Betrayal and Yearning: A Fantasy Romance (Changeling Desires Series Book 1)

by Eve Redmayne

Something in the way his eyes gleamed told her he understood. He grabbed a handful of her backside and positioned her firmly against the stone wall, setting her stomach aflutter. His other hand trailed up to cup her breast, brushing an eager nipple. “You want me?” he rumbled and increased the pressure. The bud responded.

  A shiver trailed to her toes and she pushed closer. His touch always left her wanting more.

  While his hands played over the crests and valleys of her body, his mouth fell on hers with a ferocity that left her panting.

  Giving as good as she got, her tongue brushed against his as she made eager, little sounds against his mouth. Sparks flashed as they moved against one another, grinding, needing.

  Feeling him pull away, she tightened her hold around his neck. He’d been hesitant to get intimate since coming to Grayweather. Her free hand trailed down his chest only to pause at his belt. Then she moved lower over the leather breeches until he pulsed stiffly against her palm. Wanting to torment him like he tormented her, she ran her fingers over him, her eyes agleam. He pushed back, impossibly large, and stiff.

  A smile crested her cheeks when he reached down to cover her hand with his. He worked her grip over his pants up and down his length, rougher than she would’ve on her own. Her insides clenched in hopefulness, and she tightened her grasp. He’d been so respectful, never pushing her to move fast. And while she’d been grateful, the time for politeness was long passed.

  “Blast, I need you,” he rasped, then released her hand to flip her around to face the wall. His breaths grew ragged as he ground his cock against her soft curves, the thin wool gown offering little barrier between her and his hardness. Her nipples tightened as her breasts scraped against the cold stones. “Marry me.” His breath tickled her ear.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d asked. She gasped, cheek pressed against the wall, her body responding to every inch of him, impatient for him to take her. Lord, she wanted him inside of her. But once again, she declined the offer. “You know I’m not ready.”

  The moment the words left her mouth, Braum jerked away without warning, leaving her bereft of his touch.

  “What?” She turned just in time to see raw need and hurt distort his face, before he stormed away, abandoning her in the dark stairwell, pulse frantic, alone.

  The sun shone down within the walled-garden as Whipple demonstrated the basic illusion for the sixth time. But she couldn’t concentrate. Braum hadn’t slept in her bed now for almost a week. Instead, he chose to sleep in the hall beside her door. And he’d not said a word about her refusing his marriage proposal, but it had clearly hurt him.

  Whipple raised a bushy brow to get her attention. “Remember, might isn’t the only way out of a bad situation. Sometimes all that’s needed is a bit of well-timed trickery.” Then disappeared in a white puff.

  In her attempt to recreate the distraction, Jessica burned her hand and coughed violently after inhaling a lungful of smoke.

  “Child,” Whipple chided from behind as he dabbed sweat from his forehead, his gaze fond, “You’ll never escape an enemy that way unless they die of laughter.” Though they’d not known each other long, they’d quickly grown close.

  Next, he heightened his aura. “What color do you see?” he asked.

  She saw nothing, but guessed he was, yellow?

  “Even the most unlearned buffoon can see a heightened aura, it gives a wizard insight on how to proceed in any number of circumstances.” He shook his head and examined her critically. “Must be the human in you, but one doesn’t need inborn magic to perform basic wizardry, it’s just making observations and manipulating peoples’ perceptions.”

  How many times had he told her that, and how many times had she failed? At everything. For whatever reason, she couldn’t perform what even the least magical resident of Orygin could easily do.

  Moving to a table beside an overgrown shrub, he handed her the runes. She tossed them, but they fell in a disorganized heap and revealed nothing.

  Potions next, she managed to cut herself and pick a poisonous pod that the wizard flung from her grasp.

  “I think we’ll be done for the day.” He patted her on the shoulder and began organizing his supplies.

  With lessons over, Jessica had some time before dinner and nothing to do. She could head to the solar and visit with Bessy. But just that morning the queen had loudly criticized Jessica’s choice to not wear her hair in braids and had later glared when she’d left for her appointment with Whipple. It wasn’t that Bessy was purposely rude—Jessica didn’t think— the queen simply didn’t guard her tongue and wasn’t shy about making her opinions known.

