All's Fair in Love and Lion

by Bethany Averie

  The door swings open and Jill Michaels, the art teacher, comes in. In her multicolored skirt, and a ponytail held by a red bandana, she’s a walking rainbow. Somehow, despite her extroverted personality, I’m not uncomfortable around her.

  Her face lights up. “Sasha, haven’t seen you much. What’s going on?”

  “Work mostly. You?”

  “I had to chaperone the Valentine’s Day Dance. Gus pitched a fit. He wanted to go out for dinner. I told him to move it to another day.”

  “I guess life’s about compromise.”

  She retrieves papers from her cubbyhole. “Marriage is, at least.” Juggling her papers, she heads for the door. “You know, you should find a good man. I bet underneath your calm exterior beats a passionate heart.” With a wink, she breezes out of the room.

  Flustered, I almost walk right into Marjorie Taylor on my way back to the stairs. Dressed in a tailored navy blue skirt suit, she gives off an air of power, matching her position as principal of the school.

  “Sasha,” she says, brushing her auburn hair out of her eyes, “how is the essay contest coming along?”

  “There are few students who will turn in some award-winning ones.”

  “Nice. You’re helping to chaperone the prom, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there, too. I make a point of going every year.” She steps back. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your classroom.”

  When I return to my room, I set the copies down and gather my things.

  The final bell rings and the hallways fill with students. Carl waves as he passes in the hall and I raise my hand in response. By some miracle, I manage to push my way through the commotion and down the stairs.

  I get out the door, and into my car. The mild weather lightens my heart. In Texas, March means the weather warms up and Spring begins earlier than most places. As if emphasizing the change in season, I sneeze several times on the way home.

  At my apartment I’m greeted by the sight of Monroe sitting on the couch watching television.

  “This is a surprise.”

  He shuts off the TV. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I admit, it’s unexpected.”

  “I can’t bear seeing you upset, Sasha.”

  My hands rest on my hips. “Clarify something, Monroe. Did you get some sort of sadistic pleasure from seeing me naked?”

  His eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen. “I’d never do that.”

  “How can I be sure? You told me you watched me.” Angry tears blur my vision.

  He stands. “Yes, I watched you. I saw you from my home in the Third Realm.” I flinch as he puts his arm around me. “You fascinated me from the beginning. However, I give you my word as a gentleman, I haven’t seen you without your clothes.”

  I cover my face with my hands and try to make sense of my feelings. I believe him, yet, how do I reconcile what he’s done? Suddenly another thought occurs to me. It all makes sense. Trembling, I lower my hands. “I should’ve suspected as much. How else would you know about me?”

  He draws me closer. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  I slip out of his arms. “As you know from watching me, I live a quiet life. There’re only a few people I trust.”

  His eyes plead with me. “Let me earn your trust.”

  “When I got up this morning I felt worse without you than when you told me. Something was missing.” He starts to speak and I put up a hand. “But, no matter what I felt this morning, you violated my privacy.”

  “Again, I apologize. I didn’t intentionally mean any harm.”

  Taking a deep breath I say, “Please go.”

  “Sasha, please—”

  “Leave!”

  He turns from me and in a few steps, disappears. I run to my bedroom. Irritated with myself, I wipe the tears away. Resentment and betrayal make me feel hot all over. What gave him the right to watch me, then show up in my apartment like nothing was wrong? I pick up a pillow and bury my face into it with an exasperated scream. Too bad even my temper doesn’t mask the sense of desolation twisting around my heart.

  Chapter 11: Monroe

  My temper flares as I stride down the corridor. Fulfilling the duties as Lord of the castle doesn’t improve my already testy disposition. Ayres demands an hour meeting regarding the castle’s daily updates the moment I return from hunting my lunch. When he finishes with me, the cooks complain how I always go out for my meals. I remind them I had been in the dining room for breakfast. That barely mollifies them. The maids and gardeners stop me as I headed out of the kitchens. They desire a raise.

