Sly was leaving.
Cinnabar’s fingers pressed against her breast, willing the empty ache to fade. She’d known he’d want to return home. Understood it, even. But, oh, she’d miss him. Tears pricked her eyes. She refused to let them fall. She wore a clean blue gown and a pair of comfortable leather shoes. Things could be worse. Micelets were worse. A shudder momentarily usurped the throb in her chest.
The courtiers at the neighboring table—two elderly women and two younger ones—kept staring at her. Whispering. And they weren’t the only ones. Most had avoided her since her reappearance, but one or two bolder ones had approached and asked pointed questions. Where was her husband? Had she run away from him? Why was she here?
Cinnabar might no longer fly as an owl but Princess Iseabal’s curse continued to exact revenge.
She placed the spoon back in her bowl, no longer hungry. Not even the rich scent of vegetable and grain soup tempted her appetite.
Sly was leaving, and he’d take her heart with him.
“You’re quiet,” Sly said, touching her arm for attention.
She jerked. The spoon jumped from her bowl and clattered, striking the bowl, the table and finally the floor.
Heads turned in the big salon. Whispers heated the air. More gossip. Her cheeks burned and a self-conscious sweat heated her skin. Hot. Too hot.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “It’s so noisy. So many people. Their hungry stares are pecking me.”
“Don’t let them see your distress,” Sly commanded.
“He’s right, my dear,” Lady Jasper said.
Beatrice, their other dining companion, tut-tutted but not in a mean-spirited way. “Sly is correct, my dear. Lift your head and stare them in the eyes until they grow uncomfortable. If you act guilty, they’ll believe you culpable.”
The two elderly ladies were incredibly supportive and friendly.
“I’ll try.” Cinnabar lifted her head, turned it slightly and met the regard of Merry Jacobs, one of the worst gossips in the kingdom. Might as well start big. She forced a cool think-what-you-want smile and stared down her nose until the bosomy matron huffed out a breath and returned her attention to her heaped plate of wild boar.
Lady Jasper patted her hand. “Oh, well done.”
Tiny steps. She could do this. The king had told her nothing was impossible. King Calvin had offered her a home at the winter court. Sly had said nothing.
Confusion sapped her bravery.
She drew in a shuddering breath and felt the weight of a stare. Sly. She forced a smile, one which Sly returned with a heat that brought warmth to her face, her private places. Yet her mind remained cool. She’d given him her body. Gone with her desires, even though she’d known no other man would want her—accept her—after she’d been with Sly.
A mistake.
Yet, at the time, she’d thought she would remain an owl for the rest of her life.
And the truth. Even now, she’d make the same decision.
“Would you like to go for a walk after our meal?” Sly asked. “The gardens are beautiful.”
“Too cool for me,” Lady Jasper said. “Always the same when King Calvin visits.”
“I do better when the winter court goes home,” Beatrice agreed. “That east wind is icy. Cuts through my bones, it does.”
Cinnabar caught Sly’s momentary shock and realized he meant a private walk. With her. He hadn’t meant to invite the two elderly women.
A laugh burst free, attracting attention. This time she didn’t care. “I’d love to go for a walk.”
“Take a coat,” Lady Jasper ordered.
“Of course. It is cold with the winter court here.” Cinnabar’s smile fitted her mouth better this time. Sly had asked her to go for a walk. Maybe he’d kiss her too. A moment for her to remember later, once Sly returned to his family.
And she could visit from wherever she decided to live.
The long meal ended. Thank sugarplums. The king left the salon with King Calvin, ostensibly speaking to him about a personal matter, yet, with her inside knowledge, Cinnabar noticed the way King Liam leaned and King Calvin propped him upright.
At least the gossip about her had halted closer scrutiny of the king. A positive point.
“Are you ready for our walk?” Sly asked. “You get a coat, and I’ll meet you by the side door, leading to the gardens.”
