She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in the small changing room, but she knew from her growing sense of claustrophobia it had been a while. God Draka, how she hated confined spaces, and it had already taken more than a few minutes just for her hands to stop shaking enough to manage the closures on her hideous white gown, let alone the ties of her corset or the multiple layers of snow-white petticoats. Manage them, though, she finally did. Then it took almost as long to rifle through her bag and find the garments she was searching for.
With a pounding heart, she slipped on her pale beige tunic and traveling pants, then stuffed her wedding gown with all its accessories haphazardly into the bag. Taking three deep calming breaths and blowing them slowly out, Lizbeth turned the doorknob, stepped out into the room, and faced her waiting husband.
If the look of surprise on Adan Hammerstrike’s face hadn’t been so priceless, Lizbeth knew she would’ve been tempted to lose her nerve as she nodded in his direction, walked right past the bed, and headed toward the door.
In his haste to rise, Adan became tangled in the white coverlet on the bed and, with a thud, ended up sprawled on the floor. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Slowly, she turned and glanced at the angry barbarian. “To the portal, of course. Did I forget to mention I’m starting classes at The Academy of Magical Arts in the morning? I really must be going. I don’t wish to be late.” She forced a smile. “It was a lovely wedding and reception. I truly am sorry my brothers were unavoidably detained and couldn’t be here. They would’ve especially enjoyed the Alarian ale. Please give my regards to your family and friends.”
The silk coverlet was forgotten as Adan leapt to his feet. “The Academy? What the VoT are you talking about, woman? You didn’t say a word to me about any classes, and you well know it. This is unacceptable. You are my wife, and this is our wedding night. You can’t just…just leave.”
Lizbeth stiffened her spine and glared. “Prince or not, don’t you dare curse at me, Adan Hammerstrike. If you wish to speak of the Valley of Torment then call it as such, and not that vulgar VoT word. And as for being your wife, that’s only a technicality, and we both know it. We’ve been betrothed since the day I was born. My parents signed a contract pledging I would be your queen, not share your bed while you’re still merely a prince.”
She paced back and forth before the door. “You aren’t king yet, and until you are, I will have the life I’ve been denied thus far. I’m now of age, and I wish to become an enchantress. As God Draka is my witness, I’m going to do just that. I’m through spending my days studying you and living your life instead of my own. I’m sick to death of you. I know more about you than you could possibly remember about yourself. And anyway, I wouldn’t spend the night willingly in the same bed with a vicious murderer like you until duty dictates I must for all the platt in Albrath, husband or not.”
She stopped and glared at him.
Adan ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “So, that’s what all this is about, huh? After all these years, you’re still upset over the stupid rabbit? Lizbeth, I was fifteen and you were eleven, for God Draka’s sake. I was trying to impress you with my elite hunting skills. How was I to know you’d made a pet of the thing? Rabbits are food. They’re meant to be eaten, not played with. How many times must I say I’m sorry?”
He balled his fists at his side. “I am the prince and your husband. You’ll immediately forgive me once and for all and stop this foolishness. I demand it.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes, but Lizbeth forbade them to fall. “Demand it? Well, that certainly doesn’t make you sound any sorrier now than you did then. For your information, I wasn’t allowed to have pets. Did you know that? It took me weeks to get Horatio to come close enough so I could feed him from my hand and even longer to actually get him to trust me enough to touch him.”
Lizbeth held up three fingers. “Do you have any idea how many times I got to pet his soft brown fur before you…you murdered him?”
Adan gulped, and Lizbeth knew he didn’t want to answer the question. She waited, tapping her toe impatiently.
“Three?” he finally said.
Lizbeth nodded as her voice rose another octave. “Yes, only three times, and then I had to stand there and not shed a single tear while poor little Horatio was skinned and stuffed in a pot with vegetables.”
