When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(30)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

A shudder wracked her body.

“Sofia?” Isabelle called. “Are you finished?”

“No…” Sofia gripped Ash’s face with her hands. “…not even close.”

Their mouths collided in a frenzy. He tasted like spice — warm, comforting, blazing hot.

His hands cupped her bottom as he lifted her against his body.

And then—

He dropped her back to her feet.

She stumbled backward, nearly colliding with a yard of fabric.

“Hurry!” Isabelle called. “We must return for luncheon.”

“Yes…” Sofia called, narrowing her gaze on Ash. “…and I’m starved.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. “You live to torture don’t you, Princess?”

“Just proving a point.” She gave a watery smile.

Ash smiled, his green eyes still haunted. “Remind me to flee next time you dare prove another.”

“A sneak attack is always best…” She moved past him.

“No more kisses, Princess.”

“We’ll see,” she whispered under her breath, soliciting another string of curses from Ash.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Bloody hell, rescue me from marriage-minded women, either that, or at least make sure a fellow’s foxed enough before he embarks on a Season. —The Grimm Reaper

ASH TAPPED HIS FOOT against the marble floor, watching as bodies collided in what could only be described as the crush of the century. The ball was a raging success. Unfortunately, that meant playing nursemaid, the young princess was taking a lot more concentration and — bloody hell, did she have to put rosewater on her skin this evening?

Bad enough that he was forced to follow her around like a trained lap dog. The great Grimm Reaper… chaperoning at a ball.

Tamed.

Trained.

He sighed, patting his fitted jacket. At least he still carried a pistol; it reminded him of who he was — what he was.

He tugged at his cravat, smoothing the material down again, and sighed as Sofia’s laugh raised every alarm his body possessed. The damn hair on his arm even stood at attention — amongst other things. Bloody inconvenient to be wearing silk trousers. But Dominique had insisted that Sofia’s… escort… be in the height of fashion.

So the valet had dressed Ash up like a peacock. A very depressed, aroused, purple-and-black-looking peacock.

More laughter from Sofia. He made his way through the crowd, careful to look interested in the dance still continuing on the floor.

Several gentlemen had gathered around Sofia; one had placed his hand on the small of her back, claiming her in front of the rest of the idiots.

Sofia glanced at Ash and winked.

That was his cue.

With smooth movements, he cut through the crowd of gentlemen, thankful that his height and strength easily made men take more than a glance.

“Your Highness.” Ash bowed over her hand. “The dance you promised?”

“Silly me…” Sofia’s eyelashes fluttered as she brought her hand to her chest. “…it must have slipped my mind!”

“Not mine,” Ash said confidently. “How could I forget a once–in-a-lifetime opportunity to dance with royalty?”

A little thick, yes, but women hovering close by sighed in unison.

The Grimm Reaper, it seemed, possessed a heart. Marriage-minded mamas be damned, if they got any ideas.

“Ah, the music starts.” Ash tugged her closer. “Shall we?”

She inclined her head just as the man who had been touching her gave her side a little touch and said, “Will you return?”

Sofia blinked, a croak escaping between her lips.

“The princess,” Ash said lightly, “must make her introductions to the Duke of Tempest as well as the Duke of Banbury.”

The man’s face fell and then pinched.

Ash pulled her away before the men could grumble further. It was the second dance they’d shared that evening — and needed to be the last, lest people get the idea that he was courting her.

Which he wasn’t.

Regardless of what Hunter had alluded to, Ash wasn’t selfish enough to seduce a woman who, when she discovered the monster inside, would want nothing to do with him.

His heart did not work properly — broken, that’s what it was. The pain in his chest was evidence that he would eventually die from the bullet lodged between his ribs, slowly making its way toward the broken shattered pieces where she used to reside.

Loving a ghost — nobody ever said it was easy, nor intelligent, but there it was. Perhaps he just loved the memory of her.

Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it was just regret with a hint of bitterness.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Sofia whispered, once they had started the waltz.

“They are worth so much more, Princess. Can you afford them?”

“That is not the question.”

“No?” His eyebrows arched. “Tell me what is?”

“Are you able to afford the high cost of telling?” She looked deep into his eyes, forcing him to look away.

Weakness taunted him, made him want to challenge her further, but he was tired, exhausted, and that weakness made her dangerous, made him dangerous to her.

“Any gentleman catch your eye?” he asked, numbly going through the motions of the dance as he held his breath for her answer.

“One,” she said softly.

Ash’s heart dropped to his throat. “Oh? Pray tell who the lucky fellow is.”

Sofia’s smile was brilliant. “He’s a touch mad.”

“Reassuring.” Ash gritted his teeth.

“But so very good-looking.”

“Well, looks trump madness any day,” he said sarcastically.

Sofia nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

“It was a joke.”

“But you didn’t smile. Your delivery was off.” She winked.

“Apologies. Next time I’ll laugh when discussing your future with a mad husband. Sleep with a pistol under your pillow, and you should do just fine.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Pardon?”

“Sleep with a pistol.”

“Who the hell is this man…” He seethed. “…that he would sleep with a pistol and dare court you when he’s mad!”

“Oh, he won’t court me.” Her face fell.

“Bloody brilliant of him.” Ash clenched his teeth, tugging her closer to his body. “Pick someone else.”

“But I cannot.”