Cinnabar nodded and hurried away to get a jacket. Habit led her footsteps to her old room in the servants’ quarters. A wise choice, since she didn’t have a coat amongst her new clothes. Her old room, not much more than a broom closet, remained undisturbed. Dusty, with the pervading scent of kitchen greens, since it shared a wall with the scullery. So small and crowded with the bed, none of the other servants had wanted it.
Ah, her coat. She pulled it from a wall peg and shrugged into it. Although tatty and well-worn, it was warm.
She found Sly waiting.
“I thought you might’ve got lost.”
“I had to get my coat from my old chamber. I didn’t have enough magic to summon it, so it took longer.”
“Sorry,” Sly said, reaching for her hand. “I assumed you’d have warm clothes.”
“Most residents at the castle promenade through the rooms within the castle, especially during visits between the courts. They don’t require warm clothes.”
“Never mind. You’re here now. Let’s go.” He tugged her past the two security guards at the door. “We’re going for a walk.”
“Yes, my lord,” the tallest of the two guards said, his manner cheerful yet his blue eyes alert. “My lady.”
Respect. She didn’t often garner respect. Sly’s doing. She elevated her chin, feeling better about herself than she had for a long, long time.
The icy breeze lifted her hair, and she raised her collar to cut the chill. Dried leaves, newly fallen, littered the gravel paths winding between bedraggled blooms. When the path allowed them to walk side by side, Sly drew her closer and wrapped his arm around her waist. He smelled of soap and honey and citrus. Delicious and enticing. She breathed in his scent again because she enjoyed the process. Memories. She’d hoard them now because soon she’d be alone, probably in Unseelie, since she’d hate to be at the mercy of Princess Iseabal again.
She’d never survive a second curse.
Princess Iseabal didn’t make mistakes twice.
It was time to face her fears head on. “Are you looking forward to going home?”
“Yes. I miss my twin. Now that I remember Joe, it’s weird he’s not with me. We do most things together. My day isn’t right without him around.”
“I know he is identical, but does he enjoy the same things?”
Sly’s quick glance sliced and diced and dissected until she quivered with awareness. Even though they hadn’t known each other for long, she liked him so much. He was honest. A loyal friend. He didn’t treat those weaker than him as objects. He spoke to them, asked them questions, and she’d noticed the king did the same. No longer did the staff scuttle around the castle with their heads down, avoiding eye contact.
“Joe loves farming and our tastes in women are similar. Just as well I met you first.”
“Me?”
Sly came to an abrupt halt. He turned her to face him, his dark brows furrowed in a deep frown. “I thought you’d come home with me. Don’t you want to? Would you prefer to stay in Seelie?”
“You want me to go with you?”
He stroked her cheek with the tips of callused fingers, his pretty green eyes serious. “I do, but if you’d prefer to stay here, we’ll make it work. I can visit you. I want to introduce you to my family, and it’d be pleasing to make love with you in my own bed. I’d like to wake up with you and go to sleep with you by my side.”
“Yes. Yes,” she whispered, her pulse beating fast and thundering in her ears. He wanted her to go with him. Joy spread through her, her smile more natural.
“Excellent.” He dipped his head and captured her lips with his. He devoured her, h
olding her so close her breasts flirted with his chest. Tiny tingles of excitement radiated from the point of contact and she moaned, craving more physical contact.
Sly pulled back with a groan. “One touch and I forget everything. Come on, let’s continue our walk. I’ll kiss you again when we get to the lake.”
“Promise!”
Sly gave her a one-armed hug and grinned. “My mother will love you.”
Cinnabar swallowed, attempted to moisturize her dry throat. Yes, nerves skipped in her stomach, but it was because she scarcely believed she’d escaped the curse. Okay. Not quite true. The idea of meeting Sly’s family stressed her a little. She had no standing. A lady-in-waiting. A glorified maid with little to contribute. What would they think?
“Ma will enjoy meeting my girlfriend.”
“I’m your girlfriend?”
Sly groaned. “I’m not doing a decent job of this. Walk. We’ll talk at the lake.”
