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

by Eve Redmayne

  “Nope, you’re mistaken. I’m right where I want to be,” she said, voice strained.

  His plan had been to find her wherever she hid, say the binding spell, and consummate their marriage. But seeing her like this, shaking in the barbs, forced him to ease his manner. He eventually wanted her to like him again.

  “Woman,” he sighed, “this is quite the predicament.” He walked around the patch and reached out a hand. When she looked up, he saw the trail tears had carved through the dirt on her face as well as several angry scratches.

  “How’d you find me?” Her petulant tone surprised him. She should be grateful, not annoyed.

  “Amazing dwarf eyesight, remember?”

  “That’s not fair.” She huddled even tighter, shrinking from his hand.

  Was she actually mad he’d used his eyesight to help her? Something about her irritation, even while huddled in a briar-patch, made him smile inwardly. She was gutsy. Life certainly wasn’t dull with her around.

  She plucked at a thorn embedded in her sleeve and eyed him warily. “You don’t have some trick to get me free, do you? I mean, you’re Mr. Outdoorsman, right?”

  “I had a pup get stuck in a bramble patch once,” he mused, head tilted to get a better look. “I tried to get him out, but a barb caught me near the eye. And that settled that.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dunno.” He scratched his chest and laughed at her incredulous look. “Mum called me in for tea and by the time I was done stuffing my face, the pup was out.”

  She snorted. “Whole lot of help you’re going to be.”

  Her words urged him to crouch closer. “I’ll get you out.” He meant to inspire confidence, wanted her to believe in him when, actually, he was scared as hell he’d hurt her.

  After brandishing his knife, he forced his hands not to shake and began slicing through the sharp twigs, careful not to let any branches snap back. “I think that’s it,” he said as the final stick fell.

  Several thorns clung as he dragged her out, and she yelped as a spike ripped through her gown and tore down her arm. With her hand clutched to the wound, she hissed in a wavering breath.

  Unable to speak, he wiped away as much dirt and blood as he could from her face, using his own sleeve.

  “Thank you,” she finally said, breaking the silence. Then to his surprise, threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder, trembling with relief.

  As she cried, he held her while murmuring soft words of comfort.

  The distance that had formed between them made his heart ache. He couldn’t live without her, and she couldn’t go on like this. For their relationship, they had to wed, but more importantly, they must wed for her safety. Until he called her wife, the elves could reclaim her, and he’d have no recourse. Any council would declare her Wycliffe’s property, no matter that the godforsaken elf had no true feelings for her.

  Should he ask her to marry him again?

  Scrapes crisscrossed her cheeks, and he knew her tattered clothes hid more injuries. She’d laugh in his face if he asked her to marry him right now.

  Fairly certain nobody had told her about the binding ceremony, he’d use that ignorance to his advantage. Righteous conviction made his decision easy. Besides, after they’d wed, he’d have the rest of his life to make it up to her.

  Upon releasing her, he knelt and took her hands in his much larger ones. She was chilled, so he warmed her with both his breath and tender kisses.

  Trails of blood smeared passed her wrists, and his eyes darkened. “I want to ask for your forgiveness,” he said, his gaze fixed firmly on hers. “I want things to be well between us”—when she made to speak, he held up a finger— “I know I’ve made a mess of things and going forward my only concern will be to see your every happiness fulfilled.”

  Jessica threw her hands in the air. “I can’t get a read on you.” She swiped away tears. “If you truly loved me, you’d be honest with me, talk to me about what’s bothering you, and you wouldn’t throw me over your shoulder and carry me off when you’re frustrated. We’re humans, not animals, for Christ’s sake. Well, I… you… you know what I mean. I want you to treat me like your equal.” Her eyes scanned his for understanding. “I want you, dammit, and I know you want me, too.”

  “You’re right.” He pulled her against his chest and slid his fingers up to knead her shoulders. Maybe if she accepted his apology he’d get the sense she was receptive to marrying him and he’d abandon this deceptive shit.

