by C. J. Pinard
I’m going to have to rely on good, old-fashioned courting, he thought as he made himself clean.
After taking care of his business in the garderobe, he strolled back into his bedchamber and crawled back into bed. He didn’t want to deal with what the day had in store for him. A meeting with the chief knight of security of the castle late morning. The Sir in charge of the servants at in the afternoon. Then, at dinner, Mariselle and her two maidservants-slash-midwives.
No pressure there, he thought.
Until his cock had another idea. Stiffening at the thought of putting a tiny Rothhaven inside Mariselle—his fucking child—he lay back with a smile. His seed wouldn’t go to waste. He’d give Syracuse the hope they needed; the hope they wanted. With a smile, he quickly relieved his straining erection, and then fell back to sleep.
Chapter 20
Hecate refused to feel bad. She refused to feel guilty. She refused to feel anything. The future of the country was at stake, and after ten years of fretting over it, she was done. Sure, she’d interjected herself in two of the Rothhaven brothers’ dreams now at this point, but she wasn’t going to feel bad for doing it. Something had to be done.
No, Angelique hadn’t told her anything. She hadn’t seen the heartbroken redhead in years. Yet, she knew throwing out her protégé’s name would grab their attention. Angelique’s name was a catalyst that launched every Rothhaven into orbit. Their bitterness and disdain were associated with Angelique. Hecate felt a slight twinge of guilt using her name, but she quickly brushed it away. She knew it was for a greater cause.
Hecate just wanted peace. She wanted to exist between the living and those who had moved on to the astral plane.
She had been born in Europe, but had spent most of her adult life in Syracuse. She felt a loyalty to it, and wanted the people of its land to be happy. Hecate knew what it was like to be barren. Before her brief fling with Gaylen, she had found the love of her life. A ginger-haired prince with eyes the color of gold and skin so pure, she was sure he had been an angel. They had had a brief courtship, and then a grand wedding. Sure, all her family had passed away by then, as Hecate had been over sixty human years of age, but she never allowed herself to age the way humans had. Her own mentor, Amarel, had taught her well in the ways of staying youthful-looking. But her young groom, Samuel, Duke of Earl, had not been the wiser. Her romance and then marriage to him had been out of a fairytale. Soon after they were wed, Samuel had wanted children. Hecate had never wanted to be a mother before, until she had met her one true love.
She had tried every spell she could think of. She had consulted every witch, warlock, and witchdoctor she could find. She had prayed to every Christian, Hindi, Jewish, and African god she could. But there was always just nothing. In her desperation, she had offered a beautiful young maiden up for him to impregnate, and had offered the maiden riches beyond what she could imagine to give Hecate and Samuel her child to raise as their own. But Samuel hadn’t been on board with the idea, and had dismissed her.
In a last-ditch effort, she had opted to try to plot to steal a baby. Masquerading as a midwife, she’d found a young woman about six months along and began to think of ways she could steal the woman’s child once it was born. In the meantime, Hecate could fake a pregnancy by using sheep’s wool and garments to stuff her belly with. Or she could create a masking spell that made her appear to have a swollen belly to everyone around her. Then, when the young woman gave birth, she would take the child and tell the mother it had died.
But at the end of the day, Hecate realized she couldn’t go through with it. She couldn’t be that cruel. Soon after, Samuel had quietly divorced her, and not long after had found another wife and had many children with her.
It was soon thereafter she had got the job as the king’s magical consultant and had met Gaylen.
It was for this very reason that she knew the maidens and gentlemen of Syracuse deserved better. They deserved and were entitled to become parents, no matter their social standing. The kings and royals shouldn’t be the only ones who got to procreate. Just because someone was a peasant, or poor, didn’t mean they didn’t deserve to bear children. It was a human right nobody should ever be denied.
Drawing on her sadness from her past, and her exhaustion from her present, Hecate floated to Mariselle’s chamber and saw her sitting alone on the bed, brushing her hair and staring out the window. After putting it into a quick braid, she left the bedchamber and made her way down the hall.
