Ash Fallen Read online

  She tugged at the hem of her shirt, wondering if he could make out the outline of the knife beneath the flannel fabric. Shifting uncomfortably, she wrestled with the question she longed to ask him. She thought about her dream; about the way the villagers cried out in anguish amongst the smokestacks.

  “What became of my village?” she finally blurted out.

  A surprised expression flickered across his handsome face. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” she paused, dreading the answer. “I mean,” she spoke more softly, choking on the words, “did you kill them?” Her heart ached as she thought of her neighbors. Mr. Kym with his precious flowerpots he watered faithfully each morning. Vejkie, the little boy across the street who waved at her every day and swore he was going to marry her when he was old enough. Thank the gods her parents and younger brother moved away years ago, enticed to start fresh in Torryn Place with its promises of safety and prosperity.

  Ash stepped towards her. It surprised her when he took both of her hands in his. “We didn’t kill anyone,” he assured her. “The gas we use wears off in a couple hours’ time. The people of your village probably came out of it confused and a bit lethargic, but no harm came to them.” His eyes met hers. “We left them weapons as you asked, but I don’t anticipate they’ll need them.”

  Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, she fought back the urge to hug her captor. She pulled her hands out of his grasp and shoved them into her pants pockets instead. “I still don’t understand what you came for.”

  A devious smile played across his lips as he considered her question. “Darling, you might say we came for you.” Then he turned on his heel and exited the hut. Rosalie sank onto the cot, mystified.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  During the lengthy journey to Greenwich, Rosalie rode on horseback, seated double behind Ash. She felt guilty each time she glanced back at the wagon that held the other prisoners, including Talon. She’d attempted to see him before they headed out, but the camp had been too chaotic, and Ash had her on a short leash. He probably feared she’d try to escape. He figured correctly.

  Her arms were around Ash’s waist to keep from toppling off the horse, but she tried to keep her grip loose. She didn’t approve of the way her body responded to his warmth or his invigorating scent. She tried not to notice the delectable way his mop of hair curled atop his head. She’d never been partial to redheaded men. But something about Ash made her turn to mush. His no-nonsense, commanding presence turned her on and infuriated her all at once. She knew she needed to get a grip.

  She peered over his shoulder and tried to concentrate on her surroundings instead. Everything they passed was picturesque – like something out of a painting. The cloudless sky was a brilliant blue. Farmlands stretched for miles and glorious, snow-capped mountains stood boldly in the distance. But neither the beauty of the rolling green hills, nor the allure of the freshly cut wheat fields could hold her interest like he could. She sighed heavily to herself.

  “Something wrong?”

  She hadn’t realized her sigh had been audible. Embarrassed, she said, “Just bored.”

  “We’re riding this fine animal through the most beautiful countryside; we couldn’t have ordered up better weather, and you’re bored?” He shook his head and chuckled softly.

  “Maybe it’s the company,” she snapped, regretting her harsh words the moment she uttered them.

  Ash’s jaw tightened and the pair rode on in silence.

  They spent the first night in canvas tents. Rosalie was given her own tent, although it was surrounded by several others. Ordinarily she preferred to be alone; savored her alone time, even. But that night she spent the lonely hours huddled beneath the blankets, clasping the brilliant stone around her neck as she prayed for warmth and for the gods to help her through whatever her captors had in store for her.

  With the higher elevation, though the days were warm enough, the temperatures plummeted in the evenings. Outside, the wind howled and whipped at the tents. The torches surrounding the campsite had all gone out, plunging her world into darkness. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on happier times.

  Rosalie grasped for memories that made her feel safe. Her childhood was full of such memories, but they also made her miss her parents and her brother, so she pushed those aside. She thought of the sundrenched days she’d spent with Talon, skipping rocks on the riverbank, spear fishing; making out on some occasions – although, at least for her, it was more out of curiosity than genuine desire. Her feelings for him had always been platonic and she assumed Talon felt the same. She thought of being home, curled up with a book in front of the warm fireplace. But invading her every thought and dream, she thought of Ash.

  When dawn broke, Rosalie stumbled out of the tent, looking bleary-eyed and fatigued. As Ash watched her, he noted the dark circles under her eyes and was pleased to see she hadn’t slept well. He’d given her enough blankets to keep her protected, but not fully comfortable. He was still smarting from her comment about being bored with his company and wanted her to realize she needed him more than she cared to admit.

  He hadn’t slept well either, truth be told. He’d spent his night imagining how it would feel to cradle her warm body against his; to caress her soft curves and watch the seductive rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully by his side. No matter how hard he tried to keep her out of his head, she got through. He could have sworn he caught the lingering scent of jasmine as he finally drifted off to sleep.

  The morning wind slapped at Rosalie’s face and sent goosebumps down her arms. She made a beeline toward the inviting campfire, all the while scanning for a glimpse of Talon and the other prisoners. Disappointed at not seeing them, but feeling famished, she took a seat by the warm fire and scarfed down a bowl of mush. She missed homemade blueberry pancakes. She washed down the bland breakfast with lukewarm water, all the while pretending it was a mug of steaming krisha tea.

