When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(8)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Her mouth opened in shock. Ash lifted her onto the table so he could step between her legs. His lips slid across hers. She did not fight him. Why was she not fighting him?

Searing pain hit him in the hand before he had time to react.

He jerked back to see a fork poking into his skin.

“Clever. Tell me, have you had that this whole time?” Blood trickled down from the holes she had created. He eyed it appraisingly. “Well done.”

“You, you, you…”

“Spit it out.” He grinned, pulling the fork from his hand and tossing it onto the wooden table.

“Rogue!”

He winced and laughed; really, he could not help himself.

Her chest heaved with the exertion of their kiss.

“You wound me.”

She glared.

He winced and pointed to his hand. “Both emotionally and physically, I assure you.”

“I hate you.”

Tempting fate, he cornered her against the table again. “I don’t care.”

“You’re just a — a horrible man! How dare you touch me! I’m—”

“A princess,” he finished for her. “I think that has been established. You’re also one of the most naïve women I’ve ever had the grand misfortune of meeting. If you think, for one second, I kissed you because I desire you…” He shrugged. “…then you have made a grievous error.” Lies, all lies. “I said I meant to teach you a lesson. Never allow a man to get close to you without having a way to escape. But, more importantly, when you are gallivanting around London, have a care for your reputation.”

“But—”

“I am not finished,” he ground out, holding his fingers to her lush lips. “Men will want you for your money. They will desire you for your body. They will fight over you. They will dedicate poetry to you. And it will all seem wonderful, like a dream, I am sure of it. But if you allow any of those men alone with you, you will find ruin. You will bring shame upon your family. And you will be labeled a princess no more. You will be nothing more than a whore.” He stepped back.

Sofia’s face went pale.

“Off to bed, Princess. I tire of these childish games. And have a care to next time finish the food on your plate. If I discover you making a habit of walking around in nothing except an easily-seen-through night rail, tempting any male that breathes, I’ll toss you over my knee without a second thought.”

Sofia stood to her full height. “Do not scold me as you would a child.”

“Don’t ask for it, and I won’t.”

“Goodnight.” She pushed past him, walked around the glass, and out the door.

It was only when he knew she was truly gone that he sank into the seat and threw the fork across the room.

Lust pounded so wildly through his body he was having a hard time seeing straight. He hadn’t shared a kiss with a woman since Lucy’s death. Guilt had plagued him any time a woman had even gotten close. So he’d vowed to keep himself away from sins of the carnal flesh until they had all been atoned.

But that was the rub.

His sins would not be atoned until his death.

Which meant he was going to lose his blasted mind if he had to be around the princess any longer than necessary.

Five seconds.

He had been exactly five seconds away from tossing her against the wall and taking her.

Five seconds, and everything he’d worked for, for the past nine years, would have been gone. And all because he was having a difficult time controlling his lust for a spoiled princess who did not have enough common sense to wear shoes!

He slammed his fist against the table.

The old man awoke with a snort and fell backward out of his chair. “Where is the princess?”

“Hell. I’m in hell,” Ash muttered, covering his face with his hands.

“Shell? She’s in a shell! What the devil was she doing with a shell?” The old man seemed truly unhinged.

“Well…” Ash sighed. “…the princess is well and on her way to her room as we speak.”

“Oh.” The man scratched his head. “I could have sworn you said shell, and then I was confused because you know how the North Sea is a good walk from here and—”

Ash held up his hand, immediately stopping the man from continuing what was sure to be a painfully long dissertation on shells. “That will be all.”

“Oh.” The man looked down. “Right. I should probably check on the princess.”

“Do that.” Yes. Plague her. By all means.

The man scurried out of his chair and walked briskly out the door, nearly running into it. Perhaps he was sleep-talking? Would explain why he felt the need to drive Ash mad.

Groaning into his hands, he swore fluently as the room stilled around him. All he could hear was the gargantuan effort it took for his lungs to take in air while he sat in that crowded kitchen.

Breathing in and out should not be so difficult. But it was the only thing he could concentrate on — especially considering the air was still permeated with her.

Leaning back in the chair, Ash closed his eyes and concentrated. He counted to twenty in French, recited a monk’s prayer, and then, when he felt fully able to face the darkened evening again, he rose and made a vow — never to allow himself to be alone with the girl again.

Lest she lose her purity.

And he his soul.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Does it not say somewhere that if your eyes are causing you to sin, it would be better for you to pluck them from your head? What if it is not your eyes, but your hands, your feet, your entire body? Should I then finish what I started long ago? —The Grimm Reaper

BLASTED HERO WORSHIP.

Sofia should have nipped that in the bud the very second Ash and Pierce had opened their mouths. Silver-tongued stories of escapades and rescuing fair damsels nearly dripped from their mouths as they loaded the rest of her trunks onto the waiting carriage.

Pierce thrust a fake sword into the air. “And then Ash cried, ‘I will seek my revenge in this life or the next!’”

Wasn’t that from a play?

“What did he do?” Dunlan had gone pale as he dropped the trunk onto the ground and sat on it.

Lovely.

“Yes, tell us!” Cornelius commanded, joining Dunlan on the trunk and leaning forward.

“He jumped off his horse. It was as if he was trying to break his neck!”

Cornelius gasped and grabbed Dunlan. “Did he hurt himself?”

“No.” Pierce nodded leaning toward his captive audience. “’Twas as if he had wings like a bird or an angel. He near flew off into the air with a war cry of triumph.”