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Quinn hid a yawn with his hand for the fifth time that evening. How much longer was he required to sit through boring conversation that centered around the upcoming ball?
Leave here. Want to run.
He glanced toward the floor to ceiling windows in the drawing room where the family and a few advisors had gathered. The purpled shadows of twilight colored the sky. A muscle twitched in his thigh. As much as he agreed with his wolf half, he couldn’t leave, for he wanted to speak to his brother alone.
“We have sent invitations to at least forty women of eligible marrying age throughout the kingdom,” his father, the king, said as he looked at Quinn’s brother. “Surely, by the night’s end you will have made a decision.”
Quinn snorted. “So, based on your highly flawed logic, Henry is, in the course of a few hours, to choose a woman he knows nothing about and will have perhaps danced with twice in the evening to be his bride? Do you not see the folly of such a plan?”
All focus in the room swiveled his way and he cringed for drawing their attention. His father tugged on a lock of gray hair—hair that had once been as gloriously red as his own—and glanced at his friend—or rather his conspirator-in-arms—the Grand Duke Albert and rolled his eyes. “This coming from my second son, who is also unwed and has no plans to be so. What did I ever do to have such stubborn children?”
A round of sycophantic laughter circled through the room.
Quinn shot off the low settee of blue crushed velvet. Banked energy tightened his limbs and bunched his muscles. He wanted to run and escape this madness, to howl and dig his nails into the earth to quiet the frustration, but the opportunity for a fight stayed his flight. “I choose to remain unattached, Father, for I don’t wish to align myself with the wrong woman for a lifetime. Henry, of course, desires to wed and set up his nursery. And that is all to the good. He should usher in a change, for you won’t be here much longer.” He leveled a look at his father, who hastily averted his gaze. “However, don’t you think you should allow him more than mere hours to decide something that will change his life forever? The woman he weds will be queen one day. Consider that.”
“The boy has a point, my king,” Grand Duke Albert conceded with a clearing of his throat. He then stroked his salt and pepper mustache and regarded Quinn. “Perhaps a house party then?”
Oh dear Lord, spare me from the mutterings of fools. He clasped his hands behind his back and ambled toward the windows. “To what end? Feed and entertain so many women—and their chaperones—for days on end? Listen to idle prattle that is designed to ensnare Henry? We’ll all go mad.” And having one of them perhaps witness us shifting into a wolf?
The room erupted into varying views and arguments until his brother stood.
“Quinn has the right of it.” Alto August Henry Ferdinand Lansdowne, heir apparent to the kingdom of Annanvale—Henry to those who knew him best—rose slowly to his feet. Both within the court and in the kingdom, he was irreverently referred to as Prince Charming, for his gilded tongue, his impeccable manners, and his impending inheritance. “While I feel the ball is a good idea and will allow me to meet more women than are currently within my social circle, I’m not quite certain I will be able to select one woman by the event’s end.” His voice carried the ring of one who had been bred to rule. “Also, there is the delicate matter of finding a woman to trust with my beastly nature.”
“Indeed.” There was always that to consider. Curse or no curse, binding oneself to another couldn’t be taken lightly. Quinn monitored the room through the window’s reflection. All the old men who wished to govern the kingdom from their outdated points of view, who had not a notion of what the people wanted or even needed. He hoped that would change once his brother took the throne. “To further the point, are you so desperate to see Henry wed, Father, that you will consider a union between him and a potential commoner?” Such things didn’t matter to him, but to his father, they did, and any time Quinn could provoke his sire, he did.
You are asking for trouble.
He smiled at his image in the window. Perhaps I am. But then, mayhap they will ask me to excuse myself. Which is my end goal.
True to form, his father sputtered, though it was all bluster now. In years past, he had been a force. Now he was too frail to do much. “Henry has not shown an interest in any of the royal women we’ve paraded before him. What am I to do?”
Henry snorted. “The ladies of royal blood are either too young or too old. I would like to enjoy the state of matrimony without surviving the wild histrionics of such age groups.”
That set the advisors into another round of muttering.
“Enough.” Quinn turned to address the room at large. “The ball is a start, but allow Henry the time to court one or perhaps two of the ladies who might strike his fancy.” He held up a hand when his father began to protest. “Yes, I know you want him wed with alacrity. I am well aware of your selfish wish for grandchildren—”
“—is it selfish to want to hear children’s laughter ringing through these halls before I die?” the king interrupted with a red face.