She lifted her chin and stiffened her spine. “I didn’t dare tell mother why I was sick and couldn’t possibly eat. I wasn’t allowed to ever get dirty or play with creatures like other children were, let alone make a pet of one. I could never take the chance one of them might bite or scratch me and mar my perfect skin. Oh, no, the future queen of the barbarians, the future wife of Prince Adan Hammerstrike had to be without flaw. It was in the damnable marriage contract.”
The tears did come to the surface then, and Lizbeth knew from the look on his face Adan had seen them. He started toward her as if he were going to offer comfort.
She held out a hand. “Don’t! I neither need nor want your pity. All I want is my freedom until you become king. I give you my word, the day you accept your crown, even though I dread the thought of it, I’ll do my duty. I’ll come back here and be your wife.”
He stood in all his naked splendor with his arms crossed looking as if he were contemplating the situation. He rubbed his jaw twice, nodded a couple of times then spoke. “I realize you can’t stand the sight of me because I am, after all, the evil bunny slayer. But we have a duty to consummate this marriage.”
He held out a hand out toward her. “Spend this one night with me, Lizbeth, and if you still feel the same in the morning, we’ll talk about you possibly going to the Academy and taking a few classes now and then. After all, how would it look to my family and friends if my brand new wife took off before the sun rises on her wedding night? I have appearances to uphold, we both do.”
Lizbeth sizzled with anger. “I don’t like you, remember? I couldn’t care less how this looks to anybody, and…and…and, I won’t spend this night or any other with you, until I have to, even on a bet.”
Adan grinned. “Really? Not even on a bet? What if a bet was to get you exactly what you say you want most? A life of your own without a moment’s interference from me until the day I do become king?”
Lizbeth shook her head and turned to leave, yet Adan’s next words not only stopped her forward motion but had her turning and facing him once more.
“I never took you for a coward, Lizbeth, guess I was wrong. You say you know me better than I know myself. I say prove it, Lizard. If you can manage to answer ten…no, make that five questions about me correctly, you win.”
His grin grew even bigger. “And if you win, not only will I escort you to the front gate and wave you through the portal on your way to the Academy, I’ll be happy to inform my family and friends that you’re leaving me. That you find a dusty, old institution more sexually appealing than you do your own husband, and rightly so.”
The grin disappeared from his face. “But if you don’t answer all the questions correctly, you’ll spend this one night, this entire night, willingly in my bed, in my arms, as my wife, in every sense of the word. Deal?”
He held out his hand again, and Lizbeth stared at it. Her fingers itched with the temptation to take him up on his offer. A life without interference or being under Adan’s thumb, even for a short while, was more than a little tempting. Could she trust him, though?
Lizbeth hesitated, weighing her options. Other than being a bunny killer, Adan Hammerstrike was known far and wide for his word. Once he gave it, he never took it back.
She’d spent the majority of every day, for as long as she could remember, learning everything there was to know about the arrogant barbarian prince. She couldn’t lose, and this was an opportunity she couldn’t afford to pass up.
Lizbeth smiled as she shook his hand. “Deal.”
Chapter Two
Adan led Lizbeth to a white fur rug in front o
f the fireplace and gestured toward it. “Make yourself comfortable, Lizard, and we’ll get started.”
He watched as she bristled, then reluctantly kneeled, but he cared not that she was upset by his taunt. Instead, he was rather pleased with himself over her reaction.
So she wasn’t the brainless little twit he’d thought after all. What a pleasant surprise. What she was, though, showed plainly on her face now that Adan knew what to look for. The slightest hint of a smile and the gleam in her eyes gave away her thoughts. She was angry and arrogant. Not simply arrogant, but arrogant to a fault. The little chit thought herself to be more intelligent, of quicker wit, and a better person than he.
Adan looked forward to the next few minutes and his bet with his pretty little wife more than he had anything in a very long time.
He paced back and forth before her, his hands clasped behind his back, and his cock lazily swinging back and forth like a pendulum. He couldn’t help but smile as Lizbeth’s eyes matched the movement. She gulped and pinkened.
