by Tara Rose
She was in deep shit here.
Chapter Nine
Abigail’s stomach rumbled as she followed Patricia down carpeted corridors with electric lights set into the wall at regular intervals. The hallways here were decorated with dark, ornate wallpaper. She had no clue where she was, and couldn’t keep up with all the twists and turns. If she became separated from her escorts inside this castle, she’d be lost for days.
Finally, she heard noisy conversation and smelled food. Patricia told her to wait, and then scurried into a large room that reminded Abigail of a banquet hall, but it was decorated like the rest of the castle she’d seen so far, not like most banquet halls she’d been inside.
Jarrett and Colton came out into the hallway, both smiling as they checked her out.
Patricia bowed. “I’ll leave you with them now, Miss.”
“Thank you, Patricia.”
“You look amazing,” said Jarrett.
“Really wonderful,” said Colton.
“Thanks. You both do, too.” They were dressed in breeches, boots, and linen shirts as before, but this time they also wore waist coats with elaborate trim, and intricately-tied scarves at their throats. And they smelled fantastic. Between them and the food, she wasn’t sure which scent was more enticing. “This dress is the prettiest thing I’ve ever worn. But I wish you hadn’t let me sleep away the day. I feel like a slug.”
“Nonsense,” said Colton. “As we told you last night, this is common for the women who cross over. You’ll feel more energetic in a few days.”
“Are you hungry?” asked Jarrett, holding out his arm.
She took it, only because it would seem rude not to. “Very, but I have so many questions. You two did promise to answer them.”
“And we will.”
His voice was full of condescension, and maybe it was the hunger talking, but she was over this now. She let go of his arm and moved away from the entrance in case anyone inside was watching. “Look, I’m not trying to be difficult, but this is getting ridiculous. They’re not hard questions, and I can’t believe no one has asked them before. Why can’t you simply talk to me?”
“We said we would.”
Jarrett’s voice was gentler this time, but his jaw was set in a way that told her he didn’t want to have this conversation right now. That was too bad on his part because she intended to have her say. “You left me alone all day, and the only real conversation we’ve had since I got here last night was about sex.”
“This isn’t the time to do this, Abigail.”
Jarrett took her arm again, but she shook him off and moved further away, backing up against the wall. “I’m tired of this. So, okay. I crossed over because of some painting and I’m supposed to be a sex toy for both of you. I get it. But I don’t like people speaking to me as though I need to be placated. I’m not a child.”
“Then stop acting like one,” said Colton, advancing toward her. “Come inside and have a meal with us and our family members.”
She swallowed hard as tears threatened. “And then what? More empty promises that you’ll answer my questions? All you’ll do is seduce me again and then disappear as soon as I fall asleep. No thank you.”
Both men opened their mouth as if to speak again, but stopped when two men came out of the room. They were dressed in a similar fashion to Jarrett and Colton, and it was obvious from their amused expressions that they’d heard at least part of the conversation.
Abigail had to fight the urge to bolt. For one thing, she had no clue how to get back to her room. Or to that damn hall so she could jump back through the painting and go home.
* * * *
Jarrett wished anyone but Jaxon and Parker had heard Abigail’s outburst. They both eyed her like a prize to be won at a carnival. Her face was flushed, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she started to cry, or ran away any minute now.
“This must be Abigail,” said Jaxon.
Jarrett sighed out loud, cursing the fact that he and Colton had left her with Patricia instead of returning to their rooms and escorting her here themselves. “Yes. This is Abigail. Abigail, may I present Jaxon, my brother. And this is Parker, Colton’s brother.”
“Pleased to meet you both.” Her voice was hard and angry.
Jaxon eyed him. “You weren’t kidding. She’s stunning. And quite the fireball.”
“We’ll be right in,” said Jarrett, glaring at his idiot brother.
Parker shook his head and chuckled, but finally he and Jaxon went back inside. Jarrett grabbed Abigail’s arm, not caring that tears stung her eyes as soon as he did. “Is that the way women from your world behave in front of royalty?”
“What?” She stared at him like he’d just asked her to stand on her head. “I have no idea how they act. I’ve never met any royalty, and neither has anyone else I know. I want to go home.” She wiped at her face with her free hand. “Take me back to that portrait hall, please. I want to go back. I don’t belong here.”
He and Colton exchanged a quick glance. They should have told her she couldn’t go back. Everything she’d said was true. They had promised her, more than once, to answer her questions. But damn it all…they were only men. Neither one had intentionally avoided talking to her about her concerns. Things had simply spiraled out of control this morning.
“We didn’t leave you alone all day to avoid talking to you.”
“Then why did you?”
“We had business to attend to,” said Colton. “Council business. Stuff you wouldn’t be interested in hearing about.”
It was the truth, but as soon as Jarrett felt her body stiffen, he knew Colton’s answer had only further angered her. “How do you know that? You’ve never asked me what my interests are.”
