Blazing Bedtime Anthology

by Leslie Kelly

  He conversed intelligently with his advisors, who commented afterward what a sensible young man the heir had become. He threw no tantrums about the food delivered from the kitchens—not even when one of his pies was delivered sans plum and with a rather obvious thumbprint, courtesy of the head cook’s son.

  He made sound judgments at the daily court, delighting sheep farmers by decreeing they no longer had to give a third of their fleeces to little boys who lived down the lane—a rather stupid law, nobody even remembered where that one had come from. The milkmaids loved him for lifting a heavy tax on milk bottles. And he enacted a law that no more birds were to be baked alive into pies, which had much pleased the avian-rights people. Not to mention the birds.

  Everybody was happy. Everyone was excited about the coronation. All of Grand Falls was proud of their prince who had set off on his journey an overgrown boy and come back a man.

  The only one who wasn’t very pleased about any of this was Olivia. Oh, she was proud of him. Thrilled at how well he’d done.

  But she was also jealous as hell.

  Her. Olivia Vanderbrook, who’d never imagined caring for any man, was turning into a veritable shrew over someone she wasn’t supposed to want, something she wasn’t supposed to have.

  Because there had been one more group who had noticed the change in him and come running: all the eligible maidens in the land. Princesses, merchant’s daughters, cinder girls—they all heard that the new manly Ruprecht might soon be ready to choose a bride. They flocked to the castle on one pretense or another, lining up for a chance to see him.

  It made her want to find a giant to beat on.

  She had to give Rafe credit, he didn’t seem glad about it. Yet he was unfailingly kind, always polite. Knowing him as she did, she realized he could never be cruel to one of the horny bitches trying to trap him into compromising her so he’d propose.

  That was where Olivia came in. She was his bodyguard. By day, she guarded his body from those desperate virgins.

  By night, she had that body all to herself.

  It went against her training, and the Amazon code. But she didn’t care. Her desire for him, for the pleasures they shared, had become an intoxicating drug. She didn’t know how she would be able to ever sleep again when she didn’t have his chest to lean upon, the beating of his heart to lull her to slumber. Nor could she imagine the time when she would lose those deep, wonderful kisses that made her toes curl up in her boots. Or go back to being the empty shell she’d been before he’d filled her.

  Not just physically. He’d filled her emotionally, too. When they weren’t doing pleasurable things to each other in the dark of night, they spent hours talking. About his day, about hers. His impressions of her world and how he’d change things. Her impressions of his and what she’d leave exactly the same.

  She honestly could not imagine going through an entire day without seeing him, hearing his voice, feeling his touch.

  The coronation was a few days away, and after it was over, he would go home. She would stay here. And life would go back to normal. Mundane, purposeless, passionless.

  Empty.

  “Liv!” a voice called.

  Jerking her attention down a long, shadowy corridor outside the royal sleeping quarters, she saw Rafe hurrying toward her. He’d gone to visit his “mother,” and she knew he’d been worrying about the appointment.

  “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

  “What?”

  Reaching her side, he grabbed her by the arm. He practically dragged her into the prince’s room, which was draped with rich tapestries and filled with gaudy, gold-trimmed furnishings, all of which he declared suitable for something called a cathouse.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s planning to marry him—me—off!”

  The wheels immediately began churning in her brain. “Great Athena’s ghost.”

  “And Zeus’s, too,” he snapped. “She told me how pleased she is that I’ve finally grown up, and informed me she’s chosen a princess who I am to marry immediately after my coronation!”

  Olivia stared at him, surprised he hadn’t already stalked out of the castle and headed for the borderland. This wasn’t part of the bargain. And the idea of him married to someone else…well, it was not to be imagined.

  “This is madness,” she said. It was so out of character, so unusual given all the machinations the queen had gone through over the years to try to tempt her son into choosing a bride. “She told you this? She didn’t ask for your opinion?”