  She arched her back at his touch, and he allowed himself a brief smile. “What if I told you we’ll move from the keep.”

  Her smile brightened, and she turned to face him, a twinkle in her gray eyes. “You have no idea how much I’d like that! I like the keep, don’t get me wrong, it’s just—” she trailed off and turned, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. “Maybe we could build a house somewhere?” she added, sounding excited about the prospect.

  “I have a hunting lodge near the borderlands. It’s well-hidden so we’ll be safe from interfering elves.” Plus, they’d be married so Wycliffe wouldn’t be able to take her back. She relaxed, seeming pleased with the idea.

  It was working! She’d marry him, and they’d be happy. “All it needs is a feminine touch and it’ll be perfect to live there with my wife and brood of little dwarves.”

  “Whoa, there!” She untangled herself from his arms. “I haven’t even decided if I like you again, and you’re already naming our first-born?” Dark tendrils escaped her braid as she shook her head.

  So much for asking her to marry him, but they would wed this day, no matter if the bride did so unknowingly. He cleared his throat and ran a finger over her arm. On to the next plan. “I noticed several cuts and injuries from your…” He didn’t know what to call it.

  “My escape attempt?”

  “Aye, well.” He almost blushed. She had been trying to escape. “Years ago, Whipple taught me a healing spell. If you’d like, I can use it on you.” She’d kill him when she found out the spell’s true meaning but had left him no choice.

  “You? A healing spell?” Her voice was incredulous. “I thought dwarves didn’t believe in using magic or have inborn magic.”

  “You’re right, but I’m a scholar as well as a warrior, and I’ve seen many things and would be a fool not to acknowledge them. And there are a few universal spells, inborn magic not required. Orygin is full of surprises if you know where to look.” He ran his finger along a particularly deep scratch and pressed.

  She hissed before shrugging. “I guess it’s worth a try.”

  Was it going to be so easy? And could he remember the words to the spell? He’d been practicing it on the off chance she agreed to wed him. Most importantly though, would it work if one person was duped into saying it?

  He helped her to her feet then scanned the area for a suitable site for their vows. A stream on one side, cliff-face on the other, and forest everywhere else kept them restricted to the small clearing. He chose a dappled corner where yellow-green moss and red lichen blanketed the rocks and trees. Once he’d maneuvered her to the pretty spot he clasped both her hands in his. “Speak after me.”

  She eyed him dubiously. “Aren’t you the one performing the spell? If I say the words, I’ll probably get them wrong and turn myself into a newt!”

  He shook his head, not understanding.

  “I’ll have to explain the genius of Monty Python some other time.” Her grin widened.

  Ready to get it over with, he explained some magic needed the participation of both parties involved. And as it was for healing, they needed to hold hands, so the restorative properties would leave him and enter her.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, upsetting the waves.

  Gods, what shit I’m spouting, lying to the woman I’m about to marry. But they needed to touch, and the vows must be consummated before the moon set, otherwise, the marriage and spell were forfeit.

  The last of the aftern
oon sunshine cast her in a halo of golden light, and Jessica nodded, letting him know she was ready.

  Before speaking, he focused on her long lashes, half-tempted to run his finger over them just to feel their texture. When he could stall no longer, he tightened his grip, swallowed thickly, and let the spell tumble from his lips. In ancient fae, he promised to be hers, vowed eternal love, and swore his everlasting fealty to her and her alone. Not to mention urging her humanity to flee her body.

  His gaze softened as he beheld the woman he loved, the woman he would do anything for. This magnificent human would be his. Going forward, their lives would be arm in arm and nobody would be able to tear them apart. That is if she didn’t hate him after.

  When it was her turn, the panic in her stormy eyes told him she feared making a mistake, but he nodded, encouragingly. As she repeated the words, her brows drew together. Despite the tricky vowels and odd consonant combinations, she managed to not butcher the spell completely, only tripping over her tongue once.

