Page 9

ELINOR

Elsie?

That was the nickname I devised for myself on the spot?

I suppose it could be worse. I almost blurted out my real name. I can’t believe I had an entire carriage ride to think this through and failed to consider the possibility of needing a false one.

I hadn’t considered that my stepfamily would be here, too. I took one look at Tremaine, already drunk on fine liquor and regaling two widows with boorish jokes, and walked straight past him into the gallery. I had no plan. I hoped vaguely that I might run into my fantasy man from the streets.

On the one hand, going off with a stranger to explore the castle is an undeniably bad idea. On the other hand, there is nothing he can do to me that Tremaine hasn’t already done, except kill me.

Alex doesn’t seem like the murdering type. His large hand around mine and his broad-shouldered presence at my side might send my pulse pounding and provoke a fluttery swoop in my belly, yet I feel safer with him than I’ve felt with anyone since my parents died. Protected.

Years of yearning for security makes that feeling impossible to resist.

He guides me away from the grand stairway with guards stationed at either end. Strains of music chase after us.

“That is the way to the royal living quarters,” he explains when I cast him a questioning glance.

His fine jacket is slightly too large for him.

I wonder if it’s a castoff. He never explained why he was riding a horse despite not being a guard.

I’m starting to think he might be a servant, though it seems rude to ask.

I don’t mind if he’s a servant. I’m one, too. Revealing that detail would make my presence here difficult to explain, however, so I’ll be keeping the truth to myself.

“Would you like to see the library?”

“Yes!” Tremaine sold off the books of any value from my father’s collection years ago. “I love to read. I haven’t had a?—”

Once again, I’m forced to bite off mid-sentence. No true lady lacks for books. Cilla and Stacia have access to classic works of literature, even if they are ancient and I’m the only one who ever reads them.

“You haven’t had a what?” Alex prompts.

“I haven’t visited a library in a long time,” I finish feebly.

“You don’t have one at home? I thought all the noble families did. The size of one’s…library is a point of pride.”

The teasing in his tone and that hesitation implies a mildly off-color joke. A shaky laugh bubbles out of me. Is this flirting? I don’t quite know how to respond.

He places his hand at the small of my back and guides me through an enormous double door. Inside, I gasp.

Painted ceilings soar above neat rows of heavy dark wood shelves.

The outer walls are lined with rows of books soaring above my head, with ladders fastened to a railing to reach them.

Above the shelves are stained-glass windows depicting historical events of Belterre’s past. In one panel, a dragon rears back as a knight brandishes a sword.

“The size of the prince’s, erm, library, is most impressive.” I cast him a sly, shy smile. Alex chuckles. Heat flares in my body. I made him laugh! If this is flirting, I like it.

“What kind of books do you read?” He guides me deeper into the elaborately decorated room. Cool air whispers along my exposed skin. I shiver, wishing I’d thought to bring a wrap. “History? Literature?”

“Poetry.” In truth, my mother’s collection of novels are my favorites.

They’re full of plucky heroines yearning for dashing heroes who save them from danger.

I’ve never been the adventurous sort, except when it comes to heroines in books.

Poetry, however, feels like a safer choice to share with Alex than my affection for tawdry stories about people falling in love.

“A lyrical selection,” he drawls, prompting an anxious twinge in my middle. Did I sound pretentious?

“The rhyming makes them easy to memorize.” With so little time to read what with all my chores, I’ll memorize a poem and recite it to myself in lieu of conversation with an actual person.

Alex gestures gallantly. I sweep past him, my breath hitching when I notice the forest-green shade of his eye color. I thought they were blue, but I was busy trying not to be trampled by his rearing horse the day we met.

His eyes darken and drop lower before rising again to meet mine. A few steps away, I spin on the ball of one foot, giddy with excitement. Will he kiss me?

I shouldn’t try kissing him. I’ve never done it. That was one indignity Tremaine spared me. He never feigned affection.

A shadow creeps down my spine.

I can’t let Alex find out I’m not a virgin. Men don’t like used goods , as my stepfather always reminds me. That’s all I am. Used. Worthless. If Alex knows, he won’t look at me with a wildfire blazing in those forest-green eyes of his anymore.

This courtship will only last a few hours. I won’t let Tremaine ruin it.

In the distance, a bell rings nine times.

Three hours left. Less than that, unless I want a very long walk home, alone, at night. I’d best depart by eleven, if not earlier.

Alex pulls a small leather volume from the shelf and shows me the cover. I quickly prop up my fading smile.

“Do you know any poems by Rhoesis?” He thumbs through the book idly. A tiny schoolboy smirk tips up one corner of his sculpted mouth. A strand of hair the color of sunset through forest trees falls over his brow. My fingers itch to tuck it back.

“All of them.”

I shouldn’t have admitted that.

He glances up at me, his smirk deepening for a second before he returns his attention to the book and marks a page with the ribbon.

“How about ‘Queen’s Sweet Surrender’?”

I quirk one eyebrow. Sweet Surrender is one of the more risqué poems. This isn’t one Cilla or Stacia would be permitted to read. Rhoesis is considered inappropriate for unmarried ladies. Is this a trick question?

“I know it,” I admit, unable to resist the challenge he’s issued.

“The poem begins, ‘Through castle walls and guarded halls/He stole at night, to her delight/His skillful touch made all locks fall/But ’twas her heart that proved his greatest theft of all.’ It’s about Queen Katea and the King of Thieves. ”

He tucks the volume beneath his arm and claps, his applause echoing loudly in the otherwise silent library.

