Cinders & Ash: A Cinderella Story (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 3) (14 page)

She felt the water ripple, heard a splash and looked to her side, to see Ashton wasn’t there. She let her legs fall from the float and repositioned herself so she was treading. Then she felt hands grab her waist and looked down to see Ash’s head rise from the water to smile at her. “Got you,” he said.

She giggled. “So you do.”

He kissed her and then she slipped away from him, swimming slightly deeper into the pond, and turning back to him. She splashed him, a huge hunk of water splatting his face. He crinkled his brow and said, “Oh, you’re in for trouble now.” Then he splashed her back and she felt the water plunk in her face and laughed, as they embarked upon a splash war. They eventually called a truce and dove to the bottom of the pond to look for stray rocks, the pretty smooth, colorful ones that were sometimes at the bottom of the pool. Her mother had called them fairy stones. In fact, her mother had called many things magical in Ella’s childhood, on several occasions telling Ella that they were part fairy because Penelope’s mother, who was Ella’s grandmother had been a fairy. Ella had believed it to be true when she was little, only now she knew better. Still, she called the tiny smooth rocks fairy stones, even though it had been ages since she’d found one. She and Ash didn’t find any today, though they had fun searching.

Tired from their frolicking, Ash pulled her toward the shore a little till they were both standing on the silty bottom of the pond. He kissed her and wrapped his arms around her, his hands sliding along her wet skin. He somehow tasted fresh in the pond, like the crystal clear water. His arms wrapped tight around her, he kissed her neck. She tilted her head back and enjoyed the luxurious feeling of him suckling at her neck as her hair floated in the water.

Every part of her tingled with sensation as he fondled her in the water, his mouth on her skin, her hands lingered on his back, feeling his taut muscles, pulling him closer to her, their skin, wet, soft pressed against each other.

She lifted her head now, found his lips and kissed him back. She felt his arms grasp around her backside and lifting her, carrying her out of the water toward the silty shore. He lay her on her back on the soft shoreline, then leaned forward and nipped at her earlobe.

“Cinderella,” he whispered in her ear.

“Mmmhmm” she murmured.

“I want you,” he said. “I’m going to have you right now. Quickly and fiercely, if that’s alright.”

She looked up at him, and there was a hunger in his eyes she hadn’t thought she’d seen before. Yet, she felt it inside herself as well. The liberating hunger of being with a person who you knew. She offered him a crooked smile and said, “Please, Ashton. Take me right now.”

With that he slid a finger inside her, testing her moistness, which had managed to grow to a pool of its own as he’d toyed with her in the water. With a kiss of her lips, he slid his cock, already hard and ready, into her. Ella gasped in pleasure at his entrance, clenching around him. He moved deftly with purpose inside her, pushing deep and hard. At the same time he tangled his fingers in her hair and bent forward, planting kisses on her neck.

Feeling his mouth on her while he rode her insides drove Ella wild. She wrapped her legs around him, as he offered intense thrusts. Her back grinded into the silt at the water’s edge, which felt remarkably soft and soothing and cool given today’s heat.

Ella choked out a raspy, “Ashton” as his fingers found her breasts and teased her nipples while he somehow managed to increase the intensity of his onslaught. She wasn’t sure she could take much more of his unrelenting pleasure. Her thighs undulated around him as her body quivered with pleasure. A moment later, Ashton whispered her name and shuddered on top of her. Spent, he lay down next to her, and folded her in his arms.

* * *

They’d rinsed off in the pond and Ella had tossed her dress on after. Ashton had only bothered to put on his shirt and his knickers, and they lay on the blanket, with Ash’s arms wrapped tightly around Ella. She lay nestled in his arms, feeling contented, but knowing it couldn’t last. “Ash,” she said. “I need to finish your picture and then I have to get home.”

“Why do you go back to that woman?” Ashton asked. “I can pay whatever debt you owe her and you can leave her household, rent a room to board.”

Ella shook her head. “Ash, I can’t,” she said.

“Of course you can.”

She looked at him, debating whether to tell him the truth or not. “She’s not just my mistress. She is my stepmother. Legally, I am bound to her. I can’t leave. I can’t be married without her permission and I can’t strike out on my own either. She’s already told me if I cross her again, she will marry me off to someone who is harsh and low and needs a pittance of a dowry. And I will have to go. I am stuck with her unless I can get very, very far away, far enough away that she won’t come after me. Far enough away that I can pretend to be what I’ve pretended to be with you: a woman who is poor, whose parents are deceased and therefore must fend for herself.”