  His heart swelled as she promised to be his. Joy leapt as she swore eternal love. And a fierce pounding of every emotion he knew crested as she pledged her fealty to be his and his alone. The certainty that he was doing the right thing quelled the tremor in his soul as she pleaded with his dwarven blood to make her anew.

  The words had just left her tongue when a trill of energy ran through their conjoined hands.

  “Did you feel that?” She squealed and looked around.

  Braum nodded and released her. One after another he ran his hands through his hair. “It bloody worked!” Pleasure pulsed through him, which was at once doused by ice-cold shame.

  He’d tricked the woman he loved. His wife.

  She looked down at her arms. “Well, something happened. I felt it, but are you sure we got the words right? It looks like I’m in as bad a shape as before.” She examined one foot, then the other. “See?” She lifted the raw flesh to his gaze. Suddenly, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, heck! What if I really do turn into a newt?” A giggle escaped as his frown deepened, making her laugh all the harder.

  “You won’t turn into a newt!” He chuckled, unable to stop the warm glow from spreading across his face. He’d just wed this fascinating creature, and the thing they’d felt wasn’t her transformation into a newt, but the beginning of the transformation from human to dwarf.

  Unable to stand aloof, he drew her into his arms. He searched her eyes, looking for any clue she realized she’d begun to transition. Her appearance was the same, slightly dirty, covered in red scratches, with her long hair unraveling about her shoulders. In other words, unbelievably beautiful. There was no physical change to speak of, now, but it wouldn’t take long for her aura to shift. In a month’s time, anyone looking would see she was transitioned if he finished it. Tonight.

  A bird shouted in the trees high above, and the paling afternoon sun signaled to Braum he’d best build a shelter before nightfall. He couldn’t take her back to the keep until the consummation had taken place and she forever his. With his emotions ranging from elated to petrified, he walked away from the glen, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll get camp set up.”

  ***

  With her hands held before her, Jessica tried to catch the fading light. She must’ve spoken the words incorrectly as nothing felt better. Every ache and twinge still burned and lord, all she wanted was a bath and soft bed. Instead, it looked like she was sleeping on the hard, cold ground.

  I’ll get Braum for false promises—tell him to take more lessons from Whipple. She chuckled at the thought and rubbed a sore muscle when the silence around her deepened.

  Her eyes darted about in time to her thumping heart. Braum had disappeared, and the woods were so dark, they seemed to have thickened. With panic building, she spun around to see what was out there certain she was no longer alone.

  CHAPTER 9

  The noises in the forest stilled. And unaccountably, the trees seemed to hug inward, closing in on Jessica. The only sound was her ragged breathing as she frantically looked around. The sudden, heavy silence seemed to shout, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

  Out the corner of her eye, she saw something and paused. A flickering light hovered an arm’s length away. It resembled an ember from a fire, though it glowed pink. Before she could react, it trembled and rushed forward, plunging into her breast at full speed.

  Jessica gasped and turned around while patting her chest. She felt nothing.

  Except there was… something. A coolness began coursing just under her skin, racing along venal pathways as it spread throughout her body, hurried along by her bloodstream. A loud whooshing thrummed in her ears along to some ancient beat.

  Then, as though nothing had happened, the sensation dissipated. It must be the spell, she thought, shaking off the feeling of wonder mixed with foreboding. Maybe the healing will start now.

  “Is it too late to head home?” she asked when Braum strode back, carrying an armful of sticks

  In response, he dropped the pile into a heap, grunted, and began twining them together. “Do you see what I’m doing here?”

  She nodded, watching as he interwove spiny branches.

  “I want you to do it.” His knife landed blade down in the soft earth beside her foot. “I’ve got to start working on the fire and the gods know it’s been too long since I had to do it this way.” He indicated the sharpened stick and flat piece of wood he held.

  The branches were stiff and spiky, and Jessica dabbed at the sap covering her hands and swatted at the pine needles stuck in her hair. “Why do we need these?” She cursed when one snapped back, catching her across the cheek.

