by Eve Redmayne
“What the hell, Forde?” Braum groaned as his youngest brother smiled up at him, brown eyes twinkling merrily, clearly unfazed by his ire.
“Hullo, brother.” Forde smiled with such an air of nonchalance, it was as though catching Braum in the arms of the elven prince’s woman was completely commonplace. “Mum wanted me to tell you dinner’s in an hour and she’s sending Tilbeth to help,” his gaze shifted to Jessica’s mussed hair, and he grinned, “Jessica, is it? I didn’t have a chance to speak with you at the meeting the other day.”
She nodded and bit her lip, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Braum glared at his brother’s dark eyes and quick smile. It was infuriating how he could so easily disarm others with his easy manner.
With a polite peck on the cheek, Braum disentangled himself from Jessica. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He squeezed her arm gently then followed his brother out.
***
Jessica pressed her forehead against the closed door and breathed deeply. What had she gotten herself into? That man certainly knew how to scramble her thoughts.
A knock sounded and broke her reverie. When she opened the door a slight girl of about eighteen rushed in.
“Hello, miss.” The girl bobbed a curtsy and set down her basket of wash items. “I’m Tilbeth.”
Jessica gaped at the young maid, a bundle of energy, who moved a hundred miles an hour and talked even faster.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” Tilbeth said cheerfully as she eyed Jessica, “but we only got a brief time and much to accomplish. A bath’s out. We couldn’t get your hair dry fast enough.” She sniffed Jessica’s direction and wrinkled her nose. “A sponging, though…”
Piece by piece, she helped Jessica disrobe. When Jessica stepped out of her undergarments, Tilbeth gasped in alarm. “Mercy, what have they done to you? The barbarians!”
“What?” Jessica looked down.
“Your… your….” Tilbeth’s face turned scarlet. “Your maidenhair, begging your pardon, miss.”
“My maidenhair?” Jessica repeated, only to realize what the girl meant. “Right, that.” Blood rushed to her cheeks. There’d been a time when the state of her pubic hair was a concern for only herself. But the tuft, the elven groomers had left, sat on full display.
“Oh miss, the butchers.” Tilbeth shook her head, braids bobbing. But she straightened, cheerful once more, and used a wet cloth to sponge Jessica down. “It’ll grow back, never you fear. And once we get the smell of horse of you, I’ll lotion you up, soft as silk.”
In a blink, Jessica found herself bathed, dressed and ready to dine with dwarven royalty.
“You look so pretty.” Tilbeth beamed up at her. “Let me attend to your hair.” Jessica sat on a low stool before the fire and winced as a comb pulled at the tangled locks. Unlike Fyona, Tilbeth’s hairdressing skills left something to be desired.
“Let’s just leave it down, shall we?” Jessica winced and took a relieved breath when the girl agreed.
“Normally dwarves wear their hair in braids.” Tilbeth pointed to her own dark plaits. “It’s an ancient tradition that shows we are one with the gods of the mountain. But I think it’ll be alright for you to have your hair down. Well if that’s everything, let’s head to sup.”
“You’re coming with me?” That was a surprise, considering her experience at Britarre.
“Of course. A maid must eat too.”
All the way to the dining hall Tilbeth prattled. She told Jessica about who was courting whom, why Griffin (Prince Braum’s best friend) was avoiding a particular married lady, heavy with child—and wasn’t that highly suspicious? And about the mineshaft taking too long to clear after a rockslide.
Jessica smiled. Tilbeth clearly felt no discomfort gossiping with a stranger.
When they entered the dining hall, the first thing Jessica noticed was the twin fireplaces blazing on either side of the room. Massive wooden tables bore the weight of a feast like none she’d ever seen: platters of whole-roasted meat and vegetables, tankers of ale and hunks of dark, brown bread. And a hundred men and women sat packed onto benches, talking excitedly to one another.
The royal family sat at their own table, covered in white linen, as servants attended them. So far as Jessica could see, they appeared to eat the same food as everyone else and conversed with all.
Tilbeth waved to Braum who stood and hurried over.
