Claimed & Seduced (6 page)

Jarlath dropped a nut into his container and glanced over at Keira to find her staring at him in confusion. He winked, the intensified hint of green in her cheeks charming him. His mouth twitched and he found the corners lifting into a smile.

“What are you smiling about? You don’t normally smile.”

“You,” he said. “I like the way you treat me like a normal Virosian.”

“You don’t have to help.” Her tone was sharp this time, a tad defensive.

“I like you. I’ve already admitted I want you. Before I leave, I intend to kiss you, so I can’t be any blunter about my intentions.”

Her scowl softened, and a flash of green suffused her face again. “I don’t understand. You’re the prince. I doubt anyone would stop you if you decided you wanted me delivered to your castle chamber.” One brow arched. “Isn’t that what your ancestors used to do?”

“Now that you mention it, I like the idea of having you at my mercy.”

Her snort was loud and unfeminine. “I can imagine the scandal. Thank you, but no. I’ve suffered enough nasty gossip. You may have your kiss but that is all. There will be no more discussion of sexual congress. Any such talk will result in you getting tossed off my estate on your sexy princely arse.”

“You think my arse is sexy?”

“And that’s the message he distills from my words,” she muttered. “It seems men are the same, even the royal ones.”

“No one has ever told me they find me attractive,” he said, giving up the pretense of picking nuts. “They tell me I’m sensible and dutiful and not like my younger brother. They tell me I am responsible and dedicated to the House of the Cat. They tell me I will make a good ruler.”

“These are good qualities.”

“Yes, but for once I wish…” He shrugged, a trifle irritably because he couldn’t find the right words.

“You want to act for your own pleasure instead of everyone else’s.”

“Yes! That’s it.”

“I understand.” She ducked her gaze and snipped several herb sprigs. “But I refuse to be your experiment. I am not a plaything for your amusement.”

Jarlath battled his instinct to argue and returned to his nut harvesting. He didn’t know why he was belaboring the point or pursuing Keira because that was exactly what he was doing. She came from the planet of the Gramite. Jarlath sighed with deep regret. His parents would never consider adding her name to their precious list. He’d finish his task as he’d promised and return to his own world, his reality.

He was a prince of the Cats, the heir to the kingdom, and it was his duty to marry well and secure the succession.

Yes, he’d walk away from Keira and continue with his responsibilities. Keira was right. If he drew her into his world, she’d get hurt and she didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“Jarlath, you’re not a bother. Your company is welcome. I’m merely pointing out we can never be more than friends who meet in private. I would never wish to injure your reputation or drag you to the level of mine.”

Nothing he could say to that, no way to comfort or assuage the pain in her voice because she spoke the truth. This was the way of their world.

K
eira’s mind raced and her hands worked without conscious thought, plucking herbs and placing them in her basket. Jarlath was a surprise and not the man she’d met briefly and seen from afar during social functions. He bore hidden depths and he tempted her on so many levels. If he had been anyone else…

Luckily, he didn’t understand how he tempted her to say to hell with right and throw herself into his arms.

When her basket overflowed, she took it into the kitchen and returned with another.

“I’ve picked all the nuts within reach,” Jarlath said. “Do you want me to take these to the kitchen before I depart?”

“Yes, please.” Disappointment blasted her, even though she’d known he’d leave. “Thanks for your help. It’s saved me a lot of toil. Why don’t you ask Hortese to pack a pie? It’s the least I can do in exchange.”

“My pleasure.” He bowed and strode away, making her feel as if she were in the wrong. He had sought her out, not the other way.

Jarlath returned and stalked to her side. “Hortese is packing my pie, but there was something else I wanted to say before I left.”

“Oh?”

“This,” he said, and he took her basket and set it aside. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her to him. She gasped at his masterful manner and stared at him in surprise.

“What—”

“My kiss,” he reminded her. “I’m not leaving without one.”

He lowered his head and blocked further speech. Her heart sang. He’d come back because he wanted his kiss. Then her brain switched off, her mind awash with sensations and emotions, taste and texture. His fingers speared through her hair to cup her skull and hold her in place. His green eyes, lighter than usual, glittered with need and heady desire as he stared down at her.

