Page 56 of Ruthless, But for Her

Ashton waited.

“Sir Roland Heron is dead. That much ye’ll know better than most.” Magge looked at him then. “What ye’ll not know is how it’s being told. He wasn’t drowned, Ashton. He was murdered. And his lady wife carried off the water by the men who did it.”

The fire spat behind her.

“There’s coin on it,” Magge said. “Enough that the drovers spoke of little else before I put them out.”

Ashton said nothing.

“Ye brought her under my roof with a name ye made up in the yard.” She took the knife back up. “I’ll not put her out. But ye’d best decide what she is to ye, and quickly, because by week’s end, there’ll be men in that hall who’ve decided for ye.”

He took the tray she’d already begun filling. The white loaf. Ale. Cold fowl.

In the tale riding north, Lady Cassia Heron was a woman who’d been kidnapped by the men who had killed her husband. No one would think to question her. She could walk into any hall between here and Cambridgeshire and be given a chair by the fire and her widow’s portion inside the month.

She had only to let the tale stand.

Ashton climbed the stairs. He was on the third step before it occurred to him that he did not have to tell her at all.

CHAPTER 34

Cassia

Back in bed, Cassia attempted to reconcile everything that had happened during these past days.

First, she’d been sent north, where their ship was overtaken. By Ashton. Ending up in Mere’s End and then, of course, Roland’s death. And then, while she awaited news, she got to experience a most unlikely treat—breaking her fast in bed. It was something she had never even considered before. And it was lovely, especially since Cassia was also waiting to be struck down from the heavens for her role in her husband’s death.

And if not for the circumstances of his death, then she deserved divine punishment for being glad he was gone. It was the first time she’d allowed the full thought to form. And though it was true, she could never admit it aloud.

Had it not been for his death, Cassia would have been trapped in a marriage with a brutal man she despised, far away from her father and those she loved in Grantchester. Her world might have been small, but Nell had often told her she was beloved by all, and perhaps that was true. Either way, she missed the life she’d had.

Below her, the inn had begun to wake. She heard a bucket set down hard in the yard and someone laughing at something she could not make out.

Of course, she knew she’d had to marry. But why had her father chosen Roland? Why couldn’t she have built a new life with someone who could appreciate the tales she read about in her books? Someone who wished for adventure too? Or even just someone who’d treat her kindly. She immediately thought of Ashton.

And just then, he knocked.

She would put it all aside for this one day. The thoughts, the guilt… Did she not deserve just one day of peace? Of happiness?

She lifted the bar with both hands, less awkwardly than she had the night before, and Ashton entered with a tray of food. When she attempted to close the door and rebar it, Ashton said, “Leave it.”

She turned to see him watching her. And she knew immediately that something was amiss.

“You cannot break your fast in bed if you are not still in bed,” he jested, a rare thing for him. Cassia scrambled back into the bed, adjusted herself, and found a tray of white bread, ale, and cold fowl beside her. Ashton rebarred the door.

“Tell me,” she demanded, a woman who had never demanded anything from a man in her life. Cassia’s voice didn’t even sound her own.

She tore a piece from the loaf. It was white, and fine, and nothing at all like the coarse dark bread the drovers had been eating in the hall the night before.

“Eat first. Magge sent up the white loaf, though I did not ask her for it.”

“Is that of consequence?”

“She has decided what you are.”

“Will you have some?” she asked, holding out the bread.

“I’ve broken my fast already.”