Cinders & Ash: A Cinderella Story (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 3) (3 page)

“Remove your dress, Cinders,” Ash said.

She widened her smile and gingerly untied the sash in the back. She tucked her head down as she did so, hoping to hide the wincing pain. She made sure she faced him head on so he would not see her back, and let the dress fall to the floor so she was naked.

Ash stared at her, his lips quirking up slightly and his eyes widening as if pleased, but he said nothing. He kept his eyes trained on her, taking her all in, as if he wanted to savor her. She wondered briefly if this was a ritual, if he did this with all the girls. She was certain she wasn’t the first. He seemed experienced at this.

Yet, for some reason, the way he looked at Ella made her feel special, as if he hadn’t looked at any of the other women this way before. Part of her blanched at the thought. Ella was used to not being special. Lady Kenna had told her that often enough. Yet there was something about his earnest smile, the glint in his eye that made her feel special. Only, she knew it wasn’t true. She could have been any girl and he would have stared like this.

“Spin around so I can see all of you,” he said, after a moment.

Ella didn’t move. She couldn’t turn around. He would see. He would be angry. Faye’s words came back to her now. Faye had warned her not to go in this condition. Ella looked down at the ground and choked out, “I’d rather not.”

She heard a breath of air leave his mouth, not quite a sigh or a harrumph, but definitely a sound of displeasure. She looked up, meeting his eyes, apology in her face, but still not moving.

He lifted his hand to his chin and gave a gentle rub, as if deciding what to do. He leaned forward slightly and said in a more commanding voice, one that scared her slightly, “I am your …,” he started out, then paused. He took a breath and started again. “I am the man who has paid more than a fair wage for you to be here. I’d like you to turn around.”

His eyes hardened, and Ella realized that Faye had been right. This had been a mistake. “I’m sorry,” she said, maintaining her front facing position as she knelt down and began lifting her dress back up. The pain of the position nearly made her cry out, but she just gritted her teeth as she pulled the dress up to cover herself. The idea of trying to slip her arms through the sleeves of the dress made her back writhe in pain, so she knew the reality of it wasn’t going to happen right now in this room with Ash watching. She managed to pull the dress up to her waist, but that’s where it happened to graze the wounds on the lower back, so she stopped tugging on the back of the dress. Instead, she just pulled the front part of her dress over her chest to shield her bosoms from his view.

She took a step backwards. “This was a mistake. I’ll give your man the money back. I’ve never done this before,” she said shaking her head, her voice timid and awkward. “I shouldn’t have come, and I’m sorry.”

She wanted to turn and bolt, to run, but couldn’t. She didn’t want him to see her back, to see the welts, the blood, and the violence that had been visited on her.

He stood and was coming toward her. She was so surprised by his unexpected move that she stopped. He reached her in a couple of strides. “Wait,” he said and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

Ella screamed out in pain and crumpled to the floor. It wasn’t that he’d touched her particularly harshly, but everything that touched her skin caused ferocious pain. The pressure of his hand combined with all the pain she’d been biting back from the dress scraping her rear was too much.

Ash’s face melted into horror and all the color drained from him as he stared down. Ella had hunched forward when she crumpled, and she was sure he could see now. See it all. Everything she hadn’t wanted anyone to see. Shame and embarrassment rushed through her. Perhaps it was stupid to feel this. But she did. She was the only person in the room who’d done something so wrong she’d deserved a beating like that. A beating like that was a sign that she was a bad person, and she didn’t want him to see her like that. It had been hard enough coming here to begin with. She had accepted that he could view her as a whore, but the thought that he’d view her as a woman who deserved this made Ella crumble inside. She couldn’t look up at him. She sat there, her knees on the hard floor, then put her head in her hands and sobbed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

A hand grazed her leg and she felt his warm breath on her cheek. He was on the floor leaning near her. He spoke in a voice filled with anger. “Who did this to you?”

She knew he was angry with her for coming, so she swallowed her sobs, wiped her face and looked at him. She owed him a response, at the very least. “I’m a servant for a woman and she learned that I had,” she stopped, not sure how to describe the offense Lady Kenna had accused her of without explaining more than she wanted to about her life.

“She learned you had what?” Ash asked, his voice now softer than a moment before.

