Claimed & Seduced (12 page)

“You shouldn’t be telling her this stuff,” Ellard snapped. “You trust her, but I haven’t decided yet.”

“You sound like your father,” Jarlath said. “Eat another cinnamonbark roll. That will take your mind off things.”

“You sound like Lynx,” Ellard snapped, but to Keira’s surprise, he shut up and reached for another roll.

“Good,” Jarlath purred. “Now where were we with a plan? Is there anything you can tell us that might help?”

Panic beat at Keira and her crow gave an unhappy
caw-caw
. “I—”

A com-unit buzzed, and Ellard reached for his pocket.

“Yes,” Ellard said.

Keira saw Jarlath tense.

“Stash the prince in his quarters and lock him in so he can’t leave without your knowledge,” a harsh voice said. “We have a meeting in the war room at two sharp. I expect you there.”

Jarlath heard the voice at the other end of the communication as well as she did. Ordinarily, this would have shocked her, but this was another jolt of many and the surprise subsided speedily. She could
hear
the speaker, as if she were standing in the same city room.

“Yes, sir,” Ellard said, his voice so crisp it was a verbal salute. He disconnected and glanced at Jarlath.

“I’m staying here,” Jarlath said. “I refuse to get locked away in my suite like a naughty cub. I’m an adult, and it’s about time your father and mine started to realize the fact. Hell, they expect me to choose a wife. They’re fine with that grown-up activity.”

“It’s not safe here,” Ellard said.

“It’s not safe in my castle suite either,” Jarlath countered. “Please, just go to the meeting. If we leave the farm, I’ll wear my disguise. I promise.”

Horror tore through Keira. What if her half-brother appeared again? She didn’t want Jarlath to draw his attention. If Razvan discovered Jarlath’s identity, his position within the castle, they’d all be in worse danger.

“Maybe it would be safer for you if you returned to the castle with Ellard,” she said.

“No. Ellard, I’ll see you on your way. If anyone asks, tell them I’m cowering in my room.”

“If something happens to you, I—”

“After you’ve saved my butt I’ll make sure everyone knows it was my fault, and I overruled you.”

Ellard appeared torn. “This is a bad idea.”

“Come,” Jarlath said and grabbed Ellard’s arm.

The two men left the room, words of heated discussion trailing in their wake. If she tried hard, Keira could pluck the odd word from their conversation.

The weird pinpricks started again and she lifted her hand to her chest in an attempt to ease the pressure. Her silent crow had come to life and was busy making up for the cycles of peace.

Jarlath strode into the sitting room and sent her a smile—a warm and private one that sent her crow into caws of approval and pleasure. Keira froze at the odd occurrence.
Plain weird
.

Yes, she was attracted to Jarlath. Who wouldn’t be? The man was easy on the eye, bore a charming manner and seemed to like her in return.

But Jarlath drew her crow too, because the instant he settled beside her, the pinpricks of trepidation subsided. Her heart ventricles reduced their speed to normal and the anxiety that he might leave with Ellard faded. Keira didn’t know what this meant, and now, with Razvan creating chaos in their world, it wasn’t a good time to explore these odd yearnings for the prince.

Her gaze went to his face, dropped to his mouth and she fell into daydreams of how those lips would feel exploring her body. She already knew they were soft.

“Keira.” His low voice broke her reverie.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that, not if you want me to keep my hands to myself.”

Heat collected in her cheeks, and her crow grew alert, pulsing with eagerness against her breasts. She shuddered, a visible tremor rattling her cup of tay.

“You two need to get a sex room,” Cristop said. “You can’t do that…that stuff in front of me. It’s not right. I’m a child.”

“When it suits you,” Hortese said, her voice as dry as a Tamborian desert. “Come, I have some chores for you, young man. I believe Hilda is baking cookies. If you do the chores without complaint, I’m sure Hilda will give you some, warm from the heat unit. Wait for me in the kitchen.”

“Your coin,” Jarlath said.

Cristop snatched it out of the air and clomped out, leaving them alone with Hortese.

“The boy is right,” she said. “Why don’t the two of you go and pick berries? You should be safe enough. The two of you can bill and coo to your hearts’ content then.”

“I do not bill,” Keira said. “Or coo.”