Every moment he delayed asking the first question would increase her chances of making a mistake. Finally, when she was sufficiently nervous to give him the advantage, he began. “How many battles in the arena did I win last year and against whom?”
He had to give her credit. She didn’t hesitate even a moment. “You won four battles in the arena last year, my lord. You win four battles every year. Oh, and you lost one, though it wasn’t in the arena. It was at the Academy.”
She held up four fingers, and Adan smiled at her antics.
She wiggled the first finger as she dropped it down. “You defeated Yarg, the troll champion in the spring Imbolc tournament.” Another finger joined the first. “Then there was the dark-elf shadow-knight, Sergia, whom you felled during the Bealltuinn festival before the summer solstice games.”
She tapped her lip with a fingertip for a moment before allowing the third finger to join the others. “During Lughnasadh, in the autumn, you defeated the ogre, Gar.” Letting her last finger drop into place, Lizbeth sighed. “Right at the start of winter Samhain, even though I hear he put up a valiant fight, you bested the dwarf blademaster, Randa.”
She grinned, and the impact of it had Adan’s cock thickening.
“Then, you spoiled your perfect record by losing to your brother-in-law, Wizard Sarco Sunwalker, right after Yulemass. Such a pity, the great barbarian brought low by an elf.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I do hope you can do better than that, my lord, or I might as well be on my way right now and not waste any more of your time.”
Adan sat on the fur rug directly before Lizbeth and crossed his legs in front of himself. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about my time, Lizard. I’m having much too much fun to even think about stopping. Aren’t you?”
She answered back sweetly, “Probably not quite as much as you. Question three please.”
Adan laughed. He hadn’t expected her to be as quick witted as she was. “That wasn’t fair. It was an observation not one of the five questions, but I suppose in all fairness, I must give it to you.”
Lizbeth had the grace to blush prettily, and the sight of it started a throbbing deep in his loins. How long had it been since a woman, any woman, had had this effect on him? Adan didn’t verbalize what was running through his mind, however, he couldn’t afford to give away another question so easily. Instead, he leaned over and nuzzled her neck.
The sound of her involuntary gasp and the feel of her shiver as his lips met soft skin disclosed more about his brand new wife than all the questions he could ever ask. She wasn’t any more immune to him than he was to her. The thought made him smile as he formed his next inquiry. “What did I eat to break my fast yesterday and every other day this past week?”
Her giggle was like the tinkling of chimes to his ears, and Adan watched in wonder as her face gentled and again he saw the little girl she’d once been. “Yesterday was seventh day, so that means you had Alarian wild goose eggs, scrambled. On sixth day, you always have one of your favorites, cooked oats with tart winterberries. On fifth day, it was boar’s kidneys, baked and wrapped in grape leaves.”
She stopped, wrinkled her nose, grimaced, and stuck out her tongue.
Adan grinned.
“On fourth day, one of my favorites, buckwheat cakes with honey graces your plate. And on third day, you break your fast with mixed meat sausages and fresh fish. On second day, creamed raspberry sauce drizzled over crepes is placed before you.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “And that, my princely husband, leaves us with today. First day, as is tradition, you were served Tambian pheasant, slow roasted and stuffed with wild rice as you always are to start your week.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor. “And why do I know this? Because you eat the same thing week after week, and all of my life I’ve been forced to eat it, too.”
Lizbeth glanced back up and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Adan, what you’ve asked so far is common knowledge. Don’t you read the section on the royal family in each season’s Barbarian Times? Can’t you think of anything harder? I must admit I wish to win, but I do want this to at least be somewhat of a challenge.”
Adan continued to smile as he reached across the space between them and lightly stroked her leg at the hem of her tunic, making slow circles, growing higher with each pass. The pupils of her hazel-green eyes dilated, and her breathing became labored.
He leaned a hair’s width from Lizbeth’s lips and whispered, “How about something I doubt they cover in the Barbarian Times? At least, I hope they don’t. What are my three favorite sexual positions, Lizbeth, and why?”
