And then, at last, she spoke.
“Dash?”
The single word shattered the spell. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes—those brilliant green eyes—glittered with unshed tears.
This was real. She was real.
And then, quite suddenly, all color drained from her face, and with a soft sigh, she crumpled onto the grass in a graceful swoon.
“Ambrosia!” Dash was at her side in a heartbeat, and Lancelot circled them anxiously, yipping, until a shadow darted nearer. The stable boy had appeared, wide-eyed, peering at the fallen lady.
“Fetch me water,” Dash barked, clutching her close. “Quickly.”
The boy dashed off, and for a long moment Dash simply held her, shaken to his very core. When he bent his head closer, he breathed in the faint scent of lavender from her hair.
Not a mirage, but his princesse. Warm. In his arms.
Ambrosia’s lashes fluttered, and she stirred, confusion clouding her eyes. “Dash? Where… what?”
“We’re at the Fainting Goat.”
Ambrosia’s eyes widened in shock and then he felt her tense, bracing herself to push upright.
“Not yet,” Dash murmured, pressing on her shoulder. “You just fainted. Take a moment.” His mouth twisted into a grim smile. “And no—we have not gone back in time.”
No matter how much he wished he could some days.
Her gaze lifted to his, and he saw it there—the recognition. Of who she was, who he was, and what this place had meant to both of them.
Just then, the boy came scampering back with a tin cup of water, then disappeared just as quickly.
Dash guided her into a sitting position, his arm firm at her back, and as she drank, some color crept back into her cheeks.
For a while they sat in silence, her fingers trembling against the cup, his hand reluctant to leave her shoulder, both of them too shaken to speak.
At last, she glanced around, then back at him, her eyes luminous with bewilderment.
“I was traveling to Dasborough Park,” she whispered. “I needed to find you…” Her lips parted, trembling on the words. “But… you are here.”
“Is Gr—Lord Grimstead with you?” His voice broke.
God must have a wicked sense of humor—planting the happy couple here, in this inn, tonight, of all the godforsaken places in the world.
But she shook her head quickly. “No. No. I’m alone. Except for my maid and Mr. Daniels, and an outrider, of course.” She blinked hard, several times in a row. “I… I was going—I… I needed to ask you something.”
“Convenient, then. That I am here.” Normally he would have chuckled, but after a beat he simply sighed and shifted, lowering himself onto the ground beside her.
“It is, rather.” Mostly recovered, apparently, she drew her skirts close as she tucked her hugged her knees. Her attempt at a smile, however, faltered miserably.
Then she lifted her face. Mon Dieu. Those eyes—wide, vulnerable, searching.
Dash braced himself.
“Do you…” She licked her lips, hesitation catching on every word. “Have you fallen out of love with me?”
Dash frowned.
“Merde alors! Why would you even think that?” Was she mad? “I’ve done nothing but try to show you—prove to you—that I will love you for all my life. Why, in God’s name, would you still doubt me?”