Ashton’s cheeks reddened in anger. “Your stepmother beat you like that? A woman who is supposed to care for you, treated you like this?”

Ella put a finger over his lip. “It’s OK,” she said. “She is not a nice woman, but I don’t begrudge her what she did. If she hadn’t done that, I never would have met you, and I am glad for meeting you. But I can’t fight with her. I’ve taken liberties, too many liberties, coming to meet you. I can’t afford to have her find out and marry me off to some snake because she is angry.”

Ash kissed the finger on his lips. “I see the position you are in,” he said. “But I don’t like you going back.”

“Well, what would you have me do? Where should I go when leaving will only incur her wrath?” Ella asked. “And I don’t want to be married off to someone who is harsh and cruel all due to her spite. She’s already threatened as such. I think she may even have someone in mind, if I cross her. I can’t risk that. You can agree that at least now I have hope of escaping, but if she forces me to marry, I have no hope of escape. I cannot break the bonds of matrimony.”

Ash’s fists were balled at his sides and his lips were pressed in a firm line. “You’re right about marriage,” he said. “You can’t have her marry you off.” He blew out a deep breath. “But this still isn’t where you should be, Cinderella. Go back today, but come to me in five nights. We can figure out a solution for you. I know we can. Promise me you’ll come.”

Ella nodded, and whispered, “I promise.”

Cinderella. It was a lovely name. Much more suited to her than just Cinders. He wished she had told him that in the beginning. He needed her away from the stepmother, but he needed it done in the right way. Cinderella was right about her stepmother’s providence. Her stepmother had the right to choose who her stepdaughter married, and if she grew angry and quickly married her off, there would be no way to undo that. Not even the king could get rid of a marriage the church had sanctified.

Initially, his plan had centered on getting rid of the stepmother altogether. If she were arrested for a crime, her lands seized, something to move her out of the picture, it would free Cinderella. Leith was subtle and discreet, so Ashton had asked him to find out all he could about the woman’s property. But Ashton had called it off, even before Leith had gotten a chance to start, because he realized such a tactic would disgrace Cinderella and her family. Despite what Lady Kenna had done, a public shaming of her family would do Cinderella no favors.

It had been two days since he’d seen Cinderella and he’d spent the time forming and discarding plans to aid her. He’d been out riding today to clear his mind and think. An epiphany hit him while he was staring up at the sky as blue as her eyes. He’d formulated a plan. Now he just had to pull it off.

Ashton found his parents in their chamber. His mother was reading her bible, while his father was perusing a parchment, probably a proposed new law.

“You’re back,” his mother said with a sigh of relief. “I was worried, Ashton,” she said. “You were out all day without any word.”

Ashton nodded. “Yes, mother,” he said. “I know, and I apologize for worrying you.” He went over and kissed her cheek. “However, I think you’ll be quite pleased.”

“Pleased?” his mother said, raising a curious eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, I’ve done some thinking,” he said. “About the prophecy.”

His mother’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. His father set his parchment down. “What about it?” his father asked.

“I think mother is right,” he said. She stared harder at him. “I should marry.”

Neither of his parents said anything for a moment, and then his father smiled. “I take it you have someone in mind.”

Ashton shook his head and casually said, “No.” There was no way he could tell his father about Cinderella. Not how they met, not what they’d been doing and not about the stepmother problem. He had a simpler solution. One that would put the ball entirely in his court, if he could get his parents to go along with it. “But I was thinking about my birthday ball. I’d like to change it to a costumed ball, and I want to invite all the eligible ladies of the kingdom. I think I might find a bride that night.”

His father’s thick jaw dropped open. “Son, that’s insane.”

He turned to his mother. She was his primary hope of succeeding, given his father’s reaction. His father rarely deviated from his first instinct without her push. And since his mother believed wholeheartedly in the insanity of this prophecy, Ashton needed to use that to his advantage. “The prophecy said I should turn 20 and marry. It mentions them in the same breath, as if they are all part of one act. I think it’s meant for me to find my bride at this party. I’m not saying the girl I marry will definitely be at this ball or that I must marry a single girl from this ball, but I feel with all my heart that this prophecy is urging me to find my bride at this gala.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “I have no objection to you finding a bride at the ball,” he said. “But, a commoner? A princess should be of royal blood, or at the very least from noble stock.”

