Wildest Dreams

by Kristen Ashley

  That was his Finnie. Her feet itched.

  “This bed is very comfortable,” he observed but made his point by shifting his hips between her legs then he watched with satisfaction as her eyelids lowered and her lips parted.

  Then she lifted her head to touch her lips to his throat and dropped it back.

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “It is. But so is your bed on your ship.” She grinned again. “I like the velvet blankets.” Her four limbs gave him a squeeze as did her sex and a short, low rumble slid up his throat which caused her to smile a very appealing, very sated smile. “And it’s narrow so we have to cuddle,” she concluded.

  “We cuddle even in this big bed,” Frey pointed out.

  “Indeed,” she whispered, her eyes growing soft and moving over his face before she said quietly, “If you wish to stay, husband, I’m good with staying.”

  “And if you wish to go, wife, I’m good with going,” he replied and she smiled again.

  “Then we’ll go,” she decided, Frey smiled back and dropped his head to touch his lips to hers.

  “Yes, my wee one,” he said softly after he lifted his head, “we’ll go.”

  Her hand drifted up his spine and into his hair as her eyes drifted to his mouth.

  She touched her lips to his and repeated quietly, “We’ll go.”

  Then she kissed him, unhooked a leg from his hip, planted her foot in the bed and bucked to roll him to his back.

  He allowed this because she went with him.

  Then he allowed his wife to make best use of their big, soft bed.

  Again.

  * * * * *

  Frey moved through the bedroom to get his gloves. After her archery lesson with Annar, he was taking her riding through his estate and the village one last time before they left early the next morning.

  Absently, his eyes moved through the room which had been the setting for some very happy memories since they arrived nearly six weeks ago after docking the ship in Bellebryn, staying in that small city state for a week because Finnie was enthralled by its charm and then making their way into Hawkvale to his chateau.

  Finnie had been even more Finnie as she discovered the appeal of Hawkvale (though she surprised him by telling him she favored Lunwyn, felt more at home there and preferred the clothing of Fyngaard). She’d delighted in every second they spent in Bellebryn, travelling to then being at his chateau and, as always with Finnie, she didn’t hide it.

  And Frey delighted in giving it to her.

  Even so, without Finnie in his arms and Frey in her, he had to admit he was ready to move on. He could not remember the last time he’d stayed in one place for so long and as enjoyable as it was with Finnie, he was keen to take her on her next adventure.

  His step slowed and his brows drew together as he saw one of Finnie’s small trunks open on the dresser. Jewelry and hair bobs spilled out and poking out of the top was the edge of a small envelope used by herbalists to hold tinctures or powders to prepare draughts.

  Frey moved to it automatically, feeling mild surprise. Except for the falsehood she told of being unwell when they argued about Viola, Finnie had not ever complained of feeling sick and he knew the adela tree bark used for tea was always ritually held in a purple pouch as a nod to the goddess, not to mention, she’d told him she only had enough for that one cup.

  When he arrived at the dresser, he saw there was more than one of these small envelopes in her trunk. In fact, there were several. He lifted one out, folded open the top, put it to his nose and he smelled a hint of citrus, rosemary, ginger all of it nearly overwhelmed by the aroma of mint.

  His body froze but even so heat burned from his gut upwards, setting fire to his chest.

  He knew that smell.

  Pennyrium.

  Pennyrium.

  “Bloody hell,” he whispered, that whisper shaking with fury.

  His wife was dosing with gods damned pennyrium to guard against conceiving his gods damned child.

  Without his knowledge.

  And without, except for a brief conversation a long bloody time ago that by no means had ended in a definite bloody decision, without discussion.

  And further, without his permission.

  He pulled in a deep breath to calm the fire in his chest.

  This did not work.

  Then he reminded himself his wife was of another world. Perhaps, in her world, females did this regularly.

  But he could not fathom that. He could not fathom any world where such an integral discussion between any wife and her husband, especially considering the bloody conception of a gods damned child meant the continued peaceful rule of an entire, bloody kingdom, for the gods sakes, would not only happen between that wife and her gods damned husband but would be crucial.

  And further, she was the one who introduced the subject in the first damned place. Clearly, in her world, this was discussed amongst partners and decisions made prior to any action.

  He stared at the packet in his hand.

  Pennyrium. Taken daily it very rarely failed to prevent a woman getting with child. And the longer it was utilized, the longer it took for its effects to clear after it was ceased. In some instances, when women had recklessly used it for years, it had made them infertile.

  She could have chosen differently but then again, if she had, it would mean contacting a witch to cast a spell or speaking with him to convince him to wear a sheath something, admittedly, he had no bloody intention of doing with his damned wife especially since that wife was Finnie and he was not about to shield his sex from hers and thus have a bloody, gods damned barrier between them not to mention diminish the pleasure she gave him.

  So she had decided on pennyrium.

  Bloody hell.

  Frey folded over the envelope and tucked it back in her trunk. Then he found his gloves and exited the room.

  He did not, however, go outside to watch Finnie finish working with Annar and her bow.

