Saying goodbye to Ash had at the very least given her confidence that she could survive in her own way, in a way that she felt proud of. Her only concern at this point was Lady Kenna’s threat to marry her off to a brute. With Bathilda trying to impress Lord Angleton, it was unlikely that Lady Kenna would try to physically hurt Ella, but a wrong move could land her married to a monster. She couldn’t let that happen; yet she’d forgone her one chance to earn more money. Foregone her meeting with Ash.
While she felt better about returning the money, she felt miserable for disappointing him the way she did. Even though she hadn’t seen him, she swore she could feel his anguish that night. Just after 10 pm, when she was supposed to meet him, it felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. It was awful, and she felt terribly guilty, because he’d generally been so kind to her. She missed his kindness and gentle words. Only, she told herself, that wasn’t real. That was in her mind. What was real was that he viewed her as simply an object he had to have, and she hadn’t liked being an object he could buy with a few King’s coins.
She looked around as she treaded water. She was tired of treading – both literally at that moment and in life. She wanted, for just a moment to sink, to let herself drop to the bottom, touch it and spring back up. Perhaps the world would look better if she could free fall and sink for a bit before rising, like the legendary Phoenix who erupted in a ball of fire, burning away, only to rise from the ashes better than before. She’d slough off all the layers of doubt and stress and worry and emerge from the pool reborn with a new mission and new confidence. She closed her eyes, took in a breath and then stopped. Stopped moving her arms and legs, stopped thinking about her problems. Stopped doing everything but letting the water lap over her as she slowly sank to the bottom of the pond.
* * *
Ashton had just stepped into the clearing, certain this was the pond he’d come to as a boy, when he saw a woman in the center of the pond. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be struggling a bit. It took a moment for his brain to register that it was Cinders. He’d just come to realize for sure it was her when she suddenly sank. Like a rock. It was as if she suffered a sudden paralysis because she just stopped. Went from movement to frozen, and then submerged.
He knew he had to act quickly, so he took off the baldric holstering his sword and quickly tugged off his boots. He didn’t want them to weigh him down. At the last minute, he even yanked off his shirt, ran into the water and swam toward the last spot he’d seen her. He was about to dive under looking for her, when she popped out of the water and took in a deep lung full of air. She wiped the water from her face and opened her eyes, which widened in shock at seeing him.
“Ash,” she spluttered.
He nodded. “Cinders?”
Her shock at seeing him gave way to a smile. But only for a moment. Short-lived as it had been, the smile had been there. She was happy to see him, happy to find him there, and that pleased him more than he’d care to admit.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she treaded water.
He too was treading now. A bird flying overhead gave a low warble, which Ashton ignored. “Well,” he said. “I used to come to this place sometimes when I was a child, but it’s been a long time. It’s been forever since I’ve even thought about this place, but I was thinking about it this morning, so I set out to find it. Only when I got here, I saw you start to drown.”
She broke into a laugh. Her cheeks got rosy, her wet, silken hair jostled and she had that beautiful pearly white smile on her face. “No, I wasn’t drowning,” she said.
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
“I just wanted to sink for a minute.”
“Sink?” He stared at her. He couldn’t imagine for a single second why anyone would want to sink. Would want to feel flooded with water, compressed, suffocated.
“You’ve never sunk before? Let yourself slowly drop to the bottom and feel all your problems float away?”
He shook his head. A breeze passed by, chilling him, almost as much as the thought of sinking did. His only problem in life so far had been the inability to get away. The idea of purposely sinking to the bottom, purposely moving further from the ability to run free seemed like blasphemy.
“Well, it’s just,” she said, staring at him and taking in a breath as she made the effort to tread. “It’s just that my life seems complicated lately and I just wanted to sink for a bit, to feel like the problems were sloughing off as I descended, and then to emerge feeling refreshed, unbound, untethered.”
Unbound. Untethered. That desire he understood perfectly. He nodded. “I know the desire to feel free from your worries. I might even try it, but it’s harder to move about, as I jumped in to save you while still clothed.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her face morphing into apology. “I didn’t mean for you to do that.”
“It’s quite alright,” he said, meaning it. “I’d rather be wet saving someone who didn’t need saving than to be dry and learn that a beautiful maiden had drowned.”
She blushed and he watched her a moment, captivated by the glow that overtook her face when her cheeks colored. “Let’s go ashore,” he said, and he turned and swam to the pond’s edge. He pulled himself out and turned back to see Cinders still treading water in the middle of the pond. He’d almost forgotten that she didn’t know who he really was. Most things he said were done, taken by those around him as commands. Cinders was certainly suffering under no such illusions. “Aren’t you going to come out?” he called to her, as he sat on the silty shore.
She shook her head. “I’m happy here.”
He stared at her, as she treaded, her breathing heavy. “Are you sure?” he said. “You seem tired. Besides, I’d like to talk to you. Why don’t you come out?”
