by AJ Nuest
This was his opportunity. To learn she shared his same discontent due the false pleasantries demonstrated by the ill-named nobility greatly increased his comfort. Yet if he erred in the slightest, she would dismiss him out of hand. Never before had he chosen his words so carefully.
One stride forward and he closed the distance between them. “My dear lady, I am a bumbling fool when it comes to matters of courtship. I neither sing, nor do I dance. Although my father is king, my beloved mother was a gypsy and, as such, my bloodline is tainted. I am more at my ease out of doors than contained within the walls of this castle. As a warrior prince, my sworn duty remains the defense and safety of this kingdom. Thus my return here is twofold. To disband the plot Braedric has set in place against me, discern the depth of his treachery and uncover the proof to have him brought to task, and to win back the hand of the only woman I have ever truly loved, save my mother. In the nearly two years since our last kiss, I have thought about you every moment of every hour of every day, and betimes found the strength to endeavor only with the knowledge that I would one day soon look upon your lovely face.
“From this moment henceforth, you have my solemn vow. I shall no longer feign to be something I am not.”
Whence he finished, unspent tears lay tangled in her lashes, glistening in the candlelight like silver-spun feathers. A moment passed before she filled her lungs and blinked them away.
“Well…” A mirthless laugh spilled from her throat. “I guess I asked for that, didn’t I? And certainly no one can fault you for setting high goals.”
He smiled despite the immovable urge to capture her lips and chase any lingering doubts from her mind. “I rally to prove myself worthy of your heart, my lo—lady.”
She peeked askance at him, nerves betraying her calm guise when she nibbled her bottom lip. “Look, I appreciate your candor, Caedmon. I really do. But you gotta understand, these past two years…” She toyed with the folds of her skirt. “I learned a lot about what a person has to do to survive around here, and it’ll take more than a just few well-placed words to earn my trust. Try though I might, I still don’t remember you.”
He tucked a finger beneath the tip of her chin and tilted her face upward until she met his gaze. “Perhaps those circumstances could be rectified by creating some new memories, my lady.”
She froze, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. One of her slender eyebrows rose. “Nice. I thought you said you were a bumbling fool at courtship.”
He chuckled, turning to keep her within view when she slipped past him onto the landing.
“Just so you are aware, I’ve set a few goals of my own, Your Highness.” She met his stare over the curve of her bare shoulder and inclined her head. “Come, Prince Caedmon. Walk with me.”
***
The idea was tempting. She had to admit. All that raw masculinity so perfectly encased in a tall, delicious package of rock-solid muscle. Sexual magnetism practically oozed from the man’s pores.
He’d forgone the pretty pantaloons worn by most male courtiers for a pair of black, knee-high boots and brown leather breeches. The laced sides and fit cut emphasized the taper of his hips, the firm curve of his backside—not to mention the way they cupped his other, more prominent, attributes.
Waves the color of a raven’s wings brushed his broad shoulders, the strands so glossy and thick her fingers itched to test the texture. The dark stubble on his cheeks had been groomed to accent the square line of his jaw. His loosely draped shirtsleeves did a poor job of masking the bulging biceps underneath, and the way he moved…self-possessed, composed, and at the same time, like a barely contained power simmered just under the surface of his skin. The man prowled like a jungle cat hunting his next meal.
All this, coupled with his confession of undying devotion, the way he had called her his love. Prince Caedmon’s mere presence was enough to make her teeth sweat.
He strode silently at her side, past the Grand Hall and outside onto the terrace, but she didn’t miss the way a muscle ticked in his jaw when she flicked her hand and the guards quickly strode to opposite positions just inside the open doors.
The nervous tension invading her shoulders inched up the sides of her neck. Dangerous or not, whether being in his company risked everything she had worked so hard to achieve, or his endearments were merely some sort of ruse, she needed time alone with him. Questions must be asked. Ones to which only he held the answers.
