Yes, he’d walk away from Keira and continue with his responsibilities. Keira was right. If he drew her into his world, she’d get hurt and she didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”
“Jarlath, you’re not a bother. Your company is welcome. I’m merely pointing out we can never be more than friends who meet in private. I would never wish to injure your reputation or drag you to the level of mine.”
Nothing he could say to that, no way to comfort or assuage the pain in her voice because she spoke the truth. This was the way of their world.
Keira’s mind raced and her hands worked without conscious thought, plucking herbs and placing them in her basket. Jarlath was a surprise and not the man she’d met briefly and seen from afar during social functions. He bore hidden depths and he tempted her on so many levels. If he had been anyone else…
Luckily, he didn’t understand how he tempted her to say to hell with right and throw herself into his arms.
When her basket overflowed, she took it into the kitchen and returned with another.
“I’ve picked all the nuts within reach,” Jarlath said. “Do you want me to take these to the kitchen before I depart?”
“Yes, please.” Disappointment blasted her, even though she’d known he’d leave. “Thanks for your help. It’s saved me a lot of toil. Why don’t you ask Hortese to pack a pie? It’s the least I can do in exchange.”
“My pleasure.” He bowed and strode away, making her feel as if she were in the wrong. He had sought her out, not the other way.
Jarlath returned and stalked to her side. “Hortese is packing my pie, but there was something else I wanted to say before I left.”
“Oh?”
“This,” he said, and he took her basket and set it aside. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her to him. She gasped at his masterful manner and stared at him in surprise.
“What—”
“My kiss,” he reminded her. “I’m not leaving without one.”
He lowered his head and blocked further speech. Her heart sang. He’d come back because he wanted his kiss. Then her brain switched off, her mind awash with sensations and emotions, taste and texture. His fingers speared through her hair to cup her skull and hold her in place. His green eyes, lighter than usual, glittered with need and heady desire as he stared down at her.
Now. Please kiss me now.
But it seemed Jarlath didn’t intend to hurry.
He shifted his grip to trace her bottom lip with his thumb. His touch left a trail of tingles, and she groaned in frustration, wanting, needing more from Jarlath.
“You make me want to know you better. I wish things were different.” Jarlath didn’t give her a chance to respond but settled his lips on hers.
The kiss was gentle and warm and made her heart ventricles pump faster, stronger as if she flew in crow form. Without volition, her fingers curled into his silky hair to pull him close. She sank against his hard chest and submitted.
Jarlath growled against her lips and deepened the contact. Their tongues flirted, shyly at first before she became bolder. A feline growl rumbled up his throat, a masculine sound of satisfaction. He tasted wild and sweet and she wanted more, craved permission to explore his muscular body. Instead she kept her hands in his silky hair and enjoyed the kiss for what it was—a goodbye.
Chapter Four
Tearing himself away from Keira was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Every part of him ached to sweep her into his arms, to whisk her to the nearest sleep-bed. Grata fire, he’d do it—her—on the floor if need be, but she was right in her warnings.
He’d barely met her, so it was ludicrous for him to think of a future.
Their future.
Aware of the futility of his desire, he caught and saddled Black and headed back to the castle and his obligations. Black seemed content to amble the forest trail, and since Jarlath wasn’t in a hurry to face Ellard or his mother and her list, he allowed his cambeest to set the pace. When he reached a fork in the trail, he guided Black to the right and soon glimpsed Van Lake.
Ah, perfect. If he followed this path, he’d approach the castle from a different direction. He plucked out his com and tapped a quick text message to Ellard. That way, his friend wouldn’t suspect he’d visited Keira.
And he’d hidden the pie in his saddlebag. He’d eat his treat in the privacy of his rooms. With his message sent, he paused to let Black drink from the lake before urging his mount onward.
The sudden thunder of hooves heralded an arrival—probably Ellard. Ah, correct guess.
