Stolen Princess

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Stolen Princess Page 11

by Nikki Jefford


  I tossed the empty knapsack on the bed with the jewelry. “You’re still robbing me blind,” I said as I walked to the door.

  Devdan followed behind me, lingering in the frame after I let myself out. “You’ll thank me once you see the coin I get for these. Maybe you’ll even kiss me.”

  I turned around and shook my head in exasperation. “That’ll be the day.”

  Devdan smirked. “Funny, that’s the last thing you said to me before you left Pinemist.”

  “And I mean it as much as last time,” I said, squaring my shoulders.

  “You’re not going to disappear on me again?” he asked.

  The air around me cooled. Even beneath the thick wool of my cloak, I felt like shivering. “I’m home to stay,” I said firmly.

  “Well, if you do leave, don’t return two years from now expecting seventy-five percent, Princess.” With that, he closed the door.

  My nostrils flared, and my heart sped up to a gallop as though it meant for me to run after him and pound him in the head.

  I pressed my middle and pointer finger together and lifted them at his cottage in a rude gesture. “Pit head,” I muttered before turning and striding away from the ramshackle dwellings.

  Devdan was a scoundrel. I just loved the way he made it sound like I was the pampered princess. He hadn’t been so keen to kiss me back in the days when my cheeks were hollowed out and I was covered in mud. He hadn’t even wanted to invite me in from the cold, as though fearing I’d track muck all over his freshly swept dirt floor.

  “Ugh,” I seethed, fingers curling into tight fists. I glared over my shoulder at his cottage one last time before stomping away.

  Males sucked, all but Jhaeros. Right now, I treasured him even more. I didn’t want to be taunted and teased. I wanted to be loved and cherished.

  Mel considered him a bore, but she didn’t see past his outer layers. I doubted many did. It wasn’t like Jhaeros showed that side of himself openly, which made it feel more special that he had with me.

  I remembered how willing he’d been to cheer me up at the ball—even offering to trade up his customary scotch for pink party drinks if it would get me to smile. He’d given me his full attention and patience when I’d been the one to tease and taunt. He’d wanted me, but that want included the desire to comfort and claim me—to make me happy however he could. As soon as my mask had come off, Jhaeros had opened his heart in ways I’d never dreamed possible. It was as though we’d both been blind for years—never recognizing what was directly in front of our noses for so long.

  My heart grew light in my chest, lifting like a cloud on a warm summer’s wind—blissfully adrift in a wide, open sky.

  My legs wanted to run to him. My arms ached to circle his waist. My lips burned to kiss his mouth.

  I slowed my steps as I reached the lane of cute cottages with flower boxes. Indecision weighed down my shoulders. Tempted, so tempted to go to him. I had to make a decision before I reached the end of the lane where the road widened and manor homes rose.

  My stomach churned, a riot of nerves making me feel queasy. I’d never been in love before. Was it normal to feel like barfing?

  It was all so new. One evening at a ball. One brief visit at Sweetbell.

  If I showed up at Jhaeros’s doorstep, what would I say?

  He obviously enjoyed the pursuit. He wouldn’t like me coming to him.

  No, I was on my own—like I’d always been.

  More stupid tears prickled at the edges of my eyes as loneliness seeped inside my chest. I missed him. I’d just seen him yesterday, and I missed him as though we’d been apart for weeks rather than hours.

  Mel was waiting for me, I reminded myself—probably counting the seconds in huffs, or maybe singing her silly feathered quivers song.

  A close-lipped smile pressed over my teeth.

  As the road widened and inclined up a slight hill, the homes grew in size and stature. I passed sprawling lawns filled with geometrically shaped shrubs and stone fountains and statues of nymphs, dragons, and centaurs. Halfway up the hill, a home had been painted pink with a purple front door and trim. Shrubs shaped like unicorns raced around the grounds as little bell-shaped pixies dangled from trees, chiming softly.

  My family’s old home was several lanes over to the west. I thought I would want to see it, but it would bring no comfort, return no love.

  Screw it. I was calling on Jhaeros. Just a quick hello before I returned to the inn.