“—however, once the children are grown, Henry will still have the wife,” Quinn continued as if his father hadn’t spoken. “Perhaps expand your timeline to say, six months? After that, if Henry hasn’t come up to scratch, then by all means choose a girl for him with no complaints from either side.” He bounced his gaze between his father and his brother. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” they both said in unison.
“Splendid.” Quinn clapped his hands. “Now perhaps my brother and I can be dismissed? We do not need to hear the minutia of details.”
“Go.” The king waved an age-spotted hand. “If I’d had daughters, I’d have grandchildren by now.”
“If you’d had daughters, you would have been thoroughly hen-pecked and probably in the grave by now. Be thankful you had two sons instead who rarely bother you,” Quinn said in parting as he grabbed his brother by the upper arm and propelled him from the drawing room.
“Two cursed sons!” the king yelled after them. “I don’t know which is worse.”
You. You are worse, Father.
“He grows more agitated with each passing year,” Henry mentioned as they walked down the long expanse of a hallway.
“I agree. Soon, he will be unfit to rule. His mind skips at times. He thinks no one notices, for he covers it with complaining.” Quinn led the way. He turned at an intersecting corridor and then ducked into a study. “Today, he was lucid, but he is frail and fading even if he still looks stout enough.”
“Yes. It won’t be long now.” Henry dropped into a leather wing-backed chair in front of a massive cherry wood desk. “I’m not certain I’m ready.”
“Liar.” Quinn took a seat behind the desk, for this was where he worked when he was at the castle. “You have been ready for the throne for years now.” And he was welcome to it.
“Perhaps.” Henry smiled. He held Quinn’s gaze. “Why did you wish for a private word? Usually, as soon as twilight fades, you are out of doors.”
“I will do just that once we’re done.” While he enjoyed shifting in the early evening and ending his runs after midnight, Henry didn’t activate his powers until well after the witching hour. He dragged himself back at dawn before the castle roused. Quinn rested his hands on the desktop. Surrounded by his books and papers and plans for the poorest in the kingdom, his soul calmed somewhat. “Be honest. Is marriage right now what you want, or are you bowing to Father’s decree?” His brother and sire enjoyed a close relationship that Quinn had not experienced, and that was fine by him. Father and he didn’t see kingdom matters the same. He’d taken after their mother; may she rest in peace.
“Yes.” Henry nodded. He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “It’s time to settle down. I’m eight and thirty, Quinn. I need to secure the line.” He narrowed his eyes. “You should do the same. One never knows what fate will bring to the future.”
“Such a life is not for me.” Quinn shook his head. “I do not wish to curse any male children as I—we—are cursed.” Childhood had been a horrible time while he’d wrestled with coming to terms with being a wolf shifter as well as fitting into a society who only valued outer looks or coffer size.
“But it might go better for them because their father—you—are the same,” Henry said in a soft voice. “We did not have that luxury and were thrown into it helter skelter.”
“Perhaps.” Yes, his brother would be a wise ruler. Quinn relaxed a fraction. “However, I am in no rush to wed.” An image of Averell swam into his mind’s eye. Heat washed over him when he recalled the fleeting press of his lips against hers and the satiny feel of her skin beneath his fingers. “A dalliance wouldn’t be out of the question though.” Could he even coax such a woman into a tryst without her attempting to flay him alive with an arrow?
“What gammon.” Henry rolled his eyes. “There is more to life than bedding women and then forgetting them.”
“Such as?” Quinn raised an eyebrow as his body grew restless to leave these walls and run free through the forests. Perhaps come upon Averell again.
“I want the companionship that marriage will bring, to wake up with a woman, to have someone other than advisors and sycophants to talk with. I wish for someone I can have adventures alongside.”
“Someone who accepts your affliction and loves you despite it,” Quinn finished in a low voice. Would Averell be that sort of woman with her fear of wolves? “A woman who might welcome the abnormality instead of run from it.”
“Yes. And aligning myself with a commoner might be easier than choosing a lady of royal blood. People who have real life experience are more accepting of magic than those who have had imagination bred out of them.” Henry said nothing else, for what was there to say?
If that wasn’t the bald truth, he didn’t know what was. “That idea holds merit.”
His brother looked closely at him. “You are more different, somehow, than usual, more... hopeful I want to say. Have you met a woman and you’ve not told me?”
Heat crept up the back of Quinn’s neck. “It is too early to say.” Which it was. He’d been in her company twice and even then those were both brief meetings, but he couldn’t deny that pull. “I wonder now if I should pursue the connection of sorts I’m feeling for this woman.”
“Ha! You have met someone.” Henry hooted with laughter. “And here you were giving me grief for wishing to find the same.” A knowing spark lit his eyes. “Yes, explore that. It doesn’t come around often.”
