Appreciation coursed through her. “Ash that was beautiful.”

  The tip of his nose just brushed hers. “Thank you. You’ve given me some excellent advice, and I thought I should try and reciprocate.”

  She nipped at her lip. “Have I?” But inside she warmed with pleasure. Ash hadn’t been difficult to find, he’d just appeared in her life when he’d arrived at the estate, but she still appreciated his presence in her life more than she could possibly say.

  He skimmed a finger along her jaw, his lips so close to hers, her mouth tingled with anticipation. Would he kiss her?

  Should she let him? Was that even a question? There was a part of her that wondered if this was all too much too fast, but then another voice promptly chimed in that Ash, in the sea of people that surrounded her, was special.

  And it didn’t matter that she’d found him quickly, to her, he was still the sweetest victory.

  His lips tipped even closer, just barely brushing hers in a touch so light and gentle, it might have a been a feather glancing across her lips.

  “Ash.” His name came out on a soft breath of air, almost a prayer, as she held his biceps to keep the world from spinning away.

  “Fern.”

  Her pulse beat faster as she waited to see what might happen next. Would he kiss her again? Tell her how he felt? Pull her closer?

  But the clattering of something falling nearby startled them apart.

  Ash had her behind him in a second. “Hide around the corner of the house,” he whispered.

  Fern didn’t hesitate. She’d been in enough crises to know when to listen and to act. Letting go of Ash’s arm, she slipped along the exterior of the wall, going around the corner. Once there, she pressed her back to the brick, her eyes closing and her breath coming out in a long rush of air.

  “Well, don’t you look darling,” a feminine voice she instantly recognized, called from the darkness. Melisandre.

  “Hello sister dearest,” Fern answered, pushing off the wall. She might not be a fighter, but she wasn’t a wilting flower either. And this was her moment to face her fear, a fresh kiss on her lips. “I should have known you were here that way that vapid chit spoke about you. What was her name…Daffy?”

  Melisandre snorted, appearing from the shadows. Her gown, as always, was impeccably fit over her lush curves, her dark hair sparkling and glossy in the pale light. “It was Daisy and aren’t you as caustic as ever.”

  “And you are still being kept in the manner you demand.” Fern glanced down her stepsister, her lip curling into a sneer.

  “Not quite.” Melisandre did not look down Fern. Instead, she looked up. Right at the tiara. “I could be doing better.”

  And then Fern saw the flash of steel in Melisandre’s hand.

  Ash stood frozen around the corner, attempting to decide what to do.

  He could hear Melisandre, and he knew without a doubt it was her. He’d recognize that nasally razor-sharp voice anywhere.

  Part of him wished to rush to Fern’s aid. But another part held him in place. Was this his chance? If he were very careful, could he follow her and find Jack?

  Guilt stabbed at him, but he clenched his fists, pushing it back down. Fern didn’t sound frightened, and he’d spent the last two months attempting to create this very opportunity. Why should he give up now?

  “Melisandre.”

  Fern’s voice rang with a warning that shivered through him. Was she frightened now? What had changed?

  “It’s mine,” Melisandre said. “I will not feel guilty.”

  “Yours?” Fern’s voice had taken on notes of irritation. “What wasn’t yours? Everything was always yours.”

  “Much as I’d like to continue to discuss how your own father didn’t love you enough to provide even the most basic care for you, I’m going to need you to give me that tiara.”

  “No.”

  He sucked in his breath, understanding what was happening. Or mostly. Because the next words still caught him off guard.

  “Yes,” Melisandre replied, hard and mean. “Don’t make me hurt you, Fern.”

  “You’re actually going to stab me?” Fern scoffed. “Come try, Melisandre. It would be refreshing to see you do something other than have a tantrum.”

  He heard the rush of skirts and his fear for Fern wiped out any other hesitation. He bolted around the corner just as the hard sound of a smack split the night.

  He found Fern standing, her back to him, and Melisandre crumpled on the ground.

  “I’ve been properly fed, sister dear,” Fern’s hands came to her hips. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “Give it to me!” Melisandre shrieked. “It’s mine.”

  “It’s mine, now.”

  Melisandre pushed up and Ash slunk back into the shadows, not wanting to be seen. He’d never seen Melisandre’s face before, but staring at her now, he could admit the other woman was attractive in a cold, calculated way.

  She rose, keeping a safe distance between herself and Fern. “When Jack hears about this…”

  Jack. His breath froze in his throat. Would he come? Now? The need for retribution rose like bile in his throat.

  “Is that your husband?” Fern asked, cocking her head to the side. “Who is he?”

  “Never mind.”

  Fern snorted. “Not of the peerage then? You think he’s going to take on Eric?”

  “Eric can go to the devil,” Melisandre answered, pressing her hands down her skirts even as her chin notched up. “You’re all going to get what’s coming to you.”

  A laugh bubbled out of Fern’s mouth. “We already did. It’s your turn.”

  Ash had to agree with that.

