Page 8 of Ruthless, But for Her

She stopped struggling, looking between him and Ryker.

Apparently, she had not heard their discussion. Ashton had no doubt that if she had, the threat would have been of little consequence.

“What is your name?”

She blinked, then seemed to consider the question.

Her eyes were grey, he noted, the shade of sea fog, and they swam with unshed tears.

Thankfully, Sorren was not with them. He had never been one to withstand a woman's tears. He'd likely have ordered her set down immediately.

And that was something Ashton could not do. They knew less of the new Deputy East March Warden, Sir Roland, than they did of the Warden himself. But since it was an appointed position, Ashton could only assume the two men knew each other well.

In short, her husband was very likely as much of a bastard as Silas de Grey.

This was an opportunity they could not waste.

“What is your name?” he asked again.

As Ryker moved off, they stood alone at the rail, Ashton waiting for an answer. The woman looked at him with more than a measure of suspicion.

“Lady Cassia of Grantchester,” one of the merchant ship's men blurted from behind Ashton.

He didn't give the sailor the courtesy of an acknowledgment. Ashton had already guessed at the woman's circumstances, and the sailor had only confirmed them.

“Why did your husband not secure his own ship? I assume you are on your way to Berwick to reunite with him?”

A flash of something. Annoyance? Disgust? Ashton couldn't be sure. Nor did he know if it was directed at him or Roland. But he could guess.

“We were paid only to carry her to Berwick,” one of the escort men offered.

Disgusted by the man's disloyalty, Ashton turned to him finally.

“Not given enough coin to keep your mouth shut?”

His face scarred, his nerve scarce, the man said nothing else. With luck, he would continue to remain silent.

Ashton turned back toward Lady Cassia.

Cassia.

A fitting name.

And now, she was his captive. One he had little desire to maintain, but circumstances dictated otherwise.

“I will take you to your husband.”

It was not a lie. Eventually, he would do just that.

“Come. This way.”

Unsurprisingly, she declined to follow his directive.

“We cannot continue to Berwick without her,” another sailor, his hands also tied behind his back courtesy of Ryker, complained.

Ashton stood back, far enough that he could see Cassia and the three sailors closest to her. He said nothing. The captain's silence told him the man had already accepted the loss; a veteran mariner who knew when a tide had turned against him did not bluster, he waited. This one had stopped blustering some time ago.

“This way, my lady.” He gestured once more toward the plank set between both ships. “I will be directly behind you to ensure your safety.”