Claimed & Seduced (2 page)

“The man first in line to the throne wishes to pick berries?” Her expression held suspicion.

Jarlath’s lips curled upward, humor and a trace of awe doing a number on his normal serious mien. Most people treated him like a dangerous animal and practically tiptoed around him in case they caused upset. This woman attracted his attention with her refreshing attitude.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Ellard scoffed. “You dishonor the prince. Apologize.”

“Enough,” Jarlath said. “It was my idea, not Mrs. Cloud’s.”

“Call me Keira,” she said.

“Are you unwell, my prince?” Ellard asked, his scowl doing nothing to enhance his plain face. “Your manner is odd today. Perhaps we should seek the opinion of a court physician.”

Jarlath ignored his friend. “Do you have another receptacle?”

“Have you picked berries before, Prince Jarlath?”

“Today, I am Jarlath,” he said. “No. Show me.” Even he heard the trace of arrogance in his voice. “Please,” he added to soften the demand.

After a searching look, she turned away to retrieve a container made of a thin transparent material, the like of which he’d never seen. “Pick the dark red berries. They are the ripe ones. And watch out for the thorns. The berries are delicious, but the plants fight to keep their fruit intact.”

He picked one and popped it in his mouth. The tart juices exploded across his taste buds. The berry was so delicious he ate another two.

“My prince,” Ellard said. “I require a private word.”

“It can wait until we return to the castle.” Jarlath trotted over to the nearest scrubby bramble bush and scanned for dark red berries. Ah! There was one. He plucked it from the bush. “I have one.”

“Good,” Keira said. “I need to fill all my containers before I return home.”

Jarlath glanced at Keira. Black was following her and kept nuzzling and butting her for attention. He caught Keira’s low chuckle and saw her hand flash out to pet his cambeest on its shaggy shoulder. The big creature dwarfed her, yet she didn’t show fear. Black let out another throaty rumble of content, and Jarlath shook his head. Extraordinary.

“Jarlath, will you listen?” Ellard demanded. “This isn’t right. Keira Cloud is not a suitable person to honor with your presence.”

Jarlath glared at the berry bushes. His fingers clenched his container harder, and it buckled under the force. The berries ran to one side before he regained control and leveled it. A quick breath later, he trusted himself to speak. “I do my duty. I serve the House of the Cat and never falter from doing what is right. Once, just once, I’d like to do something for fun instead of sticking to my rigid schedule.”

His friend’s jaw went slack. “Fun?”

“My life is like the marks of a timepiece,” Jarlath snapped. “Monotonous and boring. I’m tired of the continuous schedule and wish for a change.”

“Fine.” Ellard’s voice grated like claws against a fibreblack floor. “But not with
her
.”

Jarlath shot a swift glance at Keira then placed his attention squarely on Ellard. “I’m picking berries, experiencing something new. What is your problem?”

“She’s a murderess,” Ellard said.

“Suspected murderess,” Keira called. “I was never charged.”

Ellard narrowed his gaze and aimed a fake smile in her direction. “Eavesdroppers never hear well of themselves.”

“Gossips are old women with nothing better to fill their day.” Keira reached for a berry and added it to her container as if she hadn’t insulted the prince’s bodyguard, a dangerous and powerful man.

Jarlath laughed, the sound rusty and harsh, but amusement none-the-less.

“Prince, you can’t afford to associate with her. Marcus Cloud’s son and daughter still accuse her of murder. They say she poisoned her husband in order to gain possession of his estate.”

“And again, I was never charged. The judge threw the case from the circuit court. Oh, flying stars,” she said. “Believe what you want. Help or not. I don’t care.”

Jarlath observed her stiff back as she marched to the berry bushes on the far side of the clearing. Black ambled after her, and Jarlath whistled out a breath of amazement. “I am staying to pick berries.”

“This is a bad idea. They say she put a spell on Marcus Cloud, that his marriage to her was most irregular. You are behaving oddly.”

“You worry overmuch.” Jarlath plucked more berries, his mind on the woman as he completed his task. An accused murderess. Interesting. It took a strong woman to stand up for herself. A thorn scratched the back of his hand as he reached for a berry. He winced, freed himself and let his mind wander back to Keira. So beautiful. Different from the women he met. He tried to imagine one of them picking berries and failed.

