Ashes by Alexandra Benedict

Author:Alexandra Benedict
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: short stories, bedtime stories, fairy tales, erotic romance, historical romance, regency romance
Publisher: Alexandra Benedict

He gives snow like wool,

He scatters the frost like ashes.

Her favorite psalm. She had not recited the verse in years. Might she and Ash, both alone and cold, find warmth together?

Her hand trembling, she unlatched the door and entered the chamber. She glanced toward the bed. Empty. Next, her gaze traveled to the roaring blaze in the fireplace, flanked by massive andirons.

Ash had settled in an armchair, a glass in his hand, his back toward her. He swirled the amber liquid in the tumbler, his attention transfixed on the snapping flames.

Should she disturb him? she wondered. Or wait for the next day to …? In truth, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Talk with him? About what?

Her thoughts deserted her when she spied the crests and valleys of his strapping profile. In silhouette, he seemed a dream. And she wondered if he might vanish into the smoke.

“Why have you come, Lizzie?” he asked in a throaty drawl.

She started at his unexpected request. His backside still positioned toward her, he had not seen her enter the room so he must have heard her, however light her steps. And her heart thumped a little harder knowing his senses were still concerted with hers, even after so many years apart.

He would not vanish into the smoke, she assured herself. He was real. And still very much a part of her.

“I’ve changed my mind, Ash.”

At her whispered words, he stopped swirling the brandy. “About what?”

“Our agreement. I … I cannot keep it.”

In one fluid movement, he looked over his shoulder, a shadow crossing his brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m sorry, Ash, but it won’t work—we won’t work, living as strangers.”

“I see.” His muscles tensed. “And you realize what it means if I go?”

“I’m not asking you to go, Ash.”

His brow creased and his lips meshed in obvious consternation. “I don’t understand. What do you want, Lizzie?”

She funneled a mouthful of air into her lungs, then released in a raspy voice, “You.”

Mercy, he verily leveled her with his torrid stare.

At last, he said in a low timbre, “And what do you want from me?”

“A kiss,” she echoed his earlier words.

Those grey eyes wracked her soul with their uncompromising intensity. But she girded her muscles and remained in the middle of the room, tamping her primal instinct to retreat. Whatever his answer, she would hear it. She was not a coward.

“Come here, Lizzie,” was his oh-so-tender command.

And her blood surged at the invitation. Taking a step forward, she floundered, but soon regained her footing and rounded the armchair.

She was positioned across from him. The fire at her backside toasted her flesh, while his balmy expression charred the front of her.

He set aside the crystal glass.

“Come,” he beckoned again.

There wasn’t room for her to maneuver. She was already nestled at his knees. But when he spread his thighs apart, her heart missed a beat.

She stepped closer to him, pressed herself between his splayed legs. Moisture trickled down her spine. Her breathing hastened, swift and shallow.

Heat. So much heat.

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