by Kyra Jacobs
There was something about the manner in which she moved, not quite reckless but certainly unrefined, that called to Zayne. Intentional or not, Addie was bold. Too bold to be a spy, for she behaved in a manner so unlike the cautious feminine puppets he often encountered. Puppets that seemed to glide carefully from room to room, their faces demure and hands clasped before them.
But the prince was tired of puppets. He longed for someone real. Someone unafraid to be different.
Someone like…Addie.
Someone you cannot have, whispered a small voice in the back of his mind. A voice he chose to ignore as he offered her a full bow and smiled—Emeline’s wound-remedy ointment had worked once again. “Good day, my lady.”
“Oh, I’m no milady,” she said with a wave of her hand, which elicited several grunts from his men. “Just a miss, from what Emeline keeps saying.”
Zayne closed the distance between them and took her cool, soft hand in his. The scent of lavender soap washed over him, testing his restraint further. If not for the audience, he would have swept her up and quickly bedded her. The thought both startled and intrigued him.
“You are a lady if I say as much.” He pressed his lips to her hand. “And as I just did, well, the matter is settled.”
Addie’s gaze shifted from his. Before he could say more, she gathered up her skirts and limped past him to stand before his snowy-white steed.
“He’s so beautiful.” She reached a tentative hand out to stroke the horse’s velvety muzzle. “What’s his name?”
“His name?” asked Brom with a snort. “We do not name our livestock round here, miss—oof—my lady.”
Zayne withdrew his fist from Brom’s thick side. “’Tis true, he has no name.”
“A horse with no name,” she echoed with a grin and reached to stroke the coat between its eyes. “Then I’ll name him Will. He looks like a Will to me. Is he yours?”
“Aye. Though you shall be the one to ride him on your journey back today, as he is our kindest steed.”
“Ride him?” Addie’s gaze shifted to Zayne’s. “You mean he’s not going to pull a carriage or something?”
“There is no carriage, woman,” snapped Brom from several paces away. “If you wish to be escorted home, you will ride like the rest of us.”
Addie looked from him to Zayne. “You’re kidding, right?”
The prince lifted one brow.
“Oh no. Seriously, Zay—uh, Your Highness. I—I don’t know the first thing about horses.”
“Save how to name them,” Emeline grumbled from the foot of the steps.
“And how the heck do you expect me to get up there in all this?” Addie continued, raising two fistfuls of skirting.
“Then it appears you will be traveling on foot.” Brom mounted his massive ebony steed. “Be sure to keep up.”
Addie’s eyes grew wide as saucers.
Zayne couldn’t bear to see her fret and came to stand at her side. “Pay no mind to Brom,” he whispered into her ear. “His mother dropped him one time too many when he was but a child.”
With that, he placed his hands around Addie’s slim waist, lifted the slight woman—who issued a startled shriek—and set her sidesaddle onto her new friend, Will. Stiff with fright, she laced her fingers tightly into the horse’s mane while Zayne placed a boot in the near stirrup and swung up onto the steed as well. As he settled into the saddle behind her, Addie’s scent washed over him anew. To have her so near for the long ride ahead would be both pleasure and torture, he knew as he slid an arm around her waist. And while he could have ordered another to share their steed, Zayne found himself unwilling to let go. Instead, he tightened his hold.
“Do not worry, my lady. I shall not let you fall.”
“Don’t worry?” She leaned away from him, unwilling to release the mane from her grip. “Easy for you to say. You’re probably not afraid of heights. Or giant beasts.”
Laughter burst forth from Zayne’s chest. The sound echoed through the courtyard as he nudged his horse forward.
Chapter Seven
Addie had always thought horseback riding looked like fun. Riders and their mounts weaving together through the landscape, taking in the beauty of nature at a leisurely pace. What was there not to like? Her experience, however, was nothing like she’d imagined. Their small caravan traveled fast and furious, her body, full of sore muscles, jostled over and over as the ground streaked by in a blur of greens and browns.