“Jarlath, where the devil have you been?” Ellard arrowed his cambeest toward them at a reckless pace and screeched to a halt. Dust billowed in a cloud, and Black sneezed, tossing his shaggy head and stomping his big feet in alarm.
Black’s long rounded ears went back, and Jarlath rubbed his hand over the cambeest’s hump in a soothing motion. “Steady, Black.”
“Impressive bruising,” his friend said.
“Yes. I have more on my shoulder.” Ellard had made excellent time. Jarlath eased in the reins, to exert control over his irritated beest. “I went riding. I needed to think. Ellard, I sent you a text. You knew I was safe.”
“I can’t do my job if we’re in different places, besides, Queen Bryna requires an audience. She has sent three messages, and in the third one, she threatened to dismiss me because she deduced I didn’t know your whereabouts.”
Guilt flashed in Jarlath. Keira was right—people got hurt when he didn’t do the expected. Jarlath reached over and squeezed Ellard’s forearm in apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll let Mother know this was my fault.”
“Won’t make much difference,” Ellard said. “You’re my responsibility. I should know your location.”
“I’m sorry,” Jarlath repeated.
They clattered into the stableyard and several stableboys trotted out to take care of their cambeests.
Jarlath waved them away, and they backtracked in clear relief, their stolid faces relaxing into teasing and banter. Black wasn’t the easiest charge and Ellard’s cambeest wasn’t much better.
“Let me stable, Black,” Ellard said. “I want to keep my job.”
“I will stable, Black. He’s my responsibility.” One of many.
* * * * *
“Jarlath, at last.” Queen Bryna spoke sharply, exasperation quivering in every line of her slender body. “I expected you to seek me out early this morn.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I am here now.” He entered her private sitting room with trepidation and hovered just inside the doorway. As a child, he’d thought of his mother’s rooms as a cave full of treasures. They’d roused his kittenish curiosity and his mother’s fury when he’d accidently broken a model house full of furniture and shifters the size of his paws. Now, he knew to keep clear since touching or breaking brought parental wrath.
“Sit.” His mother pointed at a chair.
He hung his head and attempted sincere penitence while skirting a knee-high table and what looked like a puzzle to take the indicated seat.
“This is the type of behavior I expect from your brother, not you, Jarlath. This is a serious matter, and your father and I expect you to announce your betrothal by cycle end.” Her red Venet slipper tap-tap-tapped on the tile floor to highlight her irritation.
Jarlath sat stock-still, his attention on his mother. The queen wore a smart navy robe and a tasteful moon-glow necklace and earbobs, her attire quite at odds with her militant mood. He sighed inwardly in defeat. On the plus side, he had breathing space before they expected his announcement, but it still felt like a blaster aimed at his back when his mind kept drifting to Keira.
His father had kept a mistress, as had his father before him. Perhaps he could…no. He wouldn’t place Keira in that position. Judging by the gossip doing the rounds, her life was difficult enough already.
“Jarlath.” His mother’s foot commenced tap
-tap-tapping again. “Are you listening?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Here is my list. I have included twelve names. They are all of impeccable breeding and reputation. Any of them would make a good wife for you and a queen for our kingdom. I have collected dossiers on each woman. Should you require further information please contact my secretary. He will assist you.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Jarlath wondered how he forced out the words when panic tightened around his chest like titum bands.
“Don’t thank me,” his mother snapped. “Peruse the list and come to a decision. That will please me and your father.” A frown took possession of her mouth and flattened it to a thin line of distaste. “What on Viros are you wearing? You resemble a commoner who spends his day toiling in the fields. And your face. Do not enter my presence again in such dishabille.”
A sharp retort stung the tip of his tongue, but he gritted his teeth and refused to let the disrespectful reply loose. Instead, he nodded and let his mother treat him like a child, a puppet.
She scanned his face and what she saw must have reassured her because she gave a curt nod. “You may go.”
