Acknowledging him with an incline of her head, Sofia took his arm and allowed him to escort her from the inn. When they reached the door, she turned back to see if Ash was following, only to have him nearly run into her backside in the process.
“Looking for me?” His eyes teased, crinkling at the corners.
It would have been easy — dictated by decency, even — to take a half-step away from him. But she held her ground instead, even as heat from his body seemed to ready out to her. She narrowed her gaze. “Just making sure you weren’t woolgathering.”
“Ha!” Hunter laughed. “Ash? Woolgathering? Believe me, any thought that enters his head is solely focused on killing and more killing. It’s what assassins are trained to do.”
“Comforting thought,” Sofia murmured, turning her attention outside.
“It should be,” Ash whispered from behind her. “Because while you’re listening to tales of elephants and pirates, I’ll be training my pistol on anyone who as much as breathes in your presence or stares at your carriage cross-eyed. Comforting… don’t you think?” He strolled off in the direction of the stables, leaving Sofia momentarily breathless and a bit stunned.
“All bark, no bite, my dear.” Hunter released her arm. “Though some prefer the bite rather than the bark, if you get my meaning.”
“What?” She glanced back at Hunter only when Ash had disappeared from view.
“He’s lonely.” Hunter’s façade dropped. In an instant, he was a different person, a concerned brother, a loyal family member, worried. “I fear our Ash will one day die — but not from a gun wound.”
Panicked and oddly curious, Sofia asked, “Then what? Is he ill?”
Hunter put his hand on the small of her back and lead her to his black Ducal carriage. “In a way.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“His heart,” Hunter said softly. “It is broken.”
“Can anything be done for it?” Did he mean in the literal sense?
“Of course.” The footman opened the carriage door for them and helped Sofia in first. Once Hunter was seated, he licked his lips and continued talking in hushed tones. “But once a heart is broken, it takes more than just someone willing to fix it for the mend to take place.”
Sofia leaned back against the soft leather seat. “And what is that? What does it take?”
Hunter glanced out the window just as Ash’s horse trotted up alongside the carriage. “My dear, one must desire to be fixed.”
“And he doesn’t want to be fixed? To be healed?”
Hunter jerked his head from the window, his eyes burrowing into hers, burning with his pierced gaze. “If you were the cause of someone’s death — if you blamed yourself and then tried to end your own life over it, only to wake up and find yourself very much alive, very much… guilty… would you?”
Sofia swallowed and looked down at her clenched hands in her lap.
“What happened?”
“Ah…” Hunter’s smile was sad. “I’m afraid, my dear, that story is not one with which I may entertain you.”
The carriage jolted forward.
“You should rest your eyes.” Hunter’s voice was low, hypnotic. “The journey will go more quickly, and I imagine you’ll need to store your energy before we hit Town.”
Nodding, Sofia leaned against the seat and closed her eyes, thinking of nothing but Ash and his broken heart the entire time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I see her smile, and I feel guilty because it makes me smile, and then I wonder… Will that smile, will that feeling ever come and not have such a high cost? —The Grimm Reaper
HOURS ON HORSEBACK HAD never bothered Ash. For one thing, he was damned used to it, and for another, it gave him the space he needed to prepare himself for what would already be a painful goodbye — on his part, at least. Certainly not on hers.
“Deep in thought, I’d say…” Pierce trotted his horse up alongside Ash. The Royal Guard for the princess rode behind them, though a few were riding in Ash’s carriage. All in all, it would be a fool’s errand to try and ambush them, but highway robberies were prevalent on the road back to Town, even one as oft traveled as this one.
“Simply anxious to rid myself of the female,” Ash lied. It tasted horrible on his tongue, all wrong and bitter.
“Ha!” Pierce laughed then winced. “Headache, damn whiskey. At any rate, I do believe you’re bluffing. Never thought I’d see the day when you’d fall ass-first for a woman. Tell me, how long has it been?”
Ash clenched his jaw; a resounding pop was the only indication that he’d clenched perhaps a bit too hard.
“Two years?” Pierce guessed. “No, no, that cannot be right. Three? Five?”
“Ten!” Ash damn-near yelled. “Now keep an eye on the trees. I am not at all in the mood to be shot at so close to our destination.”
“Ten years…” Pierce clicked his tongue, urging his horse forward so that he was a pace ahead of Ash. “…without a woman’s touch? Or without…” He cast a sly glance. “…any sort of touch?”
Ash narrowed one eye and regarded Pierce, contemplating for just an instant what the aggravating man would like with a pistol aimed at his head.“ Pierce…”
“Tsk, tsk, Ash. However can you be certain you even possess a working stovepipe? After all, things become a tad rusty over the years. Hell, you may not even be able to… er, perform.”
“Nobody said anything about performing. Are you even watching the trees?”
“I saw a rabbit,” Pierce said dryly. “Would you feel better if I shot it?”
Ash rolled his eyes. If anyone or anything was in danger of being shot it was Pierce. Ah, woolgathering about shooting again. Ash’s fingers twitched in the direction of his pistol.
“Do you think it best to try on the lovely lady first? Perhaps you should visit Madame Lamont’s before you run about with a loaded gun.”
Sighing, Ash kept his eyes trained on the trees and breathed in a sigh of relief when he spotted the beginning of Town. “There will be no handling of anyone’s gun.”
“Pity. A pistol fight would do you good, perhaps relieve some of that anger.”
“I’m not angry!”
“You’re yelling.”
“I’m not—“ Ash exhaled and looked away. “I’m simply irritated that you refuse to drop this insane subject! I will not be handling my pistol or practicing on some whore, just so I can alleviate myself.”