Spellbound with Sly

by Shelley Munro

  “Our herds,” the prince said. “My father owns this land and the animals, but there are a dozen other large landholders to the west and the north who own larger herds.”

  “And to the east?”

  “The mountainous region. It’s not suitable for farming. A waste really, but father says we must retain the wilderness area to remain in harmony with nature. The families of high standing wish to use magic to change the topography of this land.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I agree with my father. He allowed development in the south region and the land hasn’t done as well. The seasons in the south are extreme, despite the combined magic of one of our most powerful families. Calum’s family,” the prince added.

  “It doesn’t pay to fool with nature,” Sly said. “To me, it makes better sense to work with the natural climate and the land.”

  “I agree.”

  “What are we doing today?” Sly asked.

  “I need to sort through this season’s offspring and decide which ones to keep. My head shepherd is capable of doing the work, but I enjoy keeping busy.”

  “I understand. I dislike sitting around with cups of hot chocolate.”

  “I wouldn’t tell my sister that.” Prince Liam chuckled. “Treading dangerous territory. Be wary of my sister’s temper. She has a nasty one, and she isn’t happy about you coming with me this morn.”

  “I’m aware, which is why I thought to take her a small gift on my return. I hoped you would help me choose something suitable.”

  Prince Liam’s face held approval. “You are a smart man. We’re almost there. What say you to a race?”

  “Bring it,” Sly said, even as he silently urged his mount to greater speed with a shift of his body weight and a squeeze of his thighs around the shaggy flanks. He shot forward with a loud, “Hey-ho!”

  They raced neck and neck, their mounts appearing to enjoy the furious race to their destination.

  “This way,” Prince Liam shouted and veered to the right.

  The small outcropping of buildings and ramshackle yards weren’t what Sly was expecting, but he didn’t judge. They reduced their pace as they entered the yards, and several men appeared from a hut. They blinked upon seeing Sly’s bright green magnificence.

  “You’re early, Prince Liam,” a tall, slender man dressed in black said.

  The prince dismounted and Sly did likewise. He handed over his reins and noticed the owl had followed. She appeared unhappy today, her feathers ruffled and her small body hunched as she huddled on the gutter of the nearest building.

  “What do we do first?” Sly asked.

  “Introductions,” the prince said. He pointed at each man and told Sly their names and their main duties.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Sly murmured, aware he stood out like a bright bird amongst a flock of sparrows. Maybe he should’ve changed before he came, but he’d hesitated to anger Princess Iseabal further. Cinnabar had warned him, and now the prince. He needed to tread warily until his memory returned. More details popped into his thoughts all the time. If that kept occurring, he had hope. Then, he’d know what to do next.

  “We capture each kashmore and run the scanner over it to determine its pedigree and health. We also do a manual scan and decide if the animal will join the pedigree herd or if we’ll on sell.”

  Sly nodded.

  “One more thing,” the prince said.

  Prince Liam’s wide grin sent warning signals through Sly. He backed up, but the prince was too fast for him. He scooped up a handful of mud from the nearest puddle and flung it at Sly. It splattered onto the middle of his chest.

  Sly reacted on instinct. He grabbed his own mud and chucked it at the prince, taking the man by surprise.

  The laughter of the men cut without warning, and each backed away as if expecting danger.

  Given their reaction, Sly froze, watchful.

  Prince Liam barked out a laugh and threw two missiles of mud in quick succession. One hit Sly but the other missed and struck a worker.

  “This is war,” Sly cried, and pelted the prince plus one of the workers who wore authority like a cloak. “A hit!”

  The worker eyed his trousers, already covered with dirt, and the big splatter on his pale gray shirt. His features firmed in decision, and warily, Sly backed up. The man stooped to pick up mud, and Sly stood close enough to witness the evil glint in his eyes.

  Soon mud flew in all directions, thumping against his chest. Striking his face. Pummeling his head. Wet and cold, it soaked his emerald-green suit. It dripped over his hair and down his neck.

  “What are you doing?” The horrified voice of a new arrival shouted over the yells and laughter. “The prince will arrive soon. What will he think?”