Was part of his hair braided and she just hadn’t noticed? Sure enough, tucked under the golden waves lay a thin plait, all but hidden beneath his thick tresses. She smiled as Braum helped her sit.
Trying not to let the noise, scents, and the thoughts racing through her brain overwhelm her, she watched Braum heap piles of food upon her plate. Well, she’d worry about everything later, because… those dimples.
He speared a potato and popped it in his mouth, his wide jaw flexing as he chewed. And it came to her that this man was a contradiction. She’d seen him as both a big menacing warrior and as a gentleman, kind and considerate. He’d threatened Wycliffe and abducted her, but had also blushed with obvious embarrassment when they’d first arrived at the keep as his parents chastised him for his behavior. Despite his large muscles and being of a different, magical race, he was still just a man.
The food was foreign but tasty and the beer plentiful and strong. Braum paid her every attention, pointing out who worked in the castle. Blacksmiths (all men), beer brewers (all women), seamstresses, laundresses, shepherds, butchers, weavers, and a flutist.
Braum’s brothers came over, bowed, and kissed her fingers like courtly gentlemen—thanks in part to an elbow in the ribs from the mother, which Jessica pretended not to notice.
Forde was charming and oozed confidence, dark eyes winking while he paid courtly attention to her until Braum chased him away. Klieg, on the other hand, was quiet. While nice enough, he seemed to have a private anger simmering within. Similar in appearance to Braum, he was broad with the same golden eyes. Though, like Forde, his hair was dark.
As dinner wound down, an old man hobbled towards them. “Wizard Whipple,” Braum acknowledged.
“Good evening, sire, milady.” The ancient man tugged on a gray beard. “I’m the keep’s resident wizard. If you ever find yourself free of this fellow,” he gazed at Jessica with kindly eyes, “come find me. It’d be my pleasure to teach you about Orygin and give you a magic lesson or two.”
Jessica nodded, feeling her eyelids droop. Whipple excused himself and Braum said in her ear, “Mum doesn’t like magic. She thinks it’s heresy, like most dwarves, but Whipple’s been here since Da was a lad.”
Despite her efforts to remain alert, she found herself sinking into the big body next to her. But he was so hard it was a bit like cuddling a boulder. Her skirt caught awkwardly as she shifted. She leaned forward to tug it free and felt his gaze upon her.
“Don’t move,” he breathed, voice rough.
Confused, she glanced up and saw where his eyes lingered. Her breasts, pushed high, almost overflowed the blue gown. Lord, that’s all she needed. Her spine stiffened and, with a few terse motions, Braum tugged the gown to rights.
His gaze settled on her, dark and penetrating. Tired as she was, the raw intensity was too much, so she looked away. Too many things had happened to her, and her instinctive reactions to him, as well as his response to her, was worrisome. She should be mad. He’d kidnapped her against her will. Well, not exactly against her will. She could’ve fought harder.
A big arm wrapped around her as though sensing her unease. She relented and let herself rest in the nook between his shoulder and chest. Soon, the honeyed ale and warm body beside her lulled her eyes closed.
***
Braum let Jessica rest undisturbed, enjoying the feel of her body tucked into his. Unable to resist, he trailed a finger down her arm as he observed her face, peaceful in slumber.
“My son—”
He turned, surprised his mother had approached without him noticing.<
br />
“—I know you have strong feelings for the girl, but remember, you must be wed before you take things any further.” She tipped her head down, kissed him on the cheek, then swept the tresses off his temple in a motherly gesture.
“Goodnight, mum,” he murmured and gently awakened Jessica. He must heed his mother’s advice, but gods, he didn’t like it!
When they reached her room, the maid ushered him away—eager to prepare her lady for bed. But once Tilbeth left, he snuck back in, needing to see Jessica one more time.
Already fast asleep, Jessica lay with her mouth slightly parted. Unable to resist, he sidled next to her. It took all his control, but he kept a respectable distance between her body and his and stayed above the blankets. If he got too near, he’d surely break. To recline close to Jessica’s warm, slumbering body was to court disaster, but it was agony not to feel her in his arms. Besides, he’d only stay a few minutes.
