Once Upon a Rainbow, Volume One

by Mickie B. Ashling

  My friends were aware of my outfit, but the contenders had no idea. It would give me an opportunity to mingle and check out the guys I’d put on my favorite pile. So far there were two. The Scot, and an American banker, Carl Perkins, whose answers had intrigued me. He was nothing like the stodgy financiers I dealt with here at home. The guy had answered most of my questions with witty double entendres. He might be nothing but a poser, but there was only one way to know for sure.

  I still hadn’t made up my mind on how this would play out. If I was going to use the mattress test as final validation, I’d have to coax the chosen ones into my bedroom. Not exactly princely to fuck on a first date, but how else would I know if we were a match? Mama hadn’t thought this through. There must be a way we could hold off on sex until we were both comfortable, although…I’d never been a big proponent of waiting.

  This unwarranted bout of scruples was the product of my environment. Lessons in nobility had been drummed into my lizard brain since I was a toddler, and while it was fine to give in to my baser instincts at a club or hotel, it seemed utterly wrong to go flat-out slutty here at the palace. My ancestors would be rolling in their graves watching me bump uglies with two gentlemen in one night. But wait. Was I really going to do them both on separate beds, or would I pick one and hope he was the right choice? That made no sense. How on earth would I find out if there was good chemistry if I didn’t take a test drive?

  With new resolve, and a final glance in the mirror, I headed to Mama’s suite. She was already dressed when I barged in.

  “We need to make some adjustments,” I said without preamble. “Pour some of your witchy brew on another pebble.”

  She looked at me in astonishment. “How dare you barge in here and start issuing orders.”

  Abashed, I apologized sincerely, “Sorry, Mama. I’m in a bit of a rush.”

  “At this rate, you’ll be worn out before your guests arrive.”

  “It occurred to me that our plan is flawed,” I explained. “This is why I’m a bit anxious.”

  “In what way?”

  “I have two contenders, Mama. You can’t expect me to pick one over the other without your magical seal of approval.”

  Examining my costume, her gaze faltered when it arrived at my crotch. “You make a fetching phantom except your pants are obscene,” she pronounced royally.

  I grinned. “But it’ll get the job done.”

  “Dear God,” she exclaimed, putting her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth.”

  “I’ll be as silent as a monk if you’d get to work on your magic.”

  She huffed and turned in a swirl of purple satin and lace. There was a wooden reading stand close to a window with a ponderous leather-bound book on display. It had a red ribbon marker sticking out from the middle, and she opened it up to the selected page.

  Curious, I stepped closer. “What is that, and why haven’t I seen it before?”

  She looked up, lips pursed in annoyance. “If you must know, this is my grimoire, and it’s been in the vault for safekeeping until now.”

  “Your personal guide to casting spells and wreaking havoc on the unsuspecting,” I observed dryly. “Papa probably had it under lock and key.”

  “He took it away from me a while back.”

  “Can’t you remember how to cast this particular spell? You just did it a few days ago.”

  “Bash, you’re irritating me to no end,” Mama said testily. “I’m not a practicing witch, and I don’t remember a thing I did the other day. And furthermore, I’m fresh out of pebbles. I don’t suppose you brought one along?”

  “Fuck, no.”

  “Language!”

  “Sorry, Mama. Use something else.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know,” I whined. Scanning the room, I pointed at her sewing box. “Don’t you have anything useful in there?”

  “Buttons?”

  “There you go,” I said excitedly. “Pick the smallest one, and after you’re done doing whatever you need to do, place it underneath the mattress in the guest room adjoining mine.”

  Her eyebrows rose so high they almost hit her hairline. “Tell me you’re not going from one bed to the next in the same evening.”

  “Don’t ask for details if you’re afraid of the answers,” I warned.

  “Quite so,” she said. “Please go before you say anything more.”

  “You’ll take care of the button?”

  “I’ll handle it,” she promised. “Go out there and start mingling.”

