When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(18)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“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 the 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?”