She froze.
Every muscle tensed, braced for disappointment. For bad news. It might not even be him calling upon her at all.
Still, she practically flew to the door, flung it open—and there he was.
Disheveled. Windblown. His collar askew. Mr. Dog was cradled like a sack of potatoes in one arm, his eyes wide and tongue lolling, as though he, too, had survived something arduous.
And Dash.
His dark gaze swept over her with concern, softening as their eyes met.
Relief, confusion, fury, and longing all slammed into her at once.
A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it.
“Oh—oh, thank God?—”
Dash caught her as she crumpled into him, burying her face in the solid heat of his chest. His arms wrapped around her, tight, comforting.
“Ma princesse,” he said softly, lowering Mr. Dog to the floor. “What is this?”
“I thought…”
“What has happened?” he asked, his voice low and urgent against her hair.
“You—” She hiccupped. “You disappeared! I thought—I thought something had happened to you. Or that you’d left me. And taken him.”
“You thought I would leave you?” His tone cracked, almost as though he’d been struck.
The answer to that, she could not give. She could barely breathe. But she clutched the lapels of his jacket in both fists and refused to let go. “I didn’t know—w-what happened… I thought… I was…” But the words became harder and harder to get out, strangled between gasps for air and uncontrollable sobs.
To truly believe he might wound her so—it went against everything she thought she knew of him. There were moments it felt like she’d known him for a lifetime. And yet only days ago they had been perfect strangers, and she could not deny her own… naïveté.
It would not be the first time she had misjudged a situation—misjudged a man—so very, very wrongly.
But Dash was here now. With her. What sort of creature did that make her, to think the worst of him at the first hint of doubt?
“I—"
“Hush. You were worried for me?” He tipped her chin upward, his gaze intent upon her face. “I am sorry it took so long. A rabbit tempted le chien—your son—and he slipped his collar. He is surprisingly swift, considering those stubby little legs. Led me on a merry chase through the forest.”
Dash paused with a tentative smile, as though coaxing her to laugh at the absurdity. And perhaps it ought to have been amusing, but Ambrosia could not summon the humor now. When he perceived as much, his smile faltered, his expression sobering.
“I could not return without your dog,” he said softly. “But I am truly sorry, princesse, for giving you such a fright.”
Ambrosia bit her lip, considering his explanation. “All this time? You were chasing after Mr. Dog? You were not leaving me?”
His brows rose at her question. “I would not leave you without a word. I would never leave you without saying goodbye. Surely you realize this?”
She shook her head but then she nodded, still in his arms. “I didn’t know. I couldn’t find you.” And then, catching sight of Mr. Dog, “You naughty boy. You naughty, naughty boy!”
“I lost him completely for a little while, but as you can see, I managed to find him in the end.”
With the fear fading, Ambrosia was beginning to feel quite foolish—to break down so completely. She pulled away and sniffled a few times, avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry. I imagined all sorts of horrible things…”
“I would not leave you. What kind of person would do such a thing?”
“I know. I just… Darkness fell, and my imagination got carried away. You could have been attacked, murdered, even?—”