She bit her lower lip and swam a little closer to him. She’d clearly gotten to the shallow water and was standing; only everything beneath her neck was still submerged. “It’s just that I don’t have any clothes on,” she admitted.
He couldn’t help smile at that, remembering how pert and round her lovely breasts were, the shapely thighs she had, firm and toned. He wanted to see her again — all of her. “I’ve seen you naked before,” he said. “Do you not recall?”
She stared into the water a moment, then looked up at him, a yearning in her eyes. “Yes, I remember,” she said. “But, I’m not comfortable parading about naked.”
“I’ll turn my head,” he said. “I promise not to look without your permission.”
She stared at him a moment, then said “I have your word? A promise as a gentleman that you will not look?”
He chuckled. He’d never before been asked for his word. He found it charming. It seemed such a mundane, normal thing to do, to ask a man for his word and him to be respectable, and either give it or decline. “I give you my word.” He turned his back to her and listened to the water splash as she swam ashore. He heard the noise of rustling fabric and wondered if she was retrieving clothing from her bag. He had an urge to turn and see her again, yet he’d given her his word, so he didn’t. He decided to close his eyes and imagine her as she had been the other night, only this time, dripping with water, wet and glistening and moist, ready and waiting for him.
He was smiling when she called out, “It’s fine to turn around.”
He almost didn’t want to, certain that the vision in his head would be more appealing than the one when he turned around. He turned and there she was, sitting on a blanket, not far from him, a simple blue dress thrown over her. It was one of those lighter blues, almost the color of the sky, and the fabric seemed thin because she’d put the dress on while wet. The frock clung to her body in all the right places. Perhaps this was a better sight. Perhaps, he’d enjoy peeling this dress off of her.
She waved him over and he noticed she had some bread in a basket, and also what looked like berries. “Why don’t you join me?” she said. “The least I can do is feed you since you jumped in to save me.”
As Ash sat down on the blanket with her, he smoothed the dark hair that was plastered to his face, away from his forehead. He was still very wet and she felt bad that he’d jumped in thinking she was drowning.
Her father had taught her to swim when she was young, and she was very good at it. Much better than some of the other girls. She didn’t think Marigold or Bathilda knew how to swim at all.
Ella held out a piece of bread to him. His fingers grazed hers as he took the offering, and she felt a spark in that simple touch. “Thank you,” he said and took a bite. He chewed a moment, then asked, “Do you live around here?”
Ella shook her head almost instantly. She didn’t want him knowing that she lived not far. Just a couple of hills over. “It’s rather out of the way, but my lady sent me on a day errand, and I thought I had time for a swim without her notice.”
“Your lady seems very demanding,” Ash said.
She laughed. “If only you knew the half of it,” she said. “But I don’t mind a hard day’s work, just so long as at the end of it I feel appreciated. My father used to always tell me how much he appreciated my efforts, my kindness. But now, no one appreciates me.” She looked out over the water, feeling a sudden wave of sadness as she realized the truth in her words. She missed being appreciated, being loved, being told that she was kind and generous. Even now, if Lady Kenna were to make her do the same amount of work, but showed a little appreciation and a few kind words, Ella wouldn’t mind. She would be happy that she had a family, a stepmother who loved her and sisters to call her own.
She turned back to see that Ash had scooted closer to her on the blanket. He was sitting right in front of her now. He placed his hand on her knee. “I can’t ignore my curiosity any longer. I must know why you didn’t come back. I thought you enjoyed yourself”
She looked at him. “I did,” she said. “It wasn’t the during,” she admitted, trying to figure out how best to phrase it. “It was after, when you said I was just a thing that you wanted. Not a person, but a thing. Like I was no more than a sack of flour, and then you just dismissed me with word that I should get my money. I felt low, then. I felt like a common whore, and even though that’s what I was doing, it felt awful.”
He was shaking his head. “I didn’t mean it like that —”
She placed a finger on his lips. “It’s alright,” she said. “I presented myself as such and that is how you and your friend see me. I just realized that I don’t see myself that way, and I don’t want to present myself that way.”
“My friend?” he asked. “Do you mean Chandler?”
“The tall blond man?”
Ash nodded, but didn’t speak.
“Yes, he wanted to know if I would come to him, too, or maybe he could get another girl and the four of us could have our fun.”
Ash’s mouth dropped open. “He said that to you?”
She nodded. “But, it’s alright. It was good for me to hear. It crystallized for me exactly why I shouldn’t do this. Still, I appreciate your kindness, Ash. You have always been kind to me.”
His eyes grew distant for a moment, as if he was mulling over what to say. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “When I said that I always went after the thing I wanted, I said it not to call you a thing, but because it was the only experience I knew. In the past, all that I have ever wanted have been things. It isn’t until I was with you that I wanted a someone. You’re the first someone I’ve ever wanted.”
