When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(23)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“Hello?” She knocked against the door. “Are you all right?”

More banging.

“Ahem,” she said louder.

The banging continued. Well, now it was just getting ridiculous. With a pull, she jerked the door open and stepped inside the masculine room.

There stood Ash, pushing furniture against the wall closest to the door, as if his life depended on it.

“A little too late in the evening to be rearranging, don’t you think?” she teased.

“Bloody hell!” He stumbled back on his feet and swore a blue streak, making Sofia’s cheeks heat. “What the devil are you doing?”

“Supervising?”

“Princess…” He growled. “…it isn’t proper for you to be alone with a man in his room, especially one such as me.”

“Grumpy.” She tilted her head. “You mean one as grumpy and disagreeable as you.”

“I’m not disagreeable.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m—”

Sofia grinned while Ash stomped around her and pulled open the door to her room.

“Back inside you go.”

“You don’t need my help?”

“I never need help.”

“I seem to remember a time when you asked for a certain type of help… undressing.”

Ash appeared to stop breathing. His green eyes blazed as his body nearly collided with hers, causing Sofia to step back against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of the wall by her face. “Say that in front of Dominique, and I’ll gain a bullet through my skull.”

Sofia licked her lips. “Tempting.”

He shuddered, his eyes trained on her mouth. “You have no idea.”

The room was thick with tension. Sofia didn’t understand why she felt the need to touch him, but touch him she did, first with her fingertips and then with her entire hand. She pressed it against his chest.

His breathing increased as he leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers.

What was happening?

Heat pooled in her belly. Her legs became heavy, her body aching. “Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Please,” she whispered.

“No.” But Ash’s mouth was already nearly brushing hers.

A knock sounded at the door, jerking them apart.

“Go.” Ash shoved her back into her room and slammed the door as she stumbled on her feet.

What had just happened?

What had possessed her to ask him to kiss her? Insanity, that’s what. Either that or feeling sorry for herself. That quite possibly the only man who would evoke such feelings within her body… hated her, wanted nothing to do with her, could not, and, in fact, would not save her from a fate worse than death.

A loveless marriage.

Just like her parents’.

She pressed a hand to her stomach just as a knock sounded at her own door.

“Yes?”

A short maid around Sofia’s same age stepped in and curtsied. “Your Highness, I’m Ana, your lady’s maid. Shall we ready you for dinner?”

“Yes—” Sofia almost choked on the word, having trouble finding her voice wasn’t something she was familiar with. Always, she’d been confident, even around men. After all, she was used to being stared at, talked about.

But Ash was different.

He was dangerous.

One would think that after fleeing such danger she’d be weary of it, but he sparked a craving within her soul — within her body — one she’d never experienced but wanted more of.

“My lady?” Ana asked. “Is something amiss?”

“No.” Sofia gave an automatic shake of her head. “No, just woolgathering, I suppose.”

Ana smiled. “Have a seat while I pull out some of the dress choices for dinner. My lady sent a few things to your room.”

Sofia nodded and tried to pay attention, but every time she heard a noise from the adjoining room, she flinched, tensing and digging her nails into her palms.

One kiss from him, and she’d be satisfied.

That was to say… one more kiss, and then she’d be satisfied with her lot in life.

Satisfied to marry a nice elderly English gentleman.

The idea was a horrid one, a rotten one, but her only choice. Her bed had been made for her, and now she had no choice but to lie down and pray that sleep would come swiftly.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It seems the more I fight my instinct, my feelings and emotions, the harder they push back, relentless in their pursuit to crack the casing around my heart and set it free. —The Grimm Reaper

IN HINDSIGHT, MOVING FURNITURE was probably an idea brought on by too much whiskey and the warm buzz of lust currently shooting through Ash’s system.

At the time, it had seemed a good idea.

All things considered, it had been a necessary thing to carry out, and logically it made sense. If one had to pull all pieces of furniture from the door before entering into the lady’s room, then… One would tire out eventually, right?

Ash groaned.

Was it luck or misfortune that Sofia had asked him to kiss her?

The catch? He’d almost done it.

He’d almost given in.

And he knew—after another kiss — he would be done for. Sucked into a lust-filled frenzy that would end with him taking the one thing he didn’t deserve — her innocence. And take he would. Ash knew firsthand that temptations of the flesh were best avoided when one was intelligent enough to actually steer clear of said temptation.

And now he was bloody next door to it.

Not just next door.

Practically sharing a master suite next to Eve herself.

The knock on his door had stopped what he should never have started. He was playing with fire, damn-near fanning the flame and assuming its heat wouldn’t sear him alive.

It would.

Flames always did.

Fires represented comfort and heat… until they blazed out of control and became blazes, demolishing anything in their wake.

“Sir?” The valet whose name Ash still couldn’t recall, held open the black dinner jacket. “Allow me.”

For ten years, Ash had done without a valet. He wasn’t about to start using one’s services now, but Dominique, the bastard, had ordered it, and Vin, yes, that was his name, was only too happy to oblige The Beast. Damn Russians.

Clearly, smiling was a herculean task for the valet. Not that Ash needed any sort of comforting, but it would have been nice for some of the warmth to return to his room — warmth Sofia had stolen the minute he’d slammed the door in her face.