Betrayal and Yearning_A Fantasy Romance Page 2

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Fyona rose from the stool, heavy bosom jouncing, and let out a beleaguered sigh. “Your water’s getting cold.”

  Jessica waved a hand, dismissing Fyona’s concern. “Where exactly is Britarre?” She sauntered back to the balcony, pulled the curtain aside, and peered out. He still stood there, golden hair waving in the breeze.

  The moment the curtain shifted, his head tilted up. A thrill tightened her stomach. He’d been watching for her. And while nice enough to look at, she was fairly ordinary, with long, unruly brown hair and simple gray eyes. Though her height was striking.

  “Well it’s certainly not Earth if that’s what you’re getting at,” said Fyona. “Look, child, it’s not my place to tell you all this.”

  “But that’s ridiculous, how can I not be on Earth?” Frustration laced Jessica’s words before her tone quieted. “Why kidnap me? I have no money, I’m a geologist for god’s sake.” Then she finished weakly, a hand to her forehead, “I want to go home.”

  “Believe me, I’d send you back if I could,” Fyona said, lips curled. “But that was it, we had one opportunity, and you’re who we’re stuck with. So, we’ll make do and that’s that.”

  Jessica’s shoulders slumped. “What year is it?” She at least needed to know the extent of her travels.

  “The equivalent to your year back on Earth, though we use a different measurement,” Fyona said, scurried over, and removed Jessica’s belt, this time without resistance. “Let’s get these off, shall we?” Her voice now a gentle murmur.

  Too exhausted to fight, Jessica clenched her teeth but didn’t argue. For now. The water in the tub steamed, carrying the faint smell of mint. She studied her travel-worn clothes and sighed. She’d work everything out later, especially how to get away.

  “Do you have to be here?” Jessica asked as Fyona pulled off her Geology Rocks t-shirt—the shirt her mom had given her for Christmas. A pang hit her. She was all the family her mom had, without her, Dina Brown would be all alone.

  “Don’t be silly, of course, I should,” Fyona said, distracting Jessica from thoughts of home. The woman’s dark eyes darted over the nude-colored bra. She turned Jessica around and fumbled, finally managing to unclasp it. “Besides, as your handmaid, it’s my duty to assist you.”

  Jeans, socks, and comfortable hiking shoes disappeared with a flick of Fyona’s wrist. All but naked, Fyona squinted at the black panties Jessica wore with mild curiosity then turned her around to eye her ass. “I might not burn these.”

  Before Jessica could respond, Fyona pulled them off too. “At least your bottom is well-rounded.”

  Cheeks ablaze, Jessica opened her mouth, but before she could form any words, Fyona grabbed her shoulders and guided her to the tub. Jessica muttered irritably and stepped in, sending water cascading to the floor.

  Fyona moved about her tasks with industrious familiarity, scrubbing Jessica’s back with rose-scented soap. When she moved toward her breasts, Jessica ripped the washcloth out of the maid’s hand and swallowed a shriek. “I can manage the front!”

  With a shrug, Fyona moved on to her hair.

  Scrubbed pink, Jessica emerged from the tub, threw on a soft robe, and let Fyona draw a comb through her dark tresses as she sat before the fire, shivering with pleasure.

  “I’ll be right back,” Fyona said and scurried from the room.

  Jessica’s pulse quickened. She leapt up and looked for her clothes, but they were gone; Fyona must’ve taken them. Despite her virtual nudity, she decided to investigate escape route options. After tightening her robe, she darted for the door.

  She opened the portal a crack and peeked through. Nothing. On a deep breath, she slipped out and managed two steps before a spear shot in front of her.

  “Don’t think so, miss,” a burly man said then urged her backwards using the spear as a prod until she was back in the room.

  A curse crossed her lips as she paced. If she didn’t get away now, would she have another chance? She hurried to the balcony and gaged the distance to the ground. Too high, she’d kill herself if she jumped. And there weren’t any handsome men lurking about to catch her.

  The door opened with a soft click, and she cringed at Fyona’s icy glare. The guard, standing behind Fyona, waved his spear in warning, drawing her eyes back to him.

  “Thank you, George,” Fyona said. The guard slipped away but in his place two women appeared, wearing simple muslin gowns, and carrying trays. They entered and placed a cloth over the bedspread.

