Page 89 of Ruthless, But for Her

“Christ, Cassia.”

His hand was gone. Ashton grabbed her buttocks, pulled her down and screamed her name as Cassia clenched over and over again around him. For a moment, she forgot where she was. What she was doing.

Everything fell away as they sailed together, the unfurling not like it had been initially but more peaceful, like the River Cam in summer. She allowed her eyes to close, sleep taking her. Before it did, she checked to see if it was taking him too. But Ashton appeared wide awake.

No matter.

She closed her eyes once again.

CHAPTER 50

Ashton

It wasn't the first time he woke with her in his arms, but it would be the last.

He’d made a mistake the night before. He’d known it the entire time.

Moving from her reluctantly, he dressed and quickly climbed down the ladder.

The workshop below was empty. Tam's stool stood untouched, the coil he'd left half-finished the night before exactly where he'd left it. If the rope-maker had taken more from Cuthbert's than coin allowed, he wouldn't surface before noon. Ashton found the bread and the skin of ale Tam kept for her, set them on the low table himself, and left before she could wake.

He crossed the yard and walked out onto the dock path, through fog so thick, it was difficult to see. Gulls filled the tideline. The Einar sat lower in the water than it had the day before. Their men carried barrels on board, the black sail they were known for not yet on. Leif stood near the mast, yelling something to the Irishman. He caught sight of Ashton on the dock and lifted his chin in greeting. Ashton didn't slow.

It was one thing he and Leif had in common. Neither of them spoke when it wasn't necessary. When they’d first met, he’d thought the ousted jarl was just a man among many come to their part of the coast. In time, Leif had become a mentor, more influential than even Walter Crey or Donal Maxwell, and more of a father than he and his brothers had ever expected to have.

He found Ryker crouched near the stern, running a whetstone along his blade, already dressed for a fight that hadn't started yet.

“You look like shite,” Ryker said.

He couldn't see a reflection of himself, but he assumed Ryker was correct. He'd hardly slept, with good reason.

The coast glided by, gray as always, the fog beginning to burn off in places. Their men worked without orders. Each one already knew his task. It wasn't long before the cold seeped through their wool. No one spoke about what was to come.

Ryker joined him at the rail at some point past midday.

“What do you expect to find?” he asked Ashton.

“Men. Too few to hold it properly, with luck. I expect he's testing us.”

“And if he's not?”

“Then we'll know soon enough.”

“What’s amiss? You look terrible. Is it Lady Cassia, perhaps? Ahh, so that is the problem. Let me guess. You haven't found a way to get rid of her yet.”

The look Ashton gave him wiped the smile from Ryker's face.

“I'm sorry, brother. I don't think I realized until just now what she meant to you.”

As he looked out to sea, Ashton didn't need to see Ryker's expression to know his brother was sincere. He could tell by his tone.

“I probably should have. You've been acting strangely since we took her. But I had no idea that you’d fallen in love with her. How could I have? You've never been in love with a woman before.”

That rare moment of sincerity from a man who was usually either jesting, fighting or fucking was enough to sober him.

In love with Cassia.

He wasn't fool enough to deny it—not to his brother nor to himself.