Betrayal and Yearning_A Fantasy Romance Page 3

  He pulled a chair out for her, scraping it along the stone floor. His hands lingered over her arms as he pushed her in, and a shiver raced to her fingers at his touch. When he sat, the dancing flame of the sconce reflected in his eyes and across lips that lifted just a touch, revealing a dimple in each cheek. Captivated, she found herself unable to leave. There were the dimples to consider.

  “Where are you from?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Besides Earth, that is.”

  On a swallow, she managed, “Utah.” Then shook her head, he wouldn’t know where Utah was. “It’s a mountainous, desert landscape.” A mountainous, desert landscape? Good lord.

  He laughed then, which from the rusty sound, didn’t happen often. And as though unable to help himself, reached out. Her breath caught as one hand, tan and roughened from work, engulfed both of hers. Every impulse within ran riot as she fought the insane desire to reach out and touch him, too.

  He repeated the foreign word, stretching the syllables out, “You—tah.”

  She nodded encouragement.

  “I’ve heard U-tah is a mountainous, desert landscape, though I’ve never been there myself.” Those golden eyes of his twinkled.

  A blush heated her cheeks. Surprisingly, she found herself teasing back, “Do you even know what a desert is?” Then she shook her head. Of course, there was desert close by, she could tell by the topography. Geez, she sounded like an idiot.

  “There’s desert-land not far from here.” He shrugged one taught shoulder. “Excellent goat.”

  A laugh burst free, but she stifled it with a cough. He stood to pour her a glass of wine from a crystal decanter sitting on a shelf, allowing her the opportunity to openly appraise his form. He moved with the lithe grace of a natural-born athlete though he was a mountain of a man.

  When he handed her the goblet, his fingers brushed hers, and she swallowed a gasp. To disguise the wild thumping in her chest, she drained the wine.

  A hundred questions raced through her mind, all having to do with her kidnapping, why he’d consented to such a dastardly act, and what if she didn’t want to marry him? But something silenced her. She wanted to get to know this man better, discover the circumstances around his decision before jumping down his throat.

  “Tell me about magic.” Impulsively, she landed on the topic only slightly less improbable than the existence of an alternate world inhabited by elves. His face twisted into a scowl and she laughed. “What did I say?”

  “Magic,” he scoffed, “is the practice of the less-enlightened. What you really want to know is, why humans are no longer on Orygin.”

  “I must admit I am curious about that, as well as other things,” her words came out in a rush.

  Long legs stretched before him. He leaned back and considered what to say. When his booted foot brushed the hem of her dress, that mere touch sent her heart racing.

  “Hundreds of years ago, the humans and fae were at war,” he began, eyes narrowed in concentration, then sat forward so suddenly she jumped. “The details are hazy at best, but humans spurned magic, lost the war, and were banished to Earth by the fae. At the same time, the fae also left Orygin and we’ve been a bit fucked ever since.” His eyes widened the moment the curse left his lips, and he grinned boyishly. “Beg your pardon.”

  She bit back a smile and asked, “What do you mean?”

  “There’s discord amongst the races, we can’t seem to live and let live. But that’s not likely to ever happen.”

  “Sounds like we’ve got more in common than not,” she said with a joyless laugh. “Things are pretty tense back on Earth, too.”

  “I hope you’ll like it here, then.” His voice dipped low as he studied her with those unyielding golden eyes, sending frenetic sparks darting about her belly.

  The intensity of his gaze was too much, so she took a quick swallow from the goblet he’d refilled. When she looked up again, his eyes were on her lips.

  “There’s something different about you,” he said, voice severe.

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “Something I’ve never felt for a woman before.” He stood and ran his fingers through his hair, setting the blond waves a-riot.

  Heart beating triple-time, Jessica took a deep breath and tried to still the trembling in her fingers. She couldn’t explain it, but felt the same, something was sparking through her every nerve at his very presence.

