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, wiping 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?”