Mariselle scurried down the stairs of the West Haven’s massive castle. She was hungry, wondering what was for supper. Hecate watched her walk slowly down the steps and head toward the dining room. Once there, she was pleased to see King Zackary already seated. He stood when she entered, and offered her a hand to help her sit.
Rubbing her hands together excitedly, Hecate knew exactly what she was going to do to make sure the couple warmed the king’s bed tonight.
“I know what you’ve been up to.”
Hecate whipped her head toward the corner of the room to see a knight standing there, his face shield up. But instead of the strong, youthful face of one of the regular knights, she saw Gaylen’s astral-projected form float out of the knight of armor. The human who’d occupied it startled and grunted, almost falling forward as Gaylen left his body.
Mariselle, Zackary, and the others at the table all turned their heads to look.
“You all right, William?” the king asked.
The knight nodded and straightened himself again. “Yes, sire.”
Shrugging it off, the diners continued their meal, talking and laughing, completely oblivious to the witch and warlock standing—floating—mere feet away.
“What are you talking about?” Hecate hissed, trying to keep an eye on the young lovers, but also looking Gaylen.
“I know about young Mariselle and her being the key to breaking the curse. You can keep trying, but you’ve only half succeeded. I’m going to make sure you fail. This country belongs to me. Me! You hear me? You and I, we could rule… start over. The Rothhavens have been nothing but poison to this country because they can’t keep their cocks in their pants. And I’m not going to let you use that flaw to put the country back together again. They don’t get to be the heroes. They should pay for the curse poor Angelique was forced to put on them because of their father’s cruelty!” He sneered at Hecate, then looked back at the table.
“Poor Angelique? Poor Angelique? Are you…” Hecate floated around the room like a ghost on LSD, zipping around the dining hall, bouncing off the walls and then suddenly stopping an inch from Gaylen’s face. “It’s your fault she was banished! You convinced King Edward she was an evil witch and that she had practiced witchcraft. And now you have the audacity to stand here and tell me she had no other choice but to curse all of Syracuse for it? She had plenty of other choices. She loved King Edward and he loved her. You ruined that. You, Gaylen. Nobody else! We have to put right the wrong that you caused!”
“Of course I’m the one who planted the spell book under the floorboards in her poky little home. Of course I penned the fake spell on Edward in the book so he’d believe me. But even after all of that, the little bitch still tried to trick me—to trick Edward into having her back. But she didn’t succeed. We have to let them die out. In fact, we should just kill them all.” He laughed maniacally.
“And what of the rest of Syracuse, huh, Gaylen? They don’t deserve this heartache this curse has put upon them. Your anger at the Rothhavens is misdirected, and has caused anguish to the rest of the country and the poor townsfolk.”
“All King Edward’s fault. It once again comes back to a Rothhaven. Once they are gone, we will bring in families from other countries. Ones with small children, and pregnant wives. We will repopulate.”
Hecate blinked incredulously at him. “And what of the generation after that? The curse won’t just end with their deaths. It has to be broken!”
He waved a hand. “Fine, break the curse, th
en we kill the Rothhavens. How’s that work for you?”
“You’re incorrigible!” Hecate wished she could stomp a solid foot on the stone floor, she was so angry. “I can’t believe I ever felt anything for you. Get out of my sight!” She knew Gaylen couldn’t astral-project very long, it was very draining on someone who was mostly human still, and especially someone at his age.
With an evil smile, Gaylen dramatically whipped his arm in front of his face and disappeared into a puff of fog.
“Warlocks!” she cried, disappearing herself as a different plan began to form. One more urgent than getting all the kings to copulate with the young Mariselle.
“Would you like to see my stables? They put Alexander’s to shame,” Zackary said, putting his hand out to Mariselle after they left the dining room.