  “You’re trying my patience,” Fyona said and pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”

  “The treatment, then?” A woman with pinched face asked, not looking at Jessica.

  “Yes, and do a good job of it.” Fyona bustled over and dragged Jessica to the bed when she didn’t move.

  “What’re you going to do?” Jessica asked. Despite her resolve to appear confident, her words came out as a squeak.

  “Make you presentable,” the younger of the newcomers replied. She placed a bowl of wax in the coals that skirted the hearth.

  “You’re going to… wax me?”

  All three women waited for her to comply, arms crossed over their chests. After an awkward moment, Jessica hopped on the bed, choosing to play along. They weren’t harming her, and it appeared this was part of the elven grooming process. The anthropologist in her found the ritual curious and hoped by doing as they said she’d learn something useful to aid in her escape.

  The robe fell aside, and the newcomers recoiled. “She’s one of those… rustic types, I see.” The young one said breathlessly, snapping her scissors open then closed before setting to work.

  “Rustic, I’ll have you know I groom.” Jessica’s voice came out sharper than she’d intended. “It’s disgusting not having anything down there.”

  Fyona inched closer. “Gods, girl, how’d I not notice that?” She averted her eyes then turned back for another look. “To an elf, you’re worse than a dwarf, I tell you. Course, hopefully after the transformation, this whole”—she waved her hand to indicate Jessica’s lower half— “situation will be rectified.”

  “Transformation, what does that—” Jessica’s question cut short as the woman with pinched lips applied hot wax to her flesh, pressed a cloth down, then ripped it away.

  Jessica bit her lip and tried not to scream, thrust into a new hell. It took only a moment before all unwanted hair was removed. She looked down as the women backed up. Her eyes bulged. What had they done?

  “Finish the job, you can’t just leave me with a… crotch soul patch!” Waxed completely bare but for a small tuft of hair at the apex, Jessica gaped at her nearly-nude mons, to the women, and back again.

  After a quick glance down, Fyona nodded. “Much better. Now you’re suitable to meet your intended.”

  The groomers gathered their supplies and slipped away.

  “Meet my intended?” Jessica’s voice rose an octave as she jerked the robe about her. “Are you saying I’ve been brought here to marry some guy?”

  Fyona gave her a look that said ‘obviously’ then clarified, “Not some guy. The prince, no less.”

  “No!” Jessica refused, instantly. “You can’t just go around forcing people to get married against their will!” Heat laced her words before she swallowed thickly and asked, “And why would a prince choose me of all people?”

  Fyona pulled several dresses from the wardrobe and took her time, studying each in turn.

  “I’m not going to meet him!” Jessica declared. Hands on her hips, she stared down at the tiny maid and bit out a firm, “No.”

  Not a bit intimidated, Fyona pulled out a set of undergarments and placed them on the bed. “Come. There is nothing to worry about, but we must get you dressed.” Black curls bobbed as she shook her head, noticing Jessica’s set jaw. “It isn’t my place to speak. You’ll understand soon enough.”

  Jessica grumbled but let the elf-woman dress her, not wanting to remain naked a momen
t longer. First, came soft drawers with lace trim. Then silk stockings, held in place at each thigh with a garter. A linen shift drifted over her head to hit just below the knees, and finally stays wrapped around her waist.

  If Fyona wasn’t going to tell her anything of importance, she’d figure things out herself. Her pulse quickened. What if her intended was the man in the practice yard? He’d been by her balcony when she’d arrived. Had stared at her with interest. In fact, couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. A shiver pulsed over her spine as she remembered his eyes going dark upon seeing her. It wouldn’t take too much effort on her part to get to know him a little bit better. Would it be so bad if she stayed?

  “Hold onto the bedpost, child.” Fyona huffed and tugged on the laces.

  Jessica sucked in and held on for dear life. This little old lady was strong. “Gosh, how tight do you mean to make it?” she rasped. “I can barely breathe.”

  “You can still breathe? Hmmm, best make it tighter.” With one final tug, Fyona expertly secured the laces then looked Jessica over. “It’ll have to do. Besides, no one will be looking at your waist with those tits sky high.”