  “I’ll review your contracts,” I answer. “Ask Ayres to put them on my desk.”

  Satisfied, they scurry off to finish their day’s work.

  “Lord Monroe!” The steward blocks my passage in the hallway.

  “What is it?”

  “We’ve a problem in the chicken coop.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  The steward shifts his weight from his left foot onto his right. “Ten of them escaped and we can’t find them.”

  “If you don’t track them down by the end of the day, purchase new ones. You’re dismissed.”

  No wonder my parents were rarely home. One day and I’m exhausted.

  Sasha. Her name flickers in my mind, never far from my thoughts. My servants aren’t entirely at fault. Every time I’ve thought of her over the last several days, loneliness wraps itself around me. Because of my promise, I’ve avoided the den. I haven’t entered her mind, either. But, why doesn’t she understand? I hadn’t intended to upset her. I honestly meant no harm. Walking into my den, I grasp a glass wine goblet. The fragile cup cracks in my grip. How do I make her believe me? Breaking the glass, I step through the boundaries. Somehow I’ve got to get her to listen to me.

  She stands by the kitchen counter, on the telephone. Her shoulder-length hair seems to beg me to slip it from the hairclip. I battle the desire to feel the silky strands between my fingers. She’s wearing a long, navy cotton skirt, and a soft, white blouse. As she turns around, I catch my breath and my wrath melts away.

  “Yes, I’ll meet you there tomorrow, Mel,” she says. Her eyes alight on me and she nearly drops the phone.

  Staring at her back, I can’t move or breathe. Doesn’t she realize what she does to me?

  “You have a nice night, too. See you.” She hangs up the phone and focuses her attention on me. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you I understand your ire.”

  “Good.”

  I frown. “Don’t you care about my perspective?”

  She rubs her temples. “Actually, I do. In fact, I forgave you days ago.”

  My rage boils again within me. “Strange, because I didn’t receive a message.”

  She picks up a coffee cup and brushes past me. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  I follow her into the living room. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  She sinks onto the couch and sets her mug on the side table. “The truth?”

  “Preferably.” I settle into the recliner.

  “I’m not good at relationships. You know I haven’t much experience with men.” She smiles faintly. “You must since you’ve been in my mind.”

  I incline my head in acknowledgement.

  “Even though I believe in you, Monroe, I don’t know how a relationship with you will work.”

  My temper not quite under control, I fold my arms. “Explain.”

  “Everyone would scoff at me if I told them about you.”

  “You don’t have to tell them where I’m from or what I am.”

  “Well, there’s Mel,” she says helplessly. “What should I tell her? I can’t lie.”

  The confusion on her face banishes my fury. “You don’t have to lie.” I get up and sit next to her. “We’ll figure out something. Please give us a chance.”

  “I want to.” She bites her lower lip. “You told me you wanted me for your wife.”
>
  “There are no words to express how grateful I’d be, if you became my wife. But, I won’t pressure you.” I trace my thumb over the back of her hand. “We may not have known each other very long, yet, my heart is already acquainted with yours. I can’t explain it clearly, I’m simply aware it does. I do realize Firstlings need more time, though.”

  “You’re right, we do. There are many factors to consider.”

  “Yes.”

  She traces the seams on a cushion. “You seem so confident.”

  “I believe in us. Whatever comes our way, I think we can find an answer. The question I have is whether or not you want to marry me.”

  “I’m not positive it’s possible.” She stares at her hands. “Since my parents’ deaths I’ve wished for someone who I could belong to and love. Now you’re in my life.” Hope, fear, and a glimmer of trust swirl in her eyes. “I haven’t found anyone I’ve wanted more than you.” She pauses and I wait anxiously, wondering what she’ll say next. “If I marry you, what then?” she whispers.

  Lily’s image flits through my mind, and an urgent need to protect Sasha overcomes me. If she was my mate, I could shield her better than I can now. Except, I’m not ready to talk about Lily with Sasha, yet. Instead, I say, “Then I’ll do my best to make all your dreams come true.”

