by Eve Redmayne
Immediately she dropped to her knees, pretending to stumble, and fumbled under her skirts. Luckily, she’d been to the pantry, not the kitchen, otherwise, she might’ve been found out.
A guilty smile skittered cross his face as he juggled a pastry. “I was coming to find you,” he said and shrugged those wide shoulders, “and thought maybe a treat would help.” When she narrowed her eyes, he pinkened and added, “It would’ve worked with my brothers.”
As if she could be so easily swayed.
He held his hand out for her, and she considered his long fingers before placing her hand in his, allowing him to help her rise. The warmth of his flesh was stark against her coolness, and she lingered a moment. Their eyes met and immediately both their breathing sped up as a tangible longing permeated the air around them.
Finally, she released him, but before stomping away thought better of it, and reached back to grab the tart. “I am hungry.”
His hand, so much larger than hers, grabbed her wrist, halted her retreat, then pulled her gently toward him. “I’ve wanted to speak to you.” His words were low and raspy, and his eyes seemed almost black in the dim hallway.
She clamped her teeth down hard before she scoffed in his face but didn’t pull away. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at his very touch, though she hated herself for them.
“Since Wycliffe left I’m unable to apologize and learn manners.” He winked at her and said between his teeth, “Not that I would.” Then, his brows drew together, “But as I’m leaving soon, I wanted to apologize for any problems I may have caused.”
“Any problems?” she parroted, eyes going hard, not knowing what else to say. He was sorry for any problems he’d caused. Understatement of the year. Well, she was sorry for ever having laid eyes on him.
Hoping he’d say something else, anything else, she waited, but he simply frowned at her, golden eyes dark as if he were contemplating a weighty decision. When the silence grew unbearable, she nodded, spun, and hurried to her room, her fist closing around the tart.
What would she have done if instead of apologizing for her problems with Wycliffe, he’d have proposed she run away with him? Jessica kicked the bedroom door closed behind her and looked about the room. No Fyona.
With a moment to herself, she pulled her skirts up and reached a hand into her stocking. Her fingers molded around the hilt of the knife she’d taken from the pantry and hastily hidden when she’d run into Braum. Tonight, was the night. She’d make her escape and get the hell home with her two weapons for protection. Her eyes drifted to the bed where she’d stashed the short sword she’d found, earlier.
A rustle sounded outside her door. She started then stashed the knife under her pillow and stepped away from the bed, trying her best to look innocent.
Fyona entered and wagged a finger. “Ohh, the trouble you’ve caused, young lady. Prince Wycliffe has returned but refuses to speak with the dwarf prince. Though to be honest, that’s to be expected.”
“The trouble I’ve caused?” Jessica snapped. “You’re the ones who bloody brought me here! And I certainly didn’t ask for Braum to flex his muscles and act like a hormonal idiot.”
“Braum, is it?” Fyona’s lips pressed flat.
Jessica didn’t reply, guarding her expression.
Fyona continued, eyes wary, “We’ve had peace, more or less with the dwarves, sodding brutes, since King Aaron came into power. The rivalry between the princes is pure foolishness and has been going on for well over a decade now. Prince Wycliffe needs to get over it, but wounds don’t always heal.”
Before Jessica could ask for clarification, Fyona asked, “Do you want me to dress you for the evening’s entertainment? I believe it’s a bard.”
“No, I’ve got a bit of a headache, if you don’t mind I’ll stay in my room tonight.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll let Princess Lyzelle know and be back in a few hours to get your ready for bed.”
The moment the door clicked behind the maid, Jessica tore off her gown, then paused. Damnit, the stays! Well, there was nothing to do about them, so she moved on and reached under the bed. It only took a moment before she had on the woolen skirt and thin linen shirt she’d found hanging on a line outside the castle kitchens and had guiltily taken. They were better than traipsing about the countryside in formalwear. Now to wait until the sky darkened and everyone was well into their cups.
