What Do You Say to a Naked Elf?
Page 6
“It’s only because you were with them that you could come. Charlie—he’s the Whelphite, correct?—accompanied you. Only those with Lowth blood are allowed access. You wouldn’t have been able to traverse it on your own. The portal would have refused entry.”
Great. There went her plans of ripping open the gates and making a dash for it. Even if she managed to elude the guards, the portal might not open. She was stuck here until Charlie could prove her innocent.
Depression descended on her like a storm cloud. She was at the mercy of a senile king, a cold-blooded steward and Charlie, who only defended her out of a sense of duty.
Stop being a coward, she told herself. Normally upbeat, Jane didn’t often allow thoughts of self-pity. Tonight was an exception. Torn from her family and facing a grisly death, she let everything get to her.
“It’s not fair,” she sniffled. “All I did was try to go home, and now I’m going to die.” She snuffled and snorted, realizing she was making a terrible impression on the king.
He patted her hand, a gesture he was fond of, and muttered, “There, there.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” she apologized, her head resting on the green velvet bodice of his gown. “I don’t know why I’m acting this way.”
“Nonsense,” he declared. “It’s perfectly normal.”
Jane, about to point out that it wasn’t normal for her, was interrupted by the throat-clearing crescendo of Muttle.
“Visitors have ye,” the Belwaith announced, disapproval clear in his voice.
Jane, still in the king’s arms, looked to the doorway.
Chapter Six
By the first dawn, she’s seduced the king!
Charlie stared in horror at the scene in front of him. From the strange intuition he’d developed about Jane’s location, he’d expected to find her with the king. But not in his embrace! What was she thinking? Did he need to watch her every minute? It was blasphemy to approach the king thus. If it had been Eagar who found her—
As King Garmade’s hand slipped from Jane’s back, Charlie felt a tightening in his gut. He hadn’t thought of Jane sexually. Not really. Seeing her in another’s arms started a disturbing awareness in him. It didn’t matter if the one holding her was elderly and infirm. And his liege. Charlie fought against the sensation, refusing to name it as attraction to her.
A knot closed over his heart as he took in her appearance. She looked weary, rumpled. The purple bruise above her eye clashed with their bellefern irises, dewy with tears. Why had she cried? Were her tears real or for the king’s benefit?
Charlie forgot his training until he heard a rustling behind him. Mara, panting from the long climb, sank into a curtsy. Aware that he stood in disrespect before his monarch, Charlie dropped to one knee.
“Your majesty,” he said, his head bowed.
“Ah, Charles the Whelphite, is it?”
Charlie nodded, daring a glance.
The king gestured for him to rise. He indicated Jane. “It seems you’ve lost your charge.”
Charlie rose to his feet. Not mine. Eagar’s, he thought.
“Yes, sire,” he agreed. Shock at his lord’s appearance surged in him. They’d spoken on a score of occasions, usually on the subjects of trades, harvests, and the Dymynsh. He had not seen the king in months. The man’s deterioration stunned him. There had been rumors that Garmade had taken to wearing women’s clothing, but Charlie hadn’t believed them. It saddened him that the end of his reign in Malin was at hand.
“She’s been telling me some interesting stories,” King Garmade continued. “It seems Sylthia has given her magic.”
Charlie’s head jerked up. His eyes narrowed on Jane, sitting so casually on the royal bed. Magic? What is this about? He wanted to ask her a thousand questions. Right after he shook her a few times. But at least she hadn’t been seducing the king as he’d first thought.
Jane looked at him and shrugged. “I rip walls apart.”
Walls? He didn’t think he had the strength to ask. With Jane, a long, incomprehensible monologue followed any questions.
“Oh, my.” The words came from Mara.
Jane smiled at her. “Hello. Who are you?”
To his astonishment, Mara dropped into a curtsy again. Why would she do that? And to a mortal?
“I am Mara Tanner, wife of Hugh.”