Now. Please kiss me now.

But it seemed Jarlath didn’t intend to hurry.

He shifted his grip to trace her bottom lip with his thumb. His touch left a trail of tingles, and she groaned in frustration, wanting, needing more from Jarlath.

“You make me want to know you better. I wish things were different.” Jarlath didn’t give her a chance to respond but settled his lips on hers.

The kiss was gentle and warm and made her heart ventricles pump faster, stronger as if she flew in crow form. Without volition, her fingers curled into his silky hair to pull him close. She sank against his hard chest and submitted.

Jarlath growled against her lips and deepened the contact. Their tongues flirted, shyly at first before she became bolder. A feline growl rumbled up his throat, a masculine sound of satisfaction. He tasted wild and sweet and she wanted more, craved permission to explore his muscular body. Instead she kept her hands in his silky hair and enjoyed the kiss for what it was—a goodbye.

Chapter Four

T
earing himself away from Keira was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Every part of him ached to sweep her into his arms, to whisk her to the nearest sleep-bed.
Grata fire
, he’d do it—her—on the floor if need be, but she was right in her warnings.

He’d barely met her, so it was ludicrous for him to think of a future.

Their future.

Aware of the futility of his desire, he caught and saddled Black and headed back to the castle and his obligations. Black seemed content to amble the forest trail, and since Jarlath wasn’t in a hurry to face Ellard or his mother and her list, he allowed his cambeest to set the pace. When he reached a fork in the trail, he guided Black to the right and soon glimpsed Van Lake.

Ah, perfect. If he followed this path, he’d approach the castle from a different direction. He plucked out his com and tapped a quick text message to Ellard. That way, his friend wouldn’t suspect he’d visited Keira.

And he’d hidden the pie in his saddlebag. He’d eat his treat in the privacy of his rooms. With his message sent, he paused to let Black drink from the lake before urging his mount onward.

The sudden thunder of hooves heralded an arrival—probably Ellard. Ah, correct guess.

“Jarlath, where the devil have you been?” Ellard arrowed his cambeest toward them at a reckless pace and screeched to a halt. Dust billowed in a cloud, and Black sneezed, tossing his shaggy head and stomping his big feet in alarm.

Black’s long rounded ears went back, and Jarlath rubbed his hand over the cambeest’s hump in a soothing motion. “Steady, Black.”

“Impressive bruising,” his friend said.

“Yes. I have more on my shoulder.” Ellard had made excellent time. Jarlath eased in the reins, to exert control over his irritated beest. “I went riding. I needed to think. Ellard, I sent you a text. You knew I was safe.”

“I can’t do my job if we’re in different places, besides, Queen Bryna requires an audience. She has sent three messages, and in the third one, she threatened to dismiss me because she deduced I didn’t know your whereabouts.”

Guilt flashed in Jarlath. Keira was right—people got hurt when he didn’t do the expected. Jarlath reached over and squeezed Ellard’s forearm in apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll let Mother know this was my fault.”

“Won’t make much difference,” Ellard said. “You’re my responsibility. I should know your location.”

“I’m sorry,” Jarlath repeated.

They clattered into the stableyard and several stableboys trotted out to take care of their cambeests.

Jarlath waved them away, and they backtracked in clear relief, their stolid faces relaxing into teasing and banter. Black wasn’t the easiest charge and Ellard’s cambeest wasn’t much better.

“Let me stable, Black,” Ellard said. “I want to keep my job.”

“I will stable, Black. He’s my responsibility.”
One of many.

* * * * *

“J
arlath, at last.” Queen Bryna spoke sharply, exasperation quivering in every line of her slender body. “I expected you to seek me out early this morn.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I am here now.” He entered her private sitting room with trepidation and hovered just inside the doorway. As a child, he’d thought of his mother’s rooms as a cave full of treasures. They’d roused his kittenish curiosity and his mother’s fury when he’d accidently broken a model house full of furniture and shifters the size of his paws. Now, he knew to keep clear since touching or breaking brought parental wrath.