  Chuckling as he wiped mud from his face, the prince appeared from behind Sly. “Ah, Flint. You’re here. We were wasting time while we awaited your arrival. Are you ready now?”

  Sly bit back a belly laugh. “Look at his expression.”

  “That was fun,” Prince Liam said. “But Flint is correct. We must start our task if we intend to finish it before noon.”

  The men set to work, manhandling each animal for Flint and the prince to scrutinize and scan. Hard and sweaty work, and Sly enjoyed every moment.

  Hours later, dirty and fatigued, Prince Liam and Sly rode toward the castle.

  “I didn’t realize it was so late,” Sly said. “I was meant to be back at the castle to spend time with Princess Iseabal.”

  Prince Liam shrugged. “Issy will get over it.”

  “Where have you been?” Iseabal screeched. Overreacting. She knew it, but stopping proved difficult. She planted her hands on her hips, thankful her friends had left without meeting Sly. She’d heard their furtive whispers. Their sniggers behind their hands. Her so-called friends had pitied her, thought she was lying about her impending marriage.

  “I’ve been helping Prince Liam,” Sly said.

  “That was this morn. You said you’d return to meet my friends.”

  “Ease off, Issy,” Prince Liam said. “We truly have been working all day.”

  “After you had a drink at the pub,” she said snidely, her breasts heaving as her temper rose again. He’d left her to make explanations, made her look stupid. She stamped her foot, straining to hold the worse of her ire. “You had time to have drinks.”

  “You’re right,” Sly said. “I’m sorry. I hate to go back on my promises, so I’ll try to do better next time. Forgive me?” He slid off his mount and handed the reins to a waiting stable boy before whipping a small package from his jacket pocket. “A gift.”

  “Yes, well,” Iseabal said. No one apologized for their behavior at Seelie. They just did what they wanted. “We’ve been invited to a party tomorrow eve. I’ll have the tailor send you a suit.”

  “Thank you,” Sly said. “I’ll enjoy meeting your friends.”

  Lie. She didn’t know how she knew, but in truth, she didn’t blame him. Her so-called friends had shown their true colors today. An appalling mistake, and one they’d regret.

  Sly and Liam strode toward where she stood on the steps. A noxious smell wafted from them, becoming stronger as they approached.

  Iseabal accepted the parcel from Sly and backed away. “What exactly have you been doing?”

  “We told you,” Liam said. “Checking the kashmore and deciding which to keep for breeding stock.”

  She pinched her nose between her finger and thumb. “You’ve been rolling around in the mud.”

  “Farming is a muddy business,” Sly said, and he winked at Liam.

  Iseabal stiffened. They weren’t telling the truth again. She’d ask questions, expand her spy network. Ah, even easier, she’d already ordered Cinnabar to keep an eye on Sly and leave a note for her this eve. That would suffice.

  “You need to bathe,” she snapped, backing away when Liam approached her. “No! Don’t touch me.” Her temper rose, and with it her magic, always more unstable when her
emotions were high. Her hair stirred and wind whipped up from nowhere.

  With a laugh, Liam raised his arms and backed up. “You have no sense of humor, sister. It’s just mud.”

  Iseabal wrinkled her nose. “Smelly mud.”

  Sly seized her brother’s arm and yanked him away. Iseabal braced herself to act in case Liam took exception to the manhandling, her hair lifting with a consolidation of magic. She did not intend to lose Sly at this stage.

  “Don’t upset Princess Iseabal,” Sly ordered. “Come, let’s go and clean up. You said your father will want a report. Can I come with you? Is that okay, Princess Iseabal?”

  To Iseabal’s relief, Liam didn’t seem to mind Sly’s behavior. Her hold on the ley lines relaxed.

  “Why don’t you call her Iseabal?” Liam asked, cocking his head. His gaze flitted from her to Sly and back with curiosity.

  Easy to discern Liam’s thoughts whirring. He knew. No, he didn’t know. He guessed she’d done something, because he hadn’t been here when she’d arrived with Sly. Sly had little in common with other men and women of their age. He was kinder than most, which made him vulnerable. He listened to people—her father, for instance. Liam liked him. That in itself was unusual.