“Huh.” Hortese cleared the float table, deactivated it and stacked the remains of their refreshments on her tray before bustling out to the kitchen.

“I do not bill or coo,” Keira repeated.

“No.” Jarlath grinned and slid closer. “I want to kiss you, take my time without worrying about interruptions. And when we retire tonight, you are going to take me to your bed. I want you, Keira. Bad. I crave a taste of your sweet body.”

His words tempted and tantalized as they whispered across the shell of her ear. The wings within her chest flapped in crazy ecstasy. It felt as if talons dug into her flesh at the same time.
Stab, stab, stab
.

She groaned, because there was a type of pleasure in the pain, and Jarlath caught the sound with his mouth. His tongue swirled over her lips then explored the soft interior of her mouth. This wasn’t a tentative, polite kiss. This wasn’t a getting-to-know-you kiss. This was a statement of intent.

Breathless, she clung, giving back as good as she received. Her fingers speared through his hair and a tiny moan of complaint escaped when he lifted his head.

His eyes glowed with an inner light and a grin wreathed his lips. “Hold that thought while we go and pick berries.”

“There is a waterhole where I go swimming when the day is hot. We could spend part of our day there.”

“Great, let’s go.” He reached for her hand and wove their fingers together. Her inner crow did a little shimmy while the human part of her dampened the enthusiasm with caution. Her crow squawked, and Keira offered Jarlath a feeble smile. His fingers tightened, tugged, guided, and she offered no resistance.
Point to the crow.

In the kitchen, they collected berry containers, and Hilda thrust a heavy picnic basket at them, her wrinkled face wreathed in a sly matchmaking grin. Regit gnomes were known romantics, and Hilda was in full flight.

“Don’t hurry,” Hortese said with a sly wink at Jarlath. “I have everything under control here.”

Jarlath led her outside, their hands clasped again.

Her breath caught at the close contact, her heart ventricles gave a skip and pleasure frisked her body. She couldn’t remember Marcus ever touching her like this. It was an innocent contact, yet held the potential to become so much more. It was inherent with promise and her blood sang. Her crow let out a melodic
caw-caw
and she shot a glance at Jarlath.

Sure, he’d heard the sound, she expected a frown or at least distaste. The House of the Cat and the House of Cawdor had fought their war for centuries with intermittent peace. Even though she no longer had contact with her people, Jarlath might see her as the enemy.

But why would he kiss you?

“You said your father comes from the Cawdor. Is it true you can’t shift or did you just tell Ellard that? The reason I ask is because I keep hearing your crow.”

He might try to trick her, but she wouldn’t lie to him. Not about this. “I’ve never shifted. My father had no use for me because of the deficit. Most Cawdor youngsters shift for the first time at around ten cycles. The people consider those who can’t transform abnormal. They are cast out and left to die.” Her voice remained neutral to hide the sting she’d felt—still felt—at the rejection from this side of her family. Although in hindsight, the dismissal had made her stronger and saved her from Cawdor politics.

“I’m sorry. The inability to shift happens on Viros too, but we don’t turn our people away. They still have the protection of the House, but I believe they’re treated badly by those who come into contact with them.”

“Then they are outcasts too.”

“Yes. Will we take the cart?”

“No, the waterhole and the berry patches I have in mind are farther away. We’ll need to take the flymo.”

“Lead the way,” Jarlath said.

“Do you want to pilot?”

“Yes, please.” He pulled a face. “Ellard never lets me fly.”

Amusement burst from her in a chuckle. “You’re the prince. Tell him you want a turn.”

“He says he’s following his father’s orders. His father is security chief, so I’ve never argued. I believe he’s finding me disobedient at present and unpredictable.”

“Because of me?”

“Partly, but I’ve been thinking about my younger brother a lot and come to the conclusion he might have known what he was talking about all these cycles.”

“Prince Lynx,” she said as Jarlath piloted the flymo into the air.

“Just plain Lynx,” Jarlath said. “He doesn’t like the title.”

“Where is he now?”

“I’ve no idea. I’ve tried to contact him. Ellard’s younger brother is Lynx’s best friend and security guard. Our two families have a close association. Lynx and Shiloh are in partnership and run a successful freight haulage business.”