She led them to the far side of the verandah and rested her hands on the wide balustrade. In her peripheral vision, he stopped at her side, facing her, but she suppressed the urge to meet his gaze. The impending conversation would no doubt bring discomfort, and even though she had spent the last two years preparing for this moment, her heart still raced and her breath grew increasingly shallow. Nevertheless, she would strive to keep her inner turmoil a secret. No fear or weakness must show.
A slight breeze infused with night-blooming jasmine rippled her hair, soothing the skin of her brow. Gathering her courage, she closed her eyes. “Tell me how I came to be here.”
A heavy breath slipped from his throat, weighted with understanding, and behind her closed eyelids a visual of his full, kissable lips swam into focus. She tightened her grip on the banister.
“You entered this realm through the veil.”
A penetrating throb split her skull and she choked back a gasp. So it was true. All the rumors she’d heard. The story Fandorn had told her. She was from another time and place. Had tumbled through that shattered mirror she spent all those endless hours piecing back together. But there was simply no way. That damned thing was nothing more than a broken sheet of glass. As if her obsession to locate every last shard hadn’t been enough, the months she spent staring into the stupid thing gained her nothing more than a reputation for being narcissistic. Conceited, the people had called her, but they misunderstood. She wasn’t in love with her own reflection. She’d been searching for the truth, trying to scrape together some tiny shred of evidence behind the maddening suspicion that she just didn’t belong in this place.
Only after months of failure had she conceded the hopelessness of her cause. With a growl of frustration, she’d chucked every last useless splinter inside the armoire and slammed the door.
The resounding bang of the wood had left her empowered. She’d finally taken her first step toward freedom, refused to spend one more day in the mirror’s presence and its constant reminder of the life she had lost. Determined to become her own woman, she shook off her mantle of self-pity and requested her own suite of rooms.
For two long years she’d suppressed her uncertainty, second-guessing her instincts, and though Prince Caedmon’s admission confirmed everything she’d originally believed, his logic held one fatal flaw. If her time with the mirror had taught her anything, she didn’t possess otherworldly powers, and traveling through dimensions was impossible. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?
“Your words make no sense.”
“I have not now, nor shall I ever lie to you. Of that, you may rest assured.”
She spun on him. “Falling through mirrors? Tumbling through some magic portal? How, Caedmon? Can you please tell me how such a thing is even possible?”
He searched her face a long moment before swiveling his knitted brow toward the gardens. “I bear no wisdom in the dark arts, but if pressed to surmise would say we were bonded in love. The heart contains a force stronger than reason, does it not?”
A shrieking jolt of pain rocked her back on her heels. Caedmon seized her elbow and, before she could gather her wits, scooped her into his arms and carried her several steps down the veranda to a secluded seating area.
Each of the four corners was lit by a high flaming torch, and while orange fire glow danced along the ridges of his cheekbones, the subdued lighting kept his eyes a mystery, hidden in shadow. The scruff on his chin a dangerously sexy silhouette.
Lowering her gently to a stone bench, he remained on one knee in front of her, his arms re
sting at her sides. “What befalls you, my lady? Shall I summon Fandorn?”
“No.” She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed at the penetrating ache between her brows. “I’ve been here before and trust me. Fandorn’s remedies only make matters worse. I just have a slight headache. I’ll be fine.”
“Quite certainly. And tomorrow morning, I shall awake having sprouted a second head.”
She huffed at his unveiled sarcasm. He was more perceptive than she’d given him credit for…at least as far as her wellbeing was concerned.
“Please, my lady. Your discomfort warrants grim foreboding. Let us continue this discussion later, after you’ve rested. I shall escort you back to your chamber.”
“No.” She stared hard into the hollows of his eyes, his face an indistinct blur through the blinding throb in her temples. “I need to hear how I came to be here, and the sooner I learn the truth, the better. If you really want to help then just start at the beginning and keep talking until I tell you to stop.”
He eased back from her. Two heartbeats passed before he nodded, the tension in his shoulders displaying his inner turmoil better than any explanation ever could. The man warred between fulfilling his duty to her and the chance that his next words might cause her harm.