Jarlath shot to his feet and navigated the safest path through his mother’s clutter. Outside and away from her scrutiny, he checked the list, the neatly written names. His gut bucked like Black in a feisty mood and his feline jabbed, clawed, kicked beneath his skin, equally pissed. He ran up the central flight of stairs, his rapid footsteps muted by the thick red floor covering, and turned in the direction of his suite. A sharp pain in his right hand focused him in his agitated flight. He stared, then a genuine grin took hold, stretching his mouth so wide it ached. He held the list in a crumpled ball and four sharp claws protruded from beneath his fingernails. Even better, a dewclaw curled from beneath his thumb.
Increasing to a sprint, he burst into his suite’s sitting room. He thumped on a door, which led to a smaller adjoining suite of rooms.
“Ellard!”
The door burst open, Ellard with his weapon drawn, eyes scanning the corners of the room. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Jarlath thrust out his hand with the claws still protruding. “Let’s go for a run.” He slid his saddlebag off his shoulder and set it on a low table.
“But how?” Ellard stared at Jarlath’s hand, slack-jawed and incredulous.
“I don’t know.” Theories, Jarlath had, but he wasn’t about to share them with his friend since he was certain this had something to do with Keira. “I don’t care. Let’s go.”
Jarlath made for the door he’d raced through mins earlier.
“Wait, let me get my other blaster.” Ellard darted deeper into his suite, light on his feet, despite his size. He reappeared and strapped his weapon to his leg. “Let’s go.”
Excitement pulsed through Jarlath as they clattered down the stairs and left the castle via a side gate. They nodded to the sentry and strode to the walled garden where the pair of them habitually carried out weapons training, away from the notice of the rest of the staff and more importantly, his parents.
His father and mother believed diplomacy should come before war, and although, the castle had an efficient fighting force, the Virosian royal family shouldn’t train to take up arms to defend themselves. Lynx had informed his parents the idea was stupid, and Jarlath had to agree. As a royal, he felt it was important to possess a variety of skills and lead from the front. Luckily, Danion Tetsu had agreed and he’d quietly taught the princes along with his two sons. Jarlath and Ellard continued to train in private to keep up their skill levels.
“Do you want to try a shift here? There’s plenty of room to run and no one else uses this garden apart from us.”
Jarlath felt his feline shudder and the beginning of the shift commence. He struggled to free himself of his tunic to no avail. His feline burst from him, out of control. The fabric of his tunic ripped even as a tortured groan rushed up his throat.
Fukk, this hurt worse than his first time. Every twist, every stretch, every pop of muscle and bone seemed louder, more painful than ever before.
He cried out and fell forward onto all fours. Panting, he tried to relax, even as his body fought to reshape. Fur rippled beneath the torn remnants of his tunic, and his trews and boots melted into his new form.
Scents and sounds battered his senses, the enrichment a shock after confinement for so long within his humanoid form. He flicked his tail and stretched, the shredded material inhibiting him. Jarlath gave a grumpy bark and attempted to wriggle free.
A chuckle sounded. “Jarlath, keep still. Let me help you.” Competent hands tugged the fabric free until nothing hampered him. “Cristo, I’m so glad we can run together again. I’ve missed running with you and I don’t mean that in a weird way either.”
Jarlath barked, the caterwaul impatient and demanding.
Ellard chuckled again, but set his shoulder holster aside and tugged his tunic over his head, baring a broad and muscular chest and his onyx cat pendant. He stuffed his weapon and clothes out of sight beneath a tree and removed his pendant, placing it carefully in his trews pocket.
His change was quick and efficient, Ellard’s black leopard a powerful and beautiful creature.
Jarlath yowled and Ellard barked in return. In unison, they bolted across the clear ground and burst into a copse of tall, straight trees.
The freedom, the breeze rippling across his fur exhilarated Jarlath, and he savored the pumping of his muscles and the rich world of sensory details. He’d told himself he hadn’t missed his feline. He’d told himself many others in the kingdom suffered the same fate. He’d told himself it didn’t matter.
He’d lied.