  My heart sped up along with my steps. I swung my arms the rest of the way up the hill then took a left rather than the right that led back to town center.

  The closer my legs took me to Jhaeros’s manor, the more lightheaded I felt. He didn’t strike me as the type who liked surprise visits. I should write first. Set up an appointment.

  But it was as though I’d already stepped off a ledge and entered into free fall. There was no altering my course.

  The stone manors up and down Jhaeros’s lane had classical elegance with standard fence-like shrubs lining the front of the properties and long pebbled, tree-lined drives. They all matched, as though all the neighbors on the lane had conspired on one humdrum, corresponding look.

  “Boring,” I could hear Mel’s voice droning inside my head.

  I’d never been to Jhaeros’s manor. He’d always been the one to pay calls to my family. I knew the address from sending along our extra trunks, which was the perfect excuse for popping by. I studied the numbers etched into stone pillars marking the drives until reaching number twelve-thirteen.

  The contents of my stomach rolled around some more as I came to a stop in front of the drive and stared down. This didn’t feel like home.

  I contemplated turning back, but I’d come this far, and I wasn’t one to tuck tail and run from my fears.

  Pebbles crunched beneath my ankle boots as I made my way to the front door. My stomach lurched on the front step. I hurried and knocked, ready to be done with the queasy faintness. Once I saw Jhaeros, I’d reclaim my calm.

  I tapped my foot on the stone stoop while I waited, and waited, and waited. With a sigh, I glanced over my shoulder. Maybe I’d worked myself up for no reason.

  Eventually, the door squeaked as an old, stooped butler answered. He had long, frizzy gray hair and cloudy eyes. “Yes?” he rasped as though his lungs might collapse at any moment. He stared out vacantly past my elbow from nearly two feet below me.

  I didn’t want to gape at him, but I couldn’t help myself. Was Jhaeros’s butler blind?

  “Uh, hello,” I said gently, as though a heavier tone might knock him down. “I’m here to see Jhaeros.”

  The butler turned his head in my direction, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. “And you are?”

  “Lady Aerith Elmray.” I didn’t want to cause the butler undue panic by announcing myself as Princess Elmray.

  “Come in, my lady,” he rasped, opening the door wider.

  “Thank you,” I said as I stepped into the foyer with its oil paintings and tapestries covering the surrounding stone walls.

  The elderly butler closed the door. “Follow me to the sitting room,” he said, shuffling toward an open door to the right of the foyer.

  I had to take small, slow steps to keep from running into the frail elf. He led me into a drafty room with a tall ceiling and thick, partially drawn curtains that allowed in minimal light. No flames rose from the hearth, not even the remnants of recent fire. I took it Jhaeros didn’t entertain very often.

  “Wait here,” the butler said before shuffling out.

  It might be a while, but it wasn’t like I could make myself comfortable in such a chilly room. I walked around slowly inspecting everything, instead. There were no rugs, only cold, bare stone. The sofa, settee, and armchairs had been carved and polished from dark wood and upholstered in deep green fabric. Everything matched and looked way too fancy to sit on.

  More oil paintings covered the walls with outdoor scenes of mountains, rivers, forests, and lakes
. I stepped up closer to a landscape of deer half hidden amongst trees. The artist had spared no paint, laying it on so thick it rose off the canvas.

  “Aerith,” a deep voice said behind me.

  Every time he said my name since our time together at the ball, my toes curled. A smile sprang to my lips before I turned. Jhaeros was smiling too. It still looked so funny to see him beaming at me that way.

  “You must be cold. Let me build a fire.” He strode toward the hearth.

  “Don’t trouble yourself. I can’t stay long.”

  He stopped in place. “Refreshment then. Hot tea?”

  I shook my head. “I really do have to be on my way. Mel is waiting back at the inn.”

  Jhaeros’s face fell, but he nodded once in understanding. He glanced at the butler, hovering near the open door. “That will be all, Fhaornik. Thank you,” Jhaeros said in a firm yet kind voice.

