When Ash Falls

by Rachel Van Dyken

  A loud bang hit the wall farthest from the bed.

  With grimace, Sofia listened as the banging continued.

  Either someone was banging their head against the wall, or something was terribly wrong. An adjoining door led to the room next to hers. She assumed it must have been present since she was in one of the suites. Possibly for a married couple.

  “Hello?” She knocked against the door. “Are you all right?”

  More banging.

  “Ahem,” she said louder.

  The banging continued. Well, now it was just getting ridiculous. With a pull, she jerked the door open and stepped inside the masculine room.

  There stood Ash, pushing furniture against the wall closest to the door, as if his life depended on it.

  “A little too late in the evening to be rearranging, don’t you think?” she teased.

  “Bloody hell!” He stumbled back on his feet and swore a blue streak, making Sofia’s cheeks heat. “What the devil are you doing?”

  “Supervising?”

  “Princess…” He growled. “…it isn’t proper for you to be alone with a man in his room, especially one such as me.”

  “Grumpy.” She tilted her head. “You mean one as grumpy and disagreeable as you.”

  “I’m not disagreeable.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m—”

  Sofia grinned while Ash stomped around her and pulled open the door to her room.

  “Back inside you go.”

  “You don’t need my help?”

  “I never need help.”

  “I seem to remember a time when you asked for a certain type of help… undressing.”

  Ash appeared to stop breathing. His green eyes blazed as his body nearly collided with hers, causing Sofia to step back against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of the wall by her face. “Say that in front of Dominique, and I’ll gain a bullet through my skull.”

  Sofia licked her lips. “Tempting.”

  He shuddered, his eyes trained on her mouth. “You have no idea.”

  The room was thick with tension. Sofia didn’t understand why she felt the need to touch him, but touch him she did, first with her fingertips and then with her entire hand. She pressed it against his chest.

  His breathing increased as he leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers.

  What was happening?

  Heat pooled in her belly. Her legs became heavy, her body aching. “Kiss me.”

  “No.”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “No.” But Ash’s mouth was already nearly brushing hers.

  A knock sounded at the door, jerking them apart.

  “Go.” Ash shoved her back into her room and slammed the door as she stumbled on her feet.

  What had just happened?

  What had possessed her to ask him to kiss her? Insanity, that’s what. Either that or feeling sorry for herself. That quite possibly the only man who would evoke such feelings within her body… hated her, wanted nothing to do with her, could not, and, in fact, would not save her from a fate worse than death.

  A loveless marriage.

  Just like her parents’.

  She pressed a hand to her stomach just as a knock sounded at her own door.

  “Yes?”

  A short maid around Sofia’s same age stepped in and curtsied. “Your Highness, I’m Ana, your lady’s maid. Shall we ready you for dinner?”

  “Yes—” Sofia almost choked on the word, having trouble finding her voice wasn’t something she was familiar with. Always, she’d been confident, even around men. After all, she was used to being stared at, talked about.

  But Ash was different.

  He was dangerous.

  One would think that after fleeing such danger she’d be weary of it, but he sparked a craving within her soul — within her body — one she’d never experienced but wanted more of.

  “My lady?” Ana asked. “Is something amiss?”

  “No.” Sofia gave an automatic shake of her head. “No, just woolgathering, I suppose.”

  Ana smiled. “Have a seat while I pull out some of the dress choices for dinner. My lady sent a few things to your room.”

  Sofia nodded and tried to pay attention, but every time she heard a noise from the adjoining room, she flinched, tensing and digging her nails into her palms.

  One kiss from him, and she’d be satisfied.

  That was to say… one more kiss, and then she’d be satisfied with her lot in life.

  Satisfied to marry a nice elderly English gentleman.

  The idea was a horrid one, a rotten one, but her only choice. Her bed had been made for her, and now she had no choice but to lie down and pray that sleep would come swiftly.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It seems the more I fight my instinct, my feelings and emotions, the harder they push back, relentless in their pursuit to crack the casing around my heart and set it free. —The Grimm Reaper

  IN HINDSIGHT, MOVING FURNITURE was probably an idea brought on by too much whiskey and the warm buzz of lust currently shooting through Ash’s system.

  At the time, it had seemed a good idea.

  All things considered, it had been a necessary thing to carry out, and logically it made sense. If one had to pull all pieces of furniture from the door before entering into the lady’s room, then… One would tire out eventually, right?

  Ash groaned.

  Was it luck or misfortune that Sofia had asked him to kiss her?

  The catch? He’d almost done it.

  He’d almost given in.

  And he knew—after another kiss — he would be done for. Sucked into a lust-filled frenzy that would end with him taking the one thing he didn’t deserve — her innocence. And take he would. Ash knew firsthand that temptations of the flesh were best avoided when one was intelligent enough to actually steer clear of said temptation.

  And now he was bloody next door to it.

  Not just next door.

  Practically sharing a master suite next to Eve herself.

  The knock on his door had stopped what he should never have started. He was playing with fire, damn-near fanning the flame and assuming its heat wouldn’t sear him alive.

  It would.

  Flames always did.

