by Morgan Hawke
I turned to stare at him. “I won’t?”
His smile broadened and I swear the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. “You’ll be camping out in the woods.”
My jaw slackened. “I will?”
Alberic folded his arms across his chest and one golden brow lifted. “You have a unicorn to catch, remember?”
My shoulders slumped. “Crap.” Resigned to my fate, I crouched over the bags and started unpacking my prince’s things.
My prince’s chilly gaze followed me. “No argument?”
I scowled in his general direction. “Since when has arguing ever gotten me anywhere?”
He shrugged. “Good point.”
I hung his coats on the pegs in the closet and set his shirts and sundries in the dresser drawers, basically arranging for his stay. If left to his own devices, he’d just pull what he needed from his valises, then just drop it on the floor until everything was scattered around the room. However, if it was hung up to begin with, he’d hang it back where he’d found it. I couldn’t even begin to understand why that was.
Once my prince’s belongings were in their proper places, it was time to take care of mine. I pulled the bell cord to call the bell hop.
The man arrived in seconds. Apparently, he’d been warned about my impatient prince. According to him, there was a good livery stable nearby where I could rent a horse. I was not walking all the way out to the outskirts of the city with all that camping gear. He then took the order for my prince’s dinner, and left.
“I suppose I better get started.” I hefted my saddlebags to my shoulder, grabbed my valise, and lifted the heavy canvas tent bag to my other shoulder.
My prince rose from his lounge. “Meet me at the castle gate tomorrow at noon.”
“Yes, my prince.” I smiled at him. “Sleep well.” I turned and headed for the door.
Lightning fast, Alberic passed me and slammed his hand against the door, preventing me from opening it. “Before you go...” His green gaze narrowed. “Did he kiss you?”
The warmth from his body washed across my back, carrying the intriguing scent of clean sweat with a trace of expensive soap, and leather. It was so distracting, it actually took me a bit to realize that my prince had asked me a question, and another to recall what the question had been. I looked over my shoulder at him, blinking in confusion. “Did who kiss me?”
Behind me, Alberic spoke through clenched teeth his gaze narrowed. “The coachman, Master Corwin. Did he kiss you?”
My mouth fell open. “What?” I whirled all the way around to face him and glared in indignation. “No! He was a perfect gentleman in every way.”
Alberic blew out a breath. “Good.” Abruptly, he shook his head, then frowned. “Wait a minute, what are you trying to imply?”
Oh crap... I’d just implied by comparison that a commoner was more of a gentleman than my prince was. Time for some damage control... I rolled my eyes, contriving to look as bored as I possibly could. “About what?”
He frowned, clearly confused.
God bless my prince’s short attention span. I lifted my brow. “Can I go now? I’d rather not set my tent up in the dark.”
Alberic curled his lip. “You’ve done it before.”
“Yes, I have.” I lifted my chin. “But I never liked doing it.”
“Julian...” Alberic leaned closer, framing with me both hands against the door. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Forgetting something? I cringed back against the door and did a fast survey of all my belongings and camping equipment. “I don’t think so...”
Alberic pressed up against me, his ridiculously muscular chest pushing me flat against the door. His voice dropped to a whisper. “My goodnight kiss?”
I stared at him wide eyed. “Your...what?” I’d never kissed him goodnight in my life! The memory of our kiss in the castle hallway burned across my mind. My gaze fell to his lips and focused. Suddenly, memories from the bathhouse flashed across my inner eye. His damp half-lidded gaze filled with heat, his wet hair falling across his bare, wet shoulders, his hot lips on my throat, his warm hands...
Despite the binding that flattened my breasts, my nipples tingled into hardness. I swallowed hard and turned away, tearing my gaze from his mouth. “That’s all you want, just a kiss?”
Alberic smiled. “Would you prefer something more...?” His knee slid between my legs and rubbed upwards. “...Substantial?”
The pressure and friction right up against my crotch triggered a hungry clench deep in my belly. Melting warmth spread through me so fast that it made my knees weaken, and very nearly forced a moan from my throat.