His sigh mingled with the evening breeze and he stood, pacing the space in front of her. But he did as she asked and, as his words untangled the secrets of her past, she sat rapt, clenching her teeth, teetering on the razor-sharp edge between a curiosity that nearly drove her insane and an ever-increasing torture.
Beautiful though it was, his story did not spark her memories. Contrary to what she had so desperately hoped, she experienced no glimmer of recognition or illuminating epiphany, no sought-after moment when all the events fell perfectly into place.
Sorrow was the only thing that saddled her heart, and the bitter realization everything he told her was the truth. If nothing else, the grating pain in her head confirmed it.
Once he finished, she eased back from where she’d perched with her shoulders high and tight, and released her death grip on the edge of the bench. One detail, however, seemed suspiciously absent from his tale. “How long?”
He stopped pacing and lifted his brows. “My lady?”
“How long did we know each other before I came through the veil? This time of Gleaning you spoke of. How long did it last? Six months? A year?”
His shoulders lowered the slightest degree. “Three days.”
“What?” She sprang to her feet.
The sudden movement, the horrified shock and brutal pounding in her head were too much. Bloated tears swarmed her eyes and a strangled sob escaped her throat. Her balance faltered. In a flash, he was before her, grasping her upper arms, the flickering light along his brow a ghostly apparition.
Three days with him and she’d risked everything? Given up her entire life? No, no, people didn’t experience the kind of love he described after only three days. They couldn’t. Not unless they were completely insane!
She dropped her face into her hands and an anguished moan seeped through her fingers. What the hell kind of spineless, weak-willed twit had she been? Falling in love with him inside the span of three days?
“Take heart, sweet Rowena. Though our time together was short, my love for you cannot be measured in the mere passing of days.”
When had he pulled her into his arms? At what moment did her forehead come to rest on his shoulder? She straightened and seized the open collar of his waistcoat, fisting the edges in her hands. She wanted to shake some sense into him. How could he say such things? Didn’t he see how impossible this all was?
Yet with them standing so close, every feature of his face was finally made clear. Vibrant ardor glistened in his eyes, reflecting the torch glow like two polished bits of topaz, beckoning her near. The anxious crease between his brows begged her to soothe his misery with a kind word. The heady allure of his masculine scent enveloped her in its warm caress, urging her closer to his lips. Her pulse stuttered, then raced. And when he placed his hand on the small of her back and pressed her near, her breasts met the firm wall of his chest, a gentle sigh escaped her lips.
Perhaps her memories waited in his kiss. Just like all those fabled stories Faelynn had told young Vaighn. A magic mirror, a handsome prince…a fated kiss and everything in her world would once again make sense. No more loneliness, no more pain, no more fighting to remember…
She went up on the toes of her silk slippers and tipped her head, tugging his collar until his parted lips hovered a scant moonbeam above hers.
A jolt of pain seared her spine, but she clenched her fingers, strengthening her resolve. She would not be denied this chance. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
Desire flickered in his gaze, and caution warred with desperation in her heart. But surely one kiss was worth the risk? A simple touch in exchange for her memories.
His arms tensed at her waist. One heated, taut thigh slipped amid the folds of her skirt, nestling between her legs. “You test the limits of my restraint, madam.” A thrill coursed her skin when his breath skimmed the moisture on her lips. “Be forewarned. What you request, I shall not give lightly.”
“If you love me, Prince Caedmon, then prove it. Now kiss me.”
His mouth descended in a rush. Over and again his velvet lips touched, the tip of his tongue flicking and sweeping her upper lip until she opened herself to him.
With the first stroke of his tongue against hers, a delicious ripple of arousal swirled through her belly. Sweet tears of the nine, the man could kiss. He tasted of fresh air, the first hint of spring…freedom.