  “This isn’t over.” Melisandre waved the hand holding the knife and he had a moment of fear. He worried that he’d left Fern unprotected, but then Melisandre began backing up rather than advancing. “That tiara, along with any of my other possessions, will be mine again.”

  Fern crossed her arms. “Tell Jack I say welcome to the family.”

  Melisandre disappeared into the shadows, and he had a moment where he wished to follow. He could find Jack right now…

  He could end all of this. But Fern was moving toward him and if he left, she’d know something was amiss.

  And besides. Jack was about to come to them. Of that Ash was certain.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Fern hardly contained her nervous energy on the ride home from the ball. It didn’t help that Ella and Eric asked her to repeat the story no less than seven times.

  “You hit her?” Ella asked, her mouth agape. “You actually hit her?”

  “She was rushing me with a knife,” Fern repeated by way of answer. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Eric chuckled. “Indeed, it certainly was.” Then he looked at Ash. “And where were you again?”

  Ash cleared his throat. “I was searching for whatever or whoever had made that noise. It had come from the other direction…”

  Fern watched Ash, wondering at his nervousness. Was it because of that kiss? “It’s true. We were on the veranda, taking in some air and when the noise occurred, he told me to hide behind the house.”

  Eric rubbed his jaw but said little as Ella continued. “And you knocked her to the ground?”

  “It was a slap and a push,” Fern said. “Much as I try to move on with my life, even I can confess, I’ve got a bit of pent-up aggression where Melisandre is concerned. She deserves to know how it feels to be the one under someone’s heel.”

  Ash shifted again. “Completely agree.”

  They arrived home, the hour late enough that everyone made their way to bed. But Fern found that she could not sleep.

  She wished, if she were honest, to be in her tower tonight. Tucked away from the world, alone, cocooned by its walls. Her interaction with Melisandre had been… unsettling.

  The things she’d said about Fern’s father… they rang with a truth that hurt deeply. How could her own father have favored Melisandre over her?

  He’d pretended not to, acted fair. But he had allowed all the resources to go to his new wife and her daughter. Fern and Ella wasting away…

  Rising from her bed, she reached for a candle and left the room. Feet bare, she padded along the hallway and down the stairs until she reached the library.

  Entering, she scanned the shelves for the only thing that might comfort her now. A book.

  “Couldn’t sleep either?” Ash called and she jumped as she spun, warming to see him sitting in a chair in the dark.

  “Ash. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Apologies.” he stood, moving toward her. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

  She waved her hand. Perhaps a book was not the only thing that might bring her comfort. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Are you all right? After tonight?” He stopped a few feet in front her and her hand skimmed down her night rail, aware of just how scantily clad she was when she’d left her room. She was used to living alone.

  “I’m fine. Just restless. I never actually imagined seeing Melisandre again. I know that sounds silly but…”

  He reached for her hand then. “It doesn’t sound silly. I admire how you’ve risen above anger and resentment. We should all be so lucky.”

  “You haven’t…” She’d known that. He’d gone tonight dressed as a pirate.

  “I don’t think I have. No.”

  She reached for his other hand, holding them both in hers. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  His mouth pinched into a frown. “Fern. You shouldn’t make such offers.”

  That completely confused her, and she pulled her hands from his, cocking her head to the side. “Why not?”

  “Because…” He looked away, then, one of his fists making a tight ball on his thigh.

  “We are friends…aren’t we?”

  “Of course.”

  “And correct me if I am mistaken but friends do offer to help one another?”

  He shook his head his fingers relaxing until they reached for hers again. “Ladies should not offer to help gentlemen gain revenge against pirates.”

  She laughed, relaxing at those words. That did make sense. “I’m afraid I’m going to be a dreadful debutante. I’m likely to be ruined within the first few events. I’ll never keep the rules…”

  Ash pulled her closer before she could finish, and his nearness left her deliciously disoriented.

  “Do not allow a man to take liberties like you did with me tonight.”

  She opened her mouth and closed as she tried to think of something clever to say but finally came out with, “Why?”

  “Because.” He ran the back of his fingers over her cheek making her shiver with need. “He may not be well-intentioned nor inclined to stop when he ought.”

  Fern’s brows furrowed in confusion. Was he talking about himself or someone else? “Ash…”

  He stepped back then, his fingers slipping from hers. “I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight. Or perhaps I should offer for your hand. I…” He raked a hand through his hair and suddenly she understood. He felt guilty. He’d not acted strictly as a gentleman should.

  She moved toward him, closing the distance between them. “I don’t wish to speak for you, but I am not a normal lady and I’m not entirely certain all the rules apply. I need to know that you value me, it’s important.”

  “I do,” he answered, staring into the depths of her eyes. “Fern I⁠—”

  Whatever he was going to say, she lost as she closed the distance between them and pushed up on tiptoe to kiss him again.

  She knew it was artless, not like his touch earlier had been, but somehow, kissing him was more important than slapping Melisandre. She wished to move forward and that meant finding value in herself.