Alberic’s knee ceased rubbing up against me, but he didn’t withdraw it. “Well, which is it?” His smile was entirely too smug.
I couldn’t believe how easily my body gave in to him. My face filled with heat. Damn it! I sucked in a breath in an attempt to gather my scattered wits. “You can have a goodnight kiss, but that’s all!”
Alberic grinned. “Done.”
My gaze dropped to his mouth, and I licked my lips. A chill ran through me. I suddenly got the distinct impression that I had done something monumentally stupid, but... It’s only a kiss, right?
His brow lifted, and his smile curled a bit at the corners. “I’m waiting.”
I glared up at him. “Don’t rush me!” I took a deep breath to brace myself and lunged upward to close the distance between us.
Alberic’s upraised finger intercepted my lips. His gaze narrowed. “A proper kiss. No quick pecks.”
I jerked back from his finger and ground my teeth in annoyance. “Fine.” Bastard...
Alberic nodded and set his hand back on the door to lean over me, his breath whispering against my lips. “Go on.”
I licked my lips again while my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest. I leaned close and pressed my lips against his, not hard, but not so soft that he’d think I was frightened of him either. Not that my trembling didn’t give that away.
His lips parted under mine, and his tongue flicked out to brush fleetingly against my bottom lip in a clear invitation.
Determined to see this through, I replied by parting my lips and stroking his bottom lip with my tongue. I encountered his tongue in passing.
He turned his head and pressed in, not voraciously, merely sealing our lips together. He reached in and stroked against my tongue as though it was a delicacy, gentle, slow, and almost...tender. It was completely unlike the other kiss he’d given me.
I stilled for half a heartbeat, a little puzzled that he hadn’t tried to take over completely, then tentatively slid my tongue along his, returning the gentle caress.
He sighed directly into my mouth, and his eyes closed. He coaxed my tongue into his mouth, then ever so gently suckled on it.
The tingles that erupted from my mouth up into the back of my skull, then down my spine, emptied my head of every thought I had. I let go of everything I held, letting it drop to the floor with a thump so I could grab onto his shoulders to keep myself from sliding to the floor. The tiny point at the apex of my crotch throbbed. I barely restrained myself from sitting down on his thigh and rubbing to get some form of relief.
Alberic abruptly released me and stepped back, licking his lips in obvious relish. “That mouth belongs to me. Remember that.”
I only managed to stay on my feet by leaning back against the door, but there was no help for the heat burning in my face. Barely able to string two thoughts together, I quickly gathered my fallen equipment, reached behind me and grabbed onto the door handle. A quick twist opened the door. I practically fell out into the carpeted hall.
My prince followed me.
I looked back at him, not quite sure what I would see.
Alberic frowned with his arms crossed over his chest, but his head was tilted, as though trying to work out a puzzle.
“Good night.” I sketched a short bow and turned on my heel to leave.
A whi
sper came from behind me. “You too.”
I hurried down the hall, not quite able to pinpoint where the sudden ache in my chest was coming from.
* * * * * *
The livery stable across the street from the hotel was neat, clean, and not all that expensive. They provided me with a placid, dark chestnut gelding with a smooth but ground-eating gait. About two hours later, just outside the king’s forest, I made it to a nice little clearing under tall oaks with the occasional flowering dogwood. A freshwater brook meandered along the very edge.
I unsaddled the gelding and tied his halter to a line strung between two oaks, then got to work. The nine foot by twelve foot square tent went up smoothly, for once. After unrolling the tent carpet and stuffing my mattress with meadow grass, I made the bed with my cotton sheets and saddle blankets. I then unpacked my peg-joined clothes rack, and hung my things on the hooks. Living quarters all set up, I dug a nice little fire pit and set a pot of water to hang from the tripod for a stew from the smoked and dried provisions I carried.