“What do your parents think of that?”

“They’ve practically disowned him. We don’t speak of Lynx much. Shiloh’s parents also disapprove.”

“But you speak with your brother?”

“I thought Lynx was crazy to give up his life of privilege for one of hard work and uncertainty.” Jarlath scowled as if the memory pained him, and she had to halt her urge to offer comfort. “He told me life within the castle was nothing but a pretty cage. We argued and he left.”

“You’ve changed your mind.”

“He was right. I might have mod technology at my disposal that ordinary citizens don’t, all the currency I could want and position, but my life is a cage. My parents tell me what to do, and I follow their orders. No one will think to check my suite to make sure I’m there because I’ve followed every instruction or duty imposed on me. My parents wish to reward this loyalty by making me king, but only if I do what they say and pick a wife to continue the succession.”

A wife? The idea shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. She forced a smile and prayed her tone neared teasing. “Instead you’re gallivanting with me, picking berries and going swimming.”

“And ravishing an attractive woman,” he said. “Don’t forget that part.”

“I thought you were going to wait until everyone retired to their beds.”

“Lynx would say that was boring and predictable. I happen to agree. We’ll do both.”

Her brows rose. “Is that right?”

“Yes.” He winked at her.

“But it’s not proper.”

“Proper is overrated.”

“See the weird-shaped hills over to our right? The berry patch is in that direction.”

A short time later, Jarlath settled the flymo in a flat forest clearing.

“It’s a beautiful spot,” he said.

“Marcus purchased this land cycles ago because no one wanted it, but the forest provides for us. We pick fungi and dry it to sell in the market, berries during the warm season as well as a variety of herbs.”

A bright red bird fluttered from branch to branch above their heads and chattered in a discordant tone as if telling them off for interrupting the peace.

“We’d better pick the berries first,” Jarlath said. “Otherwise I might be tempted to forget about pies and focus on you instead.”

She smiled again, this one not as ragged around the edges. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Berries,” he said. “We don’t want Hortese to laser her pink eyes at us in temper.”

They picked berries and chatted about commonplace things. Farming. Crops. Technology. Clothes. Music. Keira had never enjoyed berry picking so much.

“You didn’t tell me what happened after it became known you couldn’t shift.”

“The other children teased me, and it became impossible to attend the education center. Instead, my mother taught me to run a house and schooled me in herbs and plants. I stayed close to our home, and whenever my father arrived to spend time with my mother, I remained out of sight.”

“That can’t have been easy.”

“It was a lonely existence, but my marriage to Marcus saved me.”

Jarlath frowned when she mentioned her husband.

“Even though his son and daughter disapproved and refused to accept me, Marcus treated me like an equal. He was a good man, and I owe him much.”

“Why did he seek a wife off-planet?”

“I’ve no idea.” Her crow cawed,
liar, liar
, and Keira stared at the bushes, the ripe berries, and prayed Jarlath didn’t hear her contrary bird. Marcus had been dying and he’d needed her help and knowledge of herbs to counter the pain. He’d wanted this kept quiet and she still held his secret. Her bird finally subsided, the slice of quiet mocking rather than peaceful.

“You never asked him?”

“I was grateful to leave Gramite and grasped the opportunity, even though I knew I wouldn’t see my mother again.”

“I lost the ability to shift,” Jarlath said without warning. “Well, until recently. For some reason my feline is alert again.”

“What?” Shock made her hand jerk and a berry bounced off her boot before rolling out of sight beneath a bush.

“It’s true. We’ve managed to keep it quiet, but many of our people have lost the ability to shift to feline.”

“But I haven’t heard rumors in the market. Not a whisper.”

“No, most people are ashamed of the lack and don’t speak about the problem.”

“Razvan will find out. I’m sure he has spies on this planet.”

“I’m sure he does, just as we have spies on Gramite.”

Why had he told her this?
Because he trusts you.
“You don’t know me well.”

“I’m a good judge of character. People seek to use my position. You haven’t.”

“We haven’t known each other long. I haven’t had a chance.”

His grin was a burst of white teeth, a crinkling of sexy green eyes. “I plan to use you and use you well. I’m thinking we’ll both enjoy the mutual exploitation.”