  “Very good, sir. I will leave you two alone then.” As Fhaornik shuffled out, he closed the door behind him, shutting me in, alone with his master.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Aerith

  I raised my brows.

  “Does your butler often close you in with unchaperoned ladies?” I asked in a teasing voice.

  Jhaeros grinned. “This is a first. He must have liked the sound of your voice.”

  “He truly is blind then?” I tilted my head to the side.

  “And slow as snails.” Jhaeros’s grin widened. Nothing made him look more handsome than that smile. He could muscle up, and it wouldn’t matter. His smile made my heart flutter every time.

  “What about the rest of your staff members? Are they blind as well?” I asked.

  “No, only Fhaornik, but my cook is deaf.”

  “Who knew you were so full of surprises?”

  “Speaking of surprises,” Jhaeros said, stalking up to me, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?”

  My breath stalled as he positioned himself directly in front of me, his gaze drinking me in as though I were honeyed wine.

  “I wanted to make sure my trunks were delivered earlier.”

  “I had them stored in the attic. You’re welcome to access them at any time.”

  “Good,” I said with a firm nod.

  Jhaeros’s voice dipped low. “Is that the only reason you stopped by?”

  I pursed my lips and shrugged. “Maybe I missed you.”

  Jhaeros’s pupils dilated. “Not nearly as much as I’ve missed you,” he growled, snatching me into his arms.

  My heart gave a jolt as my chest collided into him. Warm hands grasped my head and pulled me into his ravenous lips. Heat blasted from my core up to my cheeks, like a fire come to life.

  I answered Jhaeros’s demanding tongue with greedy kisses of my own, gasping for breath but unable to tear myself away. I’d give up oxygen for one more kiss. My nostrils flared, pulling air in, feeding the fire in my belly.

  Jhaeros’s hands slid down my back, circling my hips, gripping them hard.

  I smiled as I kissed him. What happened to propriety? Jhaeros seemed to have lost all self-control. Didn’t take much, did it? My smile widened with satisfaction.

  Jhaeros backed me up to the sofa, kissing me harder with each step. He removed my cloak, letting it slide free and fall in a heap on the sofa’s upholstered cushions.

  My breasts strained through the bodice of my gown, aching for attention.

  With all the heavy breathing we were doing, we didn’t hear the light tapping at the door right away.

  Then the door opened.

  Jhaeros and I jerked apart. Good thing Fhaornik was blind, or we might have given the poor butler a heart attack.

  I regained control of my breath and tucked my hair behind my pointed ears.

  Jhaeros’s chest rose and fell heavily, but his voice emerged steady, if not slightly annoyed. “Yes, Fhaornik?”

  “Pardon the intrusion, sir. Lady Dashwood is at the door. Should I send her away?”

  “Send me away?” a female trilled from the foyer. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Fhaornik bustled to the door as though he meant to block it with his feeble body.

  “My master already has company,” he said in a firm voice tinged with irritation.

  I really liked the elderly butler.

  “Does he now?” the female purred. Her full skirts spread across the doorframe like a pink stain. Pouty, full lips were rouged along with her cheeks, and hair the darkest brown slanted artfully over her forehead, sweeping back into a wide bun with tight curls arranged at the top. She peered right over poor Fhaornik’s head, her shrewd, dark eyes zeroing in on me. She grinned as though delighted. “Female company,” she said, her voice rising. “Marvelous. What’s one more?”

  Even with Fhaornik standing in the doorway, she was able to slip past his frail frame and enter the sitting room as though she owned the space and everything in it, including Jhaeros. Her gaze slid up and down his body, as though lapping him up with her rich brown eyes.

  If I had to guess her age, I’d say twenty-five, roughly the same as Jhaeros, four years my senior.

  Her gaze slid to me next, and her face seemed to light up with delight. If anything, she looked like she enjoyed a challenge. With her beauty, confidence must have come easily. She was neither frail nor plump. She filled out her gown in all the places a male appreciated—particularly the bosom, and she had a low-cut bodice to showcase the rounded tops of her breasts and the valley between the tightly squeezed pair. “And who might this be?” she purred as I wondered the same thing.