Every woman of his acquaintance spent their days socializing and shopping, never once lifting a finger when servants could work for them.

Soon, he’d have one of those women as his wife.

The idea chafed like an ill-fitting formal suit, as did Ellard’s hostile attitude. A woman of Keira’s station was fine to bed, but not to place in his life on a permanent basis.

His feline stirred again, stretching beneath his skin in a lazy yawn. Jarlath froze, stunned by the sensation, excited and yet apprehensive in case he was imagining things. He’d thought he’d lost his feline, thought he’d suffered the same tragedy as many of their subjects.

A sad truth.

The people of the House of the Cat clan were losing the ability to shift. Their scientists were working on the problem, but a cure for the strange malady eluded them. So far, they’d kept this failure a secret from outsiders, but at some point, their problems would become public knowledge. The kingdom would grow more vulnerable since slowly their fighting force was losing an important weapon in their fighting arsenal.

Jarlath held his breath and focused inward. A flicker, like the sleepy stretch of someone awakening, caressed beneath his skin. Another burst of excitement shot through his veins. He hadn’t felt his feline stir for three cycles now. Something to experiment with in the privacy of his chamber. He missed running in feline form, the explosion of sensory details that came with a shift. Yes, the sec he reached his bedchamber, he’d attempt a shift.

“Prince, please don’t do this.” Ellard resorted to begging, and the emotion didn’t set well on his craggy countenance. His broad fingers dwarfed his onyx cat pendant as he rubbed back and forth—a sure sign of his agitation. “They say she comes from the planet Gramite.”

“Why don’t you help? The sooner we fill the containers, the faster we’ll return to the castle,” Jarlath said.

Ellard glowered. “Even the cambeests like her. Look at them, following her around.”

Jarlath grinned, the unfamiliar expression feeling foreign on his lips. It made him realize how tense he’d become with recent discussions of marriage and duty. “Creatures are good judges of character.”

“
Humph
.” Ellard snatched up a container and started to pick berries at a rapid pace.

A day of firsts, Jarlath thought. A change in routine. A new acquaintance. His feline awakening, and now he was smiling. A trip to the wild side indeed.

K
eira surreptitiously observed the prince and his guard. She’d seen the handsome prince at several castle functions and thought him dull and pompous. This man, with his bright smile, was a different being. His dark hair was ruffled, the pomade no match for the stiff breeze. His tailored clothes—the trews and heavy cream synsilk shirt—were good quality, yet currently bore forest stains that made him appear more approachable. And his proper manner…today he resembled his younger brother, Prince Lynx. Sexy and way too attractive for her liking.

Maybe she’d rethink her coming evening. As Marcus’s widow, she’d received an invitation to the ball. She’d decided not to attend. Meeting her stepchildren in public always proved difficult and doubly so if the encounter occurred during a social situation. She had few friends, but her acquaintances would rally around her, if only to appease their inquisitiveness regarding her presence.

Yes, she’d made up her mind.

She’d follow her curiosity to learn if this Prince Jarlath was real or a fraud and relieve a little of her loneliness in a social occasion.

And meanwhile she’d enjoy his company. She shot a glance at the security guard and suppressed a giggle. How many teeth could she get him to show during his next snarl?

“What are you staring at?” Ellard demanded.

“Nothing.” Wow, ten teeth.

Keira turned away and picked berries with the ease of practice, filling her containers as she worked her way back to the prince and his security guard.

“What do you do with the berries?” the prince asked.

“I make some pies, but use most of the berries for wine.”

“I’ve never tried berry wine,” Jarlath said. “Have you, Ellard?”

“Yes.”

Keira smothered her amusement at the security guard’s abrupt tone. “What about berry pie? Do you have a sweet tooth?”

Ellard shifted his big body so she couldn’t see Prince Jarlath. “That is not appropriate. Cease your chatter.”

“Ellard, we’re talking about a dessert. There is nothing inappropriate about food.” The prince edged from behind his security guard and flashed her a grin full of boyish charm.