Her being trapped in the grasp of Mr. Wonderful did little to relieve her anxieties. At first she tried to maintain a reasonable distance between his rock-hard abs and her backside—she had her pride to maintain, after all—but soon gave up. It took too much energy to hold herself apart from him and, if truth be told, it felt amazing to be cradled in his warm, strong arms. He’d held firm to his promise not to let her fall, pulling her closer each time she felt herself slip.
Since sidesaddle seemed synonymous with losing her balance, a short ways into the ride, she’d hiked her blasted skirt up and swung a leg over the stallion’s long white neck. The last thing she wanted was to have to hold onto Zayne or Will’s poor mane the entire ride. She felt weak and helpless enough as it was.
At least in this position, she was unable to see the prince. Or stare. Good golly, did he look scrumptious in a white shirt—this one a bit puffier and more regal looking than the one he had on yesterday—chaps, and fitted riding boots. His shirt nearly glowed against the bronze of his skin and seemed to electrify his topaz-colored eyes. And the chaps, well, they left little to the imagination and hugged the most amazing butt she’d ever seen.
But staring would lead to drooling, which might distract her from being pissed off. And she wasn’t ready for that, as her hopes of getting to her photo shoot diminished by the minute. Galloping for the majority of the journey thus far or not, they had yet to reach Watford, London, or any other signs of civilization. Gorgeous royal or not, the man was making Addie miss out on her first international gig.
“Comfortable, my lady?” Zayne called over the sound of his thundering steed.
She threw him a scowl over one shoulder. “Hardly.”
He pulled her closer to his chest. “Pure torture, is it?” he asked in that smug, velvet voice.
“You have no idea,” she grumbled.
Zayne whistled then, the sound piercing through the barrage of hoof strikes. Their group came to a stop, and men began to dismount. Brom appeared at their side and extracted Addie from the prince’s grasp.
“We seem to be making good time.” Zayne swung down from the saddle in one smooth, chaps-hugging-his-glorious-butt motion.
“Good time?” Addie tried to rub the kinks from her back. “I thought Emeline said we would be back well before nine or ten.”
“At this pace we shall, perhaps even before nightfall if the path ahead is as clear.”
“Nightfall?” Addie groaned and bent at the waist to release some tension in her upper body. Dang it, she should have known everything sounded too good to be true this morning. Now she was sure to miss her gig with the soccer team. Rather than fester and make a bad situation worse, she drew in a deep breath and tried to think positive. Maybe the Watford owner was an accommodating guy. Maybe he’d let her reschedule the shoot. It wasn’t like she was flying back home anytime soon since she’d counted on this income to help buy her return airline tickets.
“Aye,” said Brom, ignoring her. “The path has no’ been this clear in years.”
“You can thank my father for that.” Zayne’s tone was flat and sounded anything but grateful. “He ordered it be kept that way for future travels between the kingdoms.”
Addie chanced a quick look in his direction as she drew back into an upright position. Three vertebrae in her back popped loudly. Did the man have to look so appealing with his hair all windblown like that?
“A wasted effort if you ask—” Brom’s gaze flashed to Addie, and he threw her a dark look. “What are you waiting for, then?
Off with you now. This is no conversation for a lady.”
Addie growled at them both as she wrestled with the eighty-seven yards of fabric in her ridiculous skirt. She’d thought it beautiful when Emeline first held it up, but it certainly wasn’t the most comfortable dress she’d ever worn. And this length would be the end of her.
Her full bladder demanded relief, so Addie hobbled across the primitive road in search of a private place to take a leak. But she drew to a stop at the edge of the woods surrounding them on both sides. Woods, she now knew, were home to wolves. No way would she get lucky and escape a second time, not when all the men around her were doing their best to ignore her.
“Come now, lass,” muttered Brom, who had somehow crept up behind her in total silence. He hooked a hand under her arm and half led, half dragged her forward. “Relieve yourself so we can be off.”
“I was getting to that,” she snapped. “Now leave me be.”
