Bride of Fae (Tethers) (22 page)

“All right, miss,” the DCI said at last. “You can go.”

Beverly shifted her bag to the other shoulder and picked her way through the visitors waiting to be interviewed. She had to get out of the museum. She was sure Dandelion was waiting for her out there somewhere.

Somewhere in London. Ack. She should have told him where she was staying.

The V&A guard met her at the exhibition room door. “We’re locked down, miss. I’ll walk you out.”

Outside the gift shop they passed the docent slumped in a chair, quietly sobbing. She jumped up and grasped Beverly’s arm. “Please assure his lordship we’ll do everything in our power to apprehend these criminals and restore his precious artifact.”

“Of course,” Beverly said. “Don’t distress yourself
. I’m sure you will do your best.” She twisted her arm out of the docent’s grip. “Perhaps the fairies came to retrieve it.”

“She’s taking it hard,” the guard said at the front door. “She was the one who convinced his lordship to lend
the museum Bausiney’s Abundance.”

Not really.
Apparently the docent didn’t know about Goldenrod.

It was an ironic scene. The police, the guard, the docent, the witnesses—all caught up in the disaster of a stolen artifact.
This was a museum, yet none gave a thought for the cup’s original, rightful owners.

There was a small square across from the museum. Dandelion might be in there among the trees, away from the motorcars and buses. Or maybe he’d wait for her at St. James’s Church. Or Piccadilly Circus and the Anteros statue at the fountain.

While Beverly contemplated where to start her search, the guard waved down a cab. “Where to, miss?”

She might as well change her clothes. A cocktail dress and
spiked heels weren’t quite the thing just now. “The Dorchester.”

Good answer. The guard and the cab driver nodded approvingly. People treated you differently when you wore fabulous clothes and stayed at posh hotels. When they believed you were about to become a countess. She’d always believed those things didn’t matter to her, but she couldn’t deny the respect felt lovely.

On Park Lane traffic slowed to a stop, and through the cab window she saw someone walking in Hyde Park. She couldn’t quite see the person, but he was tall and graceful.
Fairylike
. “Stop,” she said. Dandelion must be in the park.

“I just have to go around,” the driver said. They’d reached the Dorchester, but they were separated from the hotel by a median.

“I’ve changed my mind.” She opened the door. “I’ll get out here.” She dug some money out of her bag and handed the fare through the passenger window. Blast. A twenty-pound note. She didn’t want to wait for change. “Keep the extra.”

The traffic started moving again, and the taxi pulled into the Park Lane flow.
The evening mist settled over her, and chill bumps rose on her skin beneath the sheer bolero.

What was she thinking? Dandelion might not even be in London. She was as pathetic as the docent
. Attached to something—someone—who didn’t belong to her. He’d used her. He needed to get into the exhibit, close to the cup, and she was his easy access. He had what he came for. There was no reason to stay.

Across the median, the Dorchester was suddenly cozy and inviting. It was later than she’d realized, and it was cold, and at this hour on this night
in particular the park was no place for a single woman. Suddenly all she wanted was a cognac and to crawl into her suite’s warm bed. She’d go home in the morning.

Lord Dumnos had likely heard the news about the cup by now. He must be horrified.

Great gods. She felt stupid and guilty. Two hours ago, it had seemed she was helping to right an injustice that had lasted a century. Now she just felt like a fool.

“Groovy,” said a voice behind her. “I believe we’ve found our queen of the night.”

She whirled around. Aubrey leered at her from the park. He still wore the highwayman costume, though he’d lost the hat. His lilac eyes flared.

Fen and Violet hung on his shoulders as if they needed the support. Their eyes sparkled but were jittery. Their attention darted from object to object until they fixed on Beverly.

She shuddered. The park’s wrought iron fence stood between her and the fairies, but it was no protection. They all wore tethers.

“Is there a problem, my queen?” Aubrey called out. She couldn’t tell if he was taunting or mocking her. “Did your prince abandon you?”

“Sod fairies,” she said. Sod them all, with their intrigues and self-centeredness. She was going back to the hotel. The crossing was too far away, so she darted into Park Lane and headed for the median. A horn blasted and tires screeched. From the right, a black cab was almost upon her.

“Damn.”
It was going to hit her. She closed her eyes and braced for it.

The temperature dropped, and everything felt still. The traffic sounds were far distant.

“Did Prince Dandelion succeed?” Aubrey again. “Did he take his precious cup and abandon you?”

She opened her eyes. She was inside the park
. Dozens of fairies surrounded her in a circle. Aubrey faced her in the center. “You can thank me for saving your life just now. How about a kiss?”

Fen and Violet grabbed her arms and held her in place. Both swayed a little on their feet, unstable. High on something.

“Why do you care?” Beverly ignored the kiss comment. “Do you want the cup? Do you think you’ll be king of the fairies?”

Aubrey got a wild look in his eye and cackled a creepy laugh. He strutted around the circle and sang, parodying the Cowardly Lion’s song from the Wizard of Oz.

“’f I were king of the fairies…”

The fairies howled, and the musicians picked up their instruments to accompany him. The song was ludicrous, but their music was intoxicating. Beverly’s body responded, moving with the rhythm. The tune shifted. The drumbeat slowed, became sensual.

“That’s right,” Aubrey said softly. “You feel so much better now. Let’s get rid of a few things.” He snapped his fingers. Her hair fell down over her bare shoulders, freed of its braids. The bolero was gone too.

