by Lyla Oweds
“Not quite.” His lips thinned. “Although this is unacceptable. You’ve been with a man all night. We must make sure to make things right in the eyes of our ancestors.”
I fought myself staring incredulously at him. Was this how he was going to approach this marriage plan of his? This was a modern world. Who even talked like that anymore?
Who cared what a bunch of old dead relatives thought?
Although, Gregory could probably see his dead relatives. And they could haunt him. So I was sure there was a different sort of relationship there. So maybe he really did care.
Oh well, that wasn’t my problem to deal with.
“I’m okay,” I told him, crossing my arms to ward off the early morning cold.
The sun had hardly broken through the night sky, and it was autumn. Even though the doors were closed, we’d been out in a car all night. The windows were lined with fog, and goose bumps had popped out over my bare arms.
“My brother’s home is nearby,” Gregory replied smoothly, unaware I was onto his plan. “We could stop by there. The staff should be awake at this hour, and we’d be able to eat. Oliver might be there, but I am not certain. He and Marianne have odd sleeping schedules these days.”
I wasn’t going to ask, but something about the faraway look in his eyes at the last statement piqued my curiosity. “And why is that?”
“Why is what?” Gregory’s attention snapped back to me.
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way his gaze threatened to make me speechless. “Oliver is your brother? Why is his sleeping pattern noteworthy? Do you suspect him of some crime?”
“No.” Gregory frowned. “I just don’t understand. Alyssa is two months old, surely she’s at the age to know better. They indulge that child, I swear. Instead, he comes to Saturday dinner, whining about needing rest.”
“They have a baby?” I raised my eyebrow. “Then we probably shouldn’t impose—”
I wasn’t very good with children.
“No.” Gregory moved toward the door. “I want to see my brother. It’s important.”
“It sounds more like you want to annoy him,” I observed, even though Gregory ignored me and exited the car, moving to the driver’s door. “Middle child syndrome…”
“What did you say?” Gregory asked, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Something disparaging, no doubt.”
I shot him a glare as I twisted in my seat. “I would never.”
He didn’t respond and shifted his car into gear. I had a feeling that despite my protests, we would be headed to Gregory’s brother’s anyway.
“Where are we going?” I asked, suspicious.
The corner of his mouth turned up, and he didn’t even glance at me as he pulled the car from the parking lot. “You’ll see when we get there.”
“Welcome to the realm of the fae and my brother’s home,” Gregory announced.
I’d been picking at my nails—for ages we’d been driving along a lonely road surrounded by forest. And really, Gregory was the worst conversationalist. He only stared at the road while driving and was ever alert. As if he was afraid assassins were about to jump from the shrubbery at any moment.
Of course, I didn’t know why he was so jumpy. So perhaps it was a possibility. But his entire attitude was just ridiculous.
I’d have to ask him about it later, because right now all my attention had been drawn to the large… house in front of me.
“What is this?” I couldn’t stop the dubious tone from entering my voice.
“It’s my brother’s house,” Gregory said.
I continued staring at it, my brow furrowing deeper with every passing second.
Finally, I was able to phrase my next statement, trying to be kind.
“It’s a…” Many words of description crossed my mind, but the closest probably was, “It’s a tree.” An extremely large and gnarly tree.
This wasn’t creepy at all. Of course Gregory would drive into the middle of the woods and park beside this random tree.
Had he lost his mind? Psychological types tended to be a bit mad. Perhaps if I played along, I’d make it out of here without being forced to rip him to shreds.
I, personally, would rather not resort to such things.
Instead of clearing up my confusion, his actions became even more confounding. He exited the vehicle and opened the passenger door, hand outstretched in order to help me stand. There was an almost nervous energy radiating from him.
Despite the strangeness of his actions, I didn’t bother to resist. Instead, I accepted his offer, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach as he pulled me beside him. His fingers trailed lightly over the curve of my hip as he turned me to face the tree.
“My brother’s home,” he declared boldly.
I studied the tree in silence for a moment, unsure of how to respond.
But finally, I had no choice. He was watching me, expecting something.
“It’s… lovely,” I offered, playing along. I was a beast of the forest. If I made a run for it, he’d never catch me. And if I was lucky, his headache still pounded away at him. So he’d be rendered even more useless than usual. Because he certainly hadn’t been any help last night, that’s for sure.
Gregory chuckled—actually chuckled. “Not the tree.”
I tore my attention from the aforementioned object and glanced at him. “You just said—”
“This is only the front gate,” he explained, as if that made perfect sense. “I just wanted to see your reaction.”
“You’re horrible.” I frowned, almost disbelieving. He was actually trying to be funny, at my expense. I didn’t appreciate this.
Despite my statement, his expression remained amused. His lips curled into a tiny smile. “It’s actually pretty funny.”
It was not. Gregory had no sense of humor at all.
“So what am I supposed to see exactly, then?” I asked, gesturing toward the tree. “I’m assuming there’s some odd fae magic at work here?”
Gregory’s mouth thinned as his eyebrows lifted, and it took a brief second for him to respond. “That would be correct.” He tilted his head, watching me. “In politer terms, this area is glamoured.”
