“Not where we’re from,” Mr. Thorne returned quietly.
“And where is that, exactly?” Ashley asked.
“I’m certain you’ve never heard of it.”
That was the same answer Sophia always ha
d. Blast and damn. Would no one tell him details of their heritage? From where they heralded? This one was as tight-lipped as Sophia. “I’ve only known her for a few days,” Ashley admitted. “But she’s like a breath of fresh air.”
“That’s what she’s supposed to be,” Mr. Thorne said. He sighed heavily. “As long as she’s still innocent, my dealings with you are done.” He bowed in Ashley’s direction. “We’ll be taking our leave today. All of us.”
Leaving? “Wait!” Ashley called to his retreating back.
The man stopped and turned toward him. He arched an inquisitive brow and waited. “She could be carrying my child,” Ashley said without even thinking about it first.
Mr. Thorne looked like he needed someone to catch him when he fell. Ashley shot up from his chair and crossed the room. He stopped in front of the man, fully intending to catch him when he collapsed. However, he got a rousing surprise instead when Mr. Throne’s right fist cuffed his left jaw.
Ashley took the blow, which was strong enough to knock him slightly off center. What he wasn’t expecting was the second punch that hit him directly in the nose. He stumbled, cursed profusely, and then righted himself. He took a deep breath and asked, “Feel better?” as he wiggled his nose to be sure it was still attached. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the blood he’d provoked with his own carelessness. If anyone said the same about Anne, he’d be provoked to kill him. If all Ashley got was a bloody nose, he was fortunate.
“Feel better?” Mr. Thorne snorted. “Hardly.” He looked devastated. And Ashley’s conscience pricked at him a little.
“Do you want to hit me again?” Ashley dabbed at his nose. Damn, but that hurt. It had been a long time since he’d been in a brawl. Well, one couldn’t really call taking two punches a brawl. But it still hurt like the devil.
“I want to kill you,” Mr. Thorne said as he dropped heavily into a chair. He looked deflated, like a balloon that had lost its air. “This mission wasn’t meant for her,” he muttered.
Mission? Sophia had mentioned a mission more than once. “Pray tell me about this mission.”
Mr. Thorne avoided his question entirely. “She could be with child. This does not bode well.” He labored to his feet and tugged at his jacket. “I assume there’s only one thing I can do.”
“And that would be?” Let her marry me. Force her to marry me. I’ll make her happy with time.
“She’ll have to give up her life as she knows it. And marry you. And face the consequences. There will be consequences, whether her child is born like one of us or you.”
Born a murderer. “I don’t believe homicidal tendencies are bred into a person,” Ashley informed him.
A startled gasp arose from the doorway. “What did you say?” Sophia asked as she barged into the room. She reminded him of a storm cloud heavy with thunder and lightning. Ready to erupt. Her hazel eyes flashed, and her dark brows drew together, her expression stern.
Ashley avoided her gaze. But her brother spoke up. “You should have told me,” he said, sounding like an old man, suddenly. A wounded old man. Something inside Ashley twisted. But he schooled his features.
Just then, Sophia noticed Ashley’s nose and the bloody handkerchief. She was across the room in a trice. “What happened to you?” she asked as she took the handkerchief and wiped at his nose. Her touch was gentle, but, by God, it hurt. He winced and backed his head up an inch.
“Careful,” he murmured. He took her hand in his and held it, looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. How else could he convey what he was feeling? He couldn’t even put word to his thoughts. Much less explain them. “I’m sorry” was a poor substitute.
“Did you hit him?” Sophia asked her brother. She punched her brother in the shoulder, which made him wince loudly. It made Ashley want to chuckle as the man massaged his arm.
“Damn it, Soph, don’t do that,” he groused. “He had it coming.”
“What on earth could he do that would make you want to hit him?” she asked, her voice rising.
“He informed me that you could be with child,” Mr. Thorne hissed at her. His glance kept moving quickly over to Ashley. But Ashley stayed silent and watched Sophia.
She pressed a hand to her stomach. “With child?” she croaked.
She looked stricken. And Ashley reached for her. She doubled over. This time, he grabbed for her. Dear God, he’d caused her pain. He would undo it.
Sixteen
Sophia could barely catch her breath. She doubled over in the middle and clutched her stomach. She’d rushed into the room when she’d heard Ashley’s muffled curses, never expecting to find him standing there with blood dripping on his cravat and Marcus shaking out his fingers to relieve the pain he’d caused himself. She stayed bent over and took a few deep breaths. With child? A laugh escaped her mouth.