“Father,” Ashton said. “In the past, that’s been how it’s done, but I see no reason to continue this tradition.” He turned to his mother now. “Besides, I have a feeling that I will find my bride among the common folk. Gertrude told me I should listen to my gut.”

He’d made the comment about Gertrude because his mother believed in her. Gertrude was the only person whom his mother tended to trust wholeheartedly. Whatever had allowed Gertrude to be sent away for so many years was obviously behind them. And Gertrude seemed to spend a fair amount of time talking to the Queen, if you believed the jealous sniping of the other servants. His best bet was to play upon his mother’s trust of Gertrude. And what he said wasn’t entirely untrue. Gertrude had always told him to follow his instincts.

Though he’d thrown out Gertrude’s name, it might not have been necessary. His mother was nodding vigorously, even before he’d finished speaking. “He’s right, Henry,” she said, looking at her husband. “You keep telling me I’m babying him, but the moment he comes to you with his mind made up, with a good idea about how to secure his future, you’re the one who treats him like a child.”

King Henry grimaced. “Elizabeth,” he said to his wife. “I am not treating him like a child. I simply asked if he had thought it through.”

“He told you he has,” Elizabeth said succinctly, as if her comment were the final word.

Henry looked at his wife, then at his son, as if debating whether he wanted to do battle with them both. He took in a breath, then nodded. “Very well, John Ashton,” he said. “You will be King one day, and you will have to decide the future of our nation. Right now, you have just made the first decision for your own future. I will send out the decree. Your ball will now be open to all the eligible maidens in the kingdom. And you may choose your bride at the ball.”

Ashton nodded and smiled. “Thank you, father.”

It had been five days since Ella had seen Ashton and she missed him. She wanted to see him tonight, and she was supposed to. They had agreed, and she thought she had a good chance of escaping without Lady Kenna’s notice. All the ladies of the household had been in particularly good spirits since the potential marriage of one of the sisters to Lord Angleton’s son appeared to be a decent chance. While Lady Kenna had insisted Charles spend time with both sisters, it had become clear that Charles had no interest in Bathilda whatsoever. Lady Kenna had, on the last two of their visits, forced Bathilda to spend time admiring Lady Angleton’s knitting, leaving Mari and Charles alone. It seemed that everyone knew Marigold would be the first girl to get married, even though she were younger.

While Bathilda was incensed, she wasn’t in charge of this, and she wasn’t a good match for Charles. Maybe with Mari married off, Lady Kenna would spend her energy on finding a prospect for Bathilda. And then she wouldn’t have time to focus on what was going on with Ella.

Ella bit her lip as she cleaned the main room, sweeping the floor, her hair tied in a kerchief to keep it from getting too dirty. Ella felt happy that Marigold was likely to marry Charles. The girl could be giving and kind in the right settings. Ella was glad she’d interjected on Marigold’s behalf, giving Uncle Bart the drawing she’d done of Marigold. Uncle Bart had thanked her and told her that Charles would appreciate it. And clearly he had, though no one spoke of the drawing.

She was sure the Angleton’s wouldn’t because they knew Lady Kenna was trying to push Bathilda on them and they didn’t want her. They wouldn’t do anything to draw Lady Kenna’s ire over the situation, as she finally seemed to be willing to accept that Marigold and Charles were the match.

Ella smiled and hoped her stepsister would be as happy as she and Ash were. Then she swallowed and shook her head. That was silly. She and Ash weren’t a real couple. But Ella did want Mari to be happy. She felt happy and wanted to spread that joy to others who deserved it. If Lord Angleton was going to marry his son to a daughter of this household, then it was Marigold who deserved to leave, not Bathilda. And Charles seemed a kind soul who didn’t deserve a completely spoiled brat as a wife. Not that Marigold was perfect. She enjoyed finer things as much as her sister and she could even be spiteful at times, but her nature wasn’t cruel.

She also seemed to have compassion for others, which her mother and sister lacked. Had someone else raised Mari, she would have been a really kind human being. But that was the thing with Marigold. She seemed to know how to blend herself into any situation, to take on the tenor of those around her.