  He thrust a hand through his hair, shorter now, since they’d trimmed it and re-outfitted him as soon as they’d arrived at the castle. She missed the longer tresses that she’d tangled her fingers in that evening at the falls.

  “Yeah. It’s a done deal. Finished. I have no choice. I get the crown, I get married, I get laid, she gets a grandson.”

  Steam rising in her head at the I get laid part—she’d definitely picked up some of the lingo from his world—she forced herself to think. “This makes no sense.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “She would never…” Suddenly struck by a possibility—an awful possibility—she fell silent. Thinking.

  “What?” he asked, realizing something had occurred to her.

  Olivia didn’t answer for a moment. Casting a quick look around the chamber, she made sure the red velvet drapes were perfectly straight, and no one was lurking behind them. Then she whispered, “She knows.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No way. She woulda tossed me out if she knew. Or chopped off my head.” Obviously he’d gotten to know Queen Verona rather well and no longer doubted the woman’s bloody streak.

  “The queen adores Ruprecht and has never once, in all these years, ordered him to take a bride. She’s only doing it now because she knows you’re not him!”

  “If you’re right—a big if—she’d have to know it wouldn’t be a legitimate marriage.”

  Thinking of the twisted workings of the queen’s mind, she came to another awful conclusion. “She’s come up with a way to hold on to the kingdom without her son. She’ll get you crowned, marry you off, have you impregnate your bride, then…”

  “Kill me,” he muttered.

  “Yes.” That sounded like what the evil queen would do. “Then she’ll remain dowager for another thirty years, all the while planning what she’ll do to your son when he comes of age.”

  “That bitch,” he said, no longer arguing it.

  “Let’s go.” Grabbing his arm, she shoved him toward the window. It was a steep drop down into the moat, but she knew he could swim and there shouldn’t be too many animals to fend off.

  Though, once again, she couldn’t help wishing for that nice indoor plumbing, given what the moat was used for here.

  She reached the mullioned window, pushed it open and leaned out. “Come on, I’ll have you home by tomorrow night, I promise.”

  Rafe turned around, listening intently, as if he heard voices approaching from outside the chamber.

  “Hurry!” She climbed into the window well.

  “What will happen to you if you help me?” he asked.

  “I don’t give a damn, would you come?”

  “I mean it. What will happen if I disappear? Will you be blamed? She’d have to know you’re in on this.” He sucked in a quick breath. “Right before I left, I thought I heard her say something to one of her guards about coming to get you.”

  “Get over here, Rafe, we must go! If she’s figured it out, she knows I’m involved and she’s going to throw me in the dungeon until well after the coronation.”

  And probably until after his death. If she survived that long.

  But he couldn’t go. “Even if you came with me…you couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t take revenge on your family.”

  Olivia stared at him, knowing his was the mind churning away now. Hoping he heard her sincerity, she said, “That’s not your problem, not your worry. You tried to help all of us and t
he last thing I will allow is for you to be hurt because of it.”

  Instead of coming closer, he backed away, edging deeper into the room. “You go. I’m staying.”

  She leapt to the floor. “Are you mad?”

  “No, I’m dead serious. If we leave together, she’ll have her whole army on us and we’ll never make it to the border.”

  He was right that the regular army would give chase. Not that she didn’t think she couldn’t outrun Queen Verona’s pathetic army.

  “Go, get the real Ruprecht, drag his ass back here, let him take the crown. Then the queen can’t touch me, and she can’t punish you, or anyone you care about, for helping me.”

  She grabbed him and pulled. “Here’s a better idea. I drag your ass out of this place before she marries you to some simpering virgin, then cuts your heart out.”

  “I don’t like simpering virgins,” he said with a grin. “I like bad-girl ones.”

  “I wasn’t a virgin,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah, babe, you were,” he said, so tender, sweet. He lifted a hand to her face, cupping her cheek, twining his fingers in her hair. “Besides, the woman I’m going to spend my wedding night with has a knife strapped to her thigh. Nobody’s going to get close to my heart…except her.”