  I kissed her on the cheek and headed toward the gardens. The weather gods were on our side, it seemed, with a starlit sky and warm summer breezes wafting through the branches of the surrounding trees. The live band was already in motion, and liveried waiters were walking through the crowd with silver trays filled with champagne flutes. My gaze flicked from man to man, looking for my Scot, but I wasn’t seeing him. Maybe he hadn’t arrived yet, I thought, trying to curtail my disappointment. The evening had just started, and perhaps he chose to be fashionably late.

  Papa hailed me from afar, and I weaved my way through a sea of men until I arrived at his side.

  “How’s it going, my boy?”

  “It’s just started.”

  “See anything you like?”

  I snorted in amusement. “A veritable bounty of manhood.”

  He observed me with a gimlet eye. “I’m expecting some progress by the end of the evening. We’ve tarried enough on this quest of yours.”

  “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “You’ll have a future son-in-law by sundown tomorrow.”

  He gave me the once-over and, like Mama, didn’t much approve of my attire. “I would hope so seeing as how you’re practically naked.”

  “There’s no harm in advertising, Papa.”

  “Except the ones who should be on display are your guests, not you.”

  “I want to make sure they like what they see. How can they make informed decisions if I’m covered up in a shroud?”

  “Isn’t there a happy medium between ballet dancer briefs and a robe?”

  “Certainly, but I choose to put it out there in case there’s any doubt I’m up to my marital duties.”

  “There’s no room for error in that getup,” he grumbled. “See that you don’t get too excited, or you’ll embarrass us.”

  “Enough,” I said dismissively. “I think I just spotted my American.”

  I couldn’t see the look on Papa’s face as I walked away, but I’m sure he was none too pleased. Accustomed to being in charge, he had become increasingly frustrated as I grew more and more independent. This business of choosing a consort should have been wrapped up years ago.

  Too bad, I thought ruefully. It was my life, and I wasn’t going to be led around like a lamb to slaughter. If I made the wrong decision, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. Luck, and a little help from Mama, should help me circumnavigate this challenge.

  There was a group of men hanging around the bar in a variety of outfits that belonged in a PRIDE parade. I could spot pirates, gangsters, Doms, ingénues, Chers, Madonnas, Dolly Partons, beauty queens, slaves, jockeys, cops, firemen, but only one cowboy. I assumed this was Carl.

  “I don’t see your horse anywhere,” I teased as I sauntered up to him.

  He gave me a classic aw-shucks look that suited him perfectly. His cheeks pinked up with pleasure, and I could tell he was flattered by my attention. The photo he’d submitted had obviously not been recent, or he’d photoshopped the heck out of it, because this cowboy had less hair and a few more wrinkles. Not that I minded an older gent on occasion, but truth in advertising was crucial to the success of this mission, and I already felt duped.

  He stretched out his hand for a shake. “Howdy, partner. Carl Perkins here.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said, reaching for his hand. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “So far so good,” he said, taking a sip of hi
s drink. “I can’t wait to meet the prince.”

  “I’ve heard he’s a real handful.”

  “Is he?” Carl replied, showing more teeth. “I’m not worried about it.”

  “You seem pretty confident, considering you’ve never met the man.”

  He waggled his eyebrows, a stupid move that got under my skin. “Once I get that boy between the sheets, he’ll know who’s in charge.”

  My blood rushed to my head. How fucking dare he? I took a huge calming breath and remarked, “Is that right?”

  “Never met a pony I couldn’t tame.”

  “Good luck, Carl.”

  “Hey, buddy. You didn’t give me your name. Maybe we can get together if this thing with the prince doesn’t pan out.”

  “The name is Sebastian and your window of opportunity has just closed.”