Her mother and sister were harsh and spoiled. They believed themselves to be better than others and acted accordingly. Marigold, on the other hand, took on their traits when they were around, yet she didn’t truly seem to believe herself to be that way. She seemed to be under the impression that people were who they were and you had to accept them for that. She accepted Ella. The problem was that she also accepted her mother and sister and made no effort to change them, although Ella supposed she had done that too. She had thought kindness would change Lady Kenna and Bathilda and had given it to them for years, but it had done nothing but make them humiliate her all the more.

Ella had just finished sweeping when she noticed Marigold walking down the stairs, rubbing her hands nervously in front of her. Her face was pale and she looked like she might vomit at any second.

“Mari,” Ella said. “Are you alright?”

Marigold finished walking unsteadily down the steps and came to sit on one of the upholstered wingback chairs in the room. “I’m fine, Ella. And you? You seem well, in good spirits today”

Ella looked down at the ground. She wondered if the others had noticed her better spirits lately. “It’s just that with all that’s going on with Lord Angleton, everyone has been in better spirits, and it makes it easier to do all the work when people are happier,” she said.

Marigold swallowed hard and nodded. “Has my mother returned yet?”

Ella looked at Marigold and realized the source of her worries. She knelt in front of Mari and said, “No, she hasn’t returned yet, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll just wait here, I think.”

Ella looked over toward the stairwell. She thought of Bathilda, who must be behaving terribly toward Marigold. Charles was supposed to be Bathilda’s chance at marriage, not Marigold’s. Rather than seeing Marigold’s possible marriage to Charles as an indication that she should improve her own behavior, she instead saw it as Marigold’s betrayal. Anytime Bathilda, Marigold and Charles were together, Bathilda took every opportunity to put Marigold down, and Marigold, never one to stand up to Bathilda, just took it.

However, the strategy had backfired as Charles looked at Marigold as a poor lass he could save from her evil sister. Lord Angleton looked upon Bathilda with dread every time he encountered her, and Ella tried to be as quiet as Marigold whenever there were conversations among them. On the rare occasion that Bathilda left Charles with Ella and Marigold, usually in a bid to impress Lady Angleton and show her that she would be a better match than her sister, Ella had brokered conversations between Marigold and Charles, speaking on subjects that got them both chatty. They seemed to really enjoy each other’s company.

“I’ll get you some tea, Marigold,” Ella said. “I’m very happy for you. And don’t worry about Bathilda. She’ll have other suitors.”

Ella was standing to get Marigold the tea, when the girl grabbed her arm. “Do you really think it will go well? Bathilda is the oldest, and she pitched a royal fit with mother before she left. You don’t think mother will change her mind and tell them she’ll only negotiate for a marriage to Bathilda, do you?”

“Your mother doesn’t have to be married to Bathilda. Charles does. And if he doesn't want to, there is nothing your mother can say to change his mind. I’m sure she’ll do what’s best for her family, and that is to have one daughter married off to someone who adores her. And Charles adores you, Mari. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Marigold blushed. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Ella said and nodded. Ella’s words seemed to put her stepsister’s mind at ease, so she departed to the kitchen to start the tea. Ella had just put the kettle on the fire when Lady Kenna walked into the kitchen. She glared at Ella. “Lady Kenna,” Ella said. “Would you like some tea? I was just making some for Marigold.”

Lady Kenna sneered, “Well, if it isn’t little Cinderella. Covered in dirt and cinders from cleaning, or is that coal from all your drawing? Portraits of Marigold that you secretly give to Lord Angleton.”

Ella’s mouth dropped open and she instinctively took a step back, afraid her stepmother would hit her. “He asked me to see some of my other drawings, and when he saw it, he liked it so much I said he could keep it.”

Lady Kenna’s voice was saccharine. “Of course you did,” she said, walking closer to Ella. “You will pay for your deceit, for trying to turn my sweet Marigold against her sister and usurp the fiancé who was clearly meant for Bathilda.”

Lady Kenna walked out of the kitchen and into the main room without another word. Ella breathed out in relief. She heard Lady Kenna call for Bathilda to come down, as Marigold was already sitting in the room. Ella thought she heard a horse in the distance, but ignored it. She wanted to know what was being said, so she went to the door separating the kitchen from the sitting room. She wouldn’t be able to hear everything, but hoped to catch a few snippets of what Lady Kenna was saying. Just then, she heard banging on the back door.

