BloodyMary♥

“But if you’d like, we can just lie next to each other.” Said the spider to the fly. “We don’t have to touch. We don’t have to kiss. We’ll lie there and think about all the things we dislike about each other and maybe build up an immunity. Maybe we’ll stop wanting to touch and to kiss.”

Humans were so particular about lines you could and couldn’t cross, and gods forbid if you dared leap over one. You were forever labeled wicked and fiendish. Like William’s long-ago good buddy Vlad the Impaler. Talk about getting a bad rap. Behead a few thousand of your enemies, spear their bodies on pikes and display them for the world to see and boom, you were “evil.” It was ridiculous!

Dangerous as a lightning strike, as lethal as a pair of crisscrossing short swords, William whispered, “You’re about to find out how your liver tastes, my friend.” “I have tasted it already,” Zacharel said, his voice its usual monotone. The snowflakes snowflakes began to fall in earnest, tiny at first, but growing in diameter. An arctic wind blustered around him. “It was a bit salty.” How the hell was a guy supposed to respond to that? Apparently William didn’t know, either, because he gaped at the angel. Then, “Maybe if you added a little pepper?” O-kay. It was official. William had an answer for everything.

On one such afternoon, Lyon decided to tease his wife. He plucked a leaf from the nearest shrub and pretended that he was going to eat it. Christina wasn't amused. She slapped the leaf out of his hand, admonished him for his ignorance, and then explained that the leaf was poisonous and that he shouldn't be putting plants in his mouth anyway. If he was that hungry, she'd be more than happy to give him her portion of their meal.

Iain took hold of both her hands and squeezed to get her attention. Then he took a deep breath. Even with his men watching, he wanted the words to be right, his declaration to be one she would always remember. It was a damned awkward undertaking, trying to think of loving words, and he had absolutely no experience in this area, but he was still determined not to muck it up. The moment needed to be perfect for her. “Judith,” he began. “Yes, Iain?” “I’m keeping you.”

If there be enough time, of course," the elder explained. "Patrick won’t leave his wife for more than four hours at the most because of her advanced condition." He paused to chuckle. "The boy keeps taking me aside to whisper that his wife becomes overly fearful whenever he’s out of her sight, and a bit later she’s taking me aside and demanding I take her husband away on a full day’s hunt so she can have some peace and quiet.

Alesandra: “You had already proven to me that you can upon occasion use sound judgment.” Colin: “When was that?” Alesandra: “When you married me. You used sound judgment then. I understand now, of course, that you knew something I didn’t.” “And what did I know?” “That no one else would have you.”

It suddenly dawned on Colin that he liked having a wife. Not just any wife, he qualified to himself. Alesandra. He used to dread the evenings, and all because the pain in his leg was usually excruciating by then. His gentle little bride had taken his mind off his aches, however. She exasperated him and she enchanted him, and he was usually so busy reacting to her, there wasn’t room in his mind for anything else. And she loved him.

Caine stared at Colin when he called out the next name on the list. “Johnson, the Earl of Wentzhill.” He hadn’t gotten the man’s full title out of his mouth before Colin started shaking his head. And so it continued. Colin found something wrong with every man mentioned. By the time Caine had gotten to the last name on the list, the Duke of Williamshire was slumped in the corner of the settee, his hand to his forehead, looking thoroughly defeated. Caine could barely contain his amusement. His brother was having difficulty coming up with a suitable vice after Caine had read the last name, Morgan Atkins, the Earl of Oakmount, and Caine was dying to hear what he had to say about him. “I’ve met Morgan,” Alesandra announced. “He came to Colin’s house to discuss a business matter. He seemed very nice.” Alesandra’s voice lacked conviction. She was having trouble hiding her unhappiness now. She hated what was happening. She felt out of control of her future and her destiny. Just as horrible to her, she was beginning to feel like a charity case. “I can’t give you an opinion of Morgan,” Caine remarked. “I’ve never met him.” “I’ve met him,” his father said. “I liked him well enough. Perhaps we could invite him over for… Why in God’s name are you shaking your head now, Colin?” “Yes, brother,” Caine interjected. “What’s wrong with Morgan?” , Colin let out a sigh. He was having difficulty finding anything wrong with the man. Caine wasn’t helping him concentrate. He started laughing. “This isn’t amusing,” Colin snapped. “Yes, it is,” Caine contradicted. “Let’s see now,” he drawled out. “So far we’ve discarded nine possible candidates because of drunkenness, averice, gluttony, jealousy, perversion, greed, lust, and so on, and I’d really love to hear your reason for finding Morgan unsuitable. I believe you’ve used up all the seven deadly sins, Colin.” “What are you suggesting, Caine?” Colin demanded. “You don’t like any of them.” “Damned right I don’t. I’m thinking of Alesandra’s happiness. She’s a princess. She deserves better.” That last remark told Caine everything he needed to know. He now understood why Colin was in such a foul mood. It was obvious to Caine that his brother wanted Alesandra, but in his mind he had decided he wasn’t worthy enough. Oh, yes, that was it, Caine decided. Colin was the second son and therefore hadn’t inherited land or title. His obsession with building an empire was all part of his quest to achieve recognition on his own. Caine was proud that his brother was an independent man, but, damn it all, that pride would force him to let Alesandra slip away. Unless he was forced into marriage, of course. “But what about Morgan?” his father asked again. “What’s wrong with him?” “Nothing,” Colin snapped. His father was beginning to smile when Colin added, “If Alesandra doesn’t mind bowlegged children.” “For the love of…” His father slumped back against the cushions in defeat. “Is Morgan bowlegged?” Caine asked Alesandra. He was feeling quite proud of himself. He’d been able to ask that question without even cracking a smile. “I must confess I didn’t notice his legs, but if Colin says he’s bowlegged, then he must be. Will I have to have children?” “Yes,” Colin told her. “He won’t do then. I don’t wish to have bowlegged children.” She turned to look up at Colin. “Is it a painful condition?” she asked him in a whisper. “Yes,” Colin lied.

“I’ll tell you what’s not okay, is you throwing shit at me.” Curiosity marked his expression. “Why did you throw something at me?” When I didn’t answer, a muscle popped in his jaw. “You’re not going to answer me? Or do I need to repeat myself for a third time? It’s okay. I like to hear myself talk.”

Flowers arrived for Alesandra that afternoon. Dreyson had sent them with a note filled with sympathy over her tragic loss. Alesandra was arranging the flowers in a white porcelain vase while Colin scowled over the note. "What's this about?" he asked. "Albert died." Colin burst into laughter. She smiled. "I thought you would be pleased." "It's damned callous of you to laugh, Colin." Caine stood in the entrance of the dining room, scowling at his brother. He turned to Alesandra to offer his sympathy and only then realized she was smiling. "Isn't Albert a good friend of yours?" "Not anymore," Colin drawled out. Caine shook his head. Colin laughed again. "He never existed," he explained. "Alesandra made him up so Dreyson would take her stock orders." "But he gave me sound advice. Damn it, I'm going to miss him. I..." "Alesandra gave you her sound advice. Ask her in future," Colin suggested.

"Where are you going, Colin?" he called out when his partner walked out of the room. "Home to my castle," Colin said. "With my princess." He started up the steps to collect his wife. The sound of her laughter reached him and he paused to let her joy wash over him. The princess had tamed the dragon. But the dragon was still the victor. He'd captured a princess's love. He was content.