Minutes slipped away to hours. The tightness in his jaw eventually relaxed as he held her, breathing in time to her exhalations. As they lay close, he considered what it would take for her to agree to wed him. For it was the only way to ensure their happiness as well as her immediate safety.
***
A slow dawning came upon Jessica. She shifted in her sleep and found herself trapped by a muscled arm. Braum had lain with her and she hadn’t noticed? Her gaze swept over his resting face and she smiled, he almost looked innocent with his hand tucked under his cheek, the hard lines of his jaw relaxed.
How he’d fallen asleep, hovering on the very edge of the mattress, she couldn’t say, with his—she lifted her head a fraction, yup—boots still on.
Golden lashes, long and full, rested flush against his cheeks, and his breathing was deep and even. He appeared peaceful and… vulnerable.
Despite the chaotic state of her thoughts, one thing she felt certain about was him. They’d only just met and yet he steadied her. For the first time since coming to Orygin, the idea of going home wasn’t appealing.
But no, she had to get home, didn’t she? This budding passion and the chance for adventure shouldn’t matter. She needed to see to her own welfare and find a way back to Earth. Not blithely fall asleep in the arms of a dwarf.
CHAPTER 6
Jessica trailed her fingers along the stone wall as she hurried from the queen’s solar to her classroom in the garden—her daily commitment in the queen’s company complete. With a start, her eyes focused on the trees dotting the mountains around the keep. They blazed red.
She counted back and staggered. Two months, already? She’d been so conflicted those early weeks at Grayweather about whether to stay or go but thankfully had chosen to give the dwarf prince a chance.
A brightly woven tapestry caught her eye, and she remembered that first day spent with the queen. Braum had explained he’d be working with his men until nightfall, preparing for an elven invasion, and for her to listen to his mother. But it’d only taken a few hours in Bessy’s company for Jessica to lean towards getting back to Earth. Her fingers stung from needlework, and she’d nodded off during the poetry reading. The painting lesson had been enjoyable, and the ladies-in-waiting chatty and kind, but she’d begun to question how she’d handle this lifestyle long-term. Then Braum had returned and she’d remembered why she’d given Orygin another chance.
The next day was more of the same. And the next.
While the time with his mother was long-suffering, when Braum returned—dirt-streaked and exhausted—her spirit soared in renewal as he rode into the courtyard, surrounded by dozens of men. Unconcerned that people watched, Braum’s eyes always softened as he drew her into his arms and placed a tender kiss on her lips before hurrying to the bathhouse.
A smile rose unbidden as she scurried down a flight of stairs. Despite his stern demeanor, Braum was funny and talkative. And whenever he was near, a giddy rush swelled through her and was only getting more powerful. She liked him as a person now, not only as a gorgeous set of muscles.
He was the kind of guy to tease. He made light of her human accent and strange vocabulary, laughed when she said things like what the heck and plate tectonics. And he always listened raptly to her geography lessons, ingesting all the information she had to offer.
Luckily, after only a week of sewing and gossiping, she’d approached the wizard, Whipple, and asked him to show her about. And hadn’t stopped coming around, since. Though Bessy had complained about it for days, Jessica took the wizard up on his fanciful offer to be his apprentice and now spent most of the daytime hours under his tutelage. And the days had flown by since. But, autumn already?
Life at the keep was fulfilling and pleasurable now that she’d found her place. Each morning, she awoke with Braum long-gone from her bed, a deep depression in the quilt where he’d lain. As far as she knew, nobody was aware he slept with her each night—always appearing well-after dark and disappearing well-before dawn.
She ate breakfast with the women, followed by arts and crafts, usually needle-work or painting, and before she knew it, joined Whipple. He taught her the intricacies of simple magic, and she helped him about the castle—from ridding the attic of mice to soothing the pestilent rash making its way through the pages’ quarters. By the time evening darkened the keep, she spent the remaining time with Braum.
