When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(26)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

She rose from the bed.

Ash’s hand shot out, griping her wrist, tugging her back to the mattress. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you nervous about tomorrow? You are finally getting exactly what you want — what you need. Doesn’t every woman desire to marry?”

Sofia swallowed, giving herself a few seconds of preparation. “For love, yes.”

“But you’re a princess.”

“Good of you to notice.”

Ash snorted. “What I meant, Your Highness, is that you’ve been bred to marry for duty — not pleasure.”

“Pity,” she whispered.

“It is.” His voice was hoarse. “It truly is.”

“Are you feeling sympathy for me, soldier?”

Ash’s soft chuckle may as well have been a kiss on the mouth. Warmth spread out to her fingertips, making them itch with the need to cup his face, trace his jaw with the pads of her fingers, memorize the stubble she knew she’d find there.

“I don’t feel sympathy for cunning women.”

“Compliments at midnight… I’m all aflutter, I assure you.”

More soft laughter. “Go to bed, Princess.”

“And count sheep? Would that be your suggestion?”

Ash exhaled loud enough to wake a bear then slowly stood and helped her to her feet. “Tell Dominique I did this, and we’re back to frogs and buckets of water.”

“I’m calling your bluff.”

“Tell him, and we’ll see now, won’t we?”

“Well, I don’t know what I’m telling or not telling…”

Ash placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the other side of the room.

Defeated, she slumped her shoulders. So he was to push her out again?

“Stay here,” Ash whispered, his hand leaving her body for a few seconds.

He quickly returned with two glasses and a candle, casting a glowing light on his face, and very bare chest. She sucked in a breath as she noted the tight muscles around his midsection, the scars, the markings.

“Eyes up here, Princess,” Ash said with a gruff voice.

“S-sorry.” She swallowed against the dryness in her throat and pointed to the glasses. “What is that?”

“Something to help you sleep.”

“Oh.”

“Well, it won’t bite…” He lifted the glass to her. When Sofia took it, he lifted his midair. “Cheers.”

“Do I just drink it?”

“Have you never had whiskey?”

“Princesses do not drink… spirits.”

“Something tells me,” Ash whispered, “that this princess…would like a little…rule-breaking before she sets off to the marriage mart.”

Sofia gasped. “Are you offering?”

Ash went deathly quiet as she lifted the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip. It was strong, dry, but oddly warming. She tilted her head back allowing the liquid to pump through her system.

“You sure you’ve never had whiskey?” Ash asked once she’d handed the glass back to him.

“More.”

With a chuckle, Ash hung his head. “One more, and then you need to rest.”

He returned with both glasses filled. This time they clinked them together and then drank. The whiskey went down easier, but it still burned, creating a slow fire in her chest.

“Now…” Ash took her glass and set it on the table across the room with his. Then he made his way back to her with the candle in hand. “…you need to sleep.”

Sofia nodded but didn’t budge.

“In your own bed,” he urged.

When Sofia still didn’t move, on account that his body was looking more and more tempting as his muscles flexed with tension, he reached for her, his hand just grazing her arm. She jolted at his touch, causing his hand to fall to her breast, just grazing it before he pulled back with a sharply indrawn breath.

It was enough.

That simple touch was enough.

Perhaps it was the whiskey, maybe it was the whiskey combined with the touch, but it made her once again brave, and, of course, stupid, for she whispered, “Kiss me.”

Ash swore under his breath.

“Or I’ll tell Dominique about the whiskey.”

“Bloody hell,” Ash muttered, running his free hand through his silky black hair. “By God, I didn’t expect that. You’ve outfoxed me. However did you manage it?”

“I’m cunning, remember?”

“I’m beginning to,” Ash murmured then blew out the candle.

Sofia felt her legs touch the back of the mattress as he gently walked her backward then pushed her onto the bed. Her entire body arched toward him when he hovered over her, his strength pressed against her softness, causing a slow throb throughout her body.

“One kiss…” Both hands were cupping her face. “…and you’ll never ask again.”

“But—”

“I have your word?”

“Yes.”

His soft lips pressed against hers, and then he pulled back.

Sofia almost groaned in frustration.

But then he was back, angling differently than before, his tongue rimming her bottom lip before pushing inside her mouth.

She gasped as his tongue touched hers. His lips were firm, the heat from his mouth mind-numbing as he deepened the kiss, running his hands from his face down to her shoulders. On instinct, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

A low, feral growl rumbled in his throat, and the kiss turned more frenzied; his mouth slammed against hers, devouring with every single second. His fingers burned everywhere they touched.

Ash pulled back.

“More,” she begged. “Please.”

“I cannot…” Breathing ragged, he slowly pried himself from her body.

“Why?”

“You mean other than the obvious? You’re innocent? Preparing to be married to someone else? Unmarried and basically unclothed with a single man? Or would you rather I tell you the worst part of it all, the ending that isn’t so happy?”

“I’d rather you be honest.” Her voice was still hoarse, shaken from the intimacy they’d just shared.

“My heart isn’t mine to give. It still belongs to the woman I loved — the woman I betrayed. So you cannot ask for something I do not have. It is because of her that I refuse to touch a woman. It is because of her that I’ve been celibate for ten years. And it is because of her that I will not kiss you again. Not now. Not ever. Goodnight, Princess. Sleep well.”