“If I do, you would never be done.”
Addie’s first instinct was to tell the man where he could go, but his grip was like a vise, and clearly, resistance was futile. Besides, if wolves did appear, surely they’d go after him instead of her—he was the bigger meal of the two. So she stumbled alongside him through the underbrush for a few dozen paces then drew behind a large, broad tree trunk. Brom released her arm and began to gather her skirt’s fabric in his hands.
“Whoa, what are you doing?”
“Trying to get you home before nightfall. Now go.”
Addie stared at him, wide-eyed as the cool air of the shadowy forest met her legs. “Wuh, I—I can’t just—”
“You can, and you will.” He shifted the fabric in his arms, reached forward, and took hold of her running shorts and panties, then turned his face away and gave her undergarments a firm tug down from her hips. With eyes still averted and his face red as Santa’s coat, he growled, “Now go.”
Mortified and utterly embarrassed, Addie lowered herself into a squat. She’d thought yesterday was the worst day of her life. But this? Oh, no. This was far worse.
Thankfully, she’d never been one to have a shy bladder, and the deed was quickly done. Addie fumbled to find her undergarments to pull them back into place, but Brom was already in motion and after the briefest of glances brought them back up with a solid tug. Then he picked her up, threw her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and marched them back out to the road. In no time, she’d been handed off to a grinning Zayne, who waited upon his snowy-white steed.
“Better, my lady?” the prince asked, amusement in his voice as Brom stormed away.
Addie crossed her arms and scowled at the road ahead. If she ever returned to this godforsaken land, it would be all too soon. “Yeah. Super.”
* * * * *
The terrain soon grew rockier and the caravan slowed to allow their horses to find sure footing. Zayne shifted a sullen Addie in his arms, the movement stirring her sweet fragrance into the air around them once again. She smelled like a sea of wildflowers dusted by a spring rain. Suddenly he could picture her lying beneath him in such a place, the sun glistening on her smooth, fair skin.
With a frown, the prince tipped his head skyward and tried to think of something other than the girl in his arms. Though fate had dropped temptation incarnate into his lap, the cruel reality was she neither wanted him nor desired to stay. A tragedy, as she was a challenge, and it had been far too long since Zayne felt challenged by anyone, much less a petite female.
Ah, but a challenge she was. More than tantrums and sharp wit, Addie was akin to a human puzzle, full of mystery and not easily solved. If only they’d been gifted more time together, for betrothed or not, he would have sought to unlock those mysteries.
“Have you truly never visited Edana before?” he coaxed, yearning to hear the sound of her musical voice.
She remained silent a moment longer, then sighed in defeat. “No. I hadn’t even been to England before this weekend.”
“England.” He looked out over the land around them. Were there perhaps lands beyond the great seas to the south?
She turned in her seat to cast him a curious glance. “Haven’t you ever left Edana?”
“Of course,” he said. “Though not often or for long, as our relationship with neighboring Forath has been, how shall I put it, strained for quite some time.”
“Forath. Huh.” Her brows drew down in a small vee. “Do the people there not believe in electricity either?”
A chuckle escaped him. “Whatever is an electricity?”
“It’s power. You know, to heat your homes, wash your clothes, run your applian—” Addie shook her head at the look of confusion upon his face and turned her back to him once more. “You know what? Never mind. It’s probably best not to talk about it. The less you know, the less you’ll be missing.”
Power. Was this why she spoke so boldly to his servants? To him? Because his woodland nymph came from a land where she held great power?
“So why are we traveling by horseback when you could have just flown us back to where you found me, anyway?”
Zayne grinned at the petulance in her voice. “My unexpected appearance within our neighboring kingdom yesterday caused some alarm.”
“You mean they freaked out when they saw you.”
“Freaked…out…?”
“They panicked and shot at you. I mean, I totally would have if a dragon appeared in my backyard. We don’t have dragons where I come from.”