  No, he found the first of his men he could find, which was Oleg, then he ordered tersely, “Find Ruben and send him to me in my study immediately.”

  Oleg grunted, jerked up his chin and moved away.

  Frey went to his study which had a window that faced the back garden where Finnie, looking too tempting by half in her tight breeches with her skin now honeyed by the kiss of Hawkvale’s bright sun, was at the bow, her target now thirty feet away instead of the twenty where she’d started as she had improved and Annar felt he should increase her challenge.

  Annar was standing behind her, Skylar at her side, his own target twenty feet away, his bow shorter and easier for him to wield.

  Frey tossed his gloves on his desk and turned back to the window to watch his wife.

  She was paying more attention to Skylar than her task, as she always did and watching it, Frey’s mouth grew tight.

  She was brilliant with the boy and refused to leave him behind with the crew on his ship as Frey usually did. She had said she wanted his lessons to continue but this was nonsense. She wanted time to light those dark places the boy had haunting his soul.

  And she did. She didn’t work miracles but she tended him gently, cautiously and regularly giving him just enough distance and closing in only when Skylar offered her a sign he was comfortable with her doing so.

  Then, not long ago, all her careful tending broke through and the boy blossomed.

  Hell, Frey heard their laughter while they were in this same bloody room not two bloody hours ago while she was working with him on his letters and numbers.

  She’d make a brilliant gods damned mother. Why in the bloody hell was she dosing with pennyrium?

  “Frey?” Ruben called his name and Frey turned from the window to see his man walking into the room.

  “The door, Ben,” Frey ordered, Ruben stopped, gave him a look then turned back and closed the door before he walked into the room and stopped four feet from Frey.

  “You don’t look happy,” Ruben observed.

 
“This would be because I am not,” Frey replied.

  Ruben said nothing.

  Frey did. “Upstairs, in Finnie’s trunk on the dresser, you’ll find several envelopes of pennyrium.” Ruben blinked, his chest expanded with his big breath and he crossed his arms over it but Frey kept speaking. “Count them. Then go to the herbalist in the village. Have her create a powder that very closely resembles the sight, smell and taste of pennyrium but has none of its medicinal properties. Purchase the exact quantity of the exact same number of envelopes and then switch them with what’s in Finnie’s trunk. Then dispose immediately of what’s in that trunk.”

  Ruben didn’t move and he still did not speak.

  “Ben, this has to happen today. We leave on the morrow,” Frey prompted.

  “I take it you didn’t know Finnie was dosing with pennyrium,” Ruben remarked.

  “You take that correctly.”

  Ruben nodded but still didn’t move.

  “Ruben,” Frey growled.

  “You remember Olivia,” Ruben stated.

  Frey did and that was why his jaw got tight and he crossed his arms on his chest as well.

  “I did not ask you here for a lecture, Ben, I asked you here to give you an order.”

  “I am your man, Frey, but I am also your friend,” Ruben replied. “And as your friend, I advise you to ask your wife here for a discussion rather than switch her draughts on the sly.”

  The burn in Frey’s chest intensified.

  “I appreciate you taking the time to give me your opinion regardless that I didn’t ask for it,” Frey said softly, his tone unmistakable and Ruben wouldn’t mistake it, they’d known each other over a decade and he’d heard it many times.

  He still ignored it.

  “Frey,” Ruben returned softly, “Olivia made this decision for us. Yes, if she hadn’t, I would not have Lincoln. And yes, now, seven years later, I could not imagine my life without Linc. What I can tell you is, when I was under the assumption she was taking the pennyrium as this was what I told her to do and she was not, she made that choice on her own, acted without my knowledge and she told me she was with my child, I was far from happy. You know this. You and Thad were called to pull me out of her cottage when the level of my anger erased my common sense after the news was delivered. I urge you to think about how Finnie would feel if she learns you have essentially done the same.”

  “I do remember this, Ruben, and you were justifiably angry,” Frey returned. “She was your woman, you are a man and it is your right to make this decision, not hers. You’d informed her of your decision regarding pennyrium and she did not bow to that decision. Your reaction was not wrong and your anger did erase your common sense at the time, though she did not feel the power of your hand and many of the men thought she should. However, you also did not bring charges as you could. I respected your decision and understood you did not wish your son’s mother to spend the duration of her pregnancy in bound service to her realm. Your leniency saved Olivia that sentence but Olivia’s decision lost her you for you never went back to her bed and, I have heard, no man does for fear of the same befalling him.”

  Ruben’s chest expanded again as he conceded this point nonverbally.

  Frey went on. “My wife is a princess whose duty it is to birth the future king of our country. She was not born thus but that does not mean she does not know it. She does. She knows it very well. I am the father of the future king but even if I was not, I am a man and the decision to wait or not is mine. She must understand this because we discussed this very early upon being wed, she was the one who introduced the discussion but no decision was made. She is dosing with pennyrium on the sly for she has never dosed before me and it is my right to make her desist in doing so and it is my choice how I do that.” He paused and held his friend’s gaze before he finished, “And this is my choice, Ben. Go to the herbalist in the village and see to it that Finnie’s pennyrium is destroyed.”