Ella shook her head. “She thought I stole from her. I didn’t, but she whipped me just the same,” she said, her body shivering at the memory. She looked up at Ash and said with all sincerity, “I am not a thief. I have never stolen anything from anyone and I will give you your money back, alright? I only came here tonight because I was desperate, because my lady took all the money I’ve been saving, and I just was hoping to earn some of it back quickly. But I shouldn’t have come. I knew you wanted someone who hadn’t been… injured.”

Ash shook his head, half laughed. “So, your main concern is that I might be offended that you showed up injured, not the fact that someone has beaten you bloody?” he asked.

She watched him, realizing she had misjudged him. “It’s just,” she started, but paused, trying to measure her words. “You seemed angry.”

“I am angry,” he said, and she heard it in his tone. “I am angry that someone would be so cruel to do this to you. And over a baseless accusation.”

Ella’s mouth opened. Baseless accusation. He believed her? Relief flooded her for some reason. He actually believed her.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

She nodded. She had in fact just been standing before he’d touched her. She’d stood longer than she probably should’ve. Maybe that’s why the pain was so bad. He stood up first and held out his hand. She placed hers inside his and stood, tendrils of burning ache creeping down her back as she did. She looked at the ground unable to hide her grimace. “Thank you for understanding,” she said, taking a step away. “I’ll be going.”

“No, you won’t,” Ash said.

He had been with many women, and this was the first time in a long time he’d felt uncertain with one, felt as if he wasn’t in complete control. She’d denied his earlier request to turn around and it had irritated, yet intrigued him. Now she was poised to deny his latest request, to stay. It was so different that he found it refreshing on some level. Refreshing that she knew her own mind and despite what he was paying for her, there were some things he still could not buy.

“Why can’t I go?” she asked, with an earnestness he found entrancing.

“Because I want you to stay,” he said, not sure why he’d blurted out the first thing he’d thought. He removed his eye mask and said, “Lie on the bed, please, on your stomach.”

She didn’t respond, simply studying his face, as if his expression would signal to her whether to obey or not. He tried to look sturdy and reassuring, for he wanted her to stay. Finally she began to nod, but stopped abruptly, a wince of pain overtaking her face. Without another word she walked to the bed and lay on her stomach.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be back.” He left the room and went down the dark hallway to the doorway that led to the main part of the castle. Standing there, leaning against the doorframe, was Heinrich, his trusted guard. Some considered him too old for the job of guarding a prince, but Heinrich was still wily and loyal to a fault.

“Your Highness,” Heinrich said, stepping forward. “I hadn’t realized you would be done so soon. Shall I collect the girl and escort her out?”

The prince shook his head. “No, I need you to fetch Gertrude and ask her to bring her healing salve,” he said. Heinrich nodded and turned to leave. “Wait,” the prince said. “Bring her to the room door and knock three times. Then you are to leave us.”

Heinrich gave him a hard stare, as if he felt betrayed by being asked to leave. The man took a deep breath and said, “Sire. Is everything alright with the girl? I apologize, in that she arrived later than I expected and I did not have a chance to personally vet her. If she doesn’t please you—.”

“No, she’s fine,” he said, cutting him off. “Just do this for me, and hurry please.”

Heinrich nodded and left. The prince returned to the room and Cinders was just as he’d left her, lying on the bed on her stomach. The knot that had been in his stomach unfurled. He wasn’t sure why he thought she’d be gone or why the thought of her being gone made him feel desolate.

He walked over to the left side of the bed, the direction her head was facing and sat down. With a wince, but no other signs of distress, she turned on her side to face him.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“I asked for a salve for your wounds.”

She sighed, then grimaced, as if that small movement had caused an avalanche of pain. After a deep breath, she spoke softly but clearly, “You needn’t do that for me.”

“Why shouldn’t I do this for you?” he asked. “You’re clearly in pain and your wounds clearly need to be treated. So, why not?”

She stared at him, and then laughed, a sound like a dove from heaven. “I guess there’s no reason why not,” she said. “It’s just that… that it’s been a long time since anyone’s offered to help. And it’s not that I’m ungrateful. It’s just, I didn’t expect it, especially when I’m not what you wanted, and when I came knowing that.”

“Don’t fret,” he said. “You shouldn’t let an injury like this linger. I once fell off my horse into a bramble of thorns. Scraped my skin like you wouldn’t believe, but a kind woman provided me a salve that healed it all.” He lifted his shirt, showing off his toned stomach and chest, with a rich amount of curly black hair on it. “See, not a single scar.”