  “Respect,” Sly said.

  Liam nudged Sly with his shoulder. “Are you going to call her that once you’re married?”

  “No, I’ll probably call her baby or snookems,” Sly retorted.

  Startled silence throbbed between them before Liam threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  Sly grinned, the sort of smile that made a woman’s pulse beat faster and thoughts of hot sex dance through her head. Bed sport with Sly… Oh, yes. Something to anticipate. A pity she couldn’t indulge before they wed, but she wanted nothing to impede this marriage. For once, she’d wait and play by the rules.

  “Where will you be?” he asked. “I’ll come and find you once I’ve cleaned up.”

  Mollified by his reaction, Iseabal graciously dipped her head. “I’ll go and spend time with Father. Come and find me in his tower salon when you’re done.”

  “Won’t be long,” Sly said and walked off with Liam.

  Iseabal stared after them, deep in thought. They were friends. Sly had won over her older brother without breaking a sweat. He’d done the same with her father.

  This might not be as difficult as she’d believed.

  * * * * *

  Later that eve, Cinnabar flew to the lake to wait for Sly. The princess expected her to write a note about Sly and what he and Prince Liam had done during their jaunt away from the castle.

  She’d scarcely settled on top of a rock when she heard footsteps. Oh no. Prince Liam had come with Sly. Her chest tightened with disappointment and her eyes ached, but not a tear fell.

  Owls didn’t cry.

  “Can I come with you tomorrow?” Sly asked.

  Prince Liam brushed hair from his eyes. “You don’t want to spend time with Iseabal?”

  “I can still spend time with her,” Sly said. “I’m not used to sitting around and drinking cups of hot chocolate.”

  “So, what do you do instead?”

  “I spend time with my brothers. We have a farm…” He drifted off, and Cinnabar’s misery lifted. Sly was suffering too, and she couldn’t tell anyone.

  A coward. If she was a better person, she’d square off with the princess and tell everyone what she’d done—about her years as an owl and the way she’d kidnapped Sly. He didn’t belong here. He’d suffer and become a puppet. Bah! They were both puppets now.

  Prince Liam gestured at the rock where she perched. “Your owl is here again. The creature trails you.”

  A fleeting smile passed over Sly’s face before he turned his attention to Prince Liam. “I have a way with animals. Both Joe and I do.”

  “Who is Joe?”

  “I…I…” Sly stuttered to silence, shook his head, frustration visible to Cinnabar in his tight jaw. His hands opened. Closed. Opened. “I have no idea.” His words held a raw edge of confusion.

  “I might leave Seelie next week to attend a sale of our wool. Perhaps you’d like to go with me?” Prince Liam asked.

  Hope rose in Cinnabar, only to dash against reality. The princess wouldn’t let Sly leave Seelie, at least not until she had taken him as husband. Once married, it wouldn’t matter because the princess would have Sly trapped, and if she was smart, soon a child would follow. Silken webs. Since neither Prince Liam nor Princess Katrina had offspring, a child would mean greater power for Princess Iseabal.

  “Yes, I’d like that,” Sly said. “I enjoy learning new things.”

  “Is Joe your brother?” the prince asked.

  “Yes,” Sly said without hesitation.

  “I look forward to meeting him.” The prince stooped to pick up a pebble and tossed it into the water. “Can you skip a stone over the water?”

  “Easy,” Sly scoffed, and he picked up a handful of the smooth pebbles. He scanned them, discarded several then threw one. It skipped across the surface of the lake, striking the water five times before sinking beneath the surface.

  The prince chose his stone, flicked his wrist and sent it skipping across the water. “Five times,” he said. “Equal. Where do you come from?”

  “Earth,” Sly said and skipped another stone. This throw didn’t go as far.

  Clever, clever man. Cinnabar hooted in soft approval then wished she hadn’t, because she drew the prince’s attention. Interest shone in his bright blue eyes and it remained when he turned back to Sly.