“Very good, Elsie.”

The way my heart sings at his praise is like light breaking through a storm cloud.

No matter how hard I work, Tremaine and my stepsisters never utter a word of approval.

I soak up Alex’s compliment like a parched plant greedily reaching for a single raindrop falling at the furthest reaches of its roots.

I drop into a curtsey. He chuckles and takes my elbow to help me rise. His features harden instantly. Glancing at my arm, I find four fingerprint bruises flowering above the edge of my glove.

“Who did this to you?”

“No one.” I yank away. He lets me. “I-I did it to myself. By accident.”

I am the worst liar. Why did I think I could get away with pretending to be a lady for an entire evening? I turn and stride away quickly, my dress swishing. Upon coming out of the stacks I encounter a robed scribe, who squints at me through thick glasses.

“Princess Aurora?”

I shake my head. I’m so bad at deception that I chose the most famous beauty in the realm to impersonate. I didn’t consider the fact that everyone in this castle would have met the Sleeping Beauty in person.

“Can’t you see she’s another woman altogether, Minge?” snarls Alex. Sudden anger clings to him like static, sparky and shocking.

He removes the spectacles and wipes them on his wide sleeve before returning them to the bridge of his nose. “My apologies, my lady. As you can see, my vision is fading. I mistook you for someone else.” Minge the scribe glances past me. “Is this the maiden, Your Hi?—”

“Yes. Now leave us.” Alex seizes my hand and drags me away. I have to trot to keep up with him. He deposits the book of poetry upon a table without breaking stride.

“Alex, please.”

He cuts me a sharp glare and doesn’t stop. This is a side of him I didn’t anticipate. He’s acting so much like Tremaine, it scares me.

“Whoever did that to you deserves to lose his hand,” he growls.

Understanding dawns. He’s angry because he wants to protect me. Not hurt me. Relief courses through me. I have so little experience with men that I can’t read his signals accurately.

“ Her hand.”

He stops short. “A woman gave you those bruises?”

“My stepsister. It was an accident. We were practicing dancing.” When it comes to protecting my family, however undeserving, apparently I can lie competently. “I tripped. She caught me.”

I hold my breath, waiting to see if he’ll believe me. After a few seconds, Alex’s shoulders fall away from his ears. He spikes his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath.

“I overreacted.”

I nod.

“I am…sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” A watery smile ghosts across my lips. “You frightened me.”

He has the grace to look ashamed. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you, Elsie.”

Alex tucks his hand behind my neck. Anticipation tightens my muscles. Heated weakness flushes through my body, an unfamiliar need pulsing in my core. My breasts are heavy inside the tight bodice, suddenly aching to be freed from their prison.

I never felt like this when Tremaine touched me. Not once. I shove the unwanted thought away and place one hand on Alex’s shoulder. His warm breath skims my cheek.

“I want nothing more than to take care of you, Elsie.”

A tiny moan catches in my throat like a kitten’s purr.

“Protect you.” His lips graze the shell of my ear. The world has narrowed until it contains only the two of us. “Kiss you.”

“Yes.” I manage to push the word past my lips with the last air in my lungs. It’s dizzying to feel him this close. To breathe him in. Still not close enough.

He brings his hand higher, cupping the back of my skull. His other arm slides around my waist. This close, I can see the blade of his nose and every hair in his brows. I can’t recall ever being this close to a man before. Every part of me yearns for his touch, yet one thing holds me back.

“Wait. I’ve never been kissed before,” I whisper. “I don’t know how.”

Shame slides through me when Alex pulls back. I ruined the moment.

“Never?” His eyes search mine. “Not once?”

I shake my head. My tongue darts out to dampen my lips. His pupils, already blown, widen further, swallowing the verdancy. A forest at midnight.

“Show me?” I plead.

He groans and yanks me forward, locking me against his chest. The arm around my waist slides up my back, between my shoulder blades. Gently, he cups my chin and brushes his lips over mine. Chaste. Sweet.

Not what I want.

I chase the kiss when he pulls away fractionally. The low rumble of laughter in his chest should be a warning that I’m doing this wrong.

I don’t have it in me to stop.

He rearranges his hold on me, taking my face in both hands and slants his mouth across mine. I drink in his kiss as though it’s life itself.

The electric current frizzing over my skin deepens into a roll of thunder, like a storm breaking over my body, when he parts his lips and his tongue brushes mine.

Eagerly, I open to him. The first taste is pure nectar.

My hands twist in his hair, trying to drag him closer despite the fact that he’s quite a bit taller than me.

A small sound of satisfaction escapes me when I press fully against his front, and a stiff bulge nudges my thigh.

I know what that means.

I should be afraid of his physical response, but I’m drunk on kissing.

“Your High?—”

Alex freezes.

“Fuck off, Minge. I’m busy.” He releases me just enough to put one arm around my waist and guide me toward a passageway I hadn’t noticed before. “Tell whomever is looking for me that I’ve made my decision, and to leave me alone for the rest of the evening.”

“But, sir…”

“Shut. Up.”

The speed with which Alex switches between charming to snappish fury alarms me. The scribe’s deference feels off. I guess Alex must not be a servant, after all. How to explain his ill-fitting jacket, then?

“Never mind him. I’d like to show you a secret, Elsie.” Charming Alex is back. The angry part of him seems to bubble just beneath the surface. I have so little experience with men. Perhaps all of them are temperamental.

“What kind of secret?”

“One no one else knows.” He winks. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the stars.”