  Cheeks ablaze, Jessica walked to the mirror. Her waist was now remarkably tiny, and her breasts pushed so high it wouldn’t take more than a stiff breeze for them to pop out the top.

  A blue velvet gown dropped over Jessica’s head and Fyona breathed a sigh as it slipped over her hips “It’s a bit short, but better than I’d feared.”

  The gown clung to Jessica’s waist, highlighting her hourglass curves. She brushed the lace trim, bordering the bell sleeves and bodice’s edge, and marveled at the gown’s simple lines. The dress reminded her of the Lady of Shalott poster she’d hung in her room as a teenager with romantic notions.

  After wrapping a silver sash around her waist, Fyona stood back to appraise her charge. She nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Sit down, I’ll dress your hair.”

  It was too much. Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting a sudden headache. “You said transformation before. What does that mean?”

  With darting movements, Fyona twisted Jessica’s brown hair, struggling to make it behave, and said around a mouthful of pins, “Humans are a blank canvas. Magic works wonders on your kind.”

  “What does that even mean?” Jessica’s voice grew anemic. “And magic?”

  Fyona stabbed a pin mercilessly at Jessica’s head. “Human blood’s the weakest of all the races. And magic is as real as you or I.”

  When Jessica made to question that statement, Fyona sneered, “It’s the very reason humans had to leave Orygin to live on Earth.” She spat the word ‘Earth’ as if it were filthy. “Humans rejected magic and were banished, which, to be honest,” she removed the pins from her mouth, stood, and sighed deeply, “was the beginning of our other problems. But, the point is, magic is everything. It’s the very essence of our being. The very essence of the land on which you stand.”

  Jessica shook her head, not understanding, but had other questions that needed answers. “What transformation?”

  Pointedly not looking at her, Fyona rummaged about in the wardrobe. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.” She came up holding a bottle of perfume.

  “I’ll decide what to worry about.”

  While avoiding Jessica’s gaze, Fyona dabbed perfume on her pulse points, pinched her cheeks, then declared her ready. A pair of shoes landed with a THUNK next to her feet and she directed Jessica towards the mirror. “Come, come,” she clapped her hands, “time to go.”

  A laugh almost escaped Jessica’s lips. No way those shoes were even close to her size. She ignored them, approached the mirror, and her mouth dropped. Somehow, Fyona had converted her from your everyday scientist, into exactly what she envisioned an elven bride might look like: hair twisted into a low chignon, cheeks aglow—though she wore no blush—and a rather impressive show of cleavage.

  “Child, put those shoes on at once. Dinner’s about to be served.” Fyona fidgeted as she eyed Jessica.

  “There’s no way those shoes are fitting my feet, first of all.” Jessica thrust a foot out from under the gown and wiggled her toes. “Second, how can I eat dinner after all that’s happened?”

  “Gods be praised, your feet are enormous.” Fyona paled as though she’d never seen anything quite so shocking as Jessica’s feet, then ignored Jessica’s second point entirely. “Well, you can’t go down barefoot! Oh, there isn’t time… did we have to get the one human who’s half giant…” her voice grew shrill as she looked about the room. “The slippers!” she exclaimed and ducked behind the bed to emerge with a pair of soft, pink bedtime slippers. “They’re not rigid. Hopefully, we can force your feet in.”

  Fyona shoved Jessica’s feet into the slippers, unconcerned that her toes bent nearly in half. It was never easy finding a comfortable pair of size elevens that didn’t look like men’s shoes, so Jessica wasn’t surprised there was precious little that might fit her in this place.

  With a resigned shake of the head, Fyona said, “It’ll have to do. Now off to dinner. You’ll be eating with the king. Don’t talk too much, if at all. Observe others. Mimic them. But don’t eat or drink too much, else you’ll burst out of the gown. And smile.” Then she pushed Jessica out the door.

  “What?” Jessica cried as she stumbled into the corridor. Not only was she being held hostage and would potentially be forced to marry some strange elf she’d never met, but they wanted her to be elegant and smile?! How in the hell did they expect her to be pleasant after her kidnapping?

  “The guard will escort you and you’ll eat. Now, go!”