“Oh, we’re back to being polite now?” I crossed my arms. “Thanks for the head’s up.”
My reaction caused his mood to slip even further, and his brows furrowed. “You’re angry?”
His expression didn’t give it away, but he was unable to hide the disappointment and worry lacing his scent. The combination of his anxiety and the curious, yet cautious, look on his face was, dare I say, endearing.
There was something wrong with me. I couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed.
“I’m joking.” I sighed. “Cut the gas if you can’t handle what you dealt.”
“That was a joke?” He sounded confused.
“Never mind.” I pointed to the tree again, annoyance beginning to swell in my chest. “What are we doing here? Get on with it. Otherwise, I’d like to go home.”
“Have you ever seen how the fae live?” Gregory asked, ignoring my statement. “You’d be the first woman I’ve ever brought here.”
Annoyance scattered as my face warmed, and I twisted my fingers together nervously as my thoughts raced.
What was wrong with me? I wasn’t a naive schoolgirl—I knew exactly what his actions implied. And I shouldn’t be shy now, even though we were very much not a couple.
Not only that, but Gregory knew Michael wanted to date me. So surely he didn’t mean his statement in a flirtatious way.
But I couldn’t help my racing heart.
I closed my eyes as warnings flashed through my mind. I was not ready for this level of commitment. There was still so much I had left to do with my life.
There was Michael.
What was I supposed to say?
“Miss Gloria.” Gregory’s fingers brushed over my knuckles, and my heart raced. “Can I have your hand?”
Oh Lord, I wasn’t wrong
after all. It was actually happening. Last night wasn’t only the ramblings of a drunken man. What should I do? This would make this the seven hundred and fifteenth time I’d been proposed to. And like when Michael made his ridiculous declarations, my pulse thundered in my ears.
It made it difficult to think.
Gregory didn’t wait for a response. Instead, his fingers threaded through mine, warm against my own.
I forced my breathing to calm, my heart to steady. My attention strayed to the sound of his voice, trying to capture every word.
How was Gregory going to attempt to woo me?
But Gregory was muttering something strange under his breath. In a tongue and voice completely foreign. A short phrase of long, curving words that held no meaning to me.
My eyes popped open, and my gaze flickered up to his face. His eyes were closed, his attention refocused.
His right hand gripped mine tightly, but his left was raised, palm out toward the bark. Another elegant sentence whispered, and slowly, he pressed his hand forward.
I expected his movement to stop as his palm touched the tree. But instead, his hand brushed past the surface until his entire arm up to his elbow was gone.
He stepped forward, guiding me with him. “Ready?” He blinked down at me.
I prided myself on being flexible when the situation called for it. And there were matters here beyond my comprehension. So instead of screaming, I held back my surprise.
Clearly, he was screwing with me again. Gregory was more mischievous than expected. The only thing to do now would be to surprise him and allow him to lead me without question.
I smiled up at him. “Certainly.”
“Would you like more tea?” the maid asked as she smiled shyly at me while she held up a flowered teapot.
“Ah…” I glanced back into the dainty cup that I had been using and frowned. I’d barely drank what was already in my cup as it was. “No thanks, I’m good.”
“Of course, miss,” she said, her tone a bit more curt as she turned toward Gregory and his brother and offered the same. They paused mid-conversation and allowed her to refill their saucers. And before she’d even finished her task, they turned back to their discussion.
A discussion, of course, in a language with which I was not familiar. Which left me sitting on the sidelines, unable to participate. Gregory and Oliver were clearly not prime examples of hospitality.
Gregory’s brother had been awake already when we arrived, dealing with his daughter. We were shown down marble hallways and lavish spaces until we reached the greenhouse. It was a massive, glass-enclosed room adjacent to the main house.
It was there we met with Oliver Stephens and his infant daughter Alyssa, who was asleep in her pram.
He’d been sitting, eating toast and drinking tea at our arrival and didn’t seem surprised to see us. He only waved his elegant hand as he invited us to join him.
Which brought us to our current situation.
“Miss Protean.” Oliver broke his conversation and turned his bright green eyes to me. “Can you explain how you know this ruffian? Surely his tales of employment together are—”
“We are coworkers,” I interrupted. “I’m not certain why that’s so difficult to believe.”
“But it is. Our women rarely leave the house unchaperoned,” Oliver replied, genuine concern on his handsome face. “And they would never think to work outside of the home. It’s dangerous.”
I raised my brow in question—dangerous for whom, exactly? But I remained silent in case my mouth retorted before my mind could weigh my words.
I turned my attention to Gregory.
“Fae women are treasured,” Gregory responded, shrugging. “Especially within the highborn classes, where they are rare. Harming one would set her entire family, and extended family, on the warpath. And holding one hostage would give the perpetrator a huge advantage. After all, we’d do anything to get them back. So they become targeted once they leave the safety of our realm.”
“Which is one reason why outsiders normally are not allowed within our barriers,” Oliver added. “So my brother must think highly of you to bring you to my home. Especially at this ungodly hour in the morning. It’s only luck I was awake.”