With my dinner bubbling and at least an hour from ready, I relaxed on a convenient log and looked around at the forest. The trees were all new with leaves, and the undergrowth was still short. Despite the fact that the late afternoon sun was warm, it was pretty much a guarantee that the night would be cold.
I eyed the creek at the edge of my campsite. Bathing would definitely have to be done during mid-day, as with my luck, there’d be frost on the ground around dawn. That was, if I could escape my prince long enough to have a private bath.
Better to be safe and bathe immediately, than sorry later. I put another larger pot of water on the fire to heat. I didn’t want a repeat of the ‘bathhouse incident’.
Though parts of it had been rather nice.
I slammed a lid down on those thoughts and went to get my soap and towel.
* * * * * *
An hour later, I was squeaky clean and wearing fresh doeskin pants, clean breast-bindings, and a warm flannel shirt I planned to sleep in. I didn’t bother with my waistcoat, but I put on my shoulder-harness for my knives. By then, the stew was ready to eat. I ladled a healthy amount into one of my wooden camp bowls with relish.
A small but noisy flock of crows landed in the tree right by the fire.
“Might I impose upon you for a bite of that?” The voice was deep, masculine, and right behind me.
Alarmed, I whirled into a crouch, bowl in one hand and throwing knife raised in the other.
A tall, dark-haired man stood in the shadows of the trees. I couldn’t make out his face, but I could see that he wore a black leather waistcoat over a gray full-sleeved shirt negligently tied at the throat with a black neck cloth, dark gray buckskin breeches, and tall black knee-boots. He stepped from the shadows and sunlight caressed the strong planes of a very familiar smiling face with coin-gold eyes.
My mouth fell open. “Master Corwin?” I lowered my knife and frowned. “What are you doing here?” I glanced around, but saw no sign of his coach or his flame-breathing horses. “Don’t you have to, um...” Collect the dead? I didn’t want to say that. It sounded rude. “A job to do?” I shoved my knife back into its sheath.
Corwin shrugged and stepped closer. “I...took a few days off.” He smiled. “My brother is covering for me.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Your brother...” I let out a sigh, then smiled in pure envy. “Must be nice to have someone that can take over your duties for a few days.” I turned back to my pot of stew. “I haven’t had a day off in...” I pondered for a bit, then snorted. “...Ever.”
Corwin approached the fire and eased onto the log where I sat. “No days off?”
I shrugged and smiled sourly while reaching for the other camp bowl in my pack. “I don’t mind.” I didn’t, really. The prince kept me very busy, and every day always held something new and exciting, though occasionally traumatic. I scooped some stew into the other bowl and passed it to Corwin. “Here.”
He took the bowl and reached into his belt pouch to pull out a tin spoon. “Thanks.”
I sat down on the ground on the opposite side of the fire with my bowl, and something occurred to me. “So, what did you do with your coach and team?” I couldn’t see him leaving it, or those six spectral horses in an ordinary inn stable.
“The horses are there.” He pointed his spoon toward the tree over my head.
I turned around and looked up at the crows cawed and fluttering among the tree’s branches. “The crows...? Seriously?”
Corwin nodded, reached under his long coat and tugged at something connected to his belt. “This conjures the coach, and the crows become the team.” He pulled out his raven’s mask.
I stared at his wood and feather mask. “I’d heard rumors of a half-fae that turned a pumpkin and some mice into a coach and six to catch the interest of a prince, but it only lasted a few hours.” I waved my spoon toward his mask. “That is an impressive piece of enchantment.”
Corwin tucked the mask back under his coat and smiled a little sourly. “Technically, it’s a curse, one that’s passed down through the generations.”
I nodded, chewing. “How old is it?”
Corwin shrugged. “Great Grandfather said that the first reaper didn’t even have a coach, just a huge flock of ravens. He simply swooped down with the ravens as horses and the restless spirits rode into the sky after him.”
I chewed thoughtfully. “That must have been a sight to see.”
Corwin smiled. “Only you...”
I blinked at him. “Hm...?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He lifted his spoon. “You’re a good cook.”
