Ash smiled sadly, his eyes haunting as he glanced back up at Sofia. “Then I would have to say no.”
“Am I not…?” She almost choked on the words. Was he rejecting her?
“You are…” Ash’s eyes brightened briefly. “…you are… perfect. Simply perfect… and you shall stay that way until you are married.”
Sofia crossed her arms and leveled Ash with a stare. “Pity.”
His smile was sad. “It truly is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I have made a lapse in judgment, and for that, I will never forgive myself. —The Grimm Reaper
ASH TRIED DESPERATELY TO act normal during the afternoon outing at Hyde Park, if normal consisted of an abhorrent amount of indecent thoughts about pressing Sofia against the nearest tree and claiming her as his.
He looked away from the tree.
Grass. One could look at grass without arousing oneself to painful proportions or gaining curious stares from the nearby geese.
Then again, grass was a flat surface, quite comfortable, easily used if one found a secluded corner and— Damn. He needed to gain control and fast.
“Thank you.” Sofia lifted her head heavenward and smiled.
“Are you thanking me for the rescue or the carriage ride?”
Sofia’s cheeks tinged red as she glanced away from Ash. “Both.”
His grin was about as unstoppable as the cursed London rain. “My pleasure.”
“And mine.”
He tilted his head back and let out a bark of laughter.
“My, my,” a male voice said. “I never thought I’d see the day when the great Grimm Reaper would find anything amusing, let alone a dreary London day.”
Ash turned to his left.
The Devil Duke, also known as Benedict to his familiars, stood by his horse, a knowing grin plastered across his much-too-cheerful face. “It’s been an age, old friend.”
“Yes.” Guilt slammed into Ash, for at one time, he and Benedict had been the best of friends, that was, until Ash had fled the country. “It has.”
“And who is this lovely creature?”
Ash had to remind himself that Benedict was happily married.
And when the reminder didn’t ease his temper, he simply gritted his teeth and watched as the man charmed the bonnet right off his woman.
His woman.
Ha. The joke was on him.
She wasn’t anyone’s, least of all his.
“Her Highness, Miss Sofia Maskylov of Russia.” Ash made the introductions while Sofia gave a low curtsy.
Benedict’s grin grew. “Is this the same princess that seems to be sweeping our humble country by storm?”
“The one and only,” Ash said dryly.
“And what about you?” Benedict turned. “Has she swept you off your feet?”
Such a personal question in a public forum. That was the trouble with dukes like Benedict; they thought they could ask anything out of the ordinary, and mere mortals would simply bow and answer with fear and trembling.
“But, of course,” Ash said honestly. “It would be impossible to deny a beautiful woman…”
Benedict licked his lips. “Quite. Say, are you attending our ball this evening?”
It was on the verge of Ash’s tongue to blurt out an excuse, but only because he wanted Sofia to himself — all to himself — and that wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to him. She needed to marry.
The sooner he got that in his head the better.
“I don’t believe we received an invitation,” Sofia said boldly.
“You must attend,” Benedict said smoothly. “The duchess wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Ash cleared his throat. “Is this, perchance, the annual masquerade?”
Benedict’s smile turned positively plot-worthy. “Indeed! Now… promise you’ll attend.”
“We would love to!” Sofia accepted for both of them.
“Splendid.” Benedict’s grin turned more criminal.
Ash was going to throttle his old friend, or perhaps now they were no longer friends, simply enemies, for Sofia had played directly into the Devil Duke’s hands without even knowing. Though Ash imagined the man had good intentions — it did not change the fact that she was walking cheerfully into temptation itself.
Benedict tipped his hat and made his goodbye as he waltzed off in the other direction, his demeanor positively cheerful.
“What is the matter with you?” Sofia put her hands on her hips, scolding Ash. “He was friendly! And he invited us to another ball!”
“Ha!” Ash looked away. “Is that what we shall be attending? Are you quite sure?”
Sofia was silent then she muttered, “Well, that is what he said.”
“He’s the very devil himself, completely harmless now that he’s married himself off and besotted like the rest of my old friends, but… still the devil.”
“How so?”
Ash turned and looked at Sofia, so much innocence, and he fought between wanting to protect her from the dark, yet wanting to invite her to join him within it. “The ball is a masquerade.”
“And?”
“It is called The Garden.”
“Lovely!” Sofia clapped. “Are there many flowers?”
“Er, some.”
“And plants?”
“Sure.”
“I imagine the decorations are lovely!”
“Yes, if you like that sort of… thing.” Ash fought hard to keep himself from laughing. “Are you sure you’d like to attend?”
“Absolutely!”
“Do me one favor then.”
She tilted her head.
“When you tell Dominique this plan of yours, allow me to be in the room.”
“Whatever for?”
“Think of it as a mental picture I’ll store forever.” This time he did laugh. “Shall we return to the house? After all, you’ll need to find a dress that will match the… décor.”
Sofia nodded excitedly, and Ash knew he would take her, guard her with his own life, and most likely fall on his own sword by night’s end. After all, he wasn’t taking her to a mere ball, but what was known amongst the ton as something very, very different.
