Page 50 of Ruthless, But for Her

“You scared them,” she accused as the men tore off in the opposite direction. Cassia watched as they made a wide berth around her and Ashton before doubling back to head toward the stables. She laughed, realizing how far out of their intended path they were going to avoid Ashton.

“It amuses you? That I ‘scare them’ as you say?”

She looked up at him. Ashton stood so close to her, she could touch him…if she dared.

“Perhaps.”

He smiled. “Perhaps so. Come. You will enjoy Magge. And a warm chamber.”

“Dinner,” she added. “I am looking forward to that as well.”

“Aye, dinner too,” he said, pushing open the door.

And then she walked into a situation unlike anything she’d ever seen in her life.

CHAPTER 30

Ashton

Mouth open, Cassia took in the scene before her. She noticed everything at once, from the fire’s smoke making its way out through the roof to the rushes trampled black underfoot. Turning her head, scanning the room from one end of the Wild Boar’s hall to the other, she couldn’t believe her eyes. And she didn’t seem to be the only one.

All eyes in the hall were trained on her.

Alys Mercer.

There was no avoiding their notice. As an exceptionally beautiful woman, her auburn hair as wild as Cassia was proper, she demanded notice. But Ashton knew most of the inn’s patrons, and schooled his features into his fiercest scowl.

As the brothers’ reputation built along the border, first on land and then by sea, it was Ashton who’d complained the loudest about some of the tales, of crimes that he and his brothers would never commit. They’d stolen. They’d killed. But some of the more outrageous claims shocked even him.

Ashton had never been as thankful for his somewhat undeserved reputation as he was at this very moment. He had thought to attempt to disguise her beauty, but short of placing a sack over her head, such a feat would be impossible.

“Who are ya, then?”

The plump, red-cheeked and partially toothless woman who Ashton had expected to question them appeared out of nowhere.

“Mind yer manners, Magge.”

The innkeeper offered him a scowl that might have other men turning tail before they had even had a hot meal. Magge, a widow who ran the Wild Boar with her son, was more of a legend than he and Ryker and Sorren would ever be.

“My name is Alys Mercer.”

“A widow,” Ashton offered. “Out of Berwick. She’s hired me to see her safe while she settles her husband’s accounts.”

Frowning, fists firmly planted on her wide hips, Magge looked Cassia up and down.

“A fine gown you have there.”

Of course, she’d noticed. Ashton opened his mouth to speak. But Cassia beat him to it.

“It ought to be. My husband traded in cloth.” Cassia smoothed her skirt, seeming completely at ease. “He said a merchant who dresses poorly tells every man in the room what he thinks his own goods are worth. I’ve buried him, but I’ve not buried his stock, and I’ll not settle his debts in wool no one wants to look at.”

It was his turn to stare in awe. She said the words so flawlessly, Ashton almost believed them. Unfortunately, Magge did not. The look she gave him said as much.

But they had given her the one thing Magge liked more than flirting and gaining information—coin. More than she had asked for, enough to grant him and Cassia entrance and Magge’s approval. She waved them forward and marched Ashton and Cassia to a table in the corner.

They were seated a little ways away from the hearth—close enough for its heat and far enough that Ashton could see the door. The boards were scarred with knife marks and dark rings where cups had stood. Above them, hams and bundles of dried herbs hung from the low beams, blackened by years of smoke. Someone in the far corner was playing a pipe badly. Unfortunately, nobody had yet stopped him.

Anyone still looking at Cassia after Ashton had stared them down, had left. It was clear to all that they had Magge’s protection, and one didn’t run an inn deep in the heart of the borderlands without gaining a reputation—one that was well-deserved. Ashton was afraid of little, but Magge? He would sooner tangle with a winter sea.