  Her other choice was to find Braum. Was he back from training? Perhaps cleaning up in his bedroom before dinner?

  Decision made, she slinked through the keep until she faced the oft-noticed yet never-attempted door and pushed. Silence greeted her as she entered Braum’s bedroom. Only a sliver of light glimmered through the drawn curtains. Her heart pounded as she crept deeper into his private sanctuary.

  The room was tidy, almost to the point of being sparse. And the only item she could see that betrayed a need for comfort, of any sort, was the enormous bed covered in a blanket made of furs. Several books sat atop a desk, one, open to a diagram of mining equipment and beside it, a piece of parchment with several notes scrawled across in a neat hand.

  Her face lightened as she saw what could only be a beat-up guitar leaning in one corner, though it was rounder than the instruments on Earth. She wondered what he’d say if she asked him to teach her to play. That would give them an excuse to get close.

  Not that she needed one. While he never touched her in bed, he found countless ways to put his hands on her when they were together, as though unable to stop himself. When he helped her up from a chair, his touch lingered on her back. When she reached for something in a cabinet, his hands found her waist.

  There were also the stolen embraces. He’d grab her unaware as she walked by with the queen’s ladies, pull her into a nook, and kiss her senseless. Clutching, grinding his body into hers until she panted, breathless with desire, then release her so she wouldn’t be missed.

  And he wasn’t unaffected. She noticed the jutting erections pressed against his pants. He wanted more but wouldn’t take it.

  A secret smile spread across her lips. Did he touch himself later with the thought of her fresh in his mind? Did he sneak here, to the bedroom he never slept in, to relieve the ache he must feel? She flopped down on the bed and ran her fingers through the soft fur.

  He was also thoughtful. Even after how things had ended the last time he’d asked her to marry him, flowers always sat next to her plate at dinnertime. She guessed he picked them while practicing with his men before riding home in the evening. Often wilted and squashed, sometimes beyond recognition, the posies never failed to stir something deep within.

  The elven threat still worried him, and he pushed his men all the harder for it. Every day, they worked on weaponry in the courtyard, honed their archery skills outside the keep, and rode their horses through tactical maneuvers until both man and beast dripped with exhaustion. But he’d said a week and she could join him in practice. Those elves had better stay away, or they’d have her to contend with. She chuckled. As if that’ll scare them.

  And while she wanted him, she declined to bring it up anymore. After that last time, he’d made it clear they wouldn’t be intimate until she married him.

  He’d proven what a thoughtful man he could be, and she wanted him beyond anything she could fathom. And yet… marriage? The idea of marrying a man she was only just getting to know terrified her. At the same time, she enjoyed her time at Grayweather. Truth be told, she’d fallen for the dwarven prince.

  With restless hands, she plumped his pillow and buried her face in the softness, trying to convince herself to see sense. But a spicy fragrance lingered on the linen and sent her pulse racing. Him. Unable to deny it any longer, she saw the truth for what it was; she
was in love.

  Maybe she should consider marriage, but that’s not what she knew. You don’t marry some guy after seeing him a couple months, no matter how great things seem.

  With a sigh, she hopped off the bed and headed to her room to get ready for dinner. Life was good. Not perfect, of course, but she didn’t miss her old life on Earth, except her mom. Eventually, though, she’d convince Braum to let her at least talk to a witch and see about visiting. Her mother must be frantic.

  Still, she couldn’t marry Braum after so short a time together. Perhaps she should persuade him to ravish her and then, well, who knew what. If they were compatible in bed, she might consider them compatible for life.

  Tilbeth stood from her laundry pile and bobbed a quick curtsy as Jessica closed the bedroom door behind her. Jessica flashed a relieved smile. Having come to enjoy Tilly’s company, she oftentimes unburdened on the girl.

  “I need some advice,” Jessica said before slumping into a chair.