A future. A potential future with Sly. Away from Seelie and the princess. She sought Sly’s hand and laced her fingers with his. Her smile—elusive earlier—refused to quit. He truly wanted her. Something broken inside her mended at the realization, and she had the absurd desire to sing and dance.
The lunar star peeked from behind clouds and wind whistled over the lake, whipping up choppy waves on the surface.
Sly tugged her behind a rock formation, and instantly her hair settled, the chill cut by the shelter of the stones. “Now I get to kiss you properly.”
“Yes, please,” Cinnabar said, and went into his arms to meet him halfway.
“But first,” he whispered. “I want you to understand exactly what I want for the future. I want to have dinner with you and dance. I’d like to walk in the moonlight and show you my feline side. I intend to woo you and hopefully, you’ll share my bed. I find I sleep better with you next to me. I want to get to know you better and show you how a future could be between us. How does that sound? Are you willing to try that?”
“Yes to everything.” Cinnabar nodded emphatically.
“Thank the stars,” Sly said.
He studied her for a long moment, groaned and kissed her. They didn’t come up for air for a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty
Iseabal stood at her chamber window and watched Sly and Cinnabar stroll hand in hand through the garden before they ambled past her line of vision.
The traitorous bitch.
Cinnabar had spoiled her plans even while cursed to an owl form. She’d decided her lady-in-waiting was too cowed to act independently, but she’d been so wrong. Now she thought about it, once they’d returned from Middlemarch Resort, she’d seen little of Cinnabar. The owl had kept her distance, only presenting herself when Iseabal ordered.
Now she knew why. The mouselet had gained courage.
Well, she’d soon stop that.
Iseabal continued staring out the window from her vantage point and spied the pair as they rounded a bend. They stopped to talk, then merged as one.
She hissed, her eyes narrowing while anger lent rigidity to her muscles. It was worse than she feared. Cinnabar had sunk her claws into the weak man. No wonder he’d spurned her company and preferred the outdoors, either walking or spending hours with her conniving brother.
All that time, they’d laughed behind her back.
And her plans to oust her brother had turned to dust.
“Ooh!” Iseabal stamped her right foot, a vein ticking to life in her neck. She stomped back and forth. Back and forth. She should’ve insisted on an immediate reading of the banns. She shouldn’t have allowed him time to recuperate. And she shouldn’t have misjudged the initial spell.
She’d pay to get her hands on that hussy Cinnabar.
Iseabal prowled a circuit of her chamber, testing the magical spells trapping her within her prison. Unfortunately, they were strong and stable, since their horned cousin had lent assistance. Liam had stationed two guards on the door with orders to freeze her, should she cross the threshold without authorization.
There must be a way to escape.
A weakness.
She’d find it—and make Cinnabar sorry.
Sly. Her brother. Her cousin.
She would punish them all because no one treated her this way.
No one.
She’d heard Sly intended to leave on the morrow. If she failed to escape before Sly returned home, she’d live with that. Cinnabar, however, would pay. And this time, she’d suffer. She’d rue the day she’d betrayed Princess Iseabal.
But first, first she must discover an escape path to break past the enclosure spell.
She needed to act swiftly, before Liam regained his strength. She’d practiced faithfully for this day and was confident she could out-magic her weakened brother. Calvin, though, presented a problem.
Yes, a plan. Time to think of a plan.
Iseabal studied her door and commenced a systematic scan for weak points. Escaping her jail was a starting point. Revenge came next.
* * * * *
Evening fell, and after dinner with Calvin and Liam, Sly bid them good evening and left Liam’s chamber.
Liam had almost recovered. A relief, since Sly hated leaving Liam vulnerable. The castle housed too many backstabbing courtiers for his liking. At least he’d noticed those with power had ceased torturing the servants. He hadn’t worn spots or a tail since the truth spell.
“Are you retiring for the evening, my lord?” one of the two security guards asked.
“Yes,” Sly said. “It’s been an eventful day.”
He strode down the passage in the direction of his chamber, but took a right into another corridor, pausing to sneak a fresh bloom from one of the urns. He grinned. He wasn’t lost this time and had a destination in mind.