A look of relief washed over Jane’s face. “Mara? Mara? Wife of Hugh? You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. Charlie didn’t mention a sister-in-law.” She shot a look of reproach in Charlie’s direction.
What? What had he done? When had he had time to go into his family history?
“Are you feeling better, Lady Jane?” the king interrupted, his gaze kind upon her.
Lady? Charlie thought. What exactly had happened here? Jane was royalty now? His head spun in confusion.
“Lady Jane?” Mara inquired, echoing his thoughts.
“A small joke among ourselves,” King Garmade explained.
Joke? Charlie felt as if he’d returned from a journey of many years and he didn’t know anything anymore. When had he so lost control? For that matter, when had he had control with Jane? Only during her unconsciousness.
To his horror, she patted the monarch’s arm in a disturbingly familiar gesture. Charlie didn’t like it. She had no business touching anyone in such an intimate way. If anything—He closed his eyes a moment, imagining the silky feel of her skin, the flowery scent of her hair. . . .
Stop, he commanded himself, astonished at his reaction. She murdered another. She is to be tried.
Charlie pushed away his feelings with steel resolve. He addressed his lord, the words coming through clenched teeth. “Sire, I’ll take charge of the prisoner now.”
King Garmade’s face crumpled, as if the reminder of Jane being a prisoner pained him. He looked at her. “I think you have more to tell me, my dear. But I see the wisdom of your counselor’s words.”
Jane nodded. “Yes, sir. We barely spoke of my newfound power. And I haven’t said anything about Nenius yet.”
Charlie shook his head. Power? What was she talking about? And who was Nenius? He couldn’t wait to get her alone and find out the answers. Disturbing woman. Would she never be out of his life?
He directed his attention back to his lord, who was saying, “I feel there is much to learn from you, Lady Jane. But the night deepens, and you are tired. We will speak again in the morning.” Garmade looked at his audience. “As our young charge has proven to be adept at escape, we cannot return her to where Eagar imprisoned her. She will stay the night in the keep, in a guest room. After that, she is free to stay where she sees fit. Muttle will accompany her.”
What? Eagar would not like this. How would they keep an eye on her? Charlie saw his shock reflected on Jane’s face.
“Sir, that’s kind of you,” she said, clearing her throat. “If you don’t mind, and not to knock your hospitality, I would prefer to await trial someplace else. After our talk, I’m sure you’ll understand how uneasy I feel here. Especially once I tell you of Nenius.”
“Best not,” interjected Muttle, entering the conversation for the first time.
King Garmade looked at his servant. After a moment, the monarch nodded. He turned to his guests.
“Mistress Tanner?”
Mara curtsied again. “Sire?”
“How is your household?”
“Sire?”
“Have you children?”
Mara shuffled her feet. “Alas, sire, none.”
Charlie felt for her. He knew the pain it brought her and his brother that they had not been successful in conceiving a child. Another effect of the Dymynsh.
“You live with your husband?” the monarch continued.
“Aye, sire, and Charlie also lives with us, down in the village.”
“Charlie?” Garmade eyed him. “Ah, that makes it better. You’ll be able to communicate much more easily with your client.”
Charlie had an uneasy feeling of w
here this conversation was headed. A slight vibration in his wings emphasized the warning.
“Sire?” he asked.
“Yes, it will work out well. Mistress Tanner, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to host Lady Jane in your home. Might she be your guest during her stay with us?”
What? Charlie jerked at the suggestion. Living in the same house with Jane! She’d have the whole village of Malin in an uproar in no time. What had he done to deserve this?
Mara looked taken aback by the request. She fumbled with a response, then said, “Yes, sire, I would be honored.”
King Garmade looked at Charlie. “Do you object, Whelphite?” The monarch’s once-great power steeled his words.
Object to a royal command? Gritting his teeth, Charlie replied, “No, sire. She may live with us.”
“Excellent.” The king clapped his hands. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”
Before Charlie could think to act, Muttle had ushered them out.
“I want to talk with you.” Jane heard Charlie say as she watched Muttle depart to take his position as guard outside the luxurious suite next to the king’s.