Jessica passed the library and breathed deeply of the old books lining the shelves. Braum loved to read. He was always dragging out another of his favorite tomes to tempt her with—all of them about mining or battle strategies. She’d yet to read any of his suggestions, instead favored the books on geological formations or histories. The customs of Orygin were of particular fascination, especially as she incorporated her own interests into their everyday lives
Just yesterday she’d taught the cooks how to make oatmeal raisin cookies, only to discover Braum didn’t like sweets. He’d tried one, chewed dutifully, then chased the treat with an entire tankard of ale.
But they were finding more commonalities than not. They spent hours together practicing archery, obsessing over puzzles, and playing games of chance.
Each night, his eyes crinkled in delight as she detailed her adventures about the keep. Last evening, he’d nearly fallen off his chair laughing, quite out of character, when she’d casually mentioned losing her shoe in the privy. In her defense, the dog shit she’d stepped in was really stuck, and the shoe… slipped. Perhaps, her vigorous shoe shaking, and gagging hadn’t helped matters.
And whenever he regaled her with stories of his past, she listened with rapt attention. It was a wonder he’d survived the many battles and injuries. He credited Griffin for saving his life more than once and supposed their misspent youth was the reason Griff went into doctoring, in the first place. If Griff hadn’t pushed him out of that tree at twelve, resulting in a broken arm for Braum, Griff might well have become a stone mason.
Though the battle he’d expected over her had yet to occur, Braum continued to spend his days preparing his men for war with the elves and was often on edge. His men had already fought several skirmishes with the elves as they practiced maneuvers outside the protection of the keep, beyond the drawbridge, in the foothills surrounding Grayweather. But a declaration of war had yet to come.
This threat was the reason he’d forbade her venturing any further than the courtyard. She got that was why Braum didn’t want her to go outside, but she needed a little bit more freedom to be completely happy here, and—
All thoughts fled as a big hand pulled her into one of the many staircases winding through the keep. Her heart pounded. Wycliffe!
She struggled within the strong grip and jammed her elbow back until she met ribs. A quiet grunt and “shh” calmed her.
Braum! Immediately, she turned in his arms and placed her hands around his neck. Her heart thumped against his chest, and a smile lit her eyes. She murmured, “Hello, handsome.” Then scowled and smacked his shoulder. “You scared me. What’re you doing back already?”
His sho
ulders stretched wide and everywhere her touch lingered was as hard as the rock the men pulled from the mountains. He loomed over her, crowding her, invading every inch of space she occupied, which sent little thrills racing to her belly. It was silly to fear Wycliffe with Braum here.
“I should be sorry, but I’m not.” The dangerous look in his eyes and low timbre of his voice sent shots of desire straight between her thighs. “I missed you. Not seeing your face nor hearing your voice for hours tormented me.”
“Lord,” she said on a quiet chuckle and pulled him closer. Men back home never said things like that. Breasts tight against the firmness of his chest, she arched her hips forward and twirled a finger around the braid at his neck. “Why don’t you let me come practice with you tomorrow?” she asked, playfully.
“It’s too dangerous,” was his only response, aside from tilting forward to press a heated kiss against her neck.
Her breath caught, and a thrill ran through her at his touch, but she wouldn’t be distracted. “Why not?” She ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying its softness. He stroked her back, his fingers inching their way downward and almost made her forget her request. Almost.
“You’re so beautiful.” He ran his fingers down her spine. “More than I deserve.”
“Then let me have this one thing.” She scraped her nails along his scalp and would’ve sworn he purred.
With a disgruntled sigh, he pulled back. “In a week’s time, if there are no further ambushes, I’ll let you come. But only if you promise to remain where I can see you at all times.”
She smiled and saluted. “Yes, sir.” When he quirked a questioning brow, she laughed and gripped him by the hair to pull his face down to hers. Their lips just met, when he pulled back, golden eyes aglow.
God, she wanted to scream. Didn’t he know she craved his touch? Why wouldn’t he take her? She rolled her hips and pushed even closer, urging him to recognize that it had been long enough and was time to move their relationship forward.