Yes, it was going to be a long evening.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mistakes, when repeated, are not truly mistakes, but poor choices called habits. —The Grimm Reaper
“WELL… THAT WENT WELL, all things considered.” Ash chuckled to himself as he helped Sofia into the waiting carriage. The conversation between her and Dominique had been one for the record books.
Ash hadn’t remembered a time The Beast had looked so… piqued.
“Well?” Sofia gasped. “He nearly took my head off!”
“To be fair,” Ash said smoothly, “you did ask your cousin if you could attend a pleasure masquerade.”
“To be fair...” Her teeth clenched. “…you never explained what type of masquerade we would be attending.”
“On purpose.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, you’re very welcome.” Ash winked. “It was not I who accepted, so the fault lies with you.”
“How do you figure?” Sofia raised her voice. “The Devil Duke is your friend, and I was simply helping you be more…” She waved her hands into the air. “…friendly!”
“Ah, sweetheart…” Ash licked his lips and surveyed her scandalous outfit. “…was I not friendly enough his afternoon? You didn’t seem to have any complaints then. Care to voice them now?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not amusing.”
“No, I’m dashing. There’s a difference.”
Sofia pressed her lips together, a smile battling to break through. “How am I to find a husband at a pleasure ball? And while we’re having this conversation, ten minutes before we are to arrive at that very ball, how am I supposed to find a husband if everyone is…” She blushed. “…distracted?”
Ash leaned back and tilted his head. Her dress was red, scandalo
usly low-cut, and left nothing to the imagination, though she was wearing a mask, so at least she wasn’t recognizable. “You’ll simply talk to men you find amusing, dance a bit, drink some lemonade, and I’ll bring you home when your feet ache.”
“But the men… they will be… forward?”
“Very.”
“And isn’t that… unwelcome in London society?”
“Extremely.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
Ash sighed. “Most who attend this ball are married and use it as an excuse to rekindle the romance within their marriage — at least that is how it got its start. There will be many debutantes, as well as young titled gentlemen in attendance, simply looking for a time without the pressures of a typical ball. Use your time wisely, and perhaps someone will catch your attention.”
“And if they don’t?” She worried her lower lip. “Then what shall I do?”
“Easy.” Ash reached for her hand and gripped it within his own. “Then we dance.”
“Admit it,” she said in a sour voice. “You’ll be happy to be rid of me.”
“Why are you asking me to lie?”
Her head jerked to attention.
“Letting you go… will be one of the hardest things I’ve done in my existence. Then again, I’ve always heard it’s difficult when the chickens leave the roost.”
“So now I’m a chicken?”
“That all depends on if you’re brave enough to take a step out of the carriage.”
As if on cue, the carriage pulled to a stop, the door opened, and Ash waited.
“If I entertained any sort of fear, I would not have propositioned you the way I did — nor would I have followed through.”
“Touché.” Ash smirked. “Shall we?”
Sofia lifted her head like a princess ought and stepped out of the carriage.
Ash offered his arm.
They walked slowly up the stairs.
There was no announcing at this ball — only anonymity and masks. Upon entering, all one could see were candles lit in dark corners, black masks, and red dresses. To prevent people from being examined too closely, one of the rules was that each woman had to wear a red dress, and each man had to be in head-to-toe black.
It was a breathtaking sight — if one was a heathen set on a war path toward hell. Several half-naked sculptures in the finest white marble decorated the main ball room. Lining each wall were chairs of all types for lounging about. Wine flowed like honey, and the dimly lit room made it impossible to make out people’s features.
“I misspoke,” Sofia whispered in Ash’s ear, tickling his flesh. “Earlier in the carriage.”
“Oh?”
“I’m a bit fearful right now…”
“Don’t be,” Ash said softly, wrapping his arm around her delicate shoulders. “We may be in hell, but I know firsthand that angels can protect you from its flames.”
“And who shall protect me from you?”
Ash stopped walking and whispered across her neck, his lips grazing her soft skin. “Absolutely no one. Will that be a problem?”
“No.” She let out a breath and shuddered in his arms then turned to him. “Are you going to kiss me now?”
“Later.” Ash’s eyes locked in on her lips. “Meet two amiable gentlemen, and I’ll kiss you.”
“Sort of like a prize at the end of a race?” her voice teased.
“I’ve never been a prize.”
Sofia stepped away. “You are now.”
Her words affected him in ways he’d thought impossible. His entire body became instantly warm — not aroused, simply warm — as if she truly cared, as if she truly meant that he was the prize she sought.
It wasn’t true — couldn’t be true. He had to keep reminding himself that the weeks would eventually come to a close, and, at the end, she would exchange the prize of Ash for something greater, something that would last.
Bowing his head, he quickly moved to the edge of the room where he could watch Sofia — where he could keep her safe.
She approached a group of ladies — not gentlemen — and Ash breathed a sigh of relief.
“Beautiful evening,” Sofia said as she approached the three ladies talking amongst themselves.