“Sit.” His mother pointed at a chair.

He hung his head and attempted sincere penitence while skirting a knee-high table and what looked like a puzzle to take the indicated seat.

“This is the type of behavior I expect from your brother, not you, Jarlath. This is a serious matter, and your father and I expect you to announce your betrothal by cycle end.” Her red Venet slipper
tap-tap-tapped
on the tile floor to highlight her irritation.

Jarlath sat stock-still, his attention on his mother. The queen wore a smart navy robe and a tasteful moon-glow necklace and earbobs, her attire quite at odds with her militant mood. He sighed inwardly in defeat. On the plus side, he had breathing space before they expected his announcement, but it still felt like a blaster aimed at his back when his mind kept drifting to Keira.

His father had kept a mistress, as had his father before him. Perhaps he could…no. He wouldn’t place Keira in that position. Judging by the gossip doing the rounds, her life was difficult enough already.

“Jarlath.” His mother’s foot commenced
tap-tap-tapping
again. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Here is my list. I have included twelve names. They are all of impeccable breeding and reputation. Any of them would make a good wife for you and a queen for our kingdom. I have collected dossiers on each woman. Should you require further information please contact my secretary. He will assist you.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Jarlath wondered how he forced out the words when panic tightened around his chest like titum bands.

“Don’t thank me,” his mother snapped. “Peruse the list and come to a decision. That will please me and your father.” A frown took possession of her mouth and flattened it to a thin line of distaste. “What on Viros are you wearing? You resemble a commoner who spends his day toiling in the fields. And your face. Do not enter my presence again in such dishabille.”

A sharp retort stung the tip of his tongue, but he gritted his teeth and refused to let the disrespectful reply loose. Instead, he nodded and let his mother treat him like a child, a puppet.

She scanned his face and what she saw must have reassured her because she gave a curt nod. “You may go.”

Jarlath shot to his feet and navigated the safest path through his mother’s clutter. Outside and away from her scrutiny, he checked the list, the neatly written names. His gut bucked like Black in a feisty mood and his feline jabbed, clawed, kicked beneath his skin, equally pissed. He ran up the central flight of stairs, his rapid footsteps muted by the thick red floor covering, and turned in the direction of his suite. A sharp pain in his right hand focused him in his agitated flight. He stared, then a genuine grin took hold, stretching his mouth so wide it ached. He held the list in a crumpled ball and four sharp claws protruded from beneath his fingernails. Even better, a dewclaw curled from beneath his thumb.

Increasing to a sprint, he burst into his suite’s sitting room. He thumped on a door, which led to a smaller adjoining suite of rooms.

“Ellard!”

The door burst open, Ellard with his weapon drawn, eyes scanning the corners of the room. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jarlath thrust out his hand with the claws still protruding. “Let’s go for a run.” He slid his saddlebag off his shoulder and set it on a low table.

“But how?” Ellard stared at Jarlath’s hand, slack-jawed and incredulous.

“I don’t know.” Theories, Jarlath had, but he wasn’t about to share them with his friend since he was certain this had something to do with Keira. “I don’t care. Let’s go.”

Jarlath made for the door he’d raced through mins earlier.

“Wait, let me get my other blaster.” Ellard darted deeper into his suite, light on his feet, despite his size. He reappeared and strapped his weapon to his leg. “Let’s go.”

Excitement pulsed through Jarlath as they clattered down the stairs and left the castle via a side gate. They nodded to the sentry and strode to the walled garden where the pair of them habitually carried out weapons training, away from the notice of the rest of the staff and more importantly, his parents.

His father and mother believed diplomacy should come before war, and although, the castle had an efficient fighting force, the Virosian royal family shouldn’t train to take up arms to defend themselves. Lynx had informed his parents the idea was stupid, and Jarlath had to agree. As a royal, he felt it was important to possess a variety of skills and lead from the front. Luckily, Danion Tetsu had agreed and he’d quietly taught the princes along with his two sons. Jarlath and Ellard continued to train in private to keep up their skill levels.