“Perhaps I shall. While I’m working through this most bizarre occurrence, I wish you luck in your endeavor.” He stared unseeing at his brother as his mind worked through the possibilities opening within his own life.
“Keep thinking about it until it becomes a reality, and if a woman has caught your eye, she must be made of stern and courageous stuff.” Henry stood. “I have other things to attend to tonight, and you’re ready to be off.” He smiled the grin that had earned him the moniker of charming. “Go. We shall talk later.”
“Right.” Quinn shot to his feet.
“And Quinn?”
“Yes?”
“Finesse the romance. Don’t throw her down and claim her. Make an effort. Women appreciate the wooing much more than you think. She might change your life, and she’s worth making a cake of yourself.”
Another swath of heat enveloped him. Inside his head, his wolf howled with laughter. “I’ll see what I can do.” Then it was his turn to grin. “Make certain Father is settled into bed soon before he devises another plan like creating an auction with eligible women in the kingdom.”
Henry laughed. “I will.”
Hours later, just before midnight, Quinn shifted back into his human form. It had been good to run as far as he’d wished and as hard, only stopping to bedevil rabbits from their warrens or chase after a herd of deer and eat enough to appease his hunger.
Now to take care of his thirst.
He followed the stream where he’d first seen Averell. Every once in a while, he would pause and lap up some water until it ran down his chin and wet his chest. The cool water chilled him and sent renewed energy coursing through is veins. Then his wolf half tensed.
She is here.
Why the devil did Averell keep such nocturnal hours? Excitement tripped his pulse. Silently, he padded through the forest, being sure to keep to the trees and remain hidden. Eventually the stream ended in a pool with irregular edges, more a loose shape than a circle. He sucked in a breath.
Averell.
She was in the pool and completely naked. As the light of the nearly full moon bathed her form in silver, he stared as if he’d never seen a woman before.
Mine, his wolf growled into his mind.
Ours, he silently agreed. There was no use trying to deny that pull, that supernatural tug. Fate had put him here, led him to her. She was his mate. But how to convince her of that fact?
Quinn peered at her from his shield of trees and shrubbery. He caressed his gaze over her pale form, lingering on the swell of her small, perfect breasts with their dusky rose tips and then downward to the water line. A curse of frustration welled but he stifled it. Damned water that hid her lower half from view.
But her hair! That heavy, glorious mass had been released from its typical plait and now hung like a wavy curtain down her back. It too disappeared into the dark water. The wont to bury his fingers into those strands nearly had him bursting from his hiding spot, but he curled his hands into fists instead.
Then he tilted his head as his ears pricked. Was she... humming? He listened harder. She was! The lilting melody captured his imagination as the sound gently wrapped around him. When she dipped herself beneath the water’s surface and slicked back her hair, thrusting her breasts outward, a sigh whispered from him. Averell retrieved a bar of soap from the bank where a towel and her clothes rested, and as she began to push the lather over her skin, the faint scent of honeysuckle drifted to his location.
Go to her. Claim her. Mark her as ours.
He shook his head. Not yet.
And still he watched, all the while fighting the invisible pull that urged him to close the distance between them. It wouldn’t do to give in, not like this, not while he was as naked as she, with her a virgin besides.
Her pale fingers almost glowed in the moonlight. Would that he could take that soap from her hand and assist her with the task. Quinn died a thousand deaths when she dipped a hand beneath the water and a shuddering sigh escaped her throat.
Damnation. She is pleasuring herself.
His length hardened and pulsed with need. So innocent and yet self-experienced. Hot desire coursed through him for this woman. He took himself in hand. What would it be like thrusting inside her honeyed heat, having that mass of hair fall around him as she rode him, tugging on those tresses as he deeply kissed her? Quinn fisted his hand around his member and stroked in time to her play. Sensations raced through him. If he found release, there was a chance his wolf side would take the momentary loss of control and shift. He didn’t wish to startle Averell let alone introduce her to that side of him so abruptly and perhaps terrify her. A man didn’t throw himself on a woman he’d just met. It would destroy that curious connection developing.
He needed that mate’s bond to remain strong and trusting.
Quickly and as silently as he’d come, Quinn moved deeper into the trees. He would leave Averell to her privacy and hoped that when he returned to the area, his body would have settled enough to conduct a proper conversation.
But bloody hell he wanted her.
An hour later he came back to the pool, still in his human form and clad in clean hunter’s garb he’d stowed at his customary drop point in this part of the forest. He breathed a sigh of relief to find her fully clothed in the same navy dress she’d worn the night before. She perched on a large boulder, and with a comb in hand, attempted to work out the tangles from her damp hair.