A shiver rippled through her and, as she was still pressed against him, rippled through him as well. Zayne took a deep breath and waited for the flame of desire her movement caused to subside. Perhaps it was best their time together would be limited. Having her so near for any longer would surely lead to his undoing.
“I believe it had more to do with the color of dragon over their land, carrying off a woman in its grasp.”
“Wait, you mean Forath has dragons too?”
“Aye. Though neither side allows their dragons to cross or draw near the border between us. My doing so yesterday has brought further strain to the fragile peace between our lands.”
Addie’s gaze shifted to the soldiers around them. “Does everyone in the kingdom turn into dragons?” The question was barely above a whisper. As it was, he had to lean down to hear her sweet voice.
“No, my lady. Only those of us who carry the dragon blood in our veins. And all are men.”
“That kind of sucks.”
He shook his head and grinned at her strange words once more. “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, why do the men get to have all the fun?”
“It is not all fun and games, dear Addie. Those of us who can transform are mandated to serve in the royal army. Our lives are put in danger far more often than those who do not share our ability.”
“Oh.” Her gaze flashed back to the soldiers among them, and Zayne’s did as well. Korey gave her a curious look, but Brom threw her another scowl. Clearly, he was still bitter about having to assist her in the woods. Not that he had much of a choice. Zayne trusted no man as much as he trusted Brom. Addie, however, shifted away from the warrior’s dark look and pressed closer against Zayne’s chest. “Well, where I come from, women can serve in the military just like the men do.”
“And are you a warrior, my lady?”
At that, she burst into laughter. “Oh no, I’d make a terrible warrior. I’m terrified of guns, and I don’t do well around blood either. Prevented me from going into nursing too. Nope, I figured photography was a much better fit for me, so my weapon of choice is a harmless camera.”
“A camera,” he echoed, the word foreign to his lips. “Tell me about these cameras.”
“Sorry, I keep forgetting—you all seem a bit averse to electronics here. Um, well, they’re these little devices that capture images…”
Addie turned to meet his gaze as she continued on, her eyes bright with excitement. Zayne had thought her radiant this morning on the steps of Godfrey Manor,
but she was even more so now. The way she looked at him as she spoke, so eager to share her passion for magically capturing moments in time, fanned the flames of his growing desires. But it wasn’t simply desire for her body that the prince now felt; he longed to know her mind as well. It was as if her words were an enchantment, consuming him from the inside out. An enchantment he never wished to break.
Sometimes the needs of those around us transcend our own…
Emeline’s words wormed their way into his mind, shattering the illusion. If only his sweet Adelaide had been born a princess instead of a photographer. But alas, she had not, and his kingdom wouldn’t be saved by a union between them. Judging by the excitement ringing clear in her voice, she’d be much happier in her homeland with these cameras than she could ever be here with him. With a heavy heart, Zayne shifted his gaze to the road ahead and reminded himself that he must allow her to return home.
* * * * *
Eventually the group came upon a wide, shallow stream. One by one, the men dismounted to cool and water their frothing horses. Brom appeared at Will’s side to relieve Zayne of his passenger, his face stone sour and eyes averted from her skirts.
As the men settled down upon fallen logs or the rocky soil, a satchel of food containing bread, meats, and cheeses was passed around. Though she knew she should eat, anxiety had robbed Addie of her hunger. She told herself it was worry over whether or not the people in this other kingdom would be able to help her find her way back home. Or if they’d even let her attempt it.
Truth be told, she wasn’t looking forward to leaving Zayne either. A foolish thought, she knew, and yet she couldn’t seem to help it. When she spoke, he listened with such rapt attention that at times it was nearly unnerving. Never had anyone cared so much about what she had to say—yet another reason she’d fallen in love with photography. While she often struggled to connect with her peers, their attraction to her work had always been undeniable. Smiles and nods weren’t any more than backhanded acceptance, but acceptance all the same. More often than not, though, she spent her time on the perimeter of the social elite, trying to fade into the scenery rather than stand in the spotlight.