  Teeth clenched at Fyona’s muffled words, Jessica slammed her hand against the door as it shut in her face. “Like hell, I’m going!” They couldn’t stuff her into a costume, make her eat some bloody banquet, and expect her to entertain her captors. That was just—

  George stepped forward, spear held aloft. With his free hand, he reached out to take ahold of her arm.

  “Don’t touch me,” Jessica snapped, pulling her arm away before he could wrap his fingers around her elbow. “I can walk just fine on my own.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Soft footsteps echoed down the dimly lit, stone hallway as Jessica followed George to have dinner—unbelievably enough—with an elven king. After a few turns, she was hopelessly lost, but her eyes darted to every doorway and niche, looking for any conceivable escape routes.

  There were a few options as she saw it, one, she could try to escape when the prince wasn’t looking. Two, she could be forced into a marriage with some brute and have to coax him to free her. Three, maybe the prince was kind, and she could somehow fall in love with him, live happily, and make lots of half-elf babies. Not very likely. Or, if she was lucky, she could convince the prince she wasn’t the one for him and he’d simply let her leave. It was certainly preferable to fleeing the palace to some magical land she didn’t know… with no way to get home… and beasts, according to Ellys.

  Chin raised and shoulders back, she hurried along. Golden sconces hung every few yards, though they didn’t do much to enliven the gloom. “Halls could use a window or two,” she muttered, remembering the huge stained-glass windows at the entrance.

  “Enough out of you, human,” the guard snarled through broken teeth.

  “What did you say to this lady?” A deep voice asked as they rounded a corner.

  George paled and came to a quick stop. He lifted his gaze to the man towering above him. “I’m sorry—"

  “You are dismissed.”

  It was him, from before! Unable to stop herself, Jessica’s eyes traveled the length of him, over calves encased in leather boots that reached over his knees, to pants that hugged muscular thighs, to broad shoulders encased in soft linen that seemed to reach for miles. While she was tall, her head hovered well below the wide expanse.

  “But Sire, I am to escort her—” the guard began, then bit his tongue as the man shot him a withering glare.

  “I said
you are dismissed. Unless you wish to question me further, I will assist the lady from here.” He glanced sharply at his companion, tall like him, but not nearly as broad, who bowed his head and strode away with the guard, leaving Jessica alone with this stranger. When he spoke she jumped, “So, you’re the human.”

  Golden eyes took in every inch of her, but to Jessica’s surprise, she didn’t shy away. His voice was like bittersweet chocolate, deep and raspy. A hint of a smile appeared as her frown deepened. Why wasn’t she running?

  Because, lord almighty, how could she? A leather jerkin framed his broad chest. Veins bulged along a hand that cradled the hilt of a sword. But she didn’t have eyes for any of it. Instead, she was drawn to his face, despite the fierce frown-line drawing his brows together.

  She almost considered fanning herself.

  “You’re fairer than I’d expected.” He moved toward her, closing the distance between them. But when Jessica stiffened, he retreated a step.

  With every move, she detected the faintest smell of cinnamon and clove on him… and something else—a warm essence that weakened her knees. Finally finding her voice, she asked, “And you’re the prince?” Was her voice normally so high? He affected her in ways she’d never experienced. She couldn’t draw a full breath, though, that could have something to do with the stays.

  “I am.”

  With his wavy, blond hair, golden eyes, and deeply tanned skin, he looked like he lived in the sun.

  “Should we go to dinner?” Again, the words came out a squeak. She cleared her throat. Get your act together. This is the man who would force you to marry him. This is the man who arranged for your kidnapping, she reminded herself. Unsure why she needed reminding.

  “I wasn’t planning on eating in the hall tonight. There are people I’d rather not see.” His words rumbled like thunder, and he shrugged. “Bad blood.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip and considered what to do. This wasn’t part of the plan. She needed to get to know him better, but was it safe to be alone with him?

  Without warning, he took her hand and pulled her through a door into what looked like a small library, his touch aflame against her cool skin. The room was dark, lit only by a single sconce. She should quake in fear but to her surprise, didn’t mind being alone in the dark with this man. By all rights, he should terrify her, but there was something about him. His presence was commanding—a tangible, rich masculinity that permeated the room and left her breathless. That, and he smelled bloody wonderful.