As soon as it was dark enough, Jessica pulled the knife from under the pillow and headed to the balcony to make sure the way was clear. But she drew to a stop at a knock on the door. Pulse pounding, she crept over and peeked out. “Yes?”
“It’s I, my lady,” Drake, Lyzelle’s guard stepped from the shadows.
“What’re you doing here?” Jessica scanned the hall, but she could only see the faint light of distant torches.
“Her Highness asked me to guard your door. She worried there might be foul play tonight and she trusts me more than anyone. With Prince Wycliffe newly returned and Prince Braum still here…” Drake shrugged as though to say Lyzelle worried over much, but he’d humor her, nonetheless.
A shock of red hair fell across his forehead, and the smattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks gave him an impish appearance. Curiously enough, his ears were round, not pointed. Before she could ask him about it, his eyes dropped.
She swallowed heavily and shifted the knife into a fold of her skirt.
“My lady, I don’t know what you’re planning, but I really must insist you exercise caution. Even if you’re not afraid for your own safety, what if you hurt someone else, or injure an elf?”
“Then I’d give her my thanks,” came a voice from the darkness.
Drake spun as Braum stepped into the torch-light, and Jessica almost swallowed her tongue. The lone illumination cast his face in shadows, giving him a sinister air.
“How did you get up here? Stay away from her, you filthy dwarf!” Drake thrust himself between Braum and Jessica’s open door, hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Or what?” There was a hint of amusement in Braum’s tone as he strode forward, a casual swing to his step.
Without another word, Drake unsheathed his sword and lunged. Braum sidestepped then grabbed Drake by the arm. With a mighty jerk, he twisted him around, sword pressed to Drake’s throat. It happened so fast, Jessica barely saw Braum move, but a line of red marred Drake’s throat and darkened his white shirt.
“A shifter’s no match for a war-trained dwarf,” Braum snarled, then moved to slit the man’s throat.
“Wait!” Jessica cried, hand raised. “Don’t kill him!” Drake had been guarding her, risking his life to protect her own. She couldn’t let him die.
“He would’ve killed me,” Braum said, fingers running almost playfully over the hilt of the sword.
“What did you expect, sneaking around in the dark? A warm welcome?” She forced herself to feign nonchalance and mimic Braum’s casual posture. “Besides, Drake was here to see to my safety.”
“You were never in danger.” He stepped closer, dragging Drake with him until they were on her door’s threshold, the sword’s edge pushing deeper. “Do you think for a moment my eyes left you?”
A slight smile flitted across his lips as he glanced down at her low-cut blouse. But the look in his eyes turned dark. “Were you thinking of leaving?” His words burned with a barely restrained fury.
She moved to shut the door on him.
Braum released Drake, but not before slamming the hilt of his sword into the back of his head. Drake slumped to the floor, unconscious. The hallway tilted before Jessica’s eyes as Braum yanked the door from her hands, plucked the knife from her fingers, and grabbed her arm to steady her.
He pulled her toward him and pressed his lips to her own, saying, “Foolish woman. You’d have died.” Then his mouth crushed hers.
Coming to her senses, she swung her arm up and hit him, trying to break his grasp. He released her but stared at her lips, a hunger in his eyes.
“Tie him up and put him somewhere he won’t be seen for a few days,” Braum said. Jessica blinked, not understanding, when two men appeared from the shadows. “By the time the elf realizes she’s missing, we’ll be well away from this place.” His golden eyes surveyed the corridor. “Find the maid, too. The dark-haired one.” Three more dwarves turned and disappeared down the hallway. “I don’t want her to alert the castle that Jessica’s missing.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jessica hissed, eyes on the bed where her stolen sword rested out of sight.
Two dwarves dragged Drake by his legs into her room and closed the door with a click.
“What does it look like?”
Jessica backed up, her eyes never leaving Braum.