  Curiosity burned in Tilly’s brown eyes, but Jessica couldn’t tell her she wanted to jump Braum’s bones. Instead, she blurted, “I want to go outside, live a normal life, but Braum tells me I can’t leave the courtyard. He says I’ll expose myself to danger if I do,” she lowered her voice in an imitation of Braum’s deep rumble.

  Tilbeth nodded. “You must listen to him, milady. The elves would snatch you away if they could.”

  Jessica gave her maid an irritated look then groaned, “What am I going to do, Tilly?” She used the nickname she’d given her. “The elves aren’t sending a force to get me, yet Braum can’t see that. I’m not made for drinking tea, listening to poetry, and weaving tapestries with the queen.” She was exaggerating now, enjoying Tilly’s sympathy. So long as the queen wasn’t criticizing Jessica’s every choice, she enjoyed the time spent with the ladies… now that it wasn’t an all-day thing.

  “Now, milady,” Tilbeth knelt beside her, “weaving ain’t so bad, it’s a nice way to pass the time.”

  “Drinking a couple beers at a hockey game’s a perfectly nice way to pass the time,” Jessica muttered and grabbed Tilly’s hand. “Help me figure out a plan. What would you do in my situation?”

  “Maybe you could talk to Sire,” Tilly finally suggested, though her face said, ‘Enjoy the damn poetry.’

  “Yes, but I want to show him how I’m feeling. We talk every evening while strolling through the keep and as we relax by the fireplace in the library.”

  “Yet he often sleeps in here, does he not?” Tilly asked, knowing full-well the answer.

  “Yes,” Jessica acknowledged with a hesitant nod. “But it’s damned awkward. He climbs in fully clothed. What’s he trying to prove?” She considered Tilly while chewing her lower lip. The conversation was getting awfully personal. Hopefully, the young maid was loyal to her and not the queen and this would stay between the two of them.

  “I expect that he respects you and wants to protect you.” Tilly grabbed a comb, about to run it through Jessica’s hair. “The elven threat worries him, anyone can see that.”

  “That’s the problem.” Jessica snatched the comb from Tilly’s hand before she ripped every hair out of her head by the roots. Fortunately, Tilly had steered the conversation to what she actually wanted to discuss, Braum bedding her. “He respects me too much. I’ve got to figure out how to get him to not be so courteous.”

  With narrowed eyes, Tilly responded cautiously, “Yes milady, I suppose that’s an idea.” She quickly drew Jessica’s hair into a braid and draped it over her shoulder.

  “Of course, it is!” Jessica grinned and jumped to her feet. “I’m not going to dinner tonight.”

  “You’re not?” The maid sounded dubious.

  “No, I have an idea. Can you arrange a picnic for us?”

  “A picnic?”

  “Yes, I want to take him on a date.”

  “The family won’t appreciate you going missing.” Tilly wrung her hands.

  “Oh, it’ll be fine. Just grab a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a bottle of wine. That’s all I need.”

  “What should I say to the queen?”

  “Tell her… I’m feeling ill, which happens to be the truth. Too much poetry’s bad for the digestion.” A wicked grin spread across Jessica’s face.

  Tilly left to do as she’d bid, muttering to herself.

  The only way for Jessica to see her feelings for Braum more clearly was to get him away from his family and take matters into her own hands. Then she could think about marrying him.

  Already she knew they were compatible in day-to-day life, but she needed to explore her feelings of desire for him, and his desire for her. His every action told her how much he wanted her. Like when she’d catch him watching her, his smoldering gaze fixed and burning. And every night at dinner, his hand rested on her thigh beneath the table, as though he couldn’t bear to keep away.

  It was clear he yearned for more intimacy as much as she and yet did nothing about it. What had changed in the man who’d seduced her in his rival’s garden, thrusting against her, desperate for consummation? If he was trying to madden her, it was bloody working.

  A flush rose to her cheeks as she remembered those heated moments in the garden pressed against the wall. Her breasts nearly overflowing her gown as he toyed with her, his fingers playing over her curves. Lord, she wanted his body on hers. Squeezing her thighs together, she ran a hand over her breasts and down her tightly clad stomach to rest at the heated flesh between her legs.