She inhaled, her breath hitching in her throat. “Please…please stop treating me like I’m nothing more than decoration. I’m an intelligent woman with two college degrees. I might just shock you with what I’m interested in, if you’d stop long enough to have an actual conversation with me. Or don’t you do that here? Talk to your women?”
Loud music and laughter spilled out of the room. Neither man had eaten yet, and she must be very hungry as well, since the last time she’d had any food was this morning. But they couldn’t take her inside now. She’d be surrounded by their family members, everyone looking her over, judging her, and asking her endless questions. She was in no frame of mind to deal with that.
“Wait here.” He found Jon, told him to have a generous sampling of the meal for three, plus drink, brought to the sitting room, and then took his father aside and explained that Abigail was overwhelmed by everything that had happened to her, and she wasn’t yet ready to meet everyone.
Since his father had met many women from her world, he said he understood, but Jarrett knew as soon as he spoke to his younger son, his father would hear how Abigail had behaved. Jarrett didn’t give a shit right now. He’d deal with it another time if he had to. Right now, he wanted to get Abigail someplace where he and Colton could calmly talk to her.
And then they’d have to tell her that she couldn’t go home. She was here for the rest of her life.
* * * *
Colton couldn’t be angry with Abigail. He understood her point of view. She was frightened and alone. Everything she’d known was lost to her forever, and she didn’t yet know to what extent that was true. He pulled her close as they waited for Jarrett to return. “It’s going to be okay.” He didn’t know what else to say.
She snuggled against him, and he fought to keep breathing. He knew this wasn’t her fault, but she simply had no idea the physical effect she had on both of them. “How? How will this be okay?”
He pulled away to gently cup her face. “We’ll make it right. Jarrett has likely gone to make his apologies to his father and to mine, and to ensure we have our meal brought to our rooms instead. We’ll eat with you and answer all your questions.”
She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “And this time, we won�
��t touch you until you’re satisfied that you know absolutely everything about us, our kingdom, and our history.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No, I’m not. But you don’t understand our position. Mine and Jarrett’s.”
“I’m trying to. Honestly I am. But you haven’t given me much to go on.”
He didn’t have time to say anything else because Jarrett came out into the hallway. “It’s taken care of. Let’s return to our rooms. We’ll leave the mass introductions for another day.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jarrett shook his head. “We told you not to apologize, remember?”
“But I’ve ruined your plans for the evening.”
“No, you haven’t. We made a promise to you.” He held out his arm, and she took it. “So let’s go have our dinner and make good on that promise.”
Colton took her other arm, and they led her back to the sitting room, where the food and drink were already waiting. Abigail ate like she hadn’t had any food for days. Between the three of them, they finished off half a bottle of wine, and then she finally no longer looked like she would cry any second.
When the food had been taken away, Colton put another stick of wood on the fire and sat in the chair across from Abigail. Jarrett was next to her on the sofa and, taking his cue from Colton, moved away slightly.
“All right,” said Colton. “You have our undivided attention for the rest of this night. Ask us anything you wish.”
“I really am sorry for earlier. I was so hungry.”
He shook his head. “No more apologies. Ask your questions.”
“Well, I hope this is okay, but I did ask Patricia one thing when she helped me dress.” She told them Patricia’s account of the original curse from one of Enfield’s kings, about the wall, and how they’re beginning to watch for signs of Enfield and Wythmail banding together. “Do you really think that could happen?”
“It could,” said Jarrett, “but it’s unlikely. Wythmail would have a lot to lose by joining forces with Enfield against us. They can’t walk across the Great Lake, and if they dare to try and enter the Wastelands, their nobility would be killed by the people who live there.”
“But you would be surrounded.”
Jarrett smiled. “We have nothing to fear from the combined kingdoms. We have an army that could wipe out them both.”
“Then why haven’t you simply done that?”
“It’s not our way,” said Colton. “We don’t want their land or their wealth. Only women to keep our bloodlines going.”
“How large is Ashdown? I mean in acreage?”
Colton frowned, doing the math in his head. “On foot, walking at a steady pace for roughly ten hours a day, it would take someone three days to cross the kingdom from one end to the other. On horseback you could cross it in less than half that time.”
“So…” She counted on her fingers. “Approximately ninety miles across?”
“Yes. And from the north to the south is roughly the same distance.”
“Patricia mentioned border guards. What if they let someone from Enfield over the wall?”
“They wouldn’t,” said Jarrett. “Holding a position such as a border guard is considered prestigious. They are chosen from birth because their positions are passed down within families. If they did something like that, it would dishonor the entire guard and all their families, not one person.”
She nodded. “Something Patricia said about the curse and the men from Ashdown having children with the women from Wythmail struck me when I remembered you telling me you faked the bloodlines. Aren’t the people from your kingdom now so mixed that there are no more pure bloodlines left?”