  “I haven’t heard of this place Earth. Where is it?” he asked Sly seconds before he fired off another stone.

  Sly stilled, his broad chest scarcely moving. “Earth?” His brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t…” He flung the remaining pebbles in his hand into the lake. Water splashed then the surface settled. “I have no freakin’ idea why I mentioned the place.”

  “No,” the prince said. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not important. Sly, are you ready to return to the castle?”

  “No, Prince Liam. I think I’ll stay here for a while. Maybe walk along the shore.”

  “Call me Liam,” the prince said. “I’ll meet you in the Great Hall in the morn.” He strode away without waiting for Sly’s response. “Forgot to tell you,” he called over his shoulder. “I reminded Father about the clothes. His valet will deliver several suits of work clothes to your chamber. Iseabal has no taste when it comes to what real men wear.”

  Cinnabar watched the prince until he vanished.

  Sly approached her. “He asked me to call him by his first name. He must like me.”

  Not surprising. Sly was easy to like.

  “I enjoyed today. Riding the cambeests. Our mud fight.” His green eyes sparkled as he recounted his day. “Sorting the stock. I made suggestions about improving the yards, and the prince—Liam—seemed interested in my ideas. I’m going out with him tomorrow. The castle…I don’t like spending time there. Everyone is watching me.”

  His concern was understandable. The princess had spies everywhere, within the castle and farther afield. She would do well to remember that.

  The shimmers and tickles that preceded her change back to her natural form had her flitting off the rock to stand on the ground at Sly’s side. An instant later, her balance wavered, as it always did until she adjusted to a different center of gravity.

  “Cinnabar.” Sly swept her into his arms and kissed her, taking control of her mouth, her body, her soul. He tangled his hand in her hair and deepened the caress. His tongue rasped over hers, and when she responded in like, a rough growl vibrated in his chest.

  When they finally parted, Cinnabar gasped for breath. “This is dangerous. What if the prince returns?”

  “I can’t not kiss you. I know it’s risky, but something inside me seems to take control.”

  “I don’t want to control anyone,” Cinnabar cried.

  “Shush.” Sly cradled her head, his action tender. “
It’s not like that. I look at you and can’t think of anything else except touching and stroking. I want to see you naked. And the idea of kissing your breasts, your sex, and sliding my body against yours… I crave that as desperately as I want food when I’m hungry. When I’m with you, I’m whole and centered.” He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

  Cinnabar swallowed, her throat thick with emotion. “No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

  He straightened, his green eyes narrowing a fraction, his chin lifting. “You think I’m not sincere?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You thought about it. Not that I blame you. You’ve had a challenging time. You were right about the princess drugging me.” A sliver of sharp pain stalled his breath, and he gave his temple a cautious rub, his mind in turmoil. No way would he accept this without a fight. “I think it’s the hot chocolate my valet brings in the morning.”

  And he was answering some of Prince Liam’s questions. If he didn’t struggle with his thoughts, some of his memories slipped through the fog like stealthy hunters after prey.

  “I still can’t recall my days before I arrived at the castle.”

  Cinnabar studied her fingers, frowned and nibbled on a ragged fingernail. “You mustn’t let Princess Iseabal know you’re remembering your past. She is determined to do things her way, and she hates to lose.”

  Obvious concern rubbed away any hint of her delightful cheer. Sly missed her gentle smile, her shy manner as she observed him with those serious blue eyes. He stared back at her boldly, his mind taking a different route. When she noticed, she blushed, the tide of heat showing against her golden skin. Sly reached for her hands, the physical contact jolting him. Happiness? He wasn’t sure. But whatever the emotion, urgency screamed through him—a sense of a ticking clock.

  “Forget about the princess. We have three hours. I want to make love to you, Cinnabar. Please let me love you. We should enjoy ourselves while we can.” Before it’s too late.

  Cinnabar’s shoulders fell forward in a despondent slump. Her gorgeous eyes filled with tears and alarm had him tugging her closer. Something inside him—a certainty, a sense of rightness—drove him to claim her, to stamp her with his ownership.