Ella answered it. There was a man dressed in the uniform of the royal guard. He bowed his head once, then held out a piece of parchment in a sealed envelope. Ella took it and looked up at him. “What is it?”

“The King and Queen are inviting all the maidens in the land to the prince’s birthday ball tomorrow,” the man said, his voice resonating through the tiny room. Then he looked at Ella kindly and said. “‘Tis said he plans to choose a bride from amongst the guest.”

A bride? Well, that would be something different. “I thought the prince’s bride had to be royal.”

The man shrugged. “The King decreed it, so it must be alright.”

“Yes, it must,” Ella said with a laugh. The man turned to leave and she noticed how his shoulders slumped. “Wait,” she said. “Do you need water before you go, or would you like a muffin? I’ve baked some this morning.”

The man turned back and smiled at her. “That’s quite nice of you milady,” he said.

Ella fetched him an empty cup and handed it to him. She went and got the pitcher full of water, as well as a muffin. As she poured the water into the cup, she said, “Got it fresh from the well this morning.”

A moment later the kitchen door swung open and Lady Kenna walked in. “What are you doing, Ella?” she asked with such venom in her voice that the man stopped chewing and stared.

Ella curtsied for her stepmother and held out the envelope. “Lady Kenna, this is a royal page who brought tidings of the ball to celebrate the prince’s birthday. He looked weary after all his travels and I offered him a cup of drink and a bite of muffin, to make the rest of his journey more comfortable.”

Lady Kenna scowled. “I’m sure he doesn’t have time to stop and eat and drink everywhere he goes. The King and Queen expect their messages delivered.” She turned to the page, holding out her hand for the cup. “We won’t keep you from your work any longer.”

The man handed Lady Kenna the cup, then turned to Ella, giving her a look of sympathy before exiting. Lady Kenna took the envelope and left without saying a word. She didn’t even open it. Ella supposed she wanted to open it in private. She probably didn’t even intend to tell Ella of the ball. Still, a ball at the palace sounded grand. It sounded like the loveliest thing. She wondered if she would see Ashton there. She wondered what it might be like to dance with him in public just once.

She sighed and shook her head. That would never happen. Her stepmother was bound to forbid her to go. A soft hissing sound shook her from her thoughts. It was the kettle boiling. She’d forgotten all about Marigold’s tea. She added the leaves and poured the water, then set the cup on a tray and took it out to the main room. The room was empty except for Marigold, who was crumpled in her chair crying. Ella could hear Lady Kenna and Bathilda upstairs laughing.

She ran toward Marigold, setting the tray on the floor, and kneeling before the girl again. “Mari, what’s wrong?” Ella asked softly.

Marigold looked up at her with accusatory eyes. “Mother said you and I conspired to steal Lord Angleton’s son from Bathilda, and I didn’t deserve a marriage because of that.”

Ella’s mouth popped open. She was sure Lady Kenna would take the betrothal of any daughter, especially as she didn’t think Lord Angleton would ask for much by way of dowry. “She told him no?”

Marigold shook her head. “One of the King’s pages arrived with the invitations while she was negotiating. Charles’ sisters were so excited they burst in with the news. That’s when mother told Lord Angleton she was very offended by him pushing for a marriage with Marigold, when it was clear that Bathilda would make a better match. She said she needed more time to think and told him she would return in a week. What she wants is for us to go to the ball and try to woo the prince. If one of us succeeds, she will turn down Angleton’s offer. If we don’t, then I will get to marry him.”

“That’s insane,” Ella said, before she could stop herself. “You like Charles, and he likes you. Why would she jeopardize that for the prince, who will be choosing among hundreds of maidens?”

“Because she’s angry,” Marigold said. “Angry that you gave Lord Angleton that drawing of me. She wants to hurt me for it and she thinks Charles will wait, that he likes me enough to wait.” Marigold burst into tears again, and blubbered, “But Lord Angleton won’t wait, Ella. I just know he won’t. She’s ruined things for me.”

Marigold’s sobs grew louder and she was saying something else, but Ella couldn’t figure out what, as it all came out muddled by her tears. Ella decided not to speak and simply rubbed her stepsister’s back, trying to murmur words of comfort. Lady Kenna was unbelievable in her cruelty. Sometimes, Ella wondered why she ever tried with that woman. Kindness toward Lady Kenna was only ever repaid with spite.