Fantastical f-3 Page 15

  I Wasn’t Myself

  I heard the sound of heavy draperies being pulled back, bright sunlight touched my closed eyelids and I felt my mouth curve in a satisfied smile.

  Hell, if it was physically possible for me to purr, I would do it.

  I was on my belly, naked as the day I was born. I felt the covers were up over my bottom, exposing my back and I stretched out my arms, arched my back into the bed and opened my eyes.

  I was thinking of all my princess instruction, and there was a lot of it, three and a half lessons (the half was Tor going down on me and it must be said, the man could use his mouth), and just how much I liked every nanosecond of my lessons (and boy, did I like it) when I looked around the massive room expecting I’d see a handsome (hopefully naked) man letting in the light.

  But I didn’t.

  I saw a buxom woman wearing a kerchief on her head, a long, white apron pinned to the front of her long dress and a dour expression on her face.

  Eek!

  I yelped, yanked up the covers and whirled to my back, lifting up to sitting.

  She crossed her arms on her chest and glared virtual daggers across the room at me.

  “Uh…” Shit! “Heya,” I called.

  “Your breakfast, your grace, will be served in your sitting room,” she announced in a cold voice.

  “Um… my sitting room?” I asked.

  She stomped to a door and slapped a hand on it then turned back to me.

  “Sitting room,” she said on a near snap. “Of course, I understand, it being so long since you’ve slept in your husband’s bed, you’d forget.”

  Oh dear.

  “Uh…” I mumbled.

  “I’ll leave you to dress but I’ll speak to you during breakfast regarding any of your instructions for my staff.”

  She said “my” in a highly proprietary way leaving me to understand precisely what she meant.

  They were not Cora’s staff. They probably were Tor’s but they were definitely not Cora’s and in his absence, whoever she was, they were also definitely hers.

  “Um, okay,” I said softly.

  “If you see one of my staff in the meantime, I’ll ask you to delay in any instructions you might have for them until you can share them with me.”

  I was thinking Tor didn’t pay enough attention last time Cora was there. I was thinking Tor was wrong about just his men hating her because she didn’t warm his bed. I was thinking Cora was an even bigger bitch than ever and that was saying something.

  “I can do that,” I replied carefully.

  She nodded her head once.

  “I’ve laid out your clothes. Those and anything else you may need for your toilette,” she stomped to another door and slapped a hand on it, “will be in your dressing room. If you would be so kind,” she spat the last two words, “ten minutes before you require it, pull the cord so we’ll know when to serve your breakfast.”

  “Sure thing,” I said quietly, she squinted at me, sniffed then stomped out of the room wafting so much frost in her wake, I shivered.

  Then I looked around the room wondering where the fuck Tor was.

  Then I slithered around on the bed searching the sides for my nightgown, found it, snatched it up, pulled it on and darted to the privy off the bathroom thinking thanks, Cora, just what I need, another mess you’ve gotten me into.

  * * *

  As requested, ten minutes prior to needing it, I pulled the pale blue velvet, tasseled cord in the dressing room (a very pretty room, a lot smaller than the bedroom, painted a soft yellow accented in pale blues, creams and lavenders with a beautifully painted screen, a chaise lounge covered in lavender velvet and a dressing table topped with a bunch of fancy bottles and other fairytale land beautification detritus).

  I found my time in the dressing room a little nerve-wracking considering I didn’t entirely understand the clothing that was laid out for me.

  I mean, there was a lot of it. I couldn’t possibly have to don it all.

  Then I realized that it wasn’t one outfit, but a selection.

  I made my selection and noticed two things. One, these clothes were of far superior quality to what I had been wearing and two, they were very different than what I had been wearing.

  And they were exquisite.

  So I made my selection. Then I perused the bottles on the dressing table (mostly scent, not all gardenia, a vast selection, so I picked something musky yet floral) but there was some powder, blusher and even kohl pencils.

  I dabbed on scