Page 55 of Ruthless, But for Her

Ashton had broken it against the stable wall.

Not the fingers. The hand. But he’d left him breathing.

He closed his eyes. Ashton had paid the stable boy enough coin to ensure that their mounts would be well attended. But it was not in his nature to lie still. Ever since he could remember, Ashton had spent most of his waking moments hauling water up the Daisy’s stairs and learning which men not to turn his back on. In more recent years, his mornings had been filled with moving cattle taken off English ground and sailing them onto Scottish. And moving the Scottish beasts the other way. Since Martinmas, there was salt in everything he owned. Cargo was taken aboard at night off Berwick and set down at Mere’s End before the tide turned. He delivered wool that paid no toll. Wine no one had counted. The black sail up when it suited them and stowed when it did not.

Cassia stirred. Ashton’s eyes immediately flew open. Standing, he relit the candle that she had extinguished the night before. And then moved toward her.

A mistake.

She may have stirred slightly, but the lady quickly fell back into a deep slumber. He watched as the firelight flickered against the limewashed wall behind her. In truth, though, the dancing shadows did not capture him as much as the lady herself had. She was so lovely in sleep.

So lovely awake.

With a kindness he didn’t deserve, and a sharp instinct for survival that Ashton admired, Lady Cassia had endured more than she should have with him these past few days.

Without warning, her eyes opened.

“I felt…” She yawned. “I felt as if someone was watching me.”

He turned from her. “I heard you stir and thought to start the day. But if you would prefer to sleep longer, we’ve little to accomplish. Breaking our fast. A ride, if you wish it. I would be surprised if any new information were to present itself yet. Still, I’d prefer not to travel far from the inn. There are men on both sides of the line who make their living stopping riders who’ve strayed away from it. I’d rather not have to explain you to any of them.”

“A meal,” she said, stretching her arms and legs. “And a ride. Aye.”

Sitting up, Cassia positioned the feather pillows behind her head.

“There is a pot beneath the bed,” he said. “The girl empties it when she brings the water.”

Cassia looked at the coverlet.

“I did not ask.”

“You were about to.”

“I only brought two gowns,” she said. “I hope ’tis enough.”

“Your other can be laundered if needed. Would you prefer to rest a while longer? I can bring the meal here.”

Cassia stared at him as if he were daft.

“Break my fast in bed?”

In many ways, she was far less demanding than Margot’s girls, despite her title.

“Aye. It is a particular favorite pastime of Margot’s and therefore her girls, though she allows it only on mornings that follow a night of good custom.”

“I would ask but…” She yawned again, pushing the loose fall of her hair back over one shoulder. “Break my fast in bed,” she said, mulling the idea aloud again. “How decadent.” Then she turned to him. “If there was no information last eve⁠—”

“There will be none this morn,” he continued. She had the right of it.

And so it was that Ashton headed down the Wild Boar’s stairs directly into the kitchens—hot, low ceilinged rooms that smelled of yesterday’s fat.

Magge stood at the board with her sleeves shoved past her elbows, gutting something small and grey.

“She’ll want the white loaf,” she said, without looking up. “They always want the white loaf.”

“Bread and ale will do.”

“It’ll be the white loaf.” She set down the knife and wiped her hands on her skirts. “A rider came through afore dawn. Out of Berwick, bound north, and in a great hurry to be elsewhere.”