  Busy rubbing the stick between his hands while simultaneously feeding yellow blades of grass to the wisps of smoke, Braum remained silent. When the flame didn’t catch, he stood and tore his shirt off then flung it to the ground. “You’re making our shelter,” he finally answered, sounding terse.

  Unenthusiastically weaving now, she kept one eye on her work and the other on him. A gleam of perspiration moistened his shoulders, and the muscles lining his back rippled in the fading sun.

  This man was hers for the taking, she thought, if only he’d let her do the taking. Why insist on waiting until marriage when they could make love now? Their lack of intimacy was causing tension, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  Tonight, was her chance to try and seduce him. Help him see abstinence wasn’t for them, that they could forge their own lives in a way that made them happy, tradition bedamned.

  Mind made up, Jessica resumed weaving with vigor. The wind rushed over the holes in her gown and she had a feeling it was going to be a chilly night… especially if they weren’t wearing clothes. A smile deepened, and she began to hum. As her fingers moved, she brushed a flower, sprouting from the branch.

  She pulled back and considered the delicate blossom. Had it been there all along, and she just hadn’t seen it?

  Braum paused and scratched the hair on his chest, his face screwed up in concentration. She watched his hand move further down to where the trail flared over his navel.

  Forgetting the flower, Jessica forced her mouth closed and wondered what he’d say if she followed that trail with her lips. Anticipation surged through her belly, leaving her restless and achy, but not from the bramble cuts.

  “I’ve almost got this going,” he said moments later, crouching before an infant flame, hands working furiously.

  The seat of his pants stretched taught over his backside. She itched to swat him, laugh, then run away only to have him chase her—in a good way this time. That settled it. Tonight, she’d play the temptress.

  “There,” he proclaimed, startling her from her reverie. “We have a fire! Come add kindling while I check the lines to see if I’ve caught anything for dinner.”

  Let the seduction begin. She didn’t walk towards him, she sashayed, hips swaying side to side. Her gown gaped at the bodice as she bent over. “Like this?” She held up
a twig and leaned over the fire, knowing exactly what she was doing and exactly where he looked.

  “Mm-hmm,” he managed, before turning to hide the sudden erection jutting against his pants but not before her breath hitched in excitement. He gathered up her woven branches and settled them around the cliff-face, making a shelter for the night, then headed towards the stream.

  A thrill ran through her. He definitely wanted her, but it wouldn’t hurt to up the ante just a bit. She drew her filthy gown over her head and laid it within the boughs. They could use it as a pillow and she could use that as her excuse for stripping.

  In naught but her shift, she tightened the strings of her stays, plumping her breasts to overflowing. The pink edge of an areola peeked over the top. Instead of tucking away the blushing skin, she repositioned her other breast until it also revealed a hint of pink.

  Hands lingering, she restrained a sigh. The stiff ribbing cut into her nipples and reminded her of Braum’s hard fingers plying her eager flesh. She craved his hands on her, so masculine against her femininity. Her body ached, needing what only he could give. For the finishing touch, she unbraided her hair and tossed it over a shoulder. It was the best she could do at playing the seductress tonight.

  Half an hour later, he marched into camp carrying a couple fish that he set on the grass, already cleaned and ready to cook. “I have dinner,” he began only to stop in his tracks. His golden eyes darkened upon seeing her.

  Her breaths shallowed, and nipples peaked. Lord, he only had to look at her.

  “I’m feeling a little tired,” she murmured coyly, running her hands down her hips. “Maybe we could rest a bit?”

  He nodded stiffly his eyes fixed on that hint of pink at her shift’s edge. Unspent desire charged the atmosphere around them.

  There wasn’t time to blink in the second it took Braum to grab her. His fingers gripped her arms securely as he stared, unmoving. She licked her lips nervously before firm lips crushed hers, his tongue already inside her mouth.

  Hard hands swept over the curve of her waist, to her shoulders, then back down over her buttocks. He clutched her, angling her hips forward until her softness ground against him. The rigid hold made her gasp, and she moved closer, needing his touch.