This time she did hesitate, and if Adan thought she had blushed before, there was certainly no question of it now. She glowed red from the top of her head all the way to her shoulders. Lizbeth Soulenticer-now-Hammerstrike was no quitter, however, and Adan was proud of his wife as she cleared her throat and answered.
“You like the traditional position of being on top best, because you enjoy looking your partner in the eye while, umm, while having intercourse with her. You’re also partial to your partner taking the top, because you like watching her ride you. And…and…and you enjoy very much both the giving and receiving of oral copulation, because…well, because of how it feels, of course, and how very intimate it is.”
Lizbeth stood, picked up her valise, and shuffled back and forth from one foot to the other. “Last question, Adan. Make it quick, please. I really do need to get going. Classes start bright and early in the morning.”
Adan stood and faced her with his arms hanging loosely at his sides and his legs slightly parted. So, if being forced to discuss his sexual appetites bluntly hadn’t made his wife stumble and make a mistake, perhaps touching him would. “Show me where on my body my scars are, Lizard, and tell me how many I have and how I received them?”
Lizbeth smiled and casually set her bag down once more. “I’m almost disappointed, my lord. This is the easiest question of them all.”
Tentively, she reached out and ran a finger along a faint, raised white line slightly above his right collarbone. Heat from her touch radiated throughout Adan’s chest.
“You have only three scars to mar your near perfect body, husband. This one you received when you were but five years old. You thought you could fly like a dragon and jumped off the castle wall to prove it. Alas, like you are about most things, you were wrong.”
She ran her hand down his right side until her fingers touched the puckered indentation he knew she would find, and Adan sucked in his breath as little shocks of pleasure exploded behind his eyes all the way to his loins.
“This one you received in your very first tournament. You were positive you were so quick that no man’s blade could come close to piercing your flesh. A dwarf with lightning-fast reflexes and a sword longer than he was tall taught you how wrong you could be.”
Next, she knelt before him and her hand hesitated for a fraction of a moment befo
re she gently touched the inside of his left thigh and the slender white line running the length of it.
Adan knew himself to be of weak will as his cock twitched involuntarily toward her, seeking, begging for her touch.
She looked into his eyes and Adan forgot to breathe. “I was there the day you received this one. I bet you didn’t know that. I didn’t actually see you compete as we arrived too late for the tournament, but we were in the same village at the same time. My brothers always kept track of when and where your tournaments were being held, and they thought it would be a wonderful treat for my eighteenth birthday. They tried so hard to get us there on time and were sorely disappointed when they couldn’t. To this day, I’ve never had the heart to tell them I abhor useless violence. This scar, however, didn’t have anything to do with the tournament.”
She lightly stroked the length of the thin white line while gazing at Adan. Time slowed as pleasure exploded into tiny sparks and fluttered unheeded through his groin and belly. The passion reflected in her eyes made his heart beat erratically, and his breathing became no more than short, ragged spurts. His mouth grew dry, and his palms began to sweat.
“This one you achieved after the tournament. The story was recounted all across the land for days. This one was from pulling a small child out of the way of a fast-moving cart. If it hadn’t been for you, he would’ve been killed. It was the hoof of one of the horses that caused this gash. The town’s people said you moved so fast you almost made it safely out of the horse’s path yourself. Almost, but not quite.”
Lizbeth suddenly patted his knee and stood, effectively breaking the spell. “Well, that’s it, your only scars, husband. I’ve won, and I’ll be on my way now.”
She turned as if to go, but he grasped her and spun her around. Adan schooled his expression. “Before you attempt to make a hasty retreat, my lady, I have just one more question for you. Which do you prefer to spend the night upon, the fur rug here in front of the fire, the bed across the room, or perhaps simply on top of my near-perfect body? Your words, not mine.” He chuckled.
Taken By The Passion (The Academy Series) Page 2