Dominique’s nostrils flared. “But he—”
“I don’t care if he seduced her under our very roof! We simply do not pull weapons on family members until we hear their side of the story. Bloodthirsty Russians!” She stomped her foot.
“Love…” Dominique held up his hands. “…last I checked, I was the man.”
“He has to check?” Hunter elbowed Ash and smirked.
Dominique growled. “And as the man, nay, the leader of this household, it is my job to…” He flailed his hands.
“Stop talking.” Hunter slapped Dominique on the back. “Put the shovel back in the shed and step away from the hole you’re about to tumble into.”
Isabelle’s eyes flashed.
Ash took a step back.
“My love—” Her smile was tense. “—I do hope that you do not get trampled by a horse this evening when I lock the leader of this household outside!”
“Now, Isabelle.”
“Ash!” Isabelle yelled.
“My lady.” Ash damn-near stumbled toward her.
“If you’d be so kind to accompany the princess and myself to Bond Street, I’d be most appreciative. I believe my husband will be otherwise detained while he tries to discover where his manhood has indeed run off to during this conversation.”
Hunter snickered while Pierce covered his mouth and averted his eyes.
“Of course.” Ash gave a slight bow. “Shall I meet you downstairs in twenty minutes?”
“Yes.” Isabelle turned her attention back to her husband. “Well? Are you going to stand there or begin the grievous and humbling process of groveling?”
“Groveling.” Hunter coughed. “Pick groveling.”
“I’m sorry,” Dominique muttered and walked slowly to Isabelle. When he reached her, he stretched out his hand.
She stared at it but finally took it and tugged him down the hall.
“Ah, if these walls could talk.” Pierce sighed longingly. “Lucky bastard’s going to get a good set down and enjoy at least fifteen minutes of aggressive lovemaking while we drink tea.”
“Vivid imagination, that one.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “Ash…”
Ash turned and faced his twin.
“Apologies. The minute I arrived at the house, Dominique was already in a mood. I tried to get him drunk, but the man wouldn’t even take a sip of tea. It took the force of two men to keep him downstairs as long as we did.”
Ash nodded, unwilling to trust his own voice to speak, mainly because he knew he was guilty of that and so much more. Not just sharing a room, but a bed, two forbidden kisses, and the inability to shake all of the above from his thoughts.
“Ash?” Pierce cocked his head to the side. “Say, are you all right? You look positively flushed.”
“Having a knife pointed at my chest sometimes causes such ill effects. It will pass. Always does.” Ash coughed to hide his discomfort. Perhaps it would also dislodge the forbidden thoughts racing through his mind.
“Well then…” Hunter slapped him on the back. “…we’ll be off. I was only stopping by to discuss this night’s festivities with my brother.”
“Tonight?” Ash repeated.
“The ball.” Hunter nodded. “Added security, compliments of the Crown. I’ll have two of my best spies and, well… Pierce.”
“Am I not the best?” Pierce’s face fell.
“You’re…” Hunter waved his hand in the air. “…a talented distraction.”
Rolling his eyes, Pierce headed out the door, but Hunter stayed behind and gripped Ash by the arm, whispering in his ear with harshness. “Have a care, brother.”
“Pardon?”
“Your face—” Hunter released his arm. “—is very telling. How was the kiss by the way? Long? Soft? Passionate?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You do.” Hunter sighed, hanging his head. “And the problem is I want to encourage more of it, because, for the first time in years, the darkness has temporarily left your eyes. My advice—”
“Wasn’t asking.”
“When have I cared?”
Ash swore.
“She needs an English husband…”
“Are you just repeating things I already know? Is that your advice?”
Hunter grinned knowingly. “She needs an English titled husband, Lord Grimm.”
Ash sucked in a breath as if he’d just been punched. Nobody had called him that in years — since her death, since his attempted suicide. He’d damn-near forgotten he had a title, let alone lands to go with it.
“Lord Grimm is dead,” Ash whispered.
“Apparently not…” Hunter chuckled. “I’d wager he was very much alive during that kiss that you’re denying never took place, and I’m sure he was very much alive when he shared a bed with the princess. Perhaps it is time to stop torturing yourself for something I never blamed you for in the first place. Perhaps it is time for peace.”
“I thrive during war.”
“And that statement alone brings great sadness, for war without love isn’t worth fighting in the first place. Never will be.”
With that, Hunter quit the room, leaving Ash even more confused and strung tight than before.
CHAPTER TWENTY
An eternity of drunken nights still won’t cleanse my memory of the way she looked in that dress… A lifetime spent in hell wouldn’t pull the smile from my face. Incredible. She looked incredible. —The Grimm Reaper
SHOPPING ON BOND STREET was an experience Sofia wasn’t sure she’d ever forget. For one thing, Ash had accompanied them, which meant that every so often she’d catch him staring at her, only to have him jerk his head away when caught.
It was flattering.
Until she realized that he truly was going to keep good on his promise to stay away. Each time she’d tried to graze him with her fingertips or even engage in conversation, he had immediately shut her down.
At least he had until the dress had happened…
There was nothing that extravagant about it at first. Isabelle urged Sofia to try it on; she said the white was beautiful in contrast to her sharp features and dark hair.
So, with little darts of anticipation running through her, Sofia tried on the dress. It helped that it would need very little altering.
The bodice was tighter than Sofia was used to, dipping low in the front, only to pull tight around her shoulders, leaving the back completely bare — scandalous to be sure, but the part that had Sofia gaping was the skirt. It seemed to be completely see-through, giving perfect view of her legs, only to have more material cover, giving a peekaboo effect. At times, one could see skin; when she twirled, nothing but dress. Crystals lined the fabric all the way down to the floor — to say it was heavy was an understatement. The dress was meant for the Royal Court — or probably had been, but deemed too scandalous.