  “Finnie is of another world, Frey, and although she has been here for some time now, she is still becoming accustomed to ours. She is wrong in her decision but that decision is understandable.” Ruben said quietly and when Frey made no response he went on quietly, “Mate, I can’t help but think this is a bad idea.”

  “The bad idea was Finnie’s,” Frey replied. “I’m rectifying it.”

  Ruben hesitated. Frey lost patience.

  Therefore he commanded, “Ben. Go.”

  Ruben took in another breath, nodded then turned and left the room.

  Frey turned back to the window and watched his wife pull back on her bow and let fly.

  With her near daily practice, not only had her target grown more distant, her aim had grown truer. All her arrows were embedded in the circle just outside the bulls-eye and the one she just let loose was no different.

  He pulled in a calming breath that, with Ruben on his errand, actually calmed him.

  His Finnie, he knew, would have some reason she did what she did. It might be a foolhardy reason but it was likely she did not think so.

  And he determined to discuss it with her at some later date when his anger was not so close to the surface.

  And this later date would be around the time she missed her first cycle and he knew his seed had found purchase in her womb, she was further bound to him through their child and the future of the realm was safe.

  There came a knock on the door, he turned to it and called, “Enter.”

  Then he watched the chateau’s housekeeper come in, stop and announce, “There is a woman here who says she urgently needs to speak with your princess.”

  Frey sighed again.

  Of this, he had no doubt. As in Houllebec, Finnie wasted no time befriending nearly everyone in the village. It was not unusual that a woman came calling so she could sit with coffee or wine and his wife and they could cackle about whatever women cackled about.

  The urgency of the message, however, slightly surprised him.

  “And she is?” Frey asked although he really did not care.

  “Says her name is Agnes. She’s of your land, my lord,” the housekeeper replied but at her first five words, the burn in Frey’s gut and chest changed as ice encased his innards and then crawled through his veins.

  “Bring her to me immediately and she is not seen nor does she see my princess,” Frey ordered, the housekeeper nodded and swept out.

  Frey lifted a hand to his neck and his fingers squeezed. He did not turn back to the window. He waited for the witch to come through the door.

  When she did, he dropped his hand and waited for the housekeeper to close it behind her.

  “I thought I made myself clear,” he stated quietly, his eyes locked with her faded blue ones.

  “You did, Drakkar,” she replied just as quietly.

  “If this is true, you’re here because?” he prompted.

  “I have an urgent message for your Finnie,” she told him.

  “And you did the last time we spoke in Lunwyn. And my message to you was that you do not see or speak to my wife,” Frey returned.

  What was now months ago, just days after Frey and Finnie argued over Viola, Stephan had intercepted the witch Agnes when she visited the Winter Palace and demanded to speak to the princess. For obvious reasons, his men vetted anyone who made such a demand. Upon hearing who she was Steph wisely brought her to Frey.

  It took some doing but Frey had convinced her to share the message she had for Finnie and this was a message Frey himself had not, at that time, yet delivered to his wife. The message was that Finnie’s witch from her world, a woman called Valentine, had sensed the elves binding spell and she had communicated with this Agnes to warn Finnie this had happened and awaited instruction on what she should be doing in her world to rectify the situation.

  Frey had, at the time, lied to Agnes saying Finnie was well aware this had happened and was happy to remain in his world. And he had paid her to communicate the same to this Valentine.

  He had also warned he
r not to see or try to speak to Finnie without seeing him first. He paid her for that too. He’d also made it very clear what would befall her if she reneged on their deal.

  Since then, of course, he and Finnie had spoken of where she came from and his falsehood had turned true.

  Frey knew straight to the depths of his soul, more and more as every moment passed with his wife, that she was pleased she’d risked her venture and, in the end, been bound to him as his wife and thus to his world.

  What Agnes would travel to Hawkvale to communicate, and risk communicating it, he could not fathom nor did he wish to know.

  But he had no choice but to find out.

  And his concern was that something had befallen one of the friends his wife spoke so lovingly about. This was something that would cause Finnie distress for she felt deeply, especially when she came to care about someone but even when she hardly knew them.

  And if there were problems, Finnie would feel it. She would feel it worse for she could not return and do anything to help.

  And he did not want his wife to feel distress but if this had happened, he was powerless to help except offer his neck for her to sob into and although he knew his presence soothed her, he also knew in such a case this would be no help at all.

  “You did, Drakkar, but there is much news,” Agnes replied.

  “And this news is?” Frey asked.

  “Princess Sjofn, of our world,” she paused, “much is happening.”

  Frey’s body got tight as the jagged shards of the ice slithering through his veins started scoring.

  “And what is Princess Sjofn of our world up to?” Frey queried.

  The witch took two steps toward him, leaned in and whispered, “Drakkar, the princess is a guenipe.”

  Frey instantly relaxed.

  “I’m aware.”

  The witch’s brows shot up then she started, “The Princess Finnie –”

  He cut her off. “My wife, too, is aware.”