Praying for strength, he opened his eyes, only to see Sofia squinting at his neck. He knew what she was seeing: the scar beneath his chin that ran down his neck and beneath his cravat. Her hand reached out, perhaps to trace it. Ash’s skin tingled with awareness at her blatant stare. Nobody had dared touch him for ten years—a man could forget what it was like to have a female caress his face as if it wasn’t ugly, as if he wasn’t tainted and scarred. Flushing with irritation, he leaned back, away from her, away from the sirens call she had no idea she was giving.
He grasped her wrist and thrust her back into her seat. “It is rude to stare.”
She snorted. “Hello, kettle. My name’s black. Pleased to meet you.”
“Chit.”
“Grumpy old fool.”
“Old?” Ash shook his head.
“Don’t forget grumpy.”
He hadn’t, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still stuck on the reference of aging. “I am not old.”
“Being old isn’t so bad. It is probably why Pierce tells stories of your escapades. It is common when men have… peaked.”
“Peaked?” A wry chuckle slipped out. “My dear, you have not even begun to see me peak.”
She blushed red and looked away.
“Would you like to?”
“How old are you?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Old enough to know how to peak.”
“I worry we have different definitions for that word.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at him pointedly.
“Allow me to demonstrate,” he teased with a wink.
“I’d rather you stay where you are.”
He shrugged. “Your loss.” And perhaps mine as well.
At that she snorted.
Momentary silence fell between them and then, “I believe you to be in your late thirties. Am I correct?”
Offended, Ash opened his mouth to respond but then snapped it shut. “Whatever caused you to guess that particular age?”
Sofia licked those beautiful plump lips and leaned forward. Curses, but her smell was intoxicating.
“Your eyes.”
He drew up sharply, “My eyes?” He’d always known he and his brother had peculiar eyes, like that of a wolf or hunter, but none had ever said it made him look elderly. Every bone in his body screamed in outrage! He was a man in his prime! “Whatever is wrong with my eyes, Princess?”
“They are old.”
“Eyes cannot be old,” he scoffed. ”They are mere objects of a person.”
Sofia leveled him with a stare that left him breathless and a bit uncomfortable, leaning forward so her dress strained against her breasts she whispered, “Your eyes are angry and sad. Perhaps it is not your body that is old, but your soul. You seem… tired.”
He used a laugh to push away the truth of her statement. The truth that pierced his very body and went straight into his soul, causing his dead heart to thump wildly in his chest. “I am eight and twenty. And I am anything but tired. Again, allow me to demonstrate.”
“Empty threats.” She waved him off. “If I was fearful of you demonstrating anything, I would not have invited you to ride with me.”
“Ordered.” Raising one eyebrow, he inclined his head and challenged her. “You ordered me.”
“I like to think of it as an invitation.” The smile she flashed had the capacity to both blind and stupefy.
“Minx.”
Her smile glowed even more brilliantly for a second before she leaned back in her seat, thank God, and looked out the window. “I miss home.”
He thanked the Almighty again for the subject change and relaxed as much as was physically possible, being celibate and riding in a carriage alone with the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered. “I’m sure, once you find a husband, you may return.”
“No.” She shook her head and swallowed, tears pooled behind her crystal eyes. “I will not.”
“Why?”
She took her lower lip hostage, chewing on it for a minute before answering, “I wish to live.”
“And if you return home, what? You die?”
“Murdered,” she whispered hoarsely. “I will be murdered. Oh, look! The North Sea!”
But Ash wasn’t looking at the sea. He was looking at the woman he’d just rescued and wondering what in the blazes Maskylov had failed to tell him about his cousin.
CHAPTER NINE
I cannot breathe when she is near. When I inhale, my body is permeated with her goodness. When I exhale, it is as if her scent steals all my reasons for being who I am — directly from my soul. I do not want to be fixed, but blast if the little minx isn’t trying. —The Grimm Reaper
WELL. THAT COULD HAVE gone better. Silence enveloped the carriage as it jolted this way and that.
Ash, with his calculating eyes, had quieted immediately with her confession. She cleared her throat and tried to discuss the North Sea again, but Ash had put up his hand, as if that would cause her to cease talking.
Well, it had worked. She huffed out a frustrated breath. Why the devil was he always silencing her?
“Are you telling me that those misfits traveling with us are trying to keep you from being murdered?” Each word he said made her feel like a child being scolded.
Sofia thrust her chin into the air. “But, of course. They are my Royal Guard.”
“Royal Guard, my a—” Ash coughed. “They would find the task of killing a flea difficult, let alone protecting a person.”
“They are trained in the art of—”
“Foolishness,” he finished. “Yes I’m quite aware of that. Half of them are young enough to have been sired by yours truly, and wipe that ridiculous smirk off your face before I give you a better reason.” He cleared his throat. “The other half are as dumb as Pierce, which is saying quite a lot.”
Yes, it does. About Pierce… She raised an eyebrow but kept silent.
“And the last one is so old he fell asleep talking to me this morning! I had to push him awake, and even then it took him at least ten minutes to remember who I was and why I had woken him up.”
“But—”
“No,” Ash growled. “How in blazes did you make it this far? Devil take me, I’ve just helped a runaway princess flee the country.”
“To be fair, I fled all on my own. You are merely delivering me to London.”
“To be fair…” He copied her sentiment, his words dripping with sarcasm. “…you should be dead by now.”