  Her fingers felt numb as she helped break camp, taking special care disassembling and packing her own tent. She still didn’t see Talon. She supposed he slept in one of the wagons with the other prisoners and felt another pang of guilt. Then again, she reasoned, he had probably kept warm.

  When it was time to go, she didn’t refuse Ash’s offer to help her up on the horse. She wrapped her hands tightly around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. She welcomed his heat; imagined how it would have felt to spend the night in his arms. While she concentrated on staying awake, she allowed her thoughts to run wild.

  Ash couldn’t help himself; he was pleased how it felt to have this auburn-haired vixen pressed up so close to him. He smiled to himself. He took one hand off the reins and patted her delicate hands. When he realized how cold they felt, he gave her right hand a squeeze, then, without thinking, pressed it to his lips. This time when Rosalie sighed, it was a deep, satisfied sigh, and his insides churned with desire.

  When the party arrived late-morning at the new base camp in Greenwich, Rosalie couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. The site wasn’t a town, but rather a deserted, one-story hostel on the outskirts of a forest, just off an abandoned roadway. The peeling green paint and sagging roof suggested the boarding house had been empty for some time.

  “I don’t suppose there’s running water?” she asked Ash, hopeful at the prospect of a shower.

  “There is, actually. We have scouts who go ahead and get the camps ready. They make sure they’re safe and functional. Some sites are better than others.”

  Her pretty mouth turned downward into a frown. “You’ll plan the raid of more villages from this spot.” Her tone was more melancholy than accusatory.

  He fell silent. He hated to see her down. Hated even more that she had him all wrong. But now wasn’t the time to explain. Ignoring her comment, he dismounted, then held up his arms to help her down from the horse. Refusing his assistance, she made a graceful dismount then headed in the direction of the hostel. She realized her mistake immediately. All t
he doors faced outwards and she had no idea which room was to be hers. Or whom she would share it with.

  She slowed her pace to wait for Ash. He pulled two sugar cubes from his pocket and fed them to his horse – speaking soothingly as he stroked the animal’s mane. After handing over the reins to one of the soldiers, he strolled up behind Rosalie and took her by the elbow, leaning in close. “We’re in room 4,” he spoke into her ear. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

  He jogged off in the direction of the front office, leaving Rosalie wanting to kick herself. His words had sent a chill down her spine – and it wasn’t out of fear.

  The room was cramped, but clean. Rosalie concluded the scouts must have washed the bedding and tidied up. Although the air was stale, a hint of a lemon-based cleaning solution still lingered. The teal, threadbare carpeting looked vacuumed – though hastily done. She felt a pang of homesickness as she considered how her mother would have disapproved of the wavy vacuum lines.

  She did notice there was only one bed and merely a full-sized one at that. She swallowed her panic and redirected her attention to the remainder of the room. A pocket door led to a modest bathroom complete with a shower, toilet, and vanity. She hurried to the sink and turned on the faucet. The pipes creaked and moaned, but before long, clear water poured out. The water was icy cold, but she washed her hands, retrieving soap from the cabinet under the sink. She found bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and tiny packages of toothpaste, toothbrushes, and razors. She wanted to shout her excitement from the sagging rooftops.

  She turned on the shower instead. While she was delighted the scouts managed to get the water running, it wasn’t hot. She shivered when the cold water pelted her skin, but she leaned her head back and allowed the water to pour over her. She lathered herself in soap and was pleased to discover the razor she’d found wasn’t rusted or dulled. She took her time freshening up, temporarily forgetting her plight.

  When she stepped out of the shower, she realized her error. In her excitement to get clean, she hadn’t checked to see if there were towels. She searched the cabinets. None. Shivering, she knew she’d need to improvise. She was scurrying around the room, naked, when Ash walked in.

  At seeing her naked for the first time, he appeared startled and flustered. He diverted his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. Before she could reply, he stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him.

  Rosalie was never one to be concerned about showing too much skin. She was comfortable with her body. She laughed to herself at Ash’s obvious discomfort. His reaction also gave her relief. It meant she wasn’t in danger of him trying anything on her. It was obvious he wasn’t that kind of man. So, what sort of man was he? What sort of man went from village to village, not killing anyone, but robbing supplies, kidnapping only a few, and then moving on? Everything about him puzzled her.

  After she’d dried herself with the bedsheet, she contemplated putting on the clothes Ash had given her, but reverted to her own clothes instead. She knew the short skirt and shirt knotted above her midsection kept Ash off balance. It was the only power she had over him at present and she was determined to take advantage of it.

  She slathered creamy lotion over her smooth, freshly shaved legs. Unable to find a brush, she smoothed out her tangled, wet hair with her fingers instead. She did manage to find a hair tie. She swept her hair into a high ponytail, relieved to have it out of her face.

  Once she felt presentable, she wondered if she should attempt to find Talon. A glance out the window revealed a man guarding her doorway. She started to turn away in disappointment when she heard a scuffle outside. She recognized Talon’s voice. He was yelling in anger and pain. She flung open the door. Talon and another man were rolling around in the dirt, swinging punches and cursing. She ran in their direction, ready to join in the fight to help her friend.

