Chapter 12 #2
‘I …’ He whispered it, like a confession. ‘Yes. Forgive me. Olly … he was – is – like a part of my soul. I only ever wanted him, and after he died …’
Agnes thought of Nicholas. ‘No one could fill that gap.’
Ash blinked at her. ‘Yes. Yes, that exactly.’
She should have expected that – she knew that Ash had always had a piece of his heart missing, a person ripped away, even from the very start. She had known since the moment he talked of old vows. Yet to hear him say it so plainly …
There was a gap in Ash made for one person. She did not know why that made her feel sad.
‘Oh, Ash …’
She reached out again. This time, she took his hand, and to her surprise she found he did not resist. Most men would never admit such dangerous truths.
They would not care about the impact their secret lives would have on their wives.
But Ash did. He did not want to entangle her in a mess she could not escape.
Telling her was brave, possibly the bravest thing he could have done.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You could have pretended he was nothing to you. Just a shadow from your past. Just a friend.’
‘And lied to you. Forced you to build a life upon that lie.’
She squeezed his hand, saying nothing.
‘I assume …’ his voice had quieted, now, nearly drowned out by the rushing water ‘… you will leave, now? Return to your keep?’
She turned to him, not letting go of his hand. ‘What?’
‘Now you know what sort of man I am, you are perfectly within your rights to leave. I will ensure everyone is made aware that the fault lies with me; you will not be made unmarriable, I swear to you.’
Agnes looked up at him. He had not let go of her hand.
‘Do you want me to leave?’ she said. ‘I thought you needed this marriage as much as I do?’
‘I do,’ Ash admitted. ‘But … things have changed. And while I wish we could remain as we were, I understand if … if you have decided I am not worthy.’
His grip loosened. She still did not let go.
‘You are worthy,’ she said. ‘You have shown me that you are. And I understand your …’ she swallowed ‘… oddities.’
Ash laughed at that. ‘Is that what we have decided to call it?’
‘It is far better than many other words I could use.’
‘I suppose it is.’
‘Ash, regardless of this … I do still wish to marry you. I want to see this through. But only if you still feel the same.’
He glanced at her. ‘I do.’
‘And … will Oliver stay here? Do you want him to stay?’
Ash looked broken. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘I cannot be without him. Not again. But I cannot force him upon you. God …’ He let go of her hand with a groan, rubbing his eyes. ‘I do not know what I can do.’
‘He knows we plan to wed?’
‘He is aware, yes.’
‘What does he make of it?’
‘He knows that I will do anything for my family, including this. We had always assumed I would be able to force Raff into this position, but …’
‘His arm.’
Ash gave her a strange look. ‘… Yes: his arm. And now the burden is mine alone. Not that—’ He suddenly turned to her. ‘Not that marrying you is a burden, you understand, it is just—’
He looked so horrified that Agnes laughed. ‘The terrible burden of marrying each other is one we both must bear,’ she said. ‘Ash … you love him?’
Ash’s words were a mere whisper. ‘I do.’
‘Then …’ Agnes swallowed. She understood his hesitation. That same uncertainty was within her, too. She did not know if this was the right choice. ‘Then he must stay. Then I grant him leave to stay.’
Ash lowered his hands to look at her. ‘You do?’
‘Yes,’ she said, more surely. ‘To have that chance ripped from you … I could not do it. I refuse to be that cruel.’
Ash was still and silent, for a moment. Then – much to her shock – he pulled her into a tight embrace. Agnes wavered for a moment before gripping him back.
‘Thank you.’ When he released her, his eyes were red. ‘Thank you, Agnes. This is … this is a gift. And … I would like for you to at least be friends, if you can. When he is not attempting to murder me he can be especially charming.’
Agnes held back a smile. ‘He will have to prove that himself.’
Ash sighed. He did not look as pleased as he should.
‘Ash?’
‘There is one more thing. Olly told me some troubling news. It was not a random attack on the road. He was hired.’
Horror gripped around Agnes’s chest. ‘Hired to kill you?’
‘With handsome pay, too,’ Ash said. ‘And … God, I know of some people who would rather see me dead than alive, but he—’ His face contorted into a frown. ‘He seems to think that— Christ in Heaven, Agnes. He seems to think that your family may be involved in some way.’
Agnes’s stomach dropped. The sudden ringing in her ears muffled the sound of the river beside them, the birds in the trees, the wind rustling the leaves.
‘What?’
Her own voice sounded far away, as if echoing from across a cavern.