“Ouch.” She pulled away from his touch. He’d grabbed her left arm, which was still sore from the car accident. She could understand his anger at her escape, she supposed, but he was on her side, right?
“I want to talk to you, too,” she hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me about the king, and Princess Elaine, and the portal, and Sylthia being alive?” Her earlier happiness at seeing Charlie again had evaporated with his attitude.
“How much time did you spend with the king?”
“Long enough to learn there’s a lot I don’t know about this land. I’m getting a very Dorothyish feeling here, Charlie Whelphite, and I don’t like it.”
“When was I supposed to tell you about our three thousand years of history? When I pulled you out of your burning wagon? While carrying you in my arms through the Malin wood?”
“Maybe instead of drugging me . . .”
They glared at each other. Jane could fight dirty, too. She wanted to hit him with something, preferably something heavy and skull-crushing. Of all the pig-headed men she’d met . . .
Mara stepped between them, her hands raised. “Children, let’s not fight. Tis grown late and we need our rest.”
Jane felt a pang of regret. She’d taken an instant liking to the small, plump woman. She pitied her for living with Charlie on a daily basis. She tried to sweeten her voice to normal.
“I’m sorry, Mara, I shouldn’t drag you into our argument.” She’d rather have Charlie alone. It wouldn’t do to have a witness to the abuse, both verbal and physical, that she wanted to heap on him.
Mara smiled. “I admit I am curious to hear your story.”
Charlie, still visibly fuming, said, “No doubt it will differ from mine.”
“And the truth lies somewhere in the middle,” Mara guessed. “Forget it for now, Charlie Whelphite. The day has been long for you both. I will see Mistress Jane settled for the night, then we will go home.” She turned to Jane. “I’ll come again in the morning with fresh clothes. Charlie’s sister, Tisha, lived with us until her marriage two months ago. She was around your size. I’m sure there is something you may borrow.”
“It’s very thoughtful of you, Mistress Tanner.” Jane appreciated her kindness, some of the first shown to her since she’d arrived in Lowth.
“You must call me Mara.”
Jane ignored Charlie’s deprecating mutter. “All right, Mara. Call me Jane. I’m not a lady or a mistress. Go home to your husband. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“If you’re sure you don’t need anything else?” The woman looked upset, as if she hadn’t fulfilled her duties as hostess yet.
Jane patted her hand. “I’m sure. Muttle will get me anything I need tonight. Besides, you’re right. It’s been a long day, and a long night before that. I’m so tired, I doubt if I have the energy to think about all the strange things that have happened.” Which was true, she realized. Exhaustion had set in. Jane wanted everyone gone so she could crawl into what she hoped would be an angel-soft bed.
Mara studied her face. After a moment, she nodded, as if satisfied with what she saw.
“Good dreams, then,” she said. She grabbed Jane and hustled her to a guestroom. She showed Jane inside, then took Charlie by the arm and manhandled him out the door.
Jane sighed after their departure. She felt guilty that she hadn’t said good night to Charlie. Even though he was an irritating beast, he tried to be kind to her. Most of the time.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, wearing a nightgown Calme had brought her, Jane woke to sunshine streaming in the windows. True to her prediction, she’d slept through the night.
She sat up and surveyed the room the king had gotten for her. Smaller than his, it was decorated in sage green, rose and ivory. She’d needed a stepstool to reach the canopied bed. A private bath lay in one corner, its amenities similar to the one Muttle had shown her the day before.
The day before! Had it only been that? Jane felt as if she’d been in Lowth for weeks. What would today bring? More secrets? A different cast of characters?
So far, when she thought about it, everyone with the exception of Eagar had treated her well. The steward’s malevolence worried her; his membership on the council that would decide her fate gnawed her nerves. But Charlie had said it was a three-member council. Perhaps the other two wouldn’t be fellow members of the Nazi relocation program like Eagar.
A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Mara entered the room, carrying a tray. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said, a smile on her face, her tone cheery. She bustled over to the bed.