  “Lady Dashwood, allow me to introduce Aerith Heiris,” Jhaeros said, his tone not very friendly.

  Lady Dashwood looked me over with a thick smile. “Oh, yes, the girl who won the Fae prince. How could anyone in Pinemist forget?” She stepped closer, inspecting me with shrewd older eyes. “But it’s no longer Heiris. You are married now.”

  “Widowed,” I said curtly.

  Lady Dashwood clutched her chest. Pretty white ruffles circled her sleeves above her elbows. She must have disposed of her cloak in the foyer before flouncing in on us. “My dear, I do apologize for your loss.” She tsked and shook her head. “As a female many years a widow, I hope I can reassure you that the grief eases with time.”

  “How comforting,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

  “How long have you been in mourning?” she inquired.

  “Four months.”

  “Oh, dear,” Lady Dashwood said, dropping her smile. “Only recently, and at such a very young age. Your grief must still be extremely fresh.”

  “I did not know my mate well enough or long enough to truly grieve him,” I assured her.

  “Well, it is still a tragedy.” Lady Dashwood turned to the doorway where the butler still hovered, moving his nose around as though trying to locate the older female by scent. “Fhaornik, you must tell Mrs. Calarel to prepare tea for us.” Lady Dashwood turned her attention back to me. “I suppose ‘tell’ is the wrong word. Mrs. Calarel is Jhaeros’s cook, who happens to be deaf. Can you imagine? How does a blind male see to it that she understands a command?”

  “Yes, I know about Jhaeros’s cook,” I said, glad he had told me before we were interrupted by this harpy.

  Lady Dashwood frowned, obviously unhappy with my knowledge of Jhaeros’s unique staffing situation. I found it encouraging that not everything within these stone walls was standard and boring.

  I looked to the doorway to tell Fhaornik I didn’t need tea, but the butler had already disappeared. I moved my attention to Jhaeros. My brows lifted slightly, and he seemed to understand my unspoken question at once.

  He cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of his nether region. “I grew up with Lady Dashwood’s late mate, Theomon. We were close friends.”

  “I am sorry.” I said it to Jhaeros, but it was Lady Dashwood who answered.

  “Thank you, dear. Losing Theo was the worst experience of my life.” She fanned the space over her heart
as though it had burst into flames that required containing. “Jhaeros got me through the worst of it. I don’t know what I would have done without his friendship. Thank goodness we live so close.”

  “You’re neighbors?” I asked, not liking that one bit.

  Lady Dashwood smiled. “I live directly across the lane.”

  Brilliant, straight across the way where she could keep her greedy eyes on Jhaeros’s comings and goings, along with any visitors—me in particular. I didn’t appreciate anyone keeping tabs on me.

  Lady Dashwood clasped her hands behind her back and thrust her bosom forward. “Jhaeros was such a comfort to me after Theo’s passing. I’m only happy I could return the favor. I was here for him when your sister broke poor Jhaer’s heart.” She shot me a look that said, “And I’ll be here to comfort him after you do the same.”

  Neither of those scenarios were happening.

  “Shalendra did not break my heart,” Jhaeros said in a clipped tone.

  Lady Dumb-Dumb ignored him. She was having too much sport to realize or care that speaking to Jhaeros in that high-handed manner wasn’t winning her any points. “You must have seen a lot of Jhaer before you left for Faerie. He was always riding off to call on your sister—pining after her day and night.”

  A vein bulged in Jhaeros’s neck, but the female was still too intent on making me angry to notice she’d hit the wrong target.

  “That was a long time ago,” I said calmly.

  “He used to consult me on what gifts to give her—so generous.” Lady Dashwood giggled.

  I folded my arms, getting annoyed with how far she was pushing this.

  “Flowers, pastries, fans, and shawls. It was like Solstice every week when it came to your sister. But I’ll never forget how excited he was after locating a pendant that had once belonged to your sister—a very special gift from your late mother from what I understand.”

  Anger shot through me like a burning arrow. It pierced my gut and sent sparks erupting in my chest and smoking up my head.

 

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