  But before she could respond, a knock sounded and shattered the moment. The prince strode over and opened the door a crack, nodded once, then closed it. “Damn,” he breathed and turned to her, his expression somber. “It seems you’ve been missed at dinner. You must go.”

  She didn’t want to leave. Why would she want to eat dinner with people she didn’t know? Funny, she didn’t actually know him either.

  A muscled arm extended toward her. When she took his hand, and let him help her up, she found herself wondering how those lips—that quirked so rarely, but deliciously—would feel against her own.

  Anticipation bloomed in her stomach as he leaned forward. She caught her lip between her teeth but to her disappointment, his lips fell to her hand. His breath brushed across her cool skin in gentle waves, as he pressed soft kisses to her flesh. Her skin tingled from the touch. Afraid she might fall, she locked her knees.

  On a deep breath, he murmured against her fingers, voice dark, “I must bid you farewell.”

  Uncertain what to say, she blinked, but he continued, “But why does it feel like if I do, I might never see you again.”

  What a strange thing to say. He’d brought her here. She was to marry him, yet, he treated her as though she were leaving. He must sense her hesitance.

  “Although the circumstances surrounding my arrival have been less than ideal,” she began, “now that I’m here…” her voice trailed off. Gosh, what was she saying? “Now that I’ve met you…”

  The remaining distance closed between them as he stepped forward and enveloped her in the warmth of his body. His hard chest brushed against her breasts, and she went limp. His breath was a low rumble against her ear, and she shivered as his face dipped close to her neck. All thoughts fled as his lips hovered over her racing pulse.

  He leaned back. Darkened eyes searched hers. A hint of a smile curved unforgiving lips as his gaze fell to the frantic rise and fall of her breasts. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said, and it wasn’t a request.

  When his head dipped forward once more, her eyelids fell, ready to welcome the intimate act. But instead of claiming her mouth, his tongue brushed across the skin of her throat. She shivered. Her hold on him tightened as her nipples stiffened against his chest. A soft moan escaped her lips as he continued his path of kisses. At every brush of his lips, her skin tingled, bringing her ever closer to a precipice from which she didn’t know if she’d return.

  Finally, she pulled him closer, and his lips met hers, searching, demanding, until she parted for him, ever so slightly. Each beat of her heart sang in harmony that this man, this kiss, was for her.

  Big hands wrapped around the small of her waist, pressing her softness against him. His tongue brushed against hers, and he groaned low.

  Through her skirt, she felt him, hard and insistent. And as though his shoulders were a lifeline, she clutched them, her knuckles white from the pressure. He pulled back. Eyes nearly black, he looked like he wanted to devour her. A shiver traveled down her spine. Without thinking, she tightened her grasp, breasts pressing higher, and pulled him back for just one more—

  “I must go,” he growled, voice feral. He tore himself from her grasp, turned away, then exited the room without a backwards glance.

  Alone, she pressed trembling fingers to swollen lips. What just happened? She’d never kissed a man like that— a man she’d only met. And one who had kidnapped her, no less.

  It took a few minutes but when she regained her composure, she followed his path out. Her eyes scanned the hall, but the prince was gone. Two guards appeared as she wandered th
e corridor and escorted her back to her room. She paid them no mind, instead considered her racing heart. It was ridiculous to feel so drawn to the prince. Love at first sight only happened in fairytales.

  Unable to stop, her mind played over all the little details: the set of his jaw, the soft curve of those stern lips. How his laugh sounded like a frayed bark. His golden eyes, penetrating hers as they—

  Out of the darkness, Fyona appeared and grabbed her arm with hard fingers. Jessica bowed her head and let the maid usher her back to the bedroom, scolding all the while about missing dinner until Jessica mentioned she’d met the prince.

  “You met Prince Wycliffe?” Fyona asked and placed a tray of food before her.

  Jessica took a bite of cold fish. Not caring to elaborate on her meeting, she chewed slowly. So, his name’s Wycliffe?