  She was ready to launch herself at the stranger when Ash grabbed her from behind, lifting her off the ground. “Don’t,” he said.

  She kicked her legs in the air, failing to make contact with anything. “Let me go,” she screamed.

  “He’s fine,” Ash told her. “Let them work it out.”

  When he set her down, Rosalie turned to him, glowering. The men continued to scuffle. “You have to put a stop to this,” she begged.

  “Why?” he grinned. “They’re just letting off a little steam.”

  She shoved him, then turned to help her friend, but quickly learned the aid was unnecessary. Talon stood to his feet, brushing himself off. The man he had fought lay on the ground, bleeding from his mouth and nose. Talon stretched out his hand and helped him to his feet.

  When the man raised his fists to fight again, Ash stepped in. “I think we’re done here,” he spoke sharply. The man lowered his head and shuffled away.

  Rosalie looked from Talon to her captor.

  “Roe,” Talon said in surprise, still panting from the exhilaration of the scuffle. He glared at Ash and his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  “I’ll give you two a moment,” Ash said. He didn’t mask his irritation as he turned to walk away.

  Once he was gone, Talon pulled Rosalie close, wrapping her in a fierce hug. “I’ve been so worried about you.” He stepped back to study her. “They treating you okay?”

  “I can handle myself,” she said. He searched her face and continued to look concerned. “They’re treating me well. Really.” She smiled up at him.

  “How about you?” she asked, taking note of her friend’s filthy clothing. She ran a finger over the fresh bruise on his cheek.

  “Reasonably well,” he admitted. “It’s strange. They feed us, treat us decent, but keep us in the dark about their plans. None of the prisoners know why we’re here or what they want with us. You’re certainly the only woman prisoner I know of,” he observed. He studied her, his soft, brown eyes questioning if she was telling him the full truth.

  She blushed and looked at the ground. “He doesn’t touch me,” she said, meeting his eyes and wondering why her tone held a hint of disappointment. “Besides,” she laughed, “if he does try anything, I have this.” She lifted the leather folds of her skirt, revealing the knife.

  Talon laughed. His eyes crinkled in fond reminiscence. “I love that you still carry that.”

  The knife had been a gift from him when they were teenagers. He’d had the wooden handle engraved with her initials. He pulled her in for another hug, giving her ponytail an affectionate tug.

  “Break it up,” Stryker said, coming up on the pair. Eyeing Talon he said, “You there, what’s your name?”

  “Talon.”

  “Talon, come with me. I’ve got a job for you.”

  Rosalie’s childhood friend cast a wary look in her direction before he was led away. Saddened at losing his company so quickly, she trudged back to her room.

  Ash was in the bedroom when she returned. He stood, brooding in the corner. When she shut the door, he walked towards her. His confident gait made him both sexy and dangerous and she bit down hard on her lip.

  When he stood before her, he placed a hand on her leg, just below the hem of her skirt. He gazed into her eyes, and she stared back with intensity, challenging him. She hated herself for wanting him the way she did. Her breathing hitched and her pulse quickened whenever he got close.

  She closed her eyes and shivered with pleasure as he slid his hand to her inner thigh. She waited for the moment he’d realize she was naked beneath the strips of leather. But to her surprise, he grabbed hold of the sheath that held the knife and jerked her forward. Her eyes snapped open.

  “I know you carry this, just so you know,” he said. She tensed and braced herself for a fight, squaring her shoulders and clenching her fists at her sides. “Hey, take it easy,” Ash said, taking a step back and allowing Rosalie some room. He had been trying to make a point, but he hadn’t intended to frighten her. Unless it proved necessary, he didn’t believe in using his size or position to intimidate someone smaller than him. “Lo
ok, I know you need it to feel safe, which is why I’m allowing it.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly, relaxing her shoulders. She lowered her eyes to the floor.

  Ash stepped towards her again and tipped her chin upward.

  Keep your head up. Never look down. Rosalie’s father’s words echoed in her ears as she fought back tears.

  Several tendrils of her hair had escaped her ponytail and Ash gently pushed them out of her face. His hands lingered on her face then moved down to her shoulders, holding her captive as he gazed into her eyes. “You don’t need it with me, okay, but I get why you’d want it.” He breathed a heavy, tortured sigh. “Just don’t make me regret letting you keep it.” Without another word, he released her and walked out of the room, leaving her trembling all over.

  By the time she collected herself and left the room again, most of the men had left to invade the isolated village of Talkina. She felt guilty. Perhaps she should have done more to stop it. She also felt anxious. What would happen if the gas didn’t work and the villagers fought back? She shivered at the thought.

  A small group of people were left behind. One man stood guard outside her room but didn’t stop her when she made her way to the outer courtyard being used as a makeshift stable area for the horses. She was pleased to find a woman amongst the group. She didn’t recall noticing her before. She made her way over to where the short, heavyset woman stood brushing out a beautiful, painted mare.

  “I’m Rosalie,” she introduced herself.

  The brown-haired woman looked up and smiled but didn’t say anything.

  “I was brought in from Mabel Village,” she continued.

  A nod of acknowledgement, but still silence.

  “How long have you been here?”