“I realize this is rather a bizarre request, but I would be happy to take up the task of combing your glorious tresses,” Quinn said in a soft voice as he came out of the trees.
Averell gasped, but when her gaze alighted on him, she smiled and that gesture caught at his chest. “What are you doing here? I assumed you would have returned home.”
“I did, but I’ve found this area of the forest holds sights I cannot seem to forget.” Once he reached her boulder, he gently took the tortoiseshell comb from her fingers. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Pleasure lit her lake blue eyes and he wanted to drown in those depths. “You came to see me.” It wasn’t a question.
“I did.” He encouraged her to present her back to him and then he drew the teeth of the comb through a section of her hair. “There is something about you, Averell, that pulls me closer.” There was no harm in admitting it. “Something that binds us together.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. The smile she gave him sent heat curling into his blood. “I feel that as well.”
In silence he worked through her tresses that were as soft as the finest spun silk.
“Where are you from, mysterious Quinn?” she asked in a voice riddled with curiosity. “I should know more about the man who kissed me and who now does the intimate task of combing my hair.”
What to tell her? Suddenly, he wished to confess everything, but he couldn’t. Not yet, but he needed to give her something. “I reside in Annanvale, so it’s not very far from here, perhaps a few hours’ ride. I work closely with the royal family.” Again, not exactly a lie.
“Ah.” She shifted her position so he could better work on the other side of her head. “What do you think of royalty and of that life?”
Quinn snorted. “They waste their opportunities and don’t do nearly enough for their subjects as they argue about things that don’t matter.”
“It is unfortunate that people in positions of power abuse it.”
“Yes.” He concentrated on the comb in his hand. “Soon it will change and a new era will usher itself in.”
“What of magic? Do you believe it exists? Do you feel it serves a purpose in life or do you feel it’s an evil intrusion?”
Her words, delivered with curiosity and without guile, lodged in his chest with all the accuracy of arrows. “I believe magic is part of the foundation of everything around us. For good or for ill, that is something of our own choosing.” He stilled his fingers. “Some of us are more steeped in it than others. And that isn’t a bad thing.”
“That’s what I believe too.” She sounded pleased. “Sometimes, I think an unnamed need inside me will burst forth if I but utter the words that will release it.” A sigh escaped her. “What the magic will be, I don’t know.”
Odd, that. Was she not a mere huntsman’s daughter? He resumed his task. The heat of her body seeped into his fingers and he gathered her hair, holding it off her neck. “There are many different kinds of magic, Averell,” he whispered before he pressed his lips against her nape. Was he interested in a romantic bond with this woman? “Some of our own making and some that has been forced upon us whether we wished for it or not.” Yes, he was. He couldn’t deny that pull, and it certainly wasn’t going away.
“You harbor a secret.” Again, it wasn’t a question.
“Now is not the right time to reveal it.” Would that he could keep the knowledge to himself, but he wouldn’t lie to her. She must make the decision to be with him by herself. He didn’t want her if she was fearful or inclined to call out a group of huntsmen to track him.
The shiver that moved through her body transferred to him and he fell further beneath her spell. “Is that what is brewing between us then—magic?” She shifted on the boulder so that she half faced him.
“You feel it too, that connection, that invisible thread?”
“I do. It both puzzles me and excites me.” Her eyes widened.
Was it fate or mere coincidence that they’d met? Perhaps it didn’t matter. A grin tugged on the corners of his mouth. “If we are fortunate then yes, it is our own special... magic.” He handed her the comb and then cupped her cheek. Never would he tire of touching her, of being near her. “Does that frighten you?”
“Not at all. I...” She kept her gaze on his. “I welcome it.”
Should he tell her of his hidden nature? It might destroy the web of trust and pleasurable tension that wove them together. “Do you wish to explore that thread? Soon?” Did he ask it of her, or them both together?
“I do.” She nuzzled into his palm and his heart constricted. “Are you afraid, Quinn?”
Was he? He stared into her eyes where the moon reflected in the depths and he shook his head. “No. In fact, I’m looking forward to finding out more.” It was the same that he’d told her the first day when they’d met in the forest. “Shall we?”
With a mysterious grin, she slipped off the boulder. “Allow me a few moments to plait my hair then perhaps we can stroll for a bit. And talk. Unless you need to return home imminently?”
He tucked the comb into a pocket of his coat. His wolf whined with frustration inside his head. “I am yours for the duration.” But for how long? Once he told her all of his secrets, would she run?