  Olivia froze, unsure of his meaning, even though it wasn’t too difficult to understand.

  “This isn’t the time, and it isn’t the place. But I’m telling you now, Olivia Vanderbrook, when this is over, and we’re free, I’m going to ask you a question.”

  She licked her lips, gazing into his beautiful eyes, memorizing each line and curve of his handsome face. This man was risking his life, not just for her but for her family—for those she cared about, people he’d never even met. He was willing to lay down everything not just to keep her safe, but to make her happy.

  Did his world make many such men? Hers certainly didn’t. She had never met a single one.

  “Go,” he told her. “I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”

  She thrust her hands into his hair and tugged him close. “I’ll be back for you, even if I have to slay a dragon, I will come back,” she promised, then kissed him, hard, fast, deep, then added, “I swear it.”

  “I know.”

  Moving closer to the door, he backed against it to prevent anyone from entering until she’d made her escape.

  She climbed back onto the ledge.

  “I love you, Olivia,” he told her with a simple smile that reached into her chest and twisted her heart.

  And then she jumped.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE DAY OF HIS CORONATION dawned bright and clear, and from within his badly decorated, stuffy room, Rafe could hear the maids singing and the guards whistling like they were all part of some movie made by Walt Disney.

  Oh. And Wes Craven.

  Because though it was cheerful, it was also shaping up to be pretty damn scary.

  Rafe no longer had any doubt Olivia was right about Queen Verona’s plans. The woman had all but admitted it, daring him to challenge her intentions for his wedding to a princess named Bumblebee or Butterfly or Bambi or something, a young woman who lived in a neighboring kingdom and had the personality of a freshly pulled turnip. He had no doubt she would be easy for Verona to control once she managed to get rid of him.

  The queen hadn’t gone as far as accusing him of being an imposter. But she had talked about arranging a “proof of lineage” ceremony before the coronation. All so he could show his bare, totally not birthmarked backside to a bunch of people who would immediately realize he wasn’t the prince of the realm.

  My kingdom for a purple Sharpie.

  Rafe didn’t fear that Olivia wouldn’t return. Honestly, his biggest fear was that she would—alone. Ruprecht was a stubborn man. If he still didn’t want to come home—even knowing it could cost Rafe his life—the prince would probably do everything he could to escape her.

  She’d come anyway. Of that, he had no doubt.

  And the queen would be waiting for her.

  Ever since Olivia had leapt out of his window, Verona had been making ominous comments about her “unreliable” captain of the guard. Rafe had said she’d received some urgent message from home and had to leave, but the queen hadn’t really bought it.

  Still, she hadn’t ordered Olivia’s arrest. She had to fear Rafe would back out of everything if she did. But he knew it was only a matter of time. Once the crown was on his head and a ring on his finger, Olivia’s name would be on a death warrant. No doubt about it.

  “Are you ready, Your Majesty?” asked one of the tailors who’d made this awful, ugly coronation costume. With the amount of gold and precious jewels on the thing, it should have come from Tiffany’s.

  “I’m fine,” he barked. “When do we have to go?”

  The tailor bobbed his head, bowing. “Within the hour.”

  Which meant, in Earth time, about fifty minutes.

  He had that long to figure out how to remain single, not to mention alive, throughout the night.

  Soon enough, that hour came to an end. Two armed guards—men, not Amazons, who might be more loyal to Olivia—came to his door to escort him to the great hall, where rulers from all the kingdoms were waiting to see him take over as king of Grand Falls.

  Including his so-called mother. Not to mention his so-called wife.

  His head up, he walked down the long stone corridor, hearing the ominous click of his fussy shoes on the floor. The two guards clomped along behind him.

  But suddenly, between one stride and the next, he heard an extra tap. He strode again—heard the clomps, and another tap. Soft, nearly inaudible. He figured it was meant for his ears alone, so he could ready himself for her assault.