The power of the exchange rippled through her like a gossamer wave and left her breathing rapid and choppy. She managed a weak half-smile in return while scolding her traitorous body to behave. The security guard would have conniptions, and he was right. This…these thoughts were far from suitable.

“We all like to eat.” He cocked his head. “And I love pie.” He popped a berry into his mouth. “They’re delicious.”

“I’ll bake you one,” Keira said.

“That won’t be necessary.” Ellard’s voice emerged as stiff as his stance. “The prince eats food prepared in the castle kitchens.”

“Ellard, that is enough,” the prince said. “There. All done. How are you going to transport the berries back to your farm? There are too many here to carry.”

“I brought a cart with me,” she said and indicated the handcart, partially obscured by a scrubby bush.

“We’ll escort you home,” Jarlath said.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Prince, we will be late to the pre-ball dinner.”

Disappointment slammed Keira, the sense of loneliness surfacing again. Today had been the first time she’d spoken with anyone apart from Hilda, the Regit gnome who functioned as her cook and home help, Hortese, her maid and friend, and her other employees. It was nice to share a task with someone new.

She sneaked a glance at the prince and found herself the object of his scrutiny. Her breasts tingled from the intensity of his gaze, and she admitted her fascination. Stupid fool that she was.

During this short space of time, she’d developed a crush on the prince. No, she’d changed her mind. No ball for her tonight. It was best she went with her original plan and stayed far, far away from temptation.

Aware of the lengthening silence, she said, “I’m quite capable of transporting the berries home. I wouldn’t want to make you late to an important function.”

“Jarlath, see! She understands duty.”

“Oh, I understand obligation,” Jarlath said with a bite to his tone. “I am always responsible.”

Keira frowned at the exchange between the two men, the chilly shift in the atmosphere. With no idea of the reason for the tension between the prince and his security guard, she remained mute. She’d experienced her share of conflict and refused to invite more.

Ellard had a look of relief as he strode over to retrieve the two cambeests. He’d saved his prince from committing an act of stupidity, saved his prince from becoming embroiled in unbecoming gossip.

Keira sighed. Her reputation preceded her, propelled along by gossip and Marcus’s two nasty, selfish offspring. It was no wonder the security guard wanted the prince to leave. She’d heard the prince was searching for a wife, and the king and the rest of the court would expect him to marry a woman of impeccable lineage and reputation.

A virgin.

Not one of the required labels fit her character or personality.

The cart wheels squeaked when she tugged the conveyance over to the full containers. With practiced ease, she started to load the berries.

“Here, let me help.” The prince passed her a full receptacle and waited for her to situate the berries before handing her the next one.

“Prince, we must leave now. We have dallied long enough.”

“We will escort Keira to her home,” Jarlath said.

“I don’t think—” Ellard began.

“That’s not necessary,” Keira said.

“I insist.” Jarlath accepted the reins from Ellard. “Which way?”

Aware of his determination, Keira gave in without further battle. She pushed her handcart in the direction of home.

“Let me,” Prince Jarlath said, and he placed his hand over hers. A charge of energy rushed up her arm, stealing her breath and putting the prince at the front of her mind. She stared at his tanned fingers, such a contrast to her own green-tinged flesh. Then she catalogued the sensation of his warm skin against hers—not soft and smooth but callused.

“I…” she trailed off, sucked in by his charisma. His dark green eyes. His scent. Up close he smelled of berries and something spicy and peppery.

“Let me,” he repeated.

“Thanks.” She wanted to press her nose against his chest, but she forced herself to step away.

Prince Jarlath pushed the cart down the track and she took a second to admire his arse.

“He’s not for you,” Ellard said in an undertone. “He will marry a woman of quality by the end of this cycle, if not, the next.”

“Of course he will,” Keira said, and she was amazed at the evenness of her reply. “He’s heir to the crown.”

“As long as you understand,” Ellard said. “I wouldn’t want you to hamper the prince’s progress and cause problems for the House.”

“We picked berries. That’s hardly interfering. I didn’t know you’d ride along this particular trail.”

Ellard glowered down his long nose, his visage harsh and uncompromising. “So long as we’re clear.”