He tapped on the second door, opened it and darted inside.
“Sly.” Cinnabar straightened, a brush in hand.
“I came to brush your hair for you.”
“Oh.” Heat crept into her golden cheeks, delighting him.
He’d kiss her there to taste the spicy heat of her cheek.
“And I thought I might stay. I’m frightened of the dark.”
Her lips quirked in an almost smile, as if she guessed his devious plan. “My reputation will suffer.”
“You’re coming home with me to Middlemarch Resort. My family will like you because you’re my girlfriend. They’re good that way. But, if it will make you happy, no one saw me arrive, and I’ll sneak out in the same furtive manner. No one will know I’ve spent the night with you.”
“Do men and women sleep together where you come from? Without censure?”
“Yes, although it wasn’t always that way. Over history, habits and customs have changed, which means my family and friends won’t bat an eyelid if I stay with you overnight or we share a room.”
“It’s not the Seelie way.”
“Too much talking.” Sly prowled closer. “I missed you at dinner.”
“I ate with Lady Jasper and Beatrice.”
“Perfect.” He’d asked if they’d keep an eye on Cinnabar. Rumors were rife and he hadn’t wanted her alone. Moving on. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
She wrinkled her nose at her ruby-colored robe.
Cinnabar had gained in confidence, and he enjoyed the change. “You think I’m wearing more clothes than you?”
“Yes.” Her cute nose wrinkled again.
Maybe he’d kiss her nose first. “That won’t be an issue. Not at first.”
Her beautiful eyes glowed with humor. “Why?”
“I’ll show you.” Sly slipped her robe off her shoulders and it pooled at her feet, leaving her naked.
Her hands rose to cover her breasts.
“No, don’t hide from me.” He backed her toward her narrow single bed. She toppled and he caged her beneath him. Her mouth shaped into an O and he couldn’t resist. He kissed her, tasting her, moving against her softness. He gl
oried in the sensations, the feel of her, and he groaned when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her mouth was hot and wet, her lips tempting. A hungry little noise escaped her as he increased his erotic assault and caressed her arms and hip with his fingers.
He slid his hands over her shoulders then cupped one of her breasts, shaping the weighty globes. Lovely. He trailed kisses down her neck, lingering at the fleshy part between shoulder and neck. That part of her tasted delicious and made him want to nibble. It was his feline instincts at work—or at least a hint of them. He pushed aside the niggle of worry about his missing feline self, and he moved lower, cupping both breasts and tasting her nipples.
“Sly.” She tugged at his hair to the point of pain.
“Hey,” he protested.
She grinned and lightened her grip, her captivating smile warming him through. Once she regained her self-assurance, she’d be mischievous and playful. He knew it. She’d relaxed already since Iseabal had reversed the curse.
He returned his attention to her nipples, sucking and teasing and pushing her while his own body heated in a slow burn. He ran his hands over her rib cage, the elegant curve of her hip, before moving lower and parting her thighs. Cinnabar tensed as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh.
“Relax, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good. Do you trust me?” He waited, happy to exercise patience.
But she never hesitated. “Yes.”
Proud of her brave spirit, he stroked her hip and kissed her inner thigh again. Once. Twice. Three times. She quivered, her breathing harsh.
His hearing had improved, seeming sharper. His ability to discern scent. Cinnabar’s honeyed scent with the overtones of cinnamon spices deepened as he kissed closer to her pussy. He parted her folds, ran his tongue down her slit. Her flavor burst over his tongue, and when he skimmed her clit and hummed, she moaned. Desire, liquid and molten, smoothed his way. He nuzzled and sucked, his fingers teasing. Then, he cupped her bottom and lifted her to his mouth. He strummed with his tongue until she cried out, trembling.
“Please, Sly! Please. Stop torturing me.”
“But it’s so much fun.”
As he tongued the sensitive nub, he slipped a finger inside her channel. In. Out. In. Out.
Spellbound with Sly Page 21