  Rafe was smiling before he reached the junction between the private quarters and the public part of the castle.

  Because they were being followed. Stalked.

  “Oh, dear,” he said, imitating Ruprecht as he dropped a nauseatingly scented handkerchief to the floor. He stared at it, arrogant, knowing a prince would never bend over to retrieve it for himself. Of course, one of the guards did.

  Olivia leapt the moment the guy’s knee hit the stone floor. Swinging on a velvet tapestry, she flew out from a side hallway, her booted feet sending the upright guard flying. She landed in a squat, swinging her leg to kick the kneeling one in the face. Her fists were as fast as her feet and in less than twenty seconds, both men were flat on their backs, unconscious.

  Three seconds after that, she was in his arms.

  “Rafe!” she cried, throwing herself against him. He caught her, tangling his hands in her blond hair, looking down at her beautiful, exhausted face.

  “Cutting it a little close, weren’t you, babe?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, Prince Ruprecht, who emerged from the side corridor, did. “Sorry. I asked her to wait until we at least got to do our number for the semifinals.”

  We. Rafe peered past the prince, seeing an average-looking guy whose eyes were about the size of dinner plates hovering behind Ruprecht. This, he assumed, was Jess. Who looked like he feared he’d landed in Mother Goose hell.

  Ruprecht, who sounded much more subdued and looked much more regal than he had the last time Rafe had seen him, extended his hand in an Earth-like gesture of friendship. “I owe you an apology. I never dreamed my mother would sink to such depths. I would not have asked you to do this had I thought you would actually be in any danger.”

  Rafe shook his double’s hand. “I know that.”

  The future king, his posture straight, his voice deep and unwavering, asked, “Are we ready, then?”

  “More than,” Rafe told the prince, shrugging out of the royal robes and handing them over. “You have a plan?”

  Olivia answered. “Yep. First things first. Ruprecht gets the crown on his head. Once he’s officially king, he gets Queen Verona alone to prove to her that he’s the real deal, then breaks his engagement.”

  “
And sends mother off to a distant castle,” the prince added, “where she will live out the rest of her days under guard.”

  “Yep, that sounds like a plan, all right.” Rafe grinned at the prince. “I would love to see the queen’s face when you moon her to prove who you really are.”

  The prince, who’d spent a lot of time in the U.S. of A., obviously knew what he meant, because he laughed heartily. Though his laughter faded, his smile remained as he said, “I hear you’ve done some good things since you’ve been here.”

  He shrugged. “Common sense stuff.”

  “Earth common sense,” Ruprecht said. “Some of which, you might be glad to know, has rubbed off.”

  Rafe was glad to hear that. “Just try to go easy on the dwarf union. They really did get screwed on that last mining contract.”

  “Done. Goodbye, Rafe Cabot.”

  “Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

  Ruprecht and Olivia exchanged a long look, then the prince and his friend walked a few paces down the corridor to give them privacy.

  “You need to go,” she said as soon as they were alone. “Two of my most trusted lieutenants are waiting outside with fresh horses. They’ll get you to the borderland.”

  “Why can’t I wait for you?”

  “Rafe, no matter what the prince says, you and I both know Queen Verona isn’t going to take this quietly. She likes this new plan of hers. She’ll fight, and some who are loyal to her will help.”

  He tensed, not liking the thought of her going into some kind of battle.

  “If you’re here, she’ll try to use you to discredit the prince, raise doubts about his intentions and his judgment. You have to go.”

  That made sense. But he didn’t think it was the whole story.

  “Is that all? Or are you desperate to get me out of the line of arrow-fire?”

  She shrugged, a weary smile tugging at her mouth. “Well, there is that.”

  He stepped closer, dropping his hands to cup her waist, his fingertips stroking small circles on her back. “You know, Olivia Vanderbrook, you make it awfully hard for a guy to be your knight in shining armor.”