When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(12)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Ash groaned behind him.

“So I thought, well, why don’t we call her Snow instead of Princ—”

Ash smacked him again.

“Ouch.” Cornelius rubbed his arm. “Well, instead of the other name, you know, in order to hide you from the witch.”

He must have been done. For he stood there, arms crossed, chin thrust out, waiting.

“Er,” Sofia cleared her throat. “Well done. All of you, I am so very proud to have you with me. Protecting me.”

Over Cornelius’s shoulder, she caught sight of Ash as he rolled his eyes.

“Ale for everyone!” Pierce shouted upon entering the small room where they were standing. Luckily, the room was occupied by only two guests sitting in the far corner, out of earshot, and no innkeepers in sight.

What kind of establishment was this?

“Ale! Ale!” the men shouted, following Pierce around like long-lost puppies.

Abandoned, Sofia joined Ash just as the innkeeper came around the corner and handed him a key.

“Everything is ready?”

“It is.” The innkeeper smiled. “And what a pleasure, my lord, to see you after all these weeks.”

Sofia’s eyes near fell out of her head as she eavesdropped.

“Do say hello to His Grace upon your return to London?”

“I will do that.” Ash smiled warmly at the man and patted him on the shoulder.

Clearly, Sofia had no control over her body whatsoever, for she was so completely dumbstruck by the beauty of Ash’s smile that she gasped aloud.

Merciful heavens.

His head turned just enough to see her out of the corner of his eye.

“Spying, my love?”

“Love?”

“Is this she?” The innkeeper clapped his hands in glee. “Oh, the honor is all mine, Princess.”

“But…”

She looked between both men in complete confusion. Ash was still grinning, and the man— Wait. The man wasn’t old as she had at first thought.

He wore a wig, spectacles, and a burly tunic, but his smile. Dear Lord, his smile was perfect, and young, and…

“It is almost as if I can hear the wheels turning in her head. Remarkable.” The innkeeper grinned.

“You are not an innkeeper.”

Disregarding her outburst, the innkeeper continued to address Ash. “She’s a bright one. I’d keep her.”

“Alas…” Ash said, curving his lips into a droll smile. “…she is not mine to keep.”

“Hmmph. When has that ever stopped a man, eh?”

Sofia planted herself between Ash and the innkeeper and placed her hands on her hips. “Who are you?”

“Merely a friend of a friend, who happens to work for the Crown when his ridiculous brother-in-law is unable to do so.”

“A friend of a friend of a ridiculous brother-in-law,” Sofia said dryly.

“Right.” With a wink, he tipped his head in a mock bow. “Well, it is getting late, and I did promise to return sooner, but I guess Her Grace will just have to wait.”

“Her Grace?” Sofia near shouted.

“My thanks. Will you be traveling with us on the morrow?” Ash asked, completely ignoring her meltdown.

“But of course, and you can rest easy. The place is not only heavily armed, but guarded. I had such fun playing the innkeeper all day I think I shall take Hunter up on his offer more often!”

“Anything to keep you from pointing your pistol at his head on a regular basis.” He laughed.

“Well, I will not see him when we are in London. We are returning to the country. I am merely fetching Her Grace so we are able to spend a lovely Season away from the ton.”

Ash smiled as the innkeeper turned to Sofia. “And you, my dear, you will be very safe on this night.”

“I know,” she said in a small fear-ridden voice as she noticed the height of the man. Had he been sitting before? He was a relative giant! And Ash wasn’t short, by any means! The man had to be some sort of barbarian!

“Montmouth.” Ash nodded in his direction. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He quit the room only to return with enough ale to get the entirety of Scotland foxed.

“Shall we?” Ash led her through the haze of alcohol to the stairs.

CHAPTER TEN

Emotions: silly little things that get in the way of truth and reality. If I were but a stone with no heart, I would be grateful. Instead, I find myself realizing more and more that the cruel joke of living is not in accomplishments or success; it is in the devastating reality that you have no control over anything, especially your heart. —The Grimm Reaper

TOO SMALL. THE ROOM was too small. Clearly Montmouth had been foxed and had handed him the wrong key. After all, he had specifically told the fool that they were to have enough blankets and pillows for two beds.

Not one.

Yet one bed — if one could call that imposter a bed — was nestled comfortably against the wall.

No chair for him to sleep in.

And no screen for the chamber pot.

No privacy.

It was as if even Montmouth was out to drive him mad. Had Hunter not told anyone of Ash’s vow of celibacy? Was he trying to kill him?

At his side, Sofia tensed. “Where am I to change?”

Good question. “I will leave the room, giving you adequate time to change and… and…” He rolled his eyes. “…take care of… your needs.” Brilliantly done.

“Very well.” Her voice was small as she took a step in front of him and removed her widow’s veil. “Why did I need such a drastic disguise?” She fingered the veil before tossing it to the bed.

“Guests. We may control the inn, but we have no control over who stops here for respite.” A wave of thankfulness for the subject change washed over Ash. He was sweating enough as it was.

“If it is all right with you, I think I’ll change.”

He nodded.

“Ash?”

So close to the door he could feel it.

“Yes, Princess?” Even to his own ears, his answer sounded gruff and unfeeling.

“Would it be too much to ask for a small meal and wine?”

Shoulders sagging in relief, he nodded once. “I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you.” The words, so simple and sweet, absolutely unarmed him. Using all the strength he possessed, he quit the room before he thanked her back in a way he wasn’t entirely sure she would welcome.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I fear that visions of her creamy white skin and pink lips will haunt me throughout eternity. They will follow me into the depths of hell. Yet when I think upon those things, at least in that moment, I will find peace in the depths of my damned future. —The Grimm Reaper