Page 12 of Ruthless, But for Her

CHAPTER 7

Ashton

He needed to learn more about her.

Obviously, she was sheltered. Titled, a member of the minor gentry, if his guess was correct.

Beautiful. Spirited. But also, abused to some measure. If he guessed correctly, likely by her own husband.

“Where are you going? We are preparing to sail,” Ryker said as he began to cross the plank.

“To the merchant ship. I must speak with the maid.”

“Are you mad? Our men are all back on board The Einar. You'll be taken, if you're lucky. More likely, they'll run you through and toss you overboard.”

Somehow, he didn’t think so.

“Hold her steady,” he called up to Leif. “I'll be but a moment.”

Their captain watched as he and Ryker, who now followed him, made their way across the plank.

“I would give anything to learn what was in that mind of yours at times,” Ryker muttered.

He would have told his brother to return to The Einar, but there would be no point. Ryker wouldn't listen.

“You'll get us both killed,” Ryker muttered, still following as the startled crew members of The Aldgate turned to stare at them.

“Raise a hand,” he said, “and the black sails of the border will see to it that everyone on board, save the maid, never reaches Berwick.”

The reputation they'd built over these past months was useful at times. As expected, no one moved.

“I would speak to the maid.”

As he made his way toward the stern cabin, the ship's captain approached.

“You have your tax, and our promise not to trouble The Einar in the future. Return her to us.”

But Ashton meant to speak with the maid and not The Aldgate's captain. Leaving Ryker to exchange words with the man—Ryker loved speaking almost as much as he did women—he ordered the door open.

The order was met with immediate acquiescence. For that, he gave the Englishman a look of chastisement. And disgust.

Allowing him access to a woman without any type of fight? Typical of his kind.

“You are welcome on deck. My men are gone,” Ashton said, once inside the cabin.

The maid stood in the far corner, her hands pressed flat against the wall behind her. Clearly terrified.

“I will not hurt you, or your charge. Tell me who hurt her.”

She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes moved to the open door, then back to him, calculating the distance the way a woman does when she already knows the answer isn't good enough.

“You've taken her against her will,” she said, her voice unsteady, “and you ask who has hurt her? Besides yourself?”

“She will be safe as my charge and returned to her husband soon. You will be escorted home. There's nothing to fear any longer for either of you. But I want to know, who hurt her?”

“What did she tell you?”

“Very little, which is why I risk life and limb to ask you this question.”