Page 45 of Ruthless, But for Her

Again, silence. But she was beginning to become accustomed to it. Ashton used silence as most people did words. By refusing to discuss those topics he didn’t wish to talk about, he was saying more than he realized.

CHAPTER 27

Cassia

When she first spied the fortified farmstead, which was to be their shelter for the night, Cassia noticed first there was no entryway.

The small but dirty stone building built into the hillside belonged, Ashton had said, to the Robsons, an aging border couple who tended to their grandson.

She hadn't asked where the grandson's parents were or any other questions really. Cassia had spent the afternoon enjoying a rare sunny day on a mare she had already come to adore. She would ask Ashton of its breeding when they stopped, which now appeared imminent as the farmhouse loomed.

When their mounts stopped, Ashton dismounted with an ease she'd never seen before. Still staring at his gelding's empty saddle, Cassia watched him gather both sets of reins in one hand and lead the horses to a lean-to built against the hill. He tied them off, ran a hand down the mare's foreleg, and was back at Cassia's side before she'd figured out how she meant to dismount.

He lifted a hand.

Cassia took it. His grip closed hard around her fingers as she came down, and let go the moment her feet found the ground.

He hadn't asked if she needed help. He hadn't waited to be thanked, either.

Cassia was still thinking on that when he turned toward the building.

It was just after dusk. The hills had gone grey behind them, the last of the light low over the water.

“Ashton.” A man appeared from the back of the building, greeting him and coming up short when he saw Cassia. The burly man with gray hair and an even grayer beard stared at her for a moment, then darted his eyes back to Ashton.

“We would stay the night and be gone by daybreak.”

It wasn't a question. Nor was it a demand. He handed the farmer coin from a pouch Cassia hadn't even seen at his side.

“Nearly double?”

“For your silence regarding my companion.”

Again their host darted his eyes toward Cassia, obviously curious. But he asked no questions. Nodding, he led them around the side of the building.

Even there, there was no entrance. When the farmer began to climb a ladder, Cassia finally realized how they were meant to get inside. From the way Ashton was looking at her, Cassia could sense his question.

Could she climb it? Would she climb it?

Cassia could admit she'd climbed few ladders in her life, but would not display her worry of heights now. Not in front of both men. So she strode in front of Ashton, and without a word, hiked up her gown and did her best to keep it out of the way on her climb. It was only when she arrived at the top that she realized Ashton wasn't following her. Cassia looked down to see him standing at the ready.

He was waiting to catch her if she fell.

She had little time to think on that when their host shot his hand out of the opening and helped pull her inside.

The room took up the whole upper floor. Inside, she found one hearth, a table with two benches, and straw pallets stacked against the far wall. The air was thick with peat smoke and wet wool but it was warm enough.

A woman stood at the hearth with a ladle. She was small, broad through the shoulders, her hair covered and her sleeves shoved to the elbow. A boy held on to her skirts and watched Cassia over the top of them.

By the time she turned back around, Ashton was climbing inside himself, at which point their host pulled the ladder into the crowded room.

“There's pottage,” the woman said. “It's not much.”

“It's plenty,” Ashton said.

The woman looked at Cassia's gown, then at her hem, black with mud to the knee. “Sit, then. Near the fire.”

Suddenly, the young boy who had perhaps seen five or six summers ran from behind their hostess to Ashton, arms held high.