Hunter glanced at the door. “Well then, that settles it now, doesn’t it?”
Slowly Ash turned.
Isabelle and Sofia both stood at the door, faces impassive. They had to have heard it all.
“Not that I needed your reassurance.” Dominique stood and slapped Ash on the shoulder. “But I appreciate it all the same.”
Unsure of what to say, Ash could only stare at Sofia as she averted her eyes, finding great interest in the Persian rug, and none whatsoever in Ash. Then again, he had just made a complete ass out of himself, so there was that.
“Ahem.” Hunter strode forward. “I should be off to see my wife. I’ve been delayed long enough.” He reached for Sofia’s hand and bestowed a kiss across the top. “It truly was a pleasure, Princess. Remember, the bark is worse than the bite… or the bite is worse than the bark, if that’s what you prefer.”
What the devil was he spouting?
Sofia’s cheeks blushed bright red before she whispered “Thank you” and curtsied.
Hunter left.
Ash wasn’t sure if he should follow suit or just apologize.
The decision was made for him when Isabelle, with a forced smile, turned to Sofia. “Why don’t I show you to your room?”
“Yes,” Sofia croaked, her voice weak. “Yes, that would be lovely.”
They left.
And Ash was still standing there — feeling like a fool.
“Off limits,” Dominique whispered gruffly. “Do I have your word?”
Ash glanced back at Dominique and kept his expression void of emotion — something he’d practiced over the years, though this was the first time he had a bit of struggle keeping the mask in place. “I’ve been celibate for ten years. Why the hell would I take a bite of the damn apple when I’ve been without fruit for so long?”
“Good.” Dominique’s blue eyes flashed. “Because if I hear otherwise, I’ll shoot you.”
“Reassuring.”
“Thought so.” What could be mistaken as a grimace or possibly a smile flashed across his face before he left Ash alone in the room.
Alone to think about what he should have spent more time thinking about ten minutes prior.
How the hell he was going to keep his damn body from responding to the girl who was so much more than a girl, but a woman, a treasure? An innocent treasure, whom he had just soiled with his harsh words.
“Bloody hell, I’m in deep.” He cursed and poured himself another two fingers of whiskey. Four weeks in a month.
One month, and she would be married.
And he would be rid of her.
The catch? Would four months be enough to exorcise her face? Her lips? Those eyes? From his very existence.
Or would he always want?
Would he always crave?
Would he always wonder?
What it would be like… with her…
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Better she hate me than know the truth of the matter. I would stare at her for an eternity — if she let me. I’d give up those ten years for one drink of her lips. —The Grimm Reaper
THE UPSTAIRS WAS A complicated maze of bedrooms, with artwork placed strategically along the walls. Everything seemed expensive, old, and Russian.
“Dominique has a certain… taste.” Isabelle’s eyes twinkled. It still felt odd addressing her so familiarly. Then again, they were cousins, though they hardly knew one another. “Ah, here we are.” Isabelle pushed the door open and allowed Sofia to step inside first.
The room was large enough to fit a few carriages side by side — with horses.
A large bed was pressed against the right wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast an early evening glow across the rich ruby-hued fabric draped across the bed. A small balcony was visible between the black velvet curtains.
The entire room seemed too heavy and rich with fabrics to be beautiful — but it was… beautiful, that is. What should have appeared gaudy was fascinating, something fit for a princess.
The fireplace roared. Sofia turned. A large wardrobe faced the fireplace along with a beautiful gold mirror and writing desk.
“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed, carefully pressing her palms against her travel-sodden dress. “Are you sure this is my room?”
“Very.” Isabelle chuckled. “Dominique wanted you to have one of the master suites so you’d be close.”
“Close?” Sofia’s brow puckered. “Close to what?”
“Ash, of course.”
“Pardon?”
“Ash, good-looking fellow with the weight of the world on his shoulders, currently drowning his sorrows in whiskey and pretending he doesn’t have two good working eyes so that he doesn’t have to admit his attraction to you.”
Heat marched across Sofia’s face. “He isn’t attracted to me. I think he made that much clear.”
“Men are fickle creatures.” Isabelle closed the door behind her and walked toward Sofia, her smile warm. “Many times they say things they don’t mean, often out loud, in order to argue with their minds what their hearts already know.”
Sofia looked down, shaking her head. “His heart and mind are of one accord… and that is dislike — a very strong dislike — for royalty, me in particular.”
“If you say so.” Isabelle offered a light shrug of her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips. “I hope you do not mind, but I hired a lady’s maid to help you ready yourself for the next few weeks. Tomorrow, we’ll shop for whatever’s needed for the remainder of the Season. Until then…” Isabelle inclined her head. “…dinner is served in two hours. I’ll send Ana in twenty or so minutes.”
“Thank you.” Sofia’s voice was a mere whisper as she watched Isabelle quit the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Sighing, she turned around the room and tried to imagine what the next few weeks would entail. Would she find someone to care for her? To protect her? With a huff, she sat on the bed. Who was she attempting to fool? People didn’t fall in love in four weeks. Love was out of the question for her. What she needed was a protector, someone who could help stand up to her stepmother, someone powerful enough to help Sofia fight for her country, for her throne.
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.