  “Well, isn’t that strange,” Fyona mused and pulled a nightgown from the wardrobe. “I didn’t think he was going to be home until tomorrow, just before the meeting. Oh well, I’m glad you found him pleasing.” As she waited for Jessica to finish her meal, Fyona puttered around the room. But Jessica paid her no mind, her thoughts elsewhere—on a pair of hard, golden eyes.

  “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.” Fyona stacked the dishes. “Everyone will have arrived, and you’ll be introduced at The Meeting of Sovereigns. That’s why you were brought here now—well, that and the witches claimed the sun was in the correct position for the journey, or some such. His Highness will likely introduce you to the gathering, which will include representatives for the witches, dwarves, elves, and their various factions, as his bride.”

  With a tired nod, Jessica let Fyona help her undress. Skin pebbled with cold, she hurried under the covers.

  Before succumbing to sleep, her stomach lurched as she again thought about her mom. The two had always been close, especially after Jessica’s dad had left when she was five.

  But despite her mother, Jessica realized she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not until she figured out whatever was going on between her and the prince. Then she’d figure out what to do about Mom.

  CHAPTER 3

  The next day, Jessica wandered the palace garden, not a soul in sight. Pathways intertwined, often ending in a secluded corner perfect for a lover’s tryst.

  Fyona had tossed her a parasol, admonishing as she’d exited the castle, “Don’t get too much sun and don’t dawdle. I’ll need you back in time to make you presentable.”

  Let’s see if I don’t just run away, then what kind of time will you have making me presentable, she thought and kicked a pebble into a bed of roses.

  Jessica twirled the parasol overhead. The landscaping was elaborate, a sure sign of the gardener’s hard work, but she found her mind wandering to Prince Wycliffe…shirtless. That morning she’d awoken to him practicing outside her window. But this time he wore only leather pants. He’d seen her but hadn’t acknowledged her, merely frowned, then turned away. What had changed? And why the distance? With a wavering breath, she recalled his chiseled chest covered with hair, darkening as it trailed over rock-hard abs towards…

  She shook her head, dispelling the all too vivid image. It was about time to get back. Really, she should try to escape—get away from these strange people who so blithely kidnapped her. But she did neither. Instead, she closed her eyes and let the warm, late-summer sun caress her face.

  Not for the first time, Jessica wondered why there were no guards escorting her about the palace grounds, making sure their precious hostage didn’t escape. Such odd people. Lucky for them, she had a reason to stay. For now.

  Ready to embrace the day, she tossed the parasol aside and wound around an ivy-covered wall.

  “I think you lost something.”

  Pulse ablaze, she spun around, hand pressed to her quivering chest.

  It was him.

  “Oh my heck, you scared me.” She flashed a shaky smile. “Thank you.” When she moved to take the parasol, his fingers wrapped around her hand. They were hot against her skin. Though he didn’t return the pleasantry. If anything, his frown deepened.

  Her eyes followed the path of shiny boots that hugged muscular calves. He looked dashing in his navy-blue coat over a white shirt and buff-colored pants.

  “My pleasure.” His tongue caressed the word, as his eyes burned a path over her body. A bolt of desire careened into her core. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night. While talking with my men, I wondered if you like a peppery hare stew or one that is milder on the pallet. You can understand how that would be problematic when discussing matters of state.”

  She swallowed an anxious giggle. “I don’t know that I like hare stew at all.” Then brushed a trembling hand over his snowy white shirt, feeling the bulge of a bicep. “Should you neglect your prince-ly duties worrying about such things?”

  “Anything concerning you is my prince-ly duty.”

  Conflicting instincts raged through her. One screamed for her to run, the other begged her to stay. But all thoughts fled as his big body brushed up against hers, his hands hard around her upper arms. Thumbs grazed the sides of her breasts in what seemed an accidental stroke, but the savage look in his eyes told her it had been anything, but.

  Unable to think, she blocked his progression by pushing back. This man was too big. He towered over her own tall form, blocking the noon-day sun. But how could she stop him when every inch of her vibrated from his touch?