Ungodly hour? I originally thought we’d get here early, but Gregory’s shenanigans had cost us time. In fact, the clock had chimed ten only moments ago. My mouth popped open, a question on my lips, but Gregory already cut in. “I told you who she is. I trust her.”
“You trust her?” Oliver turned a suspicious gaze toward his brother. “You never trust anyone. What changed?” When Gregory didn’t respond, Oliver’s lips pursed and shoulders dropped. He seemed to want to press the subject, but instead, he only asked, “Are you certain?”
“With my life.” Gregory sipped his tea, not at all perturbed at this odd conversation. “So now that I brought her here, can I have it?”
My mouth snapped closed, and my gaze narrowed. “Have what?” I wondered this before, but now it was beginning to bother me. “Why are we even here again?”
Oliver raised his eyebrows as he lowered his cup from his mouth, and my heart jerked. My statement had come out rather abruptly, after all.
“I don’t intend to be rude.” I waved my hands in front of me, trying to diffuse this situation. “It’s only, Gregory dragged me here against my will, but never once told me why.”
The corner of Oliver’s mouth curled up and his eyes twinkled. “Of course he didn’t. He’s a shy one.”
What was that supposed to mean? It had better not be a continuation of Gregory’s advances. I wouldn’t know how to deal with two of them.
“Oliver.” Gregory’s voice was a growl. “The item.” He was pointedly looking away from me. “We should get it.”
“What item?” I glanced between the two of them. “You can’t leave me,” I added, waving toward the pram still settled to the side of the table. “You said you don’t trust outsiders, and with good reason. What if I eat her?”
The infant was stirring, blinking sleepily, but still looking rather content. But who knew how long such peace would last? If they were going to rush off somewhere, they had better take it with them.
I didn’t know the first thing about babies.
“You’re not going to eat her. And she’ll go back to sleep. You’ll be fine for ten minutes.” Gregory pushed from the table, getting to his feet. “I’ve heard that shifter women are more attuned to their motherly instincts. It’s nature.”
“That’s a lie.” I was glaring daggers at him, begging him to sit his butt back down. “I’m actually quite horrible—”
But Oliver had stood. “We won’t be long.” His look was almost apologetic. “Just control any impulses you might have to eat my child and you two will get along fine.”
And with that, the two brothers left me alone with the baby.
She wasn’t doing much more than lying in the pram, staring up at me with her wide green eyes. But it didn’t matter; internally, I was screaming.
Children and I did not mix. Even little baby children who didn’t do more than defecate and eat. What if she moved? What if she wanted to be held?
What if she cried?
What was I doing here? I should have gone home first thing this morning. This was all Gregory’s fault. I was going to murder him. He was never allowed to drink alcohol again.
The birds’ morning song rang in my ears, and the early frost hadn’t quiet cleared yet. However, despite the peaceful atmosphere, I was suffocating.
Gregory had lied. She hadn’t gone back to sleep. In fact, the child was still watching me. What did she want?
Was I supposed to do something?
“Hello there, wee one…” I felt so stupid talking to a creature who hadn’t mastered the English language yet. But what other choice did I have? I couldn’t sit in silence anymore.
Her stare was unnerving. I wondered if she even knew her name at this age, but it was worth a shot. “Alyssa?” I
frowned, trying to remember through my panic. “That’s your name, right? Now I don’t recall.”
Apparently, she recognized it, because she smiled at the sound of the word.
But still, even though it was a flower and they were fae, the name seemed an odd choice. Because this was one culture that placed a heavy emphasis on naming. I’d have thought they’d choose a name with a more… feminine meaning.
“Madness, huh?” I asked, noting her happy expression. She reached for me, and I allowed her to hold onto my finger. “You don’t seem rabid to me.”
In response, she pulled my hand toward her and began to gnaw on the edge of my knuckles.
I watched her a second, and her gaze remained on me as she continued her actions.
“Right…” I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Or maybe so.”
Babies. They weren’t so scary after all. My heart began to swell as a warm emotion ran through me. I wouldn’t have children of my own, I knew that already. But wouldn’t mind coming back to visit this one sometimes.
The instant the thought ran through my mind, she released my finger. I stared down at her, alarmed, as her happy expression faded in a second and her face scrunched up.
Oh no. “Hold on, what’s—”
Then she started crying, screaming at the top of her lungs. In the way that babies do when there’s no reason for this to be happening.
I jumped to my feet as panic numbed my reasoning. Should I hold her?
No, what if I dropped her and she hit her head. That would be terrible. And she’d get louder too, I was sure.
Maybe if I shoved my finger in her mouth, she’d stop.
But what if it made it worse?
“What should I do…” My fingers twisted nervously, and my throat began to close. It was getting harder to breathe, and I was two seconds from running away. There must be some other adult, not me, around to handle the situation.
As the thought crossed my mind, a woman rushed into the greenhouse.
“Alyssa, shhh…” She pushed past me, picking up the girl without hesitation and cradling her to her chest. “Shhh baby, don’t cry.”
