Page 23 of Ruthless, But for Her

The girl explained there existed an entire chamber simply to store such things as the wooden tub on each level of the Daisy.

Cassia had stayed in manor houses with such wealth, and she and her father had even visited the sheriff at Cambridge Castle. Her surprise was not at seeing such things, but at seeing them in a house of ill repute.

Nay. A stew house.

Not that she had ever expected to find herself inside one. But if she had, Cassia never would have imagined finding such comforts inside its chamber walls.

She had little idea of why they were there. Who was Margot, other than the Daisy's mistress?

And what was her relationship to Ashton?

It had been something she wondered as she’d bathed, although Cassia should have been trying to work out a way to get away from this place. What was to happen to her? The fact that she thought more intently about her captor than her captivity was only one of many disturbing turns of events that day.

Startled from her thoughts by a knock on the door, she lifted the borrowed skirts of her kirtle—another surprise, with its deep blue and obviously costly dye—and made her way to the door.

Ashton had told her to answer only after asking who knocked. She did so now.

“Have you come to take the tub?”

“I could,” a deep voice said from the other side of the door. “Though I suspect you'd sooner part with the tub than the book you were holding when we boarded.”

Cassia's heart raced at the sound of his voice. Ashton. She unlocked the door with the key she'd been given, opened it, and barely managed to resist gasping at the sight of him.

If she'd not met him on the stern of The Aldgate after he boarded, she would not know him for anything but a sailor. He'd washed, his dark hair still wet and pushed back from his face. And he wore a clean linen shirt and a leather jerkin, plain and well made. His sword was nowhere in sight.

“May I come in? I would speak with you.”

“I've not known abductors to ask permission of their captives.”

He didn't smile, precisely, but his expression softened. Almost as if he wanted to smile but didn't know how.

“You heard Margot. You are a temporary guest here. Not a captive.”

She'd argue otherwise. “Words are one of the most powerful forces in the world, and you might twist them to your liking, but...I am here against my will, which makes me...”

Oh dear. What had come over her? If she had spoken to her husband in this way, it would have earned her a stern warning, or perhaps worse.

Her father would be appalled.

“Finish. If it pleases you.”

Cassia changed her mind. The most surprising thing about her circumstances was the nature and manner of the man before her. He was a contradiction unlike any she'd encountered before.

“A captive.”

He did smile then. Again, she sensed it wasn't something that came naturally to him, considering that it arrived slowly and begrudgingly. But when it did?

Another sign of wealth. Perfect teeth.

She swallowed, stepping back without thinking. He entered, filling the room, noticing nothing, not even the bed, which took up most of the space in the bedchamber. He closed the door behind him and continued to stand.

How did one treat a captor?

She gestured toward the chair in the room. Not waiting to see if he took it, Cassia sat on the edge of the bed as far away from the chair as possible.

He did, taking in her finished meal.

“Was your dinner to your liking?”