“You can’t do this. Wycliffe will come after you.” She took a few more steps. The bed was just feet away. An image of their time in the garden flashed through her mind, and she remembered the feel of his arms around her under the warmth of the sun, which didn’t compare to the warmth his body radiated… She stifled the memory. Lord, it’d only take a little persuasion on his part to convince her to run away with him. This man had her heart jumping since she’d first seen him.
“I imagine so, but by the time he does it’ll be too late.” He strode toward her, so close she could detect the faint smell of leather and sweat. She backed up another step. “He’ll just have to kidnap another human now, won’t he? It’s the only way they can get a bride to marry one of their sorry lot.”
Braum’s lips twitched at her confused expression.
Something hard brushed against her leg. The bedframe. She dared a glance down, so close to where the sword hid out of sight.
An arm encircled her waist, drawing her attention away from her salvation. Hands molded to her curves, and she fell forward against Braum’s hard chest. His eyes flashed, and once again, his mouth found hers. When he pulled back, his lips quirked into an almost-smile. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” She asked, then shook her head and lunged for the sword. Before she got close, the dwarf grabbed her and thrust a length of cloth from his belt into her gaping mouth. Then, using another length, he tied her hands behind her back. She tried to pull away, to fight, but he was too strong and held her wrists together easily.
Without a further word, he hefted her over his shoulder. She swung her legs wildly, trying to kick him in the gut, but he merely wrapped a big arm around her flailing limbs and carried her across the room to the balcony.
A birdcall sounded to which he responded in kind. Braum walked out and brought her down from his shoulder to cradle like a babe. He looked downward, nodded, then without saying a word, dropped her. A screamed filled her throat but didn’t make it beyond the gag. Legs flailing, she fell through the air.
Arms caught her, large and hairy. The man stumbled backwards from the force of the impact. Ribs throbbing, she fought to catch her breath. Braum climbed down the rose-covered lattice, followed by several other men. After landing with a soft thud, he grabbed her and strode towards his horse—saddled and waiting in the castle’s shadows.
He tossed her up, belly over the beast’s neck, leapt behind, and pulled her onto his lap. It was an ignominious position, and she hated how vulnerable it made her feel. She struggled against his rock-hard thighs, squirming in protest until a giant hand landed gently on her butt.
If this bastard spanks me, I’ll gladly stab him with the next blade I get my hands on.
Voice raspier than usual, he said, “Love, best stop joggling over my cock, else I’ll have to take you behind that shrub and finish what we started in the garden.”
Instantly, she froze, aware of the hard presence under her navel. He wasn’t kidding.
“To home!” he whispered and kicked the horse into motion.
CHAPTER 5
Braum and his men raced through the inky night, fleeing the elven valley as they headed toward the foothills. It was imperative they hurry, as Grayweather Keep lay several days’ ride north. With the score of men his father had left him, Braum could put up a fight, if needed, but prayed to his gods they’d get away. The kingdoms were too close for him to keep Jessica secreted away forever. The elves would eventually find out and either retaliate or decide a human wasn’t worth fighting over.
As they rode, he scanned the landscape for hazards. His eyesight was good, but no sense taking chances.
Jessica butted her head against his leg. When he didn’t respond, she thrashed, not more than a kitten’s blow. With her head hanging about his boot, she must be dizzy. After a quick look back, he figured they’d ridden far enough he could spare a moment to let her sit upright and not hang like a sack of grain.
Reigning up, he ordered his men to wait ahead apace. He lowered Jessica to the meadow floor, not wanting to hurt or scare her more than she already was. Gods, she probably hated him and who could blame her. He wasn’t sure he could justify his own behavior.
His lips thinned. To hell with that! He was the goddamned prince of Grayweather and didn’t have to explain himself to anyone.
The moment her feet touched, Jessica crumpled to the ground with a muffled moan. His stomach sank, and he leapt down to kneel beside her, aware of the horse’s hooves. With the moon as his only light, he searched over her body, looking for any damage, then pulled the gag from her mouth.