  “You’re serious,” Sasha says.

  “Absolutely. I want you to be truly happy.”

  “I wouldn’t mind happiness.”

  Holding my breath, I nod.

  “I’ll marry you,” she says, then holds up a hand as I start to draw her to me. “I want us to get to know each other before we wed.”

  “Of course.”

  “That was easier than I thought it would be.” She half-smiles.

  “I’m not a completely unreasonable man, Sasha.”

  “Perhaps, but you don’t waste time.”

  “Not when I’m sure of what I want, and ever since I saw you, I knew you were for me.”

  “You’re an expert at turning on the charm, aren’t you?”

  “Forget charm, it’s sincerity. I wish you’d stop doubting me.”

  “I agreed to marry you. I’d say it’s a start.”

  “Perhaps.” I tap my fingers against my leg. “Would you wear a ring declaring you’re mine?”

  “I’d have to see the ring, first. I don’t like to call a lot of attention to myself.”

  I get to my feet. “I suppose it’s all the answer I should expect.”

  “What else can I say, Monroe?” She gets up and puts her hands on her hips, her gaze challenging me. “Things are happening fast. Even if you can make all my dreams come true, it’s still surreal for me. Can’t you respect that?”

  “I do. Yet, what of my feelings, Sasha? I desire you, and no one else. Why don’t you appreciate my own loneliness? Or, do you think you’re the only person who ever had unfulfilled dreams?” I turn from her and brace my hands against her fireplace mantel. Discouraged, I struggle with my thoughts. “I apologize. I hadn’t meant—” Mentally I gather myself together and begin again. “I’m grateful you said yes and I will honor your wishes.”

  She tentatively touches my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to pick another fight.”

  I clear my throat. “It’s my fault. I let my passion get the best of me.” Facing her, I tangle my index finger in a strand of her hair. “It’s so hard to keep myself in check around you. I’ve never met another woman like you. Your goodness radiates from you. You have an untapped strength I’m eager to explore. What you are to become, Sasha, I long to experience.”

  “You think me wanting time means you won’t?”

  “I’m not sure. Your yes means more to me than you realize.”

  “Then trust me. I didn’t say yes because I have no doubts, I said yes, because I want to see if what you’re offering is real.”

  “It is.”

  “Let me find out for myself.”

  She stands on tiptoe and tugs my head to her. Leaning down, I wonder what she’s doing. Without a word, she stretches up and kisses my cheek.

  She gives my shoulder a squeeze and backs up. “Better?”

  I shake my head. Snaking my arm around her waist, I draw her to me and kiss her full on the lips. “Now I am,” I growl.

  Later, as I lay alone in my bed, I replay the events. There’s still frustration there. I wish she didn’t have any doubts. Yet, I realize she’s more than I deserve. And, she’s agreed to be my wife. I marvel at the knowledge. It’s incredible.

  And, despite her uncertainty, the way she took charge of the situation hints at what she is inside—what she could be. The thought appeals not only to my human side, but to my lion side.

  In all my years searching for a mate, the women I encountered seemed so vain compared to Sasha. Even in my impatience, I recognize the merit of her humility. It’s clear to me she is my match. With anyone else I wouldn’t consider being patient. I don’t doubt myself in general. My temper is short, and I don’t care what most people think. However, for the first time, I honestly do. Sasha makes me care. She gives me a reason to contemplate my actions, instead of mere impulse. There’s one thing, though, even in my desire to be patient with her I can’t control. To show the world she’s mine.

  I ignore the fact there are obstacles we have yet to overcome. I push aside my fears regarding what Lily and the Council will do, and I refuse to give credence to the thought Sasha will reject my gesture. In this one matter, I must be allowed my passion.

  Opening a drawer in my nightstand, I rummage around until I find a simple wooden box. Inside, nestled in black velvet, a heavy gold ring sparkles. The center holds a head of a lion, with sapphires for eyes. Underneath inside the ring is engraved the words: Familia Dubay Aeterna—Dubay Family Eternal. I imagine the gems twinkling on Sasha’s finger.

