When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(31)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“Why?”

“Because he’s kissed me.”

Ash gripped her waist so tightly he was afraid he was injuring her, but it could not be helped. If he released her, he’d slay every single man in his vicinity. “The bastard touched you?”

“Well, to be fair, I asked him.”

“Son of a—” The dance ended. With a jerk, Ash pulled Sofia down the hall to Dominique’s office. When he was certain they hadn’t been followed, he shoved her into the room, slammed the door, and locked it. “You cannot simply go around asking young men for kisses!”

“I see.” Sofia clenched her hands in front of her dress. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. “And what if he’d tried desperately to refuse me?”

“Then I’d say have a care for the poor soul. Saying no to you is harder than going to war.”

Her smile was brilliant, easy. “So if faced with a certain proposition… would you say no to me?”

Ash’s eyes narrowed. “What are you about?”

“It’s simple really…” Sofia played with the necklace around her delicate neck. “I want you to seduce me.”

Ash damn-near swallowed his tongue. “Come again?”

“Four weeks, well…” She frowned. “Technically, it’s more like three. I have three weeks, and that kiss — heavens, that kiss — I cannot push it away from my thoughts, and I just… well, if we did more than kiss, if we—”

Ash held up his hand. “No more! There will be no more discussion of this.”

“But it’s tempting…” Sofia arched her eyebrows then crossed her arms.

Saucy wench knew exactly what she was doing. Ash chose to stare at the curtains and think of Pierce naked.

“…isn’t it?”

“Absolutely not,” he lied, as the fires of hell laughed from below. “No, please tell me you haven’t propositioned this other gentleman?”

“I’m afraid I have.”

Ash clenched his fists at his sides. “Sofia—”

“You. He’s you.” She walked slowly toward him, her hips swaying seductively. “Three weeks, Ash.”

Damn it. She’d said his name; it sounded so good on those brightly rouged lips.

Suddenly dizzy, he stumbled backward, only to find himself trapped by the door that he’d shut, the door he’d locked. Bloody brilliant assassin now, wasn’t he? Could kill a man without a thought, but, faced with a beautiful woman, and suddenly he’d forgotten how to string sentences together and had been brought to his knees by the sound of his own name on her lips.

“No,” he whispered. “You cannot ask me to forgo a vow I made ten years ago, just so you can selfishly experience pleasure.”

“You’re right.” Sofia hung her head.

“I am?” he clipped. “I mean, I am. Yes. Yes, I am often right when it comes to these things.” Dear God, he was sweating. Profusely.

“I’ll just have to ask someone else…. Say, is Pierce in attendance?”

Ash slammed his hand against the door. “The hell you will.”

“But…” She tilted her head in innocence. “…you just said no.”

“You won’t do it.” His eyes narrowed. “You talk quite large for being so small.”

She grinned. “Yes or no?”

“No.” Yes, yes, yes.

“Fine.” She gently pushed him to the side. “I have a few dances to finish.”

“You won’t really…” He couldn’t finish the sentence on account his voice had decided not to work, just like his heart had decided it needed to pound out of his chest and fall to the floor so she could squish it with her slippers.

“I guess you shall have to wait and see.”

“I’m calling your bluff.”

“Call all you want, Ash…” She reached up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “…but my offer ends at midnight.”

“Offer?” He choked. “This isn’t done, Sofia, you’ll ruin yourself you’ll—”

“I’m a Russian princess. I want passion. If you won’t show me… then I’ll find someone who will. Good evening, soldier.”

The door clicked softly as she closed it behind her.

She left.

She bloody left.

Ash paced the room, wearing the floorboards into oblivion. After pouring himself what was most likely four fingers of whiskey and tilting it back, he returned to the ball.

Only to find Pierce dancing with Sofia.

Damn cravat! He tugged at it again, irritation making his fingers itch to pull the trigger on his pistol in Pierce’s general direction.

The dance ended.

Pierce held Sofia’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingertips, before saying something else that had the woman laughing so loud that it had gained attention from at least ten different couples.

Pierce led her from the dance floor then looked behind him. What the devil was he doing? They walked arm in arm toward the balcony.

“Pierce looks happy tonight,” Hunter said, suddenly appearing to Ash’s right and damn-near stopping his heart.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Ha!” Hunter elbowed him. “I guess she could do worse.”

“Pardon?”

“Baron.” Hunter shrugged. “Pierce has a barony. Of course, it’s nothing compared to your title but… it only makes sense that she would seek comfort from someone familiar.”

Ash stared after them as they disappeared outside. “But she’s… she would never— It’s Pierce! A thought occurs once every week for the man, and, even then, it’s usually about whores and whiskey!”

Hunter shrugged. “If one cannot have love, at least one can have companionship. Besides, he’s a bit of a rake. He’ll do just fine to satisfy what the girl clearly wants.”

“Wants?”

“A marriage with passion.”

Ash shoved his brother out of the way and stomped toward the balcony doors. Passion? She wanted passion? He’d show her passion, in the form of a handprint on her backside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Choking one’s friend with one’s bare hands did have its merits… I am not called The Grimm Reaper because it rhymes, now am I? —The Grimm Reaper

SOFIA RELEASED PIERCE’S ARM the minute the fresh night air hit her face. Closing her eyes, she sighed and hugged her arms to her chest.