‘He has told me that he was hired by a family looking to protect their daughter from her cruel husband. They approached a man Olly has worked with before, looking for someone to deal with him. With me. I—’ He stopped. ‘I am so sorry, Agnes.’
She managed to force her gaze to fix on his.
‘Let me take you back inside,’ he said. ‘And you can ask Olly anything you need to. And we shall deal with this together. All right?’
There wasn’t anything else she could say. ‘All right.’
Ash had left her in a side chamber with Qwippe as he went to fetch Oliver. Agnes needed this time alone to think, yet her head was an empty, ringing void. She did not know what to think.
There was a knock at the door. She jerked up.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s me.’
Ash had returned. She relaxed a little. ‘Come in.’
He pushed the door open cautiously, as if worried he may startle her. He stepped inside with a hasty look over his shoulder.
And then, emerging from behind him like a fearful animal, another man. Oliver. Yesterday, Agnes hadn’t managed to get a proper look at the person who had attacked them; his face and hair were covered, and he’d been bundled into the tower cell before she had been able to speak to him.
Now, in the light, and wearing clean clothes that could only belong to Ash, she could see him properly.
He was of height with Ash, perhaps to the very inch, with a sort of broadness that could only have come about through many years of physical work.
He was scruffy, his jaw lined with a rough beard and his straw-blond hair falling into his eyes, messy as a haystack.
His face, what she could see of it, was marked with scars.
He peered around, took a breath, and then strode forwards, past Ash, towards Agnes. The effect was only a little marred by the way he crashed into the table at the side of the chamber with a curse.
Agnes found herself getting to her feet instinctively.
‘Shit—’ He righted himself, looking up at her with startled eyes. Uncharitably, he put her in mind of a cornered hare. He stood straighter, clearly trying to regain his dignity.
‘My Lady.’ His voice was smooth and pleasant, almost lyrical. He held his head at an angle as he spoke. ‘I believe there is much we need to talk about.’
Agnes looked over his shoulder towards Ash. Ash met her eye and nodded.
‘So it seems. Would you sit?’ She glanced at Ash, too. ‘Both of you?’
Oliver seemed uncertain. But Ash appeared at his shoulder and guided him to sit, placing himself between them. Agnes folded her hands in her lap, fiddling with her skirts.
‘Ash has spoken to me about …’ she sought, uselessly, for the right words ‘… everything,’ she settled on. ‘I know he has invited you to stay. You are aware that we intend to wed?’
Oliver nodded. ‘I am aware, yes. And I said as much to Ash – if me being here is unacceptable to you, then—’
Agnes held up a hand. Oliver fell silent.
‘I wish to repeat Ash’s invitation.’
Oliver’s expression dropped into shock. ‘You do?’
Agnes nodded. ‘I do.’
He was going to ask why she would make such a foolish choice.
She prayed he did not: she could not put it into words.
She did not know Oliver; his happiness meant nothing to her.
But she liked Ash, had grown to like him, and she could not bear to see him back in that pit of despair.
Even if that meant giving up something she had not even yet dared to name.
‘Are you … are you sure? Quite sure?’
He looked terrified. Agnes could see many years of hard living, wrought into his face.
‘I am sure.’
Relief melted over his face. ‘Thank you. Truly. I am sorry that these are the circumstances under which we must meet.’
The relief at not being questioned made her sag. ‘Any circumstances under which we would meet would be complicated,’ she said. ‘These are … more so, I will grant you.’
‘For quite a number of reasons, too. Ash has informed you of the people who hired me?’
‘He has, yes.’ Agnes sighed. This, in truth, was the harder conversation to have. Inviting a stranger into her marriage was nothing compared to the horror of her own family trying to destroy it. ‘Tell me everything.’
Oliver shot a look towards Ash, then began his tale. Agnes recognised parts: the concerned family, the meddling friend. She was rendered speechless, her lungs squeezed empty. There was nothing to say, no thoughts that would suffice.
‘To kill him seemed so extreme,’ Oliver finished, clearly attempting to comfort her. ‘I told John as much myself.’
Agnes sighed. ‘I should have answered their damn letters and put this whole thing to rest,’ she muttered. ‘Christ, I should have done something—’
She slumped forwards, her head in her hands. There was a hand on her back.
‘Agnes?’
‘My God, Ash, forgive me. Had I not been so stubborn …’
‘Do not blame yourself. You should blame me for having such a terrible reputation. Although I do find myself wondering why this friend of theirs was so sure I could only be dealt with fatally.’
‘What do you mean?’