  I spun around before he could bluster out a useless apology. No longer interested in that group, I made my way to the other side of the garden, stopping several times to greet friends and acquaintances. There was a buzz of anticipation every time I got close to a bunch of guys, and I could almost see them mentally raising a hand and screaming pick me! Why anyone would be so eager to step forward was a mystery. I supposed the honor and prestige were enough of a draw, not to mention the cushy life of a royal, but it was disappointing to think love didn’t factor into their plans.

  Leaving yet another group, I headed toward the palace. My head was lowered, and therefore I didn’t see the body until it was too late. I ran into an impressive chest covered in creamy ivory with a dark jacket over a green and black kilt. When I lifted my head, a set of hazel brown eyes looked down at me in amusement.

  “Going somewhere?”

  My mouth dropped open. It was him, my Scot, and holy mother of God. He was magnificent, every bit as gorgeous as his picture. “Um, no. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He grinned. “I have a date with a prince, not a phantom.”

  Slowly, I removed my mask, never dropping my gaze. “You’re looking at Prince Sebastian of Sendorra.”

  The grin broadened into a full smile. “Is that right?”

  I was tongue-tied and my heart fluttered dangerously. Always adept at flirting, Errol’s physicality threw me off my game. He was everything I imagined times ten. I couldn’t catch my breath and was getting light-headed as a result. My face must have shown my distress because I felt strong hands guiding me toward the inside of the palace.

  "I think you need a glass of cold water," he said solicitously.

  "More like a shot of whiskey."

  "Aye, there’s nothing a wee dram can’t cure,” he said, smiling. “Why don’t you lead the way?”

  Chapter Six

  ERROL

  Sebastian whipped off his cape as we walked toward the palace, and I soaked up the vision of his enticing backside. Cinched in some kind of fabric that hugged him like a second skin, each purposeful step down the long corridor caused his glutes to shift and my mouth to water. I envisioned dragging those skintight britches down his long, long legs and burying my tongue in his cleft. My outfit was much more forgiving, thank Christ, as my host had given me a raging cock stand. Nothing a strategically placed sporran couldn’t hide, but if he didn’t plant himself in a chair soon, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else.

  We ended up in a book-lined room, a surprising choice, but one that afforded maximum privacy. None of the partygoers would wander in here, unless they were drunk or lost, but we were alone for now. He tugged on a cloth pull before sinking down on the leather sofa facing a massive stone fireplace. A butler appeared in under five minutes.

  “Fetch me a cool cloth,” Sebastian ordered. “But before you go, pour us two whiskeys, please.”

  With a bob of his head, the butler walked over to a mirror-backed cabinet lined with cut-glass decanters and glasses in every shape imaginable.

  Turning toward me, Sebastian gestured to the empty space by his side. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” I responded, perching a few feet away. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “You seem to have a devastating effect on my composure.”

  Flattered, I teased, “I’m sure it’s only temporary.”

  The butler returned with our drinks and left the room silently.

  Sebastian held out his glass, and I met him halfway, clinking the fine crystal together.

  “Thank you for accepting my invitation,” he said in a low voice, studying my features. “A man who looks like you shouldn’t have any trouble finding a date.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought this meeting was far more than a date.”

  “Indeed it is,” he admitted. “I’m pleasantly surprised that someone of your caliber is even considering my proposition.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Your Highness.”

  “Please, call me Sebastian or Bash. Leave the title out of this.”

  “Fair enough. Is today really your birthday?”

  He nodded.

  “Am I supposed to be one of your presents?”

  A rosy tinge crept across his cheeks before he lowered his head. It was incongruous, given his position, but I was elated. The rumors regarding Sebastian’s arrogance were turning out to be pure slander, or was this behavior reserved for me? If so, we were a match made in heaven.

  I lifted his chin with my forefinger. “Look at me.”

  Striking blue orbs bored into mine with intent. His face was still flushed and his mouth parted, but he didn’t veer when I slanted my mouth over his and took possession. His soft moan set fire to my neglected libido, and I had to contain the urge to press him down on the sofa and ravage him then and there. Gathering the last of my reserves, I broke the kiss.