  Her hold softened, and his eyes darkened at her unspoken admission. With steady steps, he guided her backwards until something hard pressed against her back. She started, realizing he’d led her inside one of the private corners. The lover’s tryst, corners. The rough stone wall scraped her back, and she swallowed thickly.

  Throat tight, she wondered if this was acceptable behavior between an affianced couple, and thank goodness. While she couldn’t explain her reaction to this man, she couldn’t deny it, either. She wanted him. Oh, heavens, did she want him.

  She rubbed against his shoulders, feeling the bulge of muscles. And once again, her mind drifted to the image of him sparring bare-chested in nothing but pants. She longed to touch his skin, heated by the sun, and the hardened ridges beneath. Instead, she pulled away, once more uncertain.

  As though reading her thoughts, he leaned back, “Are you afraid of me, Jessica?” His voice rumbled as his eyes searched hers.

  A thrill ran through her. He knew her name! She inhaled sharply. “Yes, but only because of the unknown.”

  “That’s fair.” He leaned in. His breath teased her neck, leaving her hungering for his touch. As he inhaled, his chest expanded and brushed against her breasts.

  His bristled chin scraped over her neck, and she sucked in a breath at its rough caress. She’d never known herself to be so sensitive, or so forward. And still, she craved more. Her whole body thrummed, physically aching for this man’s touch, and she found herself inching closer.

  When his lips finally lowered to graze hers, she gasped, unable to hold her surprise. The caress was so soft, surely, he could feel her dancing pulse. And for such an imposing man to move with such gentle pressure… It was clear he was trying not to frighten her. He was big, really big—considerably taller than she. And could do anything to her, and she couldn’t stop him.

  Why wasn’t she terrified? Was this some magic? A spell? Strangely enough, she found that she didn’t care.

  “I’ve never felt so strongly about a woman before,” he said darkly, sounding baffled by the idea. Stubble scraped the slope of her jaw as he spoke, moving upward with quick, hard pulls until his tongue peeked out and grazed along an ear. “And I think you feel the same way.” A wicked smile crossed his lips as she trembled when he nipped her earlobe, biting ever so gently.

  Her heartbeats quickened. Lord, she couldn’t breathe. Of course, she liked it. And he damn well knew it. The man was like something out of a storybook—all hard lines and firm muscles, but why toy with her? What was he playing at? He’d brought her here against
her will but was now seducing her like it hadn’t been his plan all along?

  He nipped her ear again while his arms pinned her in against the wall.

  This spell she was under made it hard to think. But she forced herself to speak. “Are you sure you should be here?” Her voice leapt as his hands moved away from the wall to encircle her waist. His touch scalded through the thin, yellow silk, branding her as his own. And she jumped when he grasped her hips.

  The only answer he provided was to lower his lips to hers. What started out as a soft nip, gradually hardened as his hands slid over her ribcage. Everywhere he touched trembled, and she leaned closer, craving more.

  “Oh, aye,” he finally said, so low she strained to hear, “I’ll get back to my men soon enough. But for now, this is exactly where I should be.”

  “And where are your men?” Jessica asked, feeling a strange need to buy time. To know more about this man—this stranger.

  “Nearby.” He leaned in and ran tender kisses over her bottom lip.

  Words throaty, she managed to ask, “Do you always come upon women like this?” She wanted to say hostages and voice the fact he’d brought her here against her will. Only, she didn’t want him to pull away.

  Head cocked to the side, he considered her. “Contrary to your expectations,” he began, his lips once more trailing a pathway along her neck, then back up her jawline, “I don’t usually associate with women in the bushes.”

  “Where…” her voice trailed off as his lips moved across her collarbone and farther down. “Where do you normally meet them? In the armory? Behind the stables—” She knew her voice held a tinge of jealousy but couldn’t help it. Did he make other women feel the way he was making her feel now—and not just the weak-kneed, starry-eyed stuff of stories, but an insatiable desire, rampaging like wildfire, screaming for release.