Colton chuckled softly. “Yes.” He leaned close. “But Enfield does not know that. They don’t know we’ve done this. They think we’ve found a way to keep our pure bloodlines going, and that’s one of the reasons they keep trying to send spies. It’s killing them not to know how we still have a royal family.”
She tilted her head slightly and took another sip of wine. “Okay, but don’t you think after all this time they’ve got to be figuring you’re doing something like this? I mean, purely from a mathematical standpoint, they aren’t that stupid, are they? That they wouldn’t figure out you’re pulling women to bear your children from somewhere else by now?”
Both men shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what they think,” said Jarrett. “They can’t do anything about it.”
“Unless Wythmail decides to make an issue of it,” said Colton.
“And even if they do,” said Jarrett, “our contracts are with Wythmail, not Enfield.”
“So what happens if Wythmail says no more and puts an end to it?” she asked.
Jarrett shook his head. “They won’t. They’re rich beyond imagination because of this.”
“You mentioned the magick of the portraits as being tied to King Reginald’s direct descendants. What happens when the bloodlines are so mixed that there are no more direct descendants? What will happen to the magick?”
“That’s a good question,” said Jarrett. “And I wish I had an answer but I don’t. Our sorcerers don’t know the answer, any more than they know why new portraits that are made contain the same kind of magick as the original ones discovered.”
“Which brings me back to my original questions. Why go to all this trouble? Why use the women from my world only for your sexual pleasures? Why not use them to have your children, as well?”
“We touched on that a bit already,” said Colton. “But we didn’t explain all of it. The women of Wythmail are considered Ashdown residents once they mate with our men. Any status they had in Wythmail is gone. Even though they entered into these arrangements with contracts that compensated them well from the beginning, their families were often angry about the arrangement.”
“Are the Wythmail women treated well here?”
“Yes. But over time, most of the Wythmail women weren’t happy with the particular sexual perversions some of us have. That’s why two classes have now developed.”
“You see,” said Colton, “when the portraits and their magick were discovered, we then found the answer to our opposing needs. Those of us who were content to choose brides from Wythmail in order to have children continue to do so. The rest of us do this.”
“Wait for women to cross over, and then seduce them.”
“Yes,” said Jarrett. “Precisely.”
“Why not simply choose brides and have children as well? Why go to all the trouble of faking documents?”
“To falsify birth records with someone of our world is one thing. But if we did that with women from another one, we would risk exposure of our practices. Both with respect to the records and the portraits.”
“Ah, I see. So the people of Wythmail and Enfield don’t know about the portraits.”
“No, they do not. And we intend to keep it that way.” Jarrett moved closer to Abigail. “And as we told you last evening, this is our birthright. It is our tradition. It’s also our choice.”
She nodded several times, sipping her wine, and Colton was happy to see she appeared to understand and accept their explanations.
“One more question. How long do you keep them here? The women who cross over? I mean…I have to ask this. Please don’t be offended. What happens when you grow bored or tired of them? Do you simply send them back?”
They had to tell her. Jarrett moved closer still, and Colton rose to take a seat on the other side of her. He took her hands. “There’s no easy way to say this. The portraits only work one way. There is no magick we’ve ever found to send the women back. This is your home now, Abigail. You’re here to stay for the rest of your life.”
Chapter Ten
After the room stopped spinning, Abigail finished her glass of wine, then poured another, nearly spilling it down the front of her beautiful dress as she tried to drink it. Jarrett gently took it out of her hands and placed it where she couldn’t reach it, then pulled
her into his arms and simply held her.
“I didn’t know that. I don’t understand any of this.” She pulled away to look into his face. “I have a home. I have a job. I have family. Is time going forward there, too? What will they think? What will happen to the painting? What if they find it and…No one else can come through it, can they?”
What would Jarrett and Colton make of Arlene?
He shook his head. “No. That’s never happened. One portrait, one woman.”
“How many are there?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Where did they come from?”
“The originals were discovered in a locked room near the dungeons, and the new ones are made in one of the homes close to the castle.”
“Who makes the new ones?” He and Colton exchanged a glance, and she wasn’t sure they were going to continue. “I won’t tell anyone. Who would I tell? I only know you two and Patricia.”
“A trio of artists who are also stargazers paint them,” said Jarrett. “The frames are made from—”
“Ash wood.” She cut him off, nodding. “Yes. The person who sold it to me said that.”
“All wood has magical properties,” said Colton. “Ash wood is associated with the ability to travel through time and space.”
“But how do these artists get the twin paintings into my world?”
“We don’t know that. We also don’t know how the twins of the originals entered your world.”
She shook her head. “For something you take full advantage of, you don’t know a lot about how it works. Did you ever consider you might be messing with things you shouldn’t?”
Colton started to speak again but she cut him off, holding up one hand. “I know, I know. It’s your birthright. But what about my life? What about my rights? What about the fact that you pulled me out of a home and a job that I love, and away from family and friends?”