Cinders looked pleased by what she saw, and reached out to touch him. She pressed her fingers lightly on his chest and slowly slid them down his torso, stopping on his belly. The sensation set off a wave of goosebumps. “No, smooth to look at and to the touch,” she said. “Perhaps I will be as lucky, even without the salve.”

She removed her hand, and he let his shirt fall to cover him. He found the reversal of fortune odd. He’d expected to have her remove her clothing so that he might run his fingers along her soft skin, and yet it was he who had exposed his bare skin for her to caress.

“Might I ask,” he said, with hesitation. “Have you considered going to work for another mistress? One who doesn’t treat you so roughly?”

Cinders grinned at him. “You are definitely noble,” she said. “There is no place else for me to go. My family is dead and I am, I guess you would call it, indentured to her. I cannot leave her, yet by staying, I am unable to procure any funds to emancipate myself.”

He sighed. There was a thud at the door. The prince turned. So did Cinders. Then she bit her lip, seeming to suppress a cry of anguish. Ash heard the second knock as he watched a tear emerge from the corner of her right eye. Then there was the third knock. “That’s the salve I asked them to bring,” he said.

Cinders’ eyes widened and she said. “You’ve brought someone here. I can’t,” she said. “I can’t be seen here. If Lady—. I mean, if my mistress finds out.”

Ash put a finger to her lips. “She won’t know who you are. Lie on your front and cover your head with a pillow. I’ll ask her to apply the salve, then leave.”

Cinders nodded and gingerly, placed her face on the bed, grabbed a nearby pillow and covered her head with it. Ash went to the door, and holding a single finger in front of his lips in a shushing motion, opened it. Gertrude stood there, poised to speak, but didn’t, once she saw him. He exited into the dark hallway, closing the door behind him and bade Gertrude to follow him down the hallway a few paces.

Gertrude was a stout, squat woman, and at this hour she wore a nightdress that made her look wider. Her gray hair was tied back in a kerchief and her sour expression indicated she was not happy about being dragged from bed. She’d been his caretaker when he was young, and he’d always loved resting in her lap and laying his head on her ample bosoms.

In her hands, Gertrude held a small ceramic jar. “Master Ashton,” she said in a whisper, calling him his middle name, one that only his mother and Gertrude used. “Are you alright? Heinrich said you needed the salve.”

He nodded. “Yes, there’s a girl who is, um, injured.”

Gertrude took a step back, alarmed. “Injured, how?”

He cut a stern look at her. “It’s not important. What is important is that I want you to apply the salve to her wounds. You can talk to her and make her feel comfortable, but you are not to call me your Highness or prince, or say my name while we are in the room together. Do you understand?”

Gertrude gave him a scrutinizing look and opened her mouth as if to ask why, but then chose simply to shut it again. She nodded and followed the prince back into the room.

Gertrude gasped when she saw Cinders’ back, cut and with welts covered in dried blood. Ash walked over to the bed and spoke softly. “I’ve brought someone to help with your wounds.”

Gertrude walked over and examined the wounds more closely. Then she turned back to the prince. She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped before deciding to start again. “Sir,” she said, clearly feeling at a loss of what to call him. He probably should’ve told Gertrude to call him Ash, but for some reason, he only wanted Cinders to call him that.

“Yes, Gertrude,” he responded.

“I’ll be needing to wipe the wounds out just a bit before I apply the salve. I should go and get some cloth and clean water.”

“No, stay,” he said. “I’ll go and get it.”

Gertrude stared at him, a look of complete shock on her face. He might actually get them to see that look again, but he’d meant he’d go out and tell Heinrich to get the things. He took his leave and came back after a few minutes with the cloths and a bowl of water. Then, he sat in his chair and watched as Gertrude cleaned Cinders’ wounds and applied the salve. Cinders spoke little, but speaking wasn’t necessary when Gertrude was around. The old nursemaid was a born chatterbox. That was one of the things he had liked most about her when he was little. She was always full of stories, like the time she’d fallen in a pond with all her clothes on and popped out only to have a toad jump on her head. Tonight was no different, and this time she told Cinders of the excitement at the castle when one of the baby livestock broke free of its pen and ran into the castle, right toward the King’s throne. “Well, of course, somebody stopped it,” Gertrude said. “That somebody happens to be sitting in this room, and I do wish you could have seen how funny he looked tackling a calf.”

Cinders had laughed at that, but her body hadn’t flinched the way it had earlier. It seemed the salve was working, at least a bit. Soon Gertrude had finished and the prince escorted his old nursemaid out.