Violet kissed her bare arm, the inside of her elbow, her shoulder, her neck, and nibbled her earlobe. Beverly didn’t want it to feel good, but it did. Each kiss ignited a little fire inside.

“Sharesies, Violet,” Fen said. “Don’t be selfish.” He held Beverly’s hand and ran a finger from her wrist to her shoulder, leaving a trail of tingling warmth along her skin.

Fear shot through her, competing with the sensuous pleasure, but she couldn’t do anything about fear or pleasure. The music immobilized her. The lyrical notes of the flutes and pipes streamed through her bones and grounded her feet the earth. Drumbeats pulsated inside her and created tiny explosions of erotic desire.

Violet’s eyes were like emeralds, like sunlight on the sea, like magic. She came closer, as if she was about to share a secret, but instead she kissed Beverly on the mouth.

Fen kissed
the back of her neck, and Violet moved to her earlobe.

Beverly groaned, and the rest of her clothing disappeared. She felt her nipples harden in the cold
, and yet she felt so warm. Fen and Violet reached between her legs and teased her with their fingers.

“Our queen of the night is almost ready for her king,” Aubrey said. He stood before her wearing nothing but his tether.

A
UBREY WAS LEAN AND
hard and perfect. And well-endowed. Beverly’s mind cried out against it, but her body raged to have him inside. Every nerve screamed for relief. Every inch of her skin longed for his touch.

Traitorous flesh.

He burst into her consciousness riding his searing gaze. Her body said why hello there come on in and stay awhile, but her heart and soul rebelled against the coming invasion. She could breathe. She could feel her heartbeat. She could move her lips, but she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move her head, but she could move her eyes and eyebrows.

She batted her eyelashes at him, and he jumped—slightly—in surprise. A small victory, the slave moving the master.

“Leave her alone, Aubrey.” A red-haired fairy flew into the circle, her eyes flashing with fury.

“My princess.” Aubrey chuckled with satisfaction. “Let me guess. You’ve come to do your brother’s work, as usual.” With revulsion Beverly knew this was exactly what Aubrey had intended all along.
He was using her as bait.

It’s a trick!
She yelled, but the words just rattled around in her head. She couldn’t open her mouth.

Then in a blur of speed,
Dandelion was there. He landed between Cissa and Aubrey. “Let her go,” he said as his wings retracted. The tuxedo was gone, and he was in his leather pants and vest.

The musicians stopped playing.

“I snatched her fair and square,” Aubrey said. “And I’ve taken so much trouble to get her ready.”

The fairies in the circle giggled as Fen licked Beverly’s cheek suggestively. She wanted to punch him, but she was helpless to move.

“Get off.” Dandelion flicked his fingers at Fen and Violet, sending mini lightning bolts into their chests. They cried out in pain and surprise as the bolts knocked them away up into the trees. Beverly’s outfit reappeared along. Even her bag hung from her shoulder.

“Impressive, my prince, but this is our queen of troop night,” Aubrey said. “And as Idris’s proxy, I’m king of troop night. She’s mine.”

“Let me have her,” Dandelion said.

“Why do you care about some human? You have what you came for
. If I’m not mistaken, it’s hanging from your belt.”

Dandelion touched his large pouch and hesitated, and all the fairies in the circle went silent. The only sound was Aubrey’s creepy laugh laced with victory and ridicule.

“Great gods,” Aubrey said. “I know that look. You love her.”

The accusation floated in the air with the night mist. Cissa, Fen, Violet—all gave Beverly another appraisal.

“She doesn’t look special,” Violet said, draped over a tree limb. “Does love hurt?”

“Special or not,” Aubrey said. “She’s mine.”

“Give her to me.” Dandelion’s voice cracked.

How could they think he cared?
To Beverly he seemed disgusted by the accusation, sick to his stomach. He’d practically admitted he loved her—but obviously the fact was as repugnant to him as to all the other fairies.

“Go away.” Aubrey grabbed his shaft and pumped. He strutted around the circle, making himself bigger. “I’m ready to show this human real fae lovemaking.”

“Give her to me, and I’ll give you a present in return.”

Aubrey stopped and turned back to Dandelion
. He tilted his head, wary but open to the suggestion.

No. Don’t.
Beverly willed Dandelion to look at her, but instead she made eye contact with his seething sister. It was no treat being on the receiving end of Cissa’s utter loathing and despair. And no fair! Beverly didn’t want Dandelion making this sacrifice either.

“Ah, now,” Aubrey said. “A present. That’s something. I’d like a present from you, my prince. In a thousand years, you’ve never once offered me a present. What is this human worth to you, I wonder?”

“My tether.”

The fairies in the circle gasped as Dandelion pulled off his choker. From Cissa’s barely suppressed smile, Beverly guessed she must know the tethers’ sinister purpose.

“Give me the cup.” Aubrey ignored Dandelion’s outstretched hand.

Dandelion shook his head. “Why would you want it?”

“He doesn’t deny it!” Aubrey addressed the circle fairies. “He has recovered the cup.” He strutted around, comfortable in his nakedness, vamping to his audience with mock amazement. “Our prince has redeemed himself.”

“Ooh!” Violet squeaked. Jeers and snickers bubbled through the circle. There was no sense of respect for their prince among them.

“It can be of no use to you.” Dandelion stuffed his tether into his small pouch, but didn’t touch the larger one.

“You’re wrong there. I figure Idris will be
most grateful when I bring it to him.”