  “Why did you stop?” Sebastian asked, looking disappointed.

  I thumbed his lower lip, now slick with our combined saliva. “I’m not sure if there’s some sort of protocol I need to follow when it comes to my next move.”

  “Sorry?”

  He looked dazed and incredibly sexy, but I forced myself to answer the question. “If you were anyone but a prince, there would be nothing in the world that could stop me.”

  I reached for his hand and pressed it against my cock, so he could feel how desperately I wanted him. “See what you’re doing to me? I’d like nothing more than to carry on, but we’re in your bloody palace, and the royal guards are one scream away.”

  Instead of nodding in agreement, Sebastian licked his lips and began to explore the folds of my plaid. “Is it true what they say about Scots and underwear?”

  “Aye.”

  “There’s nothing under here except you?”

  I shifted when I felt his hand creeping up my naked thigh. “Don’t go any further, or you’ll pay the price.”

  “And what might that be?” he flirted.

  My hand moved of its own volition, collaring his neck. His breath caught, and the rapid pulsing of his heartbeat against my thumb did all kinds of strange and wonderful things to my psyche. I wanted this man.

  In the worst way.

  Right now.

  Not tomorrow, or the day after, but this very minute. “I’m going to carry you off like a sack of spuds and spend the rest of the evening showing you what’s in your future—if I agree to your terms. I’d like to take you home, so we can explore to our hearts’ content without worrying about interruptions.”

  He didn’t say another word but continued his slow journey toward my cock, which was on the brink of erupting. A brush of his hand and I’d be a goner. I stopped his progress by clamping down on his wrist with an iron grip. His whimper almost made me reconsider, but when I noticed the bulge in his crotch, I realized he was just frustrated, not scared.

  “Will you come with me?” I asked.

  “To the ends of the earth,” he replied in a husky voice. He stood in one fluid motion, and I followed him out the door. We retraced our steps back
to the garden, where the party was in full swing. There were several food tents to accommodate the crowd and a raised dance floor packed with revelers.

  Sebastian stopped abruptly and spun around. “Where are we going?”

  I grabbed his hand and walked down the patio steps. We were swallowed up by a surge of hopefuls who pestered Sebastian for a dance or a word in private. He demurred as diplomatically as possible, and most of them backed off, but there was one guy who set my teeth on edge. He was dressed like a cowboy, and when he opened his mouth and hailed Sebastian with a familiarity completely unsuited to his rank, it grated on my last nerve.

  “There you are,” the cowboy twanged. “Why’d you run off before we could get better acquainted?”

  “I told you I wasn’t interested,” Sebastian replied stiffly.

  “Now, that just ain’t nice. I’ve come too far to be brushed off. You have any idea who you’re dealing with?”

  “I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, “but there were no guarantees when you accepted my invitation. I think that was pretty clear on the questionnaire.”

  “You implied we’d have a one-on-one conversation.”

  “I’m sorry, but you misunderstood,” Sebastian said. He was backing away and the asshat stepped forward instead of retreating. My patience ran out the minute he reached for Sebastian to try to hold him in place.

  “Take your hands off him,” I growled.

  His jaw jutted in a bulldog-like stance. I could smell the booze on his breath and I realized he was bladdered.

  “Who in fuck are you?” the cowboy asked churlishly.

  “Bugger off, mate.”

  “Fuck you,” he said, lunging toward us.

  “Guards!” Sebastian hollered.

  A clutch of uniformed men were on the bastard like flies on shit.

  “See that Mr. Perkins is escorted back to his hotel. He shouldn’t drive in his condition,” Sebastian ordered.

  “Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

  Sebastian turned to me. “Shall we?”

  I grinned and reached for his hand, folding his fingers with mine. We headed out toward the parking lot and were stopped once more. This time, it was the Prince and Princess who asked where we were going.