  Closing the box, I make my way to my study. Sitting at the broad oak desk I take out a pen and write:

  My darling Sasha, this is my family ring. Since it’s customary for a man to give a woman a ring when they become engaged, I’d be honored if you would consider wearing it. All my love, Monroe

  Folding the paper, I affix it with the Dubay lion family seal and scrawl, Sasha Brighton, on the front. Taking the note and ring with me, I stride from the room.

  “Ayres!”

  Within seconds, he materializes beside me.

  “You think you can sneak in and have this delivered to Miss Brighton?”

  “Of course, sir. Anything else?”

  “No, I’ll be in my chambers.”

  “Very good.”

  Back in my room, I toss back and forth in my bed. Sasha said yes to my marriage proposal, but will she wear the ring?

  Chapter 12: Sasha

  A bell jingles as I open the door where Mel and I agreed to meet. The hostess picks up a menu. “Welcome to the Main Café. Table for one?”

  “I’m meeting Melody Saunders. Has she arrived yet?”

  The hostess checks her list. “Oh, yes. Follow me.”

  We make our way through the semi-crowded circular room, out onto the patio. Vine-covered walls surround a flat concrete square dotted with white wicker tables under blue-and-white-striped umbrellas. The hostess stops at a table in the far right-hand corner near a rose bush.

  “Sasha!” Mel bounces up from her chair and hugs me.

  “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” the hostess says before she leaves.

  Sitting down across from Melody, I give her a smile. “How’s married life?”

  Her muddy green eyes sparkle. “Fantastic! I adore Ted. He’s wonderful.” She brushes aside a piece of curly red hair.

  “You sound like a newlywed.”

  “I love being a newlywed. And I love him.”

  “I hope so. You’re stuck with him.”

  She giggles. “I’m sorry. I’m so boring. Every time I say ‘my husband’ I feel all bubbly inside.” She assesses me. “You should find somebody and get married. I mean really! You’re smart and sw
eet. Any guy would be lucky to marry you. Men would find the way you blush all the time cute.”

  “Maybe.” I wish I could tell her about Monroe . . .

  She brightens with excitement. “Whenever you do marry, you must go on the cruise Ted and I did.” A faraway smile spreads across her face. “The water is extremely clear.”

  “A fairy-tale setting, huh?” A perfect place.

  She grabs my hands. “You have no idea, it’s spectacular and . . .” She stops, a confused expression clouds her face. I follow her gaze down to my hands.

  Panic overwhelms me. Now what do I do? I had planned to take off the ring Monroe left me before I met Mel for lunch. All I had meant to do was try it on. His note was sweet, and I could picture the earnestness behind each word. Last night, my doubts had hurt him, and I figured I at least should get a peek at what the ring was like on my hand. While admiring the ring, I realized I was late for lunch and forgot it was on my finger. Nerves bubble up in the pit of my stomach and I attempt to ease my hand from her grasp.

  Mel refuses to let go. “What are you wearing?”

  “A ring.” I shift uncomfortably in my chair.

  “What does it mean?” She leans over to get a closer look. “Is it from your mystery man?”

  I finally slip my hand from her grasp. A few people on the patio turn in our direction, then go back to their own conversations. “Keep your voice down,” I hiss. “I don’t want everybody staring at us.”

  She lowers her voice. “Tell me about your man and the ring.”

  “Hello, ladies,” a voice interrupts.

  We lift our heads as a waiter sets water in front of us. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Mel a quick glance. In it, I read her curiosity loud and clear. She’s going to demand an explanation. I swallow.

  “I think I’ll have,” Mel says, appearing unruffled, “an iced tea. Sasha?”

  “The same.”

  “Very good, I’ll be back in a moment.” The waiter leaves us alone again.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” Mel asks.

  “I’m not sure what to tell you. Monroe and I haven’t been involved very long.”