“I would love to,” she replied, smiling and grabbing his warm hand. Tingles spread up her arm and caused gooseflesh to pepper her entire body.
Zackary led her across the grand hall, past the library, and out the back door. As with all the other castles, they passed through a courtyard. This one had trees on all sides, and two large fountains, these ones angels and not horses. There were plush chairs and side tables set all around for socializing.
As they exited the courtyard through a heavy iron gate, the walk to the stables was much closer than the one at the North Haven had been. There was no field to walk through, just a walking path set in the middle of a grassy area.
Four large buildings had been erected, all lined up in a row. The middle two were stables, the outer two looked like large houses.
“Violet,” Zackary said, letting go of Mariselle’s hand and immediately putting his palms on either side of the horse’s face. He kissed the top of her head, and said, “I’ve missed you.”
Mariselle laughed a little to herself, and knew if she and Zackary were to ever be together, this would be the other woman.
“Violet, meet Miss Mariselle Langer. Mariselle, Violet.”
Mariselle played along by curtseying and dipping her head. “So nice to meet you, milady.”
Zackary chuckled. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? Let’s take her for a ride. John!”
The old stable hand came ambling out of the last stall on the row. He bowed slightly. “King Zackary. How are you on this glorious day? We’ve been quite worried about you, sire.”
This confused Zackary. He reached up and scratched at the blond hair on his crownless lead. “Why’s that? I told you I’d return in a month.”
A polishing rag in John’s was crinkled when he began to wring it. “Sir, you came to see Violet last night. You… you…”
“Spit it out, John. I haven’t got all day.” Zackary was worried; irritated.
“You seemed to have fainted, sire. Fell clean off the horse, you did. We carried you to the castle”—he jutted his chin at the castle—“and your servants took you from there.”
Fuck. I must have passed out or fallen asleep on the horse last night as soon as I got into the forest. Strange—I never fall asleep while riding. Maybe the trip and excitement of being back home had exhausted me? Then, he remembered encountering the witch Hecate in the forest. She’d visited him in a dream. What was it she’d said about Mariselle…?
“…so once we got Violet put up and calmed, I hardly slept a wink. I was worried sick, I was.”
Zackary looked at the old guy, the nest of wrinkles surrounding his blue eyes as he smiled warmly at the young king. “Thank you for taking care of Violet. But I really am fine.”
“Good to hear, John. By the way, this is Miss Mariselle Langer.”
He removed his straw hat and dipped his head. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss.”
“Likewise,” she replied, amusement dancing in her green eyes.
“Would ya double saddle ’er up, John?” Zackary asked.
He glanced at them both quickly and then nodded. “Right away.”
As he left, Zackary turned to Mariselle and grinned. “I hope you don’t mind. I need to get on the horse. I need to ride, and I want you with me.”
“Of course. I love riding, it’s so freeing. But what’s this business of you fainting off your horse last night. Are you ill?”
Ignoring the question, he stared down at her, the late afternoon sun causing her red hair to glow orange like a halo behind her head. He reached down and brushed away a strand that had escaped her braid. He tucked it behind her ear, his hand moving down to her cheek, where it rested. “You are so very beautiful, Mariselle,” he said quietly, his honey-colored eyes staring into hers.
“You’ve rendered me breathless, sire,” she said playfully.
He made a soft tsking sound. “No formalities here, M. “Zackary will do.”
She drew her bottom lip into her mouth and boldly asked, “How do you feel about nicknames?”
Zackary looked at her, amused. “Such as?”
“Just… Zack? When we were little, I longed to give all of you nicknames… Griff, Alex, Zack, Mat… but was afraid of the backlash. Do you like ‘Zack’?”
His breathing sped up and he pressed his body into hers. “Just hearing you call me something so informal makes me hard. Do you feel it, sweetheart? Do you feel how much I want to lay you down on this hay under our feet and fuck you until you can’t walk?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. That definitely was not the answer she had been expecting. Chuckling nervously, she said, “Okay, I guess I have my answer… Zack.”