  He hesitated for a moment, frozen, and then his arms wrapped about her, pulling her close, their mouths coming together so tightly, that it stole the air from her lungs.

  And when he kissed her again, his tongue sliding between her lips, it felt so wonderfully delicious against her own that all reason left her head.

  Twining her arms about his neck, her fingers laced into his hair as the kiss went on and on. They turned and then she was backing up as he moved forward, his arms still about her.

  For a moment she didn’t understand why and then, when her back hit the wall, and his front pressed even tighter to hers, it all made sense. This was even better.

  On and on the kiss went, lengthening until she could hardly breathe, barely think with the want that pulsed through her.

  She tugged at the hair at the base of his skull, wanting something more.

  While one of his arms was like a band about her waist, the other pressed against the wall as he lifted his mouth, creating the smallest bit of distance between them. “Fern. We shouldn’t⁠—”

  “No,” she cried, not wanting to hear whatever he had to say. “I don’t want to think about all the reasons we shouldn’t move forward. I’m so tired of never taking a chance⁠—”

  But her words stopped too.

  Because a noise just above her head pulled her attention away.

  And the knob on the wall that Ash had been holding, suddenly sank into the wood paneling.

  Before Fern could even process what was happening, the wall behind her gave way and then she was falling…

  Ash tucked Fern’s body into his, twisting so that he took the brunt of the fall. How they’d been against a solid wall that had disappeared, he couldn’t say, and he didn’t have time to question it, as his shoulder hit the ground hard, even as he cradled Fern’s head into his chest.

  He shouldn’t even have been kissing her. It was a dastardly thing to do after he’d abandoned her to face Melisandre alone, but her lips had been so soft, earnest, and wanton that he’d not been able to help himself.

  And now they had fallen…

  He rolled, his other shoulder hitting a wall and that’s when his eyes popped open. There was just enough light from the candles in the library for him to realize…he’d fallen into a very small space.

  He sucked in a giant gulp of air, rolling so that Fern was on her side before he let her go and began scrambling out of the tiny room.

  “Ash,” her voice was soft, soothing as he made it just outside the entrance. She sat up and leaned out, taking his hand in hers. “You’re all right.”

  She threaded her fingers into his, but she didn’t attempt to pull him back into the room, a gesture he really appreciated as he laced her fingers through hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to slide away from you. I just panicked⁠—”

  “It’s all right,” she replied, scooting closer. “You protected me from the fall. That was the real danger.”

  Regret twisted in his stomach. He hadn’t protected her earlier either. He was the worst sort of cad. “I don’t deserve your comfort. I⁠—”

  “Hush.” And then she crawled over to him, wrapping her arms about him. “I understand.”

  He couldn’t help himself. Selfishly, he wrapped his arms about her waist, bringing their bodies together, his face resting against her chest.

  She placed her cheek on top of his head and just held him tightly.

  When was the last time someone had comforted him like this without asking anything in return, not even an explanation?

  Fern was special…

  And if he wasn’t careful, he’d drive her away with his own greedy agenda.

  He rose then, lifting her with him. “You need some sleep.”

  But once they’d stood, Fern wriggled from his arm, a very pleasant experience, and crossed to fetch a candle. Lifting the light up, she shined it into the tiny room, standing in the entrance. “I’ve lived at Castledon my entire life and I never knew this was here.”

  He peered in from his spot outside the room. “Is there a lever to open it from the inside?” He suddenly understood that his fear of confined spaces was a fear of being trapped in one, not able to get out.

  “I don’t know,” and then she stepped inside.

  “Fern,” even he could hear the sharp edge of fear in his voice. “Come out of there.”

  She turned to him, cocking her head to the side. “It’s perfectly safe.”

  “What if the door closes and…”

  But that only had Fern shining the light on the door. “It’s hinged. The raised paneling covered the seams so I never noticed.”

  He hadn’t asked and he didn’t care. His breath was shallow as he reached out his hand. He just wanted…

  He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. This was like a nightmare come to life. He wanted Fern safely in his arms and not in that coffin of a space. “Please, Fern.”

  She stepped out again, raising her free hand to touch his cheek. “I’ll look at the space again tomorrow in the light of day.”

  “Good idea,” he murmured, placing his hand over his. “We’ve had enough adventure for one night, don’t you think.”

  “I do.” She reached for the panel and closed it over so that it looked almost closed and then the two of them started for the entry. But when Ash reached the doorway, he looked back at the hidden room so like his cupboard.

  If he got his revenge, would he lose this fear? His mouth twisted into a frown. There was only one way to find out.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Fern woke late the next day and dressing quickly, made her way downstairs, where she found Ash, Eric, and Ella in the library, staring into the tiny room.

  Ash turned toward her first, and as Ella and Eric book looked into the space, he raised a finger to his lips.

  Fern understood. Finding the room while passionately kissing was not a story that should likely be repeated. “What’s that?” she asked, causing both Ella and Eric to turn.

  “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Ella waved to Fern. “Ash has found a secret in our home.”