“It is.” One turned to her. “And don’t you look lovely tonight, though, admittedly, not as lovely as the gentleman we saw you arrive with.” The woman’s eyes gleamed in Ash’s direction.
Sofia fought to keep her jealousy at bay. “Yes, he’s wonderful, isn’t he?”
“A specimen,” another lady piped up. “Then again, I imagine he isn’t even close to being as mysteriously handsome as Lord Grimm.”
“Lord Grimm?” Sofia repeated. Why had she never heard of him before? “Who is he?”
The ladies’ mouths dropped open, as if timed.
The one with flaming hair placed a hand on Sofia’s arm. “Oh, my dear, he is but a ghost, a legend. He has only just returned to the continent, and, rumor has it, he’s on the hunt for a wife!”
Sofia stored that information for later. “And he’s handsome?”
“So very handsome,” the woman to her left gushed. “And brave! What I wouldn’t give to dance with the man, but he rarely attends such functions, and, even when he does, his scowl is enough to cause a woman to stutter. He never asks anyone to dance, though at the last ball he danced with a woman twice! Then again, she was foreign.”
As was Sofia, but she didn’t feel the need to point that out.
“He sounds divine,” Sofia said.
“Oh he is…” The redhead purred. “Tell me, what is the name of the fellow you arrived with?”
“I thought we weren’t to use names?” Sofia corrected the woman’s error.
She grinned mischievously. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m afraid I like to play by the rules.” She gave a low curtsy. “Good evening.”
Quickly, she weaved through the crowd to find Ash. He was leaning against the wall, surveying the room like the soldier he was.
“How was the latest gossip?”
“Informative.” Sofia put her hands on her hips. “Tell me, do you know of this Lord Grimm?”
Ash quickly looked down at his feet. “Lord Grimm, you say?”
“Yes. I wish to speak to him.”
“You cannot simply walk up to a man as dangerous as that and speak to him about the weather, Princess.”
“Then you must speak to him.”
“Me?” Ash seemed to pale further. “Why ever for?”
“He’s seeking a wife.”
Ash choked out a laugh. “I assure you he is not.”
“He is!” Sofia clenched her fists. “And the ladies said he was brave, he could protect me, and he’s titled!”
“Is that all that matters to you?” Ash spat. “A title?”
Sofia looked down at her hands, guilt slamming into her. “It is all that mattered to my father, so it must matter to me.”
Ash cursed. “Apologies, I don’t know what came over me.”
“So you’ll introduce us?”
“Sofia, you’ve met lots of gentlemen. I imagine he’s already been introduced to you.”
“No. I would remember.”
“Why’s that?” He smiled. “Is your memory as perfect as your smile?”
“Yes,” Sofia snapped, taking the compliment in stride, unwilling to let it distract her, even though warmth spread throughout her body. “Besides, he is rumored to be devilishly handsome, and I’ve met no one of the sort.”
Ash bit down on his lip, his eyebrows shooting up to his forehead.
“You don’t count.” Sofia waved him off.
“Are you calling me handsome?”
“You do own a mirror, soldier. If you need more confirmation of your good looks, simply gaze upon it for a while, and you’ll gain your answer.”
“She thinks me handsome.” Ash winked. “Whatever shall I do with all this flattery you throw my way?”
“Enjoy i
t while it lasts.” Sofia grinned. “For I will most likely be cross with you by the end of the evening.”
“I do so love it when you’re cross,” Ash whispered. “It makes your passion so much more…. tempting.”
“May we dance now?” Sofia ignored the pang in her chest when Ash looked at her in that way. A way that showed how much he desired her, how much his desire matched her own.
“Whatever the princess desires…” He bowed over her hand. “I am at your service.”
“In that case, I want to dance all evening with you and only you, and then I want you to take me to bed and make wild and passionate love to me.”
“Red makes you bold.” Ash coughed into his hand and looked away. “Yes to the first… we’ll see to the second.”
“We’ll see?”
“First—” He twirled her twice. “—we dance.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It is always easy to pretend when you forget the consequences of the fabrication. —The Grimm Reaper
ASH DANCED TWO DANCES with Sofia then escorted her from the floor; too many bodies crowded the space, making it impossibly difficult to breathe. He was just about to lead her toward the lemonade when Benedict stepped in the way.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” he said with an amused grin. “Lovely to see you both took my invitation to heart.”
Ash grunted in response.
“My dear…” Benedict turned his gaze upon Sofia. “…have you had a chance to take a look at the lovers’ fall?”
She turned to Ash for help.
“Tsk, tsk!” Benedict slapped Ash on the shoulder. “You haven’t shown her the falls yet?”
“We’ve been busy dancing,” Ash said through clenched teeth.
“Why dance when you could—”
“The falls,” Ash interrupted. “I’ll remedy my lapse in judgment immediately.”
“Do.” Benedict grinned. “Have a lovely time.” The bastard kept his eyes trained on Ash, most likely making sure that Ash followed through with his promise. Damn him.
“What are the falls?” Sofia asked in a loud voice, gaining the attention of a few people standing nearby.
Knowing smiles appeared on all their faces then quickly disappeared.
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