Hunter.” He scowled. “We are family, after all. I’m married to Dominique’s wife’s sister.”

  Sofia exchanged a look with Ash, but he seemed too busy destroying whatever food was in front of him.

  “The he I’m referring to…” Hunter’s eyebrows arched. “…is Maskylov… your cousin… also known as The Beast… though I’m not sure why. He’s always been such an agreeable fellow.”

  Ash snorted.

  Hunter shrugged. “When he’s not pointing a pistol in my direction, that is.”

  Sofia hid her smile. “And he does this often?”

  “I tend to find great joy in irritating him, so yes, quite often.”

  “No.” She licked her lips and reached for the ale in front of her. “I’ve never had the honor of meeting my cousin in the flesh.”

  “Splendid.” Hunter flashed her a smile. “I do wonder how you’ll react then. Just remember to avert your eyes. He despises when people stare. Oh, and be sure to bow at least twice when you first make his acquaintance and stay away from any sort of bright color. He seems to take that as an invitation toward violence.” Hunter tapped his chin then snapped his fingers. “Oh, and, above all costs, you mustn’t ever speak th
e words—”

  “Hunter, by God, you’re giving me a headache.” Ash swore. “Stop scaring the poor chit. She’s his flesh and blood. I imagine she’ll be just fine.”

  Sofia gave a weak nod but was suddenly sick to her stomach. Was Hunter teasing her? Or was he truly giving her advice on how to address her cousin? The sickness overtook her stomach with such force that she pushed back from the table and ran back up the stairs to her room. She slammed the door behind her.

  What if Dominique was exactly like her stepmother?

  What if he tried to control her life as well?

  What if he was only inviting her to London — to send her back?

  But in his correspondence, he’d been so caring, so… protective. Had it all been a ploy? Was he truly on her stepmother’s side?

  Breathing became harder and harder as Sofia leaned against the door.

  Two knocks sounded, and then a deep voice inquired, “Sofia?”

  Ash.

  The last thing she needed was for him to any sort of weakness, so she gathered her wits and opened the door. “What?”

  “Are you unwell?” His eyes narrowed. “Did the food not settle? Or was it Hunter that caused your stomach to disagree with you?”

  “A bit of both.” She was thankful her voice sounded more confident than she felt; as it was, her knees were knocking together beneath her skirts. “But I’m sure it will pass.”

  Ash didn’t budge, simply examined her, his eyes seeming to take in every inch of skin and dress before settling on her lips again. “You’re pale… we could always postpone travel.”

  “No!” Sofia blurted, anxiety building even more. It wouldn’t help to stay back and wonder. Better she face the great beast right away than silently wonder. “It’s not a problem, I’m feeling better already!” Her smile was forced, too tight, off.

  “If you’re certain…”

  “Absolutely,” she squeaked. “Just, give me a few moments to collect myself.”

  Ash squinted his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something then pressed his lips together and gave a curt bow before stomping back down the stairs.

  Sofia touched her fingertips to her temples and breathed in and out a few times. She could do this. She had never been given a choice in the matter. Either marry Peter or die.

  Straightening her shoulders, she pulled from every ounce of training that had been bred into her from a young age. She was a princess. Royalty. What she did, she did for her people — and for her father.

  Without any more hesitation, she returned to the table and cleared her throat.

  Hunter, grinning widely, tilted his head. “Ah, the lovely lady returns.”

  “I am ready.”

  Ash didn’t smile; instead, his eyes narrowed as if trying to see into her very soul.

  She glanced away and flashed a gracious smile at Hunter. “I do look forward to more stories of Ash’s… heroic tendencies.”

  “Lovely.” Hunter stood and offered his arm. “Let us revisit that elephant story, shall we?”

  Acknowledging him with an incline of her head, Sofia took his arm and allowed him to escort her from the inn. When they reached the door, she turned back to see if Ash was following, only to have him nearly run into her backside in the process.

  “Looking for me?” His eyes teased, crinkling at the corners.

  It would have been easy — dictated by decency, even — to take a half-step away from him. But she held her ground instead, even as heat from his body seemed to ready out to her. She narrowed her gaze. “Just making sure you weren’t woolgathering.”

  “Ha!” Hunter laughed. “Ash? Woolgathering? Believe me, any thought that enters his head is solely focused on killing and more killing. It’s what assassins are trained to do.”

  “Comforting thought,” Sofia murmured, turning her attention outside.

  “It should be,” Ash whispered from behind her. “Because while you’re listening to tales of elephants and pirates, I’ll be training my pistol on anyone who as much as breathes in your presence or stares at your carriage cross-eyed. Comforting… don’t you think?” He strolled off in the direction of the stables, leaving Sofia momentarily breathless and a bit stunned.

  “All bark, no bite, my dear.” Hunter released her arm. “Though some prefer the bite rather than the bark, if you get my meaning.”

  “What?” She glanced back at Hunter only when Ash had disappeared from view.

  “He’s lonely.” Hunter’s façade dropped. In an instant, he was a different person, a concerned brother, a loyal family member, worried. “I fear our Ash will one day die — but not from a gun wound.”