Heat filled my cheeks. “It’s nothing special, just stew.” I shoveled more food in my mouth.
He smiled and chuckled. “I’ve had worse, much worse.”
I looked over at him with one brow raised, unsure if I should be flattered or not.
His smile broadened. “My own cooking, for example.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Oh, I feel so much better now.”
He chuckled and kept eating.
It didn’t take long for the two of us to finish off the entire pot. Afterwards, I collected the bowls and pot, then took them to the brook, washed them, and came back with the wet bowls.
Corwin lit a long-stemmed clay pipe and stretched out his long legs. “Thank you for dinner.”
I crouched to tuck the bowls back into my pack. “You’re welcome.” I rose and carried my bag into my tent. I came back out and settled back on the log only a foot or so away from Corwin to sharpen my knives.
Corwin took a deep draught from his pipe and blew out a stream of smoke. “Is he your lover?”
I froze. Heat filled my face so fast, I thought my cheeks were about to go up in flames. Then my temper flared. I ground my teeth. “No, he is not.” Though not from lack of effort on his part.
Corwin turned toward me, with half-lidded eyes and a satisfied smile. “Good.”
I frowned at him.
Corwin leaned toward me. “Because I intend to woo you away from him.”
My brows lifted and my eyes opened wide. Woo me away...?
He closed the distance between us with the clear and obvious intent to kiss me.
Suddenly, my prince’s words echoed in my head. “That mouth belongs to me. Remember that.”
I turned away.
Corwin’s lips pressed against my cheek in a butterfly light and fleeting kiss, then he whispered against my ear, “Good night, Julianna.” He rose from the log and walked into the trees.
I stared at the darkening shadows between the trees, wondering why I hadn’t let Master Corwin kiss me. He was an obvious escape from my fate at the prince’s hands.
I buried my face in my hands. “I’m an idiot.”
~ Nine ~
The morning sun brightened the white canvas of my tent to almost painful intensity. I had slept like crap. My dreams had been filled with disjointed scenes of the prince, mainl
y from our rather insane childhood. One dream in particular was very vivid. It was during the Winter Festival, and I was following him around carrying an ungodly amount of packages with a pony bit in my teeth.
I wasn’t kidding about him being in most of my nightmares.
I rolled out of my straw-filled bed and shivered. The air was frosty enough to see my breath. I hurriedly pulled on my stockings and boots, then tugged on my camp robe made from an old saddle blanket. Yawning, I added a few branches to the embers of the fire to bring it back to life, then set a small pot of oatmeal to cook along the edge, and propped the small cast-iron teapot on the tripod.
It was amazingly peaceful. The sky was blue, the birds were chirping. Over on his picket line, the gelding munched his oats contentedly. Best of all, no crazy princes were there to ask for impossible things, like poached eggs and toast for breakfast, with chocolate. It could be done over a campfire, but not without an ungodly early trip to a local farm. One didn’t carry fresh eggs or bread in a saddlebag.
I was not lonely at all, not one tiny bit. I wasn’t worried about my prince either. He was an adult, so to speak. He could handle himself. He could even be polite, on occasion.
Even so, he simply refused to leave my thoughts.
No matter how hard I tried to keep busy and think of other things, that last kiss my prince and I had shared kept sneaking into my thoughts, along with that last whisper in the hall. It had almost sounded like...regret. Like I would be missed...?
I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and grabbed my hand-axe to chop deadwood for the evening fire.
The memory continued to haunt me.
The hour before noon came far more swiftly than I expected. Considerably warmer than it had been at dawn, I washed off with a rag, then exchanged my flannel shirt for one of creamy unbleached cotton and tied a dark blue neck cloth around the collar. After a quick straightening of the campsite, including dumping a bucket of water on my dying fire, I donned my gray leather waistcoat and went to saddle the dark chestnut gelding.
The gelding had apparently appreciated his breakfast of oats and fresh grass. He gave me no trouble taking the bit or the saddle’s cinch.