Jane returned her smile. “I am. The king gave me fruit last night, but it was all I had all day.” And it didn’t settle as well as I hoped. She prayed Mara’s food would prove better than the king’s.
“Then you will like what Cook has prepared. Eggs, bread, cheese, coffee.” Mara lifted a metal cover, revealing a plate heaped with food.
Jane smiled at the mention of coffee. After the strange repast the night before, she’d wondered if all food on Lowth would be unfamiliar. She tucked into her breakfast with gusto.
“You slept well?” Mara inquired. At Jane’s nod, she continued, “I’m honored to have you stay at my house. It’s very humble. You’re probably used to much nicer things—”
“It will be fine,” Jane reassured her. “I’m not rich back on Earth.” Far from it. “And I feel so uncomfortable staying in the keep.” She didn’t want to recount her wall-tearing adventures, it was too early in the morning, and she didn’t care to remember it too closely. The experience unnerved her. She’d been lucky she hadn’t had nightmares.
Inexplicably, she yearned to tell Charlie. He’d find a reason for its happening. When she wasn’t upset with him for his logic, his I-love-my-rut stodginess, she admired him for it. Goodness knew she didn’t have much stability in her own life. Her old life, she corrected. The one of the past thirty-six hours had even less.
“How is Charlie?” she blurted, then immediately wished the words back.
Mara didn’t notice. “In a foul mood, let me tell you,” she confided. “He’s worried because he hasn’t received a shipment of wool from Randolph. His business depends on it, and it’s overdue by a week. He works too hard, and is taking on more all the time.”
Including me, Jane noted. She would bet a murder trial in the middle of wool-gathering season really frosted his cake. She still hadn’t explained her escape to him, or received satisfactory answers to the hundred questions floating in her head. She needed to see him again. To see his sexy wings, too, she added. If she could trick him out of his shirt . . .
“How is Hugh?” she asked in a rush, anxious to rid her mind of a half-naked Charlie.
“Hugh?” Mara looked up blankly.
Too late, Jane realized the other woman didn’t often mention her hu
sband. Was there trouble in elf paradise?
“Hugh is fine. I’ve not seen him this morning. He was on guard duty last night.” Mara’s tone was short.
Guard? Against what? Soldiers? Dragons? Jane felt frustrated by her lack of knowledge about this world. She needed a crash course in Lowth 101.
Mara said, “You know, you are lucky to be here at the castle. They have running hot water. At home, I’d have to heat it for you.” She disappeared into the bathroom, and Jane realized the subject of Hugh had been dismissed.
Mara popped back. “Your bath will be ready soon.”
Bath? Jane smiled at the thought. What a luxury. She’d not bathed in forty-eight hours. She scrambled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
She would have preferred to loaf in the marble bath for hours, but she didn’t know when she was to meet the king. She hurried through the process, shampooed her hair and wished for a hair dryer. She toweled off the best she could, wrapped another towel around her head and returned to the bedroom.
“Mara, do you have the clothes you talked about last night?” she asked, preoccupied with the thought of fresh underwear. She could do without a bra, lacking any size in that area, but panties . . .
“Here,” Mara said. “King Garmade sent some with Muttle—” She stopped and stared.
Jane looked over her shoulder toward the bathroom. Had a ghost appeared? “What’s wrong?”
“Mistress Jane, I didn’t mean to stare—”
But she did, making Jane uncomfortable. Jane realized they might have different views on nudity on Lowth, but she wasn’t exactly naked, for heaven’s sake.
“What’s upset you?” she asked.
Mara gulped. “The markings on your skin. There is nothing wrong with such—the dwarves favor them. I did not expect to see them on you, that’s all.”
Jane touched the rose tattoo above the towel line on her left breast. “It’s called a tattoo on Earth. I have this one and another on my ankle.” She lifted her right leg, where Bugs Bunny chewed on a carrot. “Then there’s the design on my arm.” She held out her left arm. A swirling design between two bands encircled it a handbreadth above her elbow.