  Fires represented comfort and heat… until they blazed out of control and became blazes, demolishing anything in their wake.

  “Sir?” The valet whose name Ash still couldn’t recall, held open the black dinner jacket. “Allow me.”

  For ten years, Ash had done without a valet. He wasn’t about to start using one’s services now, but Dominique, the bastard, had ordered it, and Vin, yes, that was his name, was only too happy to oblige The Beast. Damn Russians.

  Clearly, smiling was a herculean task for the valet. Not that Ash needed any sort of comforting, but it would have been nice for some of the warmth to return to his room — warmth Sofia had stolen the minute he’d slammed the door in her face.

  Vin gave a slight bow and stepped out of the room. Ash followed, wordlessly taking an internal account of the layout of the upstairs so he’d be able to find his way through the maze-like hallway.

  After five minutes, he saw the stairs and descended as slowly as possible. Laughter was heard from the dining room. He wasn’t late, but he wasn’t early. The last thing he needed was to spend more time than necessary with Sofia. It would already be hell on his sanity sharing a wall with the girl.

  Her bed pressed against the right wall.

  His, the left.

  Ah look, the fires of hell were to join him in his dreams. Lovely.

  “Ash!” Dominique bellowed once Ash stepped into the room. “There you are.” His eyes were wild, a bit frenzied, desperate.

  Trying to decide what could cause The Beast such unrest, Ash was about to open his mouth when Samson sneezed, sending his chair backward, nearly colliding with one of the kitchen staff.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, w
iping his nose with the napkin… the family heirloom sitting on the table.

  Ah, Dominique was experiencing his own version of hell. Well, misery did like company.

  Ash took a seat on the opposite end of the table, as far away from Dominique as possible, and glanced around at the few faces seated. Isabelle sat to Dominique’s right, though she seemed to be leaning as far into her husband as humanely possible. Gerald sat on her other side, arms crossed, staring at the flickering candles. Perfect. He probably thought he would also capable of communicating with fire. Naturally.

  David and Dunlin were deep in conversation on the left side of Dominique, seemingly normal. And Serafano was sleeping, his head on the table, and a small puddle of drool forming around his lips.

  Benedict took his fork and poked Serafano in the nose, causing a snort to erupt from his mouth before he clamped his lips together and continued snoozing.

  “Wonderful dinner,” Isabelle said through clenched teeth, and then she elbowed Dominique in the side. He reached for his wine, drank the entire thing, and held it out again for a refill.

  “Princess!” Serafano shouted in his sleep.

  Cornelius spilled his wine onto the table and swore. “She will be down soon. She’s safe, Serafano. Remember, we’re in London.”

  Serafano lifted his head and blinked a few times. “London?”

  “Ah, there she is!” Dominique stood and pushed his chair back from the table. “My dear, why don’t you have a seat…?” His eyes grazed the misfit guard and then fell on Ash. Bloody hell. “There’s a seat by Ash. Why don’t you sit near him so he can keep you… safe.”

  Ha. Safe.

  More danger on this side of the table, but to each his own. Ash would just have to keep a fork in his grip and poke himself every time he was tempted to reach for her hand, her smooth hips, her thighs… Dear God, her thighs would be damn-near touching his.

  “Ash?” Dominique inquired, his eyebrows lifting. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “No.” Ash cleared his throat. “Apologies, I was… inspecting the… silverware.”

  “For what? Spots?” Dominique rolled his eyes. “I said… I’ll be hosting a ball tomorrow evening. I’d like for you and Sofia to discuss some rules and regulations so that she’s entirely prepared for the onslaught of gentlemen who will be cheerfully seeking her hand.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ash reached for his wine, suddenly feeling his throat tighten. “What exactly am I supposed to discuss with her?”

  “Your whereabouts at all times… possible hand signals Sofia can give you when she feels safe enough to dance with a gentleman, and ones she can use when she needs you for an escape.”

  “Nobody said anything about dancing.”

  Dominique grinned. “No? Apologies on my… oversight.”

  “Oversight my ass.”

  “What was that?” Dominique glared.

  “I’d love a glass,” Sofia interrupted, lifting her empty glass into the air for wine then elbowing Ash with her free arm.

  The first course was served amidst the chaos of sneezing, laughter, flame staring, an unfortunate soup incident where Serafano almost lost his life next to a pea… and then blessed silence as the second course was served.

  “Hand signals,” Sofia whispered. “I should like to see what your creative mind comes up with.”

  “The signal I’m thinking is most improper.” Ash narrowed his gaze. “And would most likely get you kicked out of the ball. Care to see it?”

  “Ah, a demonstration. Only if you show my dear cousins first.”

  “Tap your glass with your fork, and I cannot be held responsible for my actions. They involve frogs, your bedroom, and a bucket of cold water.”

  “Tsk tsk, a gentleman never speaks of a lady’s bedroom.”

  “And a lady never throws a gentleman under the table… especially one so old as this one.”

  “Hmm.” Sofia tilted her head. “Fine, the first signal when I’m feeling comfortable with the fine gentleman.”

  “Yawn,” Ash said in a dry voice, feeling quite confident the action would be a natural one, all things considered.