He ran and ran and ran until his sides heaved with exertion.
The scent of a small animal distracted him and he slowed to stalk the trail. A deer mouse shot from beneath a purple flowering plant. He pounced and missed. Behind him, a hoarse bark of amusement rasped from Ellard. His friend nudged his shoulder, and Jarlath heaved a sigh.
Time to return to his duty and the wretched list.
Sighing again, he retraced his steps back to where Ellard had left his clothes. Jarlath pictured his humanoid form and shifted back, chest pulsating in exhaustion yet invigorated.
“Hey, your bruising has faded. At least on your shoulder. Your eye looks much better too. Do you want to borrow my tunic in case we run into the queen?”
“A benefit of the shifting. Grata, I’d missed it so much!”
“The tunic?”
“No, you keep your tunic,” Jarlath said, heading in the direction of their rooms. “It will be too big for me anyway. Mother is already angry because I didn’t follow orders.”
They entered Jarlath’s rooms, sighting only a sentry and a cleaning droid on the way.
Ellard closed the door behind him. “Did the run feel good?”
“The best. Grata, I’ve missed this part of me. You’re lucky your feline didn’t go into slumber.”
“Yeah. I wish the scientists could discover the cause. Rumors of the problem will spread soon. Someone will talk and the Cawdor will use the knowledge to their advantage.”
“The knowledge is a ticking timepiece,” Jarlath said. “Want to have a drink?”
“Sure.”
“I have pie.” Exhilaration pushed the unguarded words from his mouth. Grata! Too late now.
“Pie?” Ellard smacked his lips. “Who did you sweet talk in the kitchen to give you pie? Not the little blonde kitten? The new one?”
Mentally apologizing to Keira, Jarlath nodded. “Ya got me.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“No, you go ahead if you’re interested.” Only one woman dominated his thoughts. She’d burrowed under his skin so damn quickly, he was still confused about how she’d managed the feat. He pressed his palm to his door, and stepped inside.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I have a lady in my sights.”
How had he missed that? “Yeah? She gonna let you catc
h her?”
Ellard winked. “Already caught her.”
“Well. We should celebrate.” Jarlath strode to his chefmate and programmed two hot toddies. He handed a steaming tankard to Ellard. “I’ll get the pie.” Secs later, he was back, and he grabbed a knife to cut a large wedge. He arched a brow at his friend. “Do you need a plate?”
“Nope,” Ellard said. “Gimme. I’m starving.” He took a huge bite, chewed and swallowed. “Damn, that’s good. Did the blonde bake it or is there a new cook in the kitchens?”
“Didn’t ask,” Jarlath said. “I took the pie and ran.” Nothing less than the truth. He took a bite and almost echoed his friend’s moan of pleasure. The tart flavor of the berries and the crisp rich pastry was better than anything he’d tasted before. With every bite he thought of Keira, the urge to visit her so strong he had to force himself not to stride from his rooms. “You better not let your girl hear you drooling about pies.”
“Not likely. What did the queen want?”
“She gave me a list of marriage candidates. Twelve names for me to check out. I’m under orders to choose one and offer marriage.” Jarlath shoved the last bite of his slice of pie into his mouth and chewed. He scratched the back of his neck then his arm. “Want more pie?”
“Are you first in line to the king?”
Jarlath pulled a face. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He handed Ellard a second piece and scratched at his biceps. “Something must have bitten me while I was out in the garden. I might go and clean up.”
“Sure, I have to report to Father. As head of security, he knew you were missing—” He held up a hand when Jarlath went to interrupt. “He knew I was worried, but he was in a meeting when I commed him. I sent a text instead, but I’d better speak with him in person.”
“I’m sorry,” Jarlath said again. The last thing he’d wanted was to get Ellard in trouble.
“You leaving the castle tonight? Schedule says you’re staying indoors.”
“I might go for a walk out in the square and check out the market.”
“Com me,” Ellard ordered. “You can’t go out alone and risk an incident.”
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