She nipped and sucked his lower lip, delving her tongue inside for another heady sip. His low moan set her head spinning. Exhilaration sizzled along her nerve endings. An aching pulse warmed and moistened the inner folds between her thighs.
Yes… Her body knew this man.
He burrowed his fingers in her hair, eased her head back and kissed her eyelids before plundering her mouth a second time. At the thought of him being inside her, she became enthralled, captivated by the moment. The pain receded.
She slid her hands around his broad shoulders and tangled them in his sleek mane, urging him on, wanting more, everything he could give her.
The stubble on his cheek rasped the sensitive skin of her throat. He nuzzled the shell of her ear, gently biting and tugging the lobe, dotted kisses down the side of her neck to the tops of her breasts. His parted lips seared a smooth, hot path up to the edge of her chin. Her nipples peaked against the constraints of her stays. He expelled a heated breath into her mouth and increased the pressure of his thigh, the material of her skirt doing little to conceal the steel rod of his erection.
Arousal pooled in her core. Her knees weakened. She languished in pleasure, edging ever nearer a rapturous precipice, floating amid the graze of his teeth across her mouth, the anticipation of his hands on her bare skin.
Her head fell back and he grasped her hips, dipped low and drove against her. Ecstasy burst and shimmered through her limbs, tingled in her fingertips, the arches of her feet. A frustrated growl breached his throat and he rolled his hips as he devoured the crest of her shoulder.
Smoothing a hand down the curve of her head, he lifted her to his lips and crushed his mouth to hers.
Helios save me, what have I done? What have I done!
“Uncle!”
Rowena gasped and wedged her palms between them. Shoving hard against Caedmon’s chest, she broke free and stumbled back from his outstretched hands.
“Uncle Caedmon, I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” Vaighn skidded to a stop beside them and tossed his arms around Caedmon’s waist.
Faelynn trailed her son down the terrace, abruptly halted and placed on hand on her chest, dipping a curtsy. “Apologies, my lord. In his enthusiasm, the boy escaped my reach.”
“Apologies won’t be necessary.” Caedmon placed his hand on Vaighn’s head, but his eyes remained riveted to Rowena,
simmering with a hunger that left her breath thin and her knees trembling beneath her skirts. “I’ve missed you as well, Vaighn. In truth, my absence has taken a toll on all those I hold dear. Some hearts more than others.”
She shook her head and withdrew another step, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. At the contact, the agonizing intensity of his kiss swept through her like a sultry wind, the fresh taste of him lingered on her tongue.
Three days? Hell, the man had transformed her into a quivering pile of goo in a matter of three seconds! She quickly lowered her hand and willed her heart to stop pounding.
Yet, what seemed even more confusing, thoughts of what they’d just shared brought no pain, nor unleashed any memories. Only an undeniable craving for more barraged her soul, and the bleak realization she’d just made a staggering mistake.
“Master Denmar gifted me a new sword for my tenth season, Uncle. He said now that you’ve returned, perhaps you could teach me to fight.”
“Vaighn,” Faelynn admonished a motherly warning, glancing from Caedmon to Rowena. She directed her attention to the stone benches and kept it there. “Come, my son. Let us leave your Lord Uncle and Mistress Rowena their privacy.”
Vaighn frowned, lowering his arms from Caedmon’s waist. “But—”
“No.” Rowena tossed her shoulders back, faking more confidence than was within her—an act that had served her well in the past. But she didn’t dare meet the prince’s dark scrutiny. “Prince Caedmon and I are quite finished.” She had to get away from him. Immediately. “Escort me in to dinner, Faelynn. I insist.”
Chin elevated, she strode past the prince and his nephew, her concentration pinned to the glow of candlelight spilling onto the wide terrace from the grand staircase.
“A moment, my love.”
Prince Caedmon reached for her and she flinched, holding her fists high and to the sides. “Don’t touch me.”
If he did, she risked falling into his arms again, losing what little willpower she had left. She had not spent the last two years striving for independence just to lay everything she’d gained at his feet. “In fact, don’t ever come near me again.”