  Sofia’s lips curved into an amused smile as she turned her ice blue eyes on him, damn uncomfortable chairs. “But won’t he take that as an offense?”

  “I didn’t say to yawn loudly.” Ash met her smile with one of his own. “Simply tap your fingertips against your lips. He’ll be too distracted by that simple motion to think of anything else but—”

  A sort of alarm went off in Ash’s head, warning him to stop talking, but he always did charge toward danger willingly.

  “But?” Sofia leaned forward, her breasts damn-near tumbling from her simple white gown.

  “But…” Ash swallowed and looked away. “…what a lovely mouth you have.”

  “Is that a compliment or a completely indifferent observation?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I don’t know… does it?”

  Ash opened his mouth then closed it and reached for his wine to keep his hands from either strangling her for asking such an obtuse question or pulling her into his lap and pressing his mouth against hers. “When you feel afraid, we’ll need a signal for that. After all, your life truly is in danger.”

  “Spoken like a true soldier.”

  He grunted.

  “I’ll wink.”

  “Pardon?” Ash’s eyebrows knit together. “You’ll wink when you’re afraid?”

  “Well, screaming seems so typical, and I do hate to waste a good scream.”

  “Don’t we all?” Ash licked his lips, focusing his attention on the dimple by her right cheek. “Good screams are hard to come by.”

  “Very,” Sofia agreed. “And I’d much rather scream from excitement than fear. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Excitement.” Ash nodded. “Pleasure.” Damn and hell, he’d said that out loud, hadn’t he?

  Sofia blushed.

  Yes. Yes, he had.

  “I wouldn’t know.” Sofia boldly met his gaze. “But I’d be interested to find out.”

  “No. No, you wouldn’t.”

  “I would.”

  “No.”

  “So argumentative.”

  “Not happening.” Ash scooted his chair back, causing the entire focus of the dinner conversation to turn toward him. Heads tilted, forks dropped, eyes focused in on him and Sofia. He wasn’t sure whether he should storm out or simply lift his glass in cheers.

  “We’ve agreed on a few terms…” Sofia said, rescuing him. “I believe tomorrow night will go quite splendidly.”

  “Perfect.” Dominique’s shoulders relaxed. “I mean, no offense, Sofia. I need to keep you safe at all costs. You must stay safe, and you must marry soon. I fear your stepmother will either send someone after you or come herself. It is necessary that you have the protection of a husband and a family behind you.”

  “I know.” Sofia’s voice was soft, beaten.

  “Only a titled gentleman will do,” Dominique said, almost to himself. He reached for his wife’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sure we’ll find a wonderful match for you.”

  Sofia nodded, her back straight, her posture rigid.

  And in that moment Ash missed the conversation, the banter, no matter how forbidden. He knew it was important she marry and marry well. He knew better than most what greed could do to a person, how it could blind even the most solid of characters. And her stepmother seemed to be on the opposite end of the spectrum, meaning she would stop at nothing to gain control of Sofia or kill her in order to obtain it.

  Marriage was her only way out.

  Which was a pity.

  Considering an arranged marriage would not end up with her screams of pleasure in bed or wicked evenings with a lover.

  But cold… lonely nights.

  And if she just so happened to find a man willing to give her the first? Well, he’d simply kill him.

  And find an elderly duke with a lazy eye and be done with the whol
e thing.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lusting is one thing. Following through with that lust? Quite another. So perhaps I was staring too long… perhaps I was imagining too many things, but as long as I did not act, I was safe. As long as I did not give in, I would honor my vow to stay celibate for as long as I remained on this earth. —The Grimm Reaper

  IT WAS DARK, MOST likely nearing midnight, and Sofia still couldn’t fall asleep. It seemed the world was working against her, for the very evening she needed sleep the most — the evening before she was to be launched onto the London ton — and she was sleepless.

  Whose idea had it been to put both beds against the same wall?

  At first, she hadn’t given it a second thought.

  But the wall was thinner, much thinner than she had originally imagined. In the silence of the night, she heard Ash stomping around his room, since the man clearly didn’t know how to walk softly. It served as a reminder that he was an angry sort, bitter, scarred.

  After the stomping came the snores.

  And after the snores… the groaning, whimpering, as if someone were torturing him in his sleep.

  Sofia pressed the pillow against her ears, but it was useless. She would never find sleep if the man continued to have nightmares all evening.

  With a huff, she crawled out of bed, lit a candle, and opened the adjoining door. It gave a soft creak as it swung open. She lifted the candle toward the bed to shine light upon Ash.

  Shirtless.

  With a sheen of sweat running from his face all the way down his neck, the drops meting his shoulders and sliding further beneath the covers.

  His olive skin was beautiful, almost on fire in the moonlight.

  He moaned again. His head tossed back and forth as he reached his fingers up high, grasping at nothing but air. “Come back.”

  “Ash,” Sofia whispered.

  “She thought I was you…” he whimpered.

  “Ash,” Sofia sat on the bed, careful to stay away from his grasping hands as they continued to furiously tug at the air as if it would wake him from the nightmare or possibly save his soul. “Ash, wake up.”