“Fuck,” he murmured, leaning down and capturing her mouth with his. She groaned at the feel of his soft lips, loving how his tongue prodded her lips, demanding entry. She opened up for him, and their tongues massaged each other’s, their lips opening and closing with each kiss and suck. As they broke the kiss, Zackary looked down at her, his right arm around her backside, pressing her flush against his hard body. “I say we cancel the ride, go back to my chambers where I can—”
A throat clearing caused them to break apart. “Miss Violet is ready for you, sire.”
Without making eye contact, Zackary thanked the old stable hand and dismissed him.
He helped Mariselle mount the back, and he hopped in the front. With a flick of the reins, his faithful mare began to trot. Mariselle wrapped her arms around Zackary, knowing all she had to do was lower her arms just a little and she would be able to feel his erection. She wondered if his cock was as beautiful and thick as his brothers’ had been.
As they passed the stables, Mariselle saw dozens of beautiful horses all well taken care of. She wondered if they got ridden as much as Violet did, but doubted it. She could tell Zackary loved his prized horse.
“Whose house is that?” she asked, pointing at the large mansion-type dwelling.
“Servants’ quarters,” he replied as Violet continued to trot.
“I thought you said your servants didn’t live onsite?” she asked, more curious than suspicious.
He turned his head slightly to speak to her so she could hear him over the wind. “The castle servants don’t live there. The stable-hands stay out here so they can be on hand in case of a horse emergency. I also require that a few be on duty at all hours for feeding, medical emergencies, et cetera. As you can see, they live quite nicely.”
“I wasn’t doubting that,” she said with a smile. “Your staff seem to really like you, and I find that admirable.”
“Oh, do you now?” he asked with a grin.
“Yes, I do,” she replied, meaning it.
As they entered the woods, Zackary said, “I have something I want to show you.”
Excited, Mariselle thought, I can’t wait. I have something to show you, too…
Chapter 21
Violet faithfully made her way through the forest, weaving her way around large trees. Rabbits, squirrels, and woodland creatures scampered around underfoot, as they continued the leisurely stroll through the thick copse of trees.
Mariselle held on tight to Zackary. The hard, taut muscles of his stomach
felt wonderful under her sensitive palms. She would occasionally rub her hands up and down his torso to feel them under his tunic. After a few minutes, she dared to go lower, grazing the tip of his dick through his pants. She could tell he was still hard.
He hissed through teeth. “Woman. You’re driving me mad.”
“Just being on this horse with you and being this close to you is driving me mad, too,” she replied honestly. She could feel the heat between her legs and knew it had nothing to do with the large animal she sat astride.
“Look, Mariselle,” Zackary said.
Hearing the rush of water, she looked up and saw a huge waterfall jutting down from the side of a mountain. Its white water flowed fast and hard into a small lake at its base. It took her breath away.
“It’s so beautiful,” Mariselle breathed.
Jumping down from the horse, Zackary put his hand out. She grasped it, and then he used both hands to grab her waist, hoisting her to the forest floor. Then, he used the reins to tether Violet to the closest tree.
Putting out his hand, Mariselle took it. They walked toward the edge of the lake, where the waterfall emptied into. With his arm around Mariselle, Zackary squeezed her in closer to him. “What do you think?”
She was almost speechless. Almost. Exhaling a breath, she finally spoke. “I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I have heard stories and seen paintings of waterfalls, but I never thought they existed. I thought… surely they had to be a figment of someone’s imagination. But they’re not.” She stared at the rushing water. Looking at Zackary, she said, “Can we swim in it?”
He chuckled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Mariselle knew full well she didn’t have any swimming garments with her, and that she’d have to either swim in her underwear, or nothing at all. Knowing she was sent to the West Haven to be with Zackary, she figured there was no time like the present. However, she still wished to maintain her modesty.