Disbelief reflected in her eyes.
“I couldn’t let you scream,” he explained as she stared silently. Her eyes dipped as his blade slipped from its sheath at his waist. No, truth was he couldn’t bear to leave her with the elf.
When he cut her hands free, she rubbed her wrists, still watching him out the corner of her eye. He smiled inwardly as she tried to get up and run, only to stumble back to her knees.
The human had spirit. In one stride, he stood over her. He felt her outrage as she glared icicles at him, her muscles twitching, ready to bolt. Without saying anything he swept her into his arms, carried her back to the horse, and placed her firmly on his lap.
“Are you kidding me?” she shrieked and slid as far to the side as his arm allowed.
So that’s what it took for her to speak, he thought, his erection pressed boldly against her soft buttocks. Even after a grueling ride, he wanted her.
“Let me go! You’re disgusting! You insult me at that, that, town hall meeting. Challenge my… fiancée, and then you kidnap me and have the goddamn nerve to have a stiffy?”
“Are you done?”
“NO!” Jessica shouted. “I have had it with elves and dwarves! All of you! I want to go home. My real home.” She elbowed him in the chest and looked around. “Somewhere around here,” she gestured vaguely to the trees, “is how I came here.”
Through the dark, she looked in all directions. After several moments, she turned to him and gave him a stern, no-nonsense look that he saw right through. She could jut that chin all she wanted, but her fear was plain in the way she clenched and unclenched her fists and the way her eyes never settled on anything for long.
“Take me to that… portal and I’ll be on my way. Then you can go on pillaging and raping maids and doing whatever a dwarf does!”
Braum’s eyebrows raised, and he tried not to laugh but didn’t succeed. “We’re not pirates, you know.”
Her breasts gleamed in the moonlight, heaving from the effort it took to breathe in the absurdly tight stays. Despite his worry about the elves coming upon them, Braum couldn’t take his eyes away from her. A small part of him enjoyed the fact she’d tried to get the sword from under her bed. She was feisty. He very much wanted to see if that feistiness carried over into other areas. His cock stirred at the thought of her nails scraping across his back, and he shifted uncomfortably.
“I’ve no way to send you back to Earth. That’s the work of magic, and dwarves rarely associate with witches. And you will be going home.” With his hand pressed against her waist, he leaned forward and brushed a tender kiss over her bare shoulder, gleaming white
in the moonlight. “My home.”
That sodding elf would’ve made her miserable, he told himself. And would never make her feel like this. His mouth slanted towards her neck, the torment increasing by increments, but she shrugged away.
“I don’t think so,” she sneered, arms crossed over her breasts.
Never knowing he had a thing for shrews, her pouty lips and insolent tone caused blood to course straight southward. She could fight pissing mad any time. She wanted him as much as he wanted her—this little display of petulance was all an act, and one he liked.
“We keep going,” he said loud enough to alert his men. In a quieter voice, only Jessica could hear, he continued, “While I’d gladly take you now, I must decline and get you to safety, first.”
She shot him a withering glance over her shoulder. “As if I’d let you do me here!” she hissed, then, realizing what she’d said, corrected herself, “I mean at all!”
With a rare smile crinkling his eyes, he clicked his horse into a gallop and raced toward the mountains in the distance. The landscape flew by as his small force hurtled through the night. After a time, Jessica’s spine relaxed against him. He liked the feel of her and was glad for the excuse to hold her.
Towards dawn she slept, her cheek nestled against his shoulder. Even at such an image of innocence, need raged through him. In the garden, she’d been in his arms, willing, and yet he hadn’t been able to make her his. His smiled dimmed, remembering her gray eyes filled with desire. He shook his head and tried to focus.
The ride was long, but they made good time, only stopping long enough to trade horses. And in two days, they made it to the mountain kingdom. Jessica had barely spoken ten words the entire time aside from when she’d tried to run that morning and had cursed him a thousand ways to sunrise when he’d caught her.