  Panicked and oddly curious, Sofia asked, “Then what? Is he ill?”

  Hunter put his hand on the small of her back and lead her to his black Ducal carriage. “In a way.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “His heart,” Hunter said softly. “It is broken.”

  “Can anything be done for it?” Did he mean in the literal sense?

  “Of course.” The footman opened the carriage door for them and helped Sofia in first. Once Hunter was seated, he licked his lips and continued talking in hushed tones. “But once a heart is broken, it takes more than just someone willing to fix it for the mend to take place.”

  Sofia leaned back against the soft leather seat. “And what is that? What does it take?”

  Hunter glanced out the window just as Ash’s horse trotted up alongside the carriage. “My dear, one must desire to be fixed.”

  “And he doesn’t want to be fixed? To be healed?”

  Hunter jerked his head from the window, his eyes burrowing into hers, burning with his pierced gaze. “If you were the cause of someone’s death — if you blamed yourself and then tried to end your own life over it, only to wake up and find yourself very much alive, very much… guilty… would you?”

  Sofia swallowed and looked down at her clenched hands in her lap.

  “What happened?”

  “Ah…” Hunter’s smile was sad. “I’m afraid, my dear, that story is not one with which I may entertain you.”

  The carriage jolted forward.

  “You should rest your eyes.” Hunter’s voice was low, hypnotic. “The journey will go more quickly, and I imagine you’ll need to store your energy before we hit Town.”

  Nodding, Sofia leaned against the seat and closed her eyes, thinking of nothing but Ash and his broken heart the entire time.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I see her smile, and I feel guilty because it makes me smile, and then I wonder… Will that smile, will that feeling ever come and not have such a high cost? —The Grimm Reaper

  HOURS ON HORSEBACK HAD never bothered Ash. For one thing, he was damned used to it, and for another, it gave him the space he needed to prepare himself for what would already be a painful goodbye — on his part, at least. Certainly not on hers.

  “Deep in thought, I’d say…” Pierce trotted his horse up alongside Ash. The Royal Guard for the princess rode behind them, though a few were riding in Ash’s carriage. All in all, it would be a fool’s errand to try and ambush them, but highway robberies were prevalent on the road back to Town, even one as oft traveled as this one.

  “Simply anxious to rid myself of the female,” Ash lied. It tasted horrible on his tongue, all wrong and bitter.

  “Ha!” Pierce laughed then winced. “Headache, damn whiskey. At any rate, I do believe you’re bluffing. Never thought I’d see the day when you’d fall ass-first for a woman. Tell me, how long has it been?”

  Ash clenched his jaw; a resounding pop was the only indication that he’d clenched perhaps a bit too hard.

  “Two years?” Pierce guessed. “No, no, that cannot be right. Three? Five?”

  “Ten!” Ash damn-near yelled. “Now keep an eye on the trees. I am not at all in the mood to be shot at so close to our destination.”

  “Ten years…” Pierce clicked his tongue, urging his horse forward so that he was a p
ace ahead of Ash. “…without a woman’s touch? Or without…” He cast a sly glance. “…any sort of touch?”

  Ash narrowed one eye and regarded Pierce, contemplating for just an instant what the aggravating man would like with a pistol aimed at his head.“ Pierce…”

  “Tsk, tsk, Ash. However can you be certain you even possess a working stovepipe? After all, things become a tad rusty over the years. Hell, you may not even be able to… er, perform.”

  “Nobody said anything about performing. Are you even watching the trees?”

  “I saw a rabbit,” Pierce said dryly. “Would you feel better if I shot it?”

  Ash rolled his eyes. If anyone or anything was in danger of being shot it was Pierce. Ah, woolgathering about shooting again. Ash’s fingers twitched in the direction of his pistol.

  “Do you think it best to try on the lovely lady first? Perhaps you should visit Madame Lamont’s before you run about with a loaded gun.”

  Sighing, Ash kept his eyes trained on the trees and breathed in a sigh of relief when he spotted the beginning of Town. “There will be no handling of anyone’s gun.”

  “Pity. A pistol fight would do you good, perhaps relieve some of that anger.”

  “I’m not angry!”

  “You’re yelling.”

  “I’m not—“ Ash exhaled and looked away. “I’m simply irritated that you refuse to drop this insane subject! I will not be handling my pistol or practicing on some whore, just so I can alleviate myself.”

  “Ah!” Pierce snapped his fingers. “So you admit there’s an ache? A type of pain at being so close to that lush, creamy—”

  “Pierce!”

  “—white.” He sighed longingly.

  “Not another word.”

  Pierce was silent then whispered under his breath, “Skin.”

  “Bloody hell, I should shoot you off that damn horse.”

  “Do it. Or, perhaps I should shoot you. Let the princess nurse you back to health. Lovely plan, that. Simply stand still so I can aim correctly. Wouldn’t do to actually kill you and—”

  “Fine.”

  “Wait.” Pierce shook his head. “What we you agreeing to?”

  “Shoot me.”