  What she wouldn’t give to have Braum’s fingers on her. Her breaths quickened, and with a flick of her finger, she pressed just hard enough a shiver of pleasure raced up her spine. Her body vibrated with need. Her clit thrummed, needing to be teased. And her nipples ached for—

  The door swung open and Jessica hastily removed her hand, as Tilly raced in.

  “You’re not finished dressing?” Tilly scolded, put her basket down, and bent to help Jessica with her boots. “I’ve got you some wine as well as some sausages that were turning on the spit.”

  “That’s perfect!” Jessica hugged the maid. “You’re the best! Now, where should I meet Braum?” It had to be away from the many eyes of the keep. Common sense told her they would be seen, but if they could get away without being stopped, that’d be the ticket.

  “Be back before dark. It’s getting cold and I wouldn’t want you freezing.” Tilly thrust the basket into Jessica’s arms. “Make your way to the stable through the herb garden. There’s a hidden door leading to the courtyard in the corner. From the stable, you can head to the street and make your escape. I’ll find Prince Braum and send him your way.”

  When Jessica’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, Tilly flushed and stammered, “I have a friend who meets one of the stable boys every so often.”

  “A friend, right.” Jessica winked at her and hurried passed.

  She dashed to the garden, found the hidden door, and pushed it open, careful not to trample the herbs growing before it. Pulse pounding, she waited a couple minutes, taking deep breaths. It was now or never. The door inched open with a squeak, and she paused, heart in her throat, waiting for somebody to look. But nobody did.

  She hurried out, keeping close to the shadows, and slipped through the door of the stable. The smell of horses, hay, and the faint tinge of manure greeted her. Her eyes took in the gleam of crude tools hanging on the walls.

  With time to wait, she dragged a stool into the far stall and sat with eyes closed, envisioning Braum coming in and smiling at her. They’d have fun, getting away from all the pressures of the court.

  It didn’t take long before the door crashed open, and she jumped, barely holding in a scream. Braum’s shoulders filled the entryway, effectively blocking the light. While she couldn’t see his shadowed expression, she could feel the anger radiating off him.

  “What the hell do you mean meeting me here?” he growled as the door slammed behind. “Do you have any idea the rumors this will cause?”

  S
tartled from her dreamy reflections, Jessica jumped to her feet, cheeks ablaze. “Who cares?” she demanded, voice shrill. How dare he chastise her? “How is this any different from sleeping in my bedroom at night? Besides, doesn’t everyone already know you kidnapped me? They might’ve guessed we’ve feelings for each other.” She placed her hands on her hips. “And I left without anybody even knowing it.”

  A large hand plowed through flaxen waves, and his golden eyes burned into hers. “I sleep in your bedroom for your protection, that’s common knowledge. And of course, they know I brought you here. But right now, and until we marry, the important thing is your virtue be preserved. And no one leaves the keep unnoticed. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

  So, she wasn’t as canny as she’d thought. Then his words sank in. “My virtue?” she repeated, only to fall silent by his abrupt hand motion.

  “Aye, your virtue. I mustn’t claim you until we’re wed due to the”—he shook his head and began to pace end to end in the small space— “circumstances,” he finished lamely.

  What did that mean? He’d never talked about circumstances before but didn’t appear willing to offer any further explanations.

  “I see,” she said sharply her blood beginning to simmer. “So that’s why you won’t go any further than second base? You don’t want anyone to think I’ve been soiled?” She spat the word. “Maybe you’re ashamed of me.” The space suddenly became too small to contain them both. Had she been wrong about him?

  “I’m not ashamed of you. I love you, dammit!”

  Her foolish heart jumped at his confession. But before she could think to respond, he continued, “Because of that, we cannot make love until we are wed. We must remain—”

  Not letting him finish, she turned. Whatever he had to say she didn’t care to listen just now, having had enough of his bullshit. Picnic basket in hand, Jessica headed out the door.

  To hell with them all! She wasn’t a dwarf, she was a human, and was tired of all their nonsense. If he turned down her offer to picnic, then she didn’t want his company, either.