Page 47 of Ruthless, But for Her

“Because whoever did knew what they were about, and whoever sold her, didn't.” She said it plainly. “She's plain. She isn't common. Those aren't the same thing.”

“She came off a debt. A wool factor out of Berwick owed Margot more than he had and offered what he did. Margot took the horse and the rest in salt.”

“Margot doesn't ride?”

“No.”

He'd seen that mare in the yard for years. He hadn't looked at her once.

“You ride extraordinarily well,” he admitted, taking a skin from his saddle and drinking from it.

“I'm told it was my mother's greatest source of enjoyment. Though I cannot remember it, both my father and Nell told me it was she who first put me on the back of a horse. I think… I think being around them reminds me of her. Which makes little sense, since I don't remember those lessons.”

“The body remembers what the mind cannot. For better, as in your case, but sometimes for worse.”

She stopped stroking the horse long enough to close the space between them. He handed her the water skin and watched as Cassia drank. Watched as a drop of water dribbled down to her chin. When she pulled the skin away and wiped her mouth, Ashton forced himself to look away from the full lips he'd imagined kissing more than once.

Reminding himself she had been ill used and was recently a widow, Ashton made quick work of replacing the skin and readying his mount for the long afternoon ride ahead.

“I've wanted to ask…”

She stopped. Hesitant.

Ashton liked her best when she was more confident. Ryker tended to pull that fire from her. Being around him had such an effect.

Unfortunately, the thought of the two of them together roiled his stomach. With luck, it was a vision he would never conjure again.

“There is no question,” he began, “which you could ask that I'd not answer.”

Belatedly, he realized what she would ask, and why she was so hesitant.

For a moment, he thought she meant to ask whether he could have saved Roland.

“Your own mother… You said Margot raised you like a mother…”

Ashton's shoulders dropped in relief.

“What was it like to be raised by her? It is a most…unconventional, that is to say…”

“Come,” he said. Preparing to once again ride out, and impressed by her mounting ability, Ashton picked up where they left off.

“I'd like to reach the Wild Boar before nightfall, if possible. Before I answer your question, no, there is very little you can say to offend me.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Being raised in a stew house by its mistress was beyond unconventional. Even in Mere's End, which is a feat, I should say.”

His favorite version of Cassia was this one—the woman riding effortlessly with the sun behind her and a smile on her face.

“How did it come to pass? And with Ryker and Sorren too?”

While the question didn't offend him, it was also a topic he preferred to avoid. But since he had encouraged her to ask, Ashton had little choice but to respond.

“I know little about my parents. Or my mother. Margot has said only that she worked at the Daisy, and that she was gone before I could walk. I've asked since, but that’s the only answer I've ever been given.”

“And your father?”

“No one's ever offered a name. I stopped expecting one.”