It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. Ash leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back and it felt sweet and kind and right. She pulled away. She needed to stop this. Or did she? She wasn’t sure. “When it’s just the two of us, and you touch me like that, I am happy,” she said. Lying in his arms the other night had felt like a secret joy that no one, not even Lady Kenna who had already taken so much from her, could sully. “But when I get handed that little bag of coins, it sucks it all away and a ball of disgust and shame settles in my gut that I can’t shake. I don’t say that I should feel this way. And perhaps it is stupid for me to feel this way, but I only know what I feel. I can’t keep doing this with you.”
He sighed. “And what do you intend to do for money instead?” he asked. “You can’t keep working for this mistress of yours, the one who beats you that way.”
Ella shook her head. “Of course not,” she said. “Let me show you. I have another plan.” She reached into her basket and pulled out the drawing pad that Uncle Bart had given her. Holding it so Ash could see, she thumbed through the drawings until she found pictures of lemon balm and marjoram. “See,” she said.
“And how does this help you?” he asked.
She laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t explain very well, did I?” She started at the beginning, telling him the whole tale of how she began working for the apothecary, and how her lady had ended that. “Well, the shopkeeper promised my lady he wouldn’t hire me. However, it is the son who wishes to embark on his own and needs the plant guide. I thought I could convince the son to pay me for the duties, but not tell my mistress. That way, I could still earn the money I need.”
Ash frowned, but a moment later, he got a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “Do you only draw plants?”
“No. I draw other things,” she said, turning a few pages back to a picture of her house. “This is a country home I pass from time to time. I stopped and drew it the other day.”
He nodded, but didn’t seem interested. “May I see the drawings?”
Ella hesitated. She never really showed people her personal drawings. She wondered briefly if it was a good idea. But, since she was likely not going to see Ash again, she realized it couldn’t hurt. She handed him her book.
He turned the pages and stopped on a portrait of her father. It was a picture of him as Ella remembered him best — from a day when they’d come here to the Crystal Pond as a family. She smiled at the thought.
“This gentleman is dear to you?” he asked, his voice strained and even resentful to Ella’s ears.
She touched his arm and said, “As dear as any man ever was. He is my father.”
Ash smiled. “I thought for a moment that he was a suitor.”
Ella shook her head. “No, I have no suitor,” she said. “At least none that I can seriously consider.”
“But you have one?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ella noted the uptake in interest, the edge in his voice when he spoke. It occurred to her for the first time that he might be feeling a twinge of jealousy. This was intriguing, as she hadn’t expected that. She needed to put his mind at ease. “Yes, there is an old acquaintance of my father’s who has suggested I marry his son. Only, I won’t.”
He took in a breath and scrutinized her face. “I don’t think I want you to marry this fellow, per se, but you seem to have given it very little consideration. Why wouldn’t you marry him and get away from your mistress?”
She laughed. “Really? I should run from my mistress, no matter what I’m running to? And if my new husband is a brute who is worse to me than she was, what would I do then?”
He frowned, then nodded. “You are right,” he said. “I hadn’t considered it.”
Ella shrugged. “Men rarely do. The world is yours,” she said. “But women, we must always consider these things. Not to mention, my lady would prefer her own daughter to marry this suitor, so it would not be wise of me to try to stop that. As long as my lady is happy about the possibility of a good match for her daughter, I will be freer to be off and earning my own money.”
“Selling pictures of plants?” he said.
“If I can,” she said. “If not, I’ll find something else.”
“What about me?” Ash asked.
Ella didn’t follow. “What about you?”
“I would like to commission you to draw a picture of me,” he said. “I’ve had very few portraits done, so I think another would be wise.”
She stare
d at him, not sure if he was being entirely serious. “Why would you want me? Surely your family can afford a fine painter with a reputation and years of experience. Plus, I only draw in charcoal.”
“I’ve seen your portfolio, just now. It’s very good, and I like you. Most of the people my family hires as artist are fat, balding old men. I’d much rather be stared at by you. Not to mention, I’d much rather enjoy staring back at you.”
She considered it for a moment. “And how much would you pay me for the portrait?”
He grinned. “Twenty King’s coins total: four up front for materials and supplies, and 16 upon completion of the work.”
Her mouth fell open. “That’s a lot.”
“Remember how I said I would teach you the art of negotiation?” Ash asked, a grin on his lips. Ella laughed and nodded her head. So Ash continued, “Don’t do what you just did. When I offer you 20, you should say, ‘Normally, I charge at least 40.’”
She rolled her eyes. “But I don’t.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I have no idea what you usually charge, so what you say is where I have to start. If I disbelieve you, I’ll simply haggle. Anyway, once you’ve said that you charge 40, I’ll say, ‘Our family never pays artists more than 25.’ At this, you’ll rub your chin and look slightly offended that I’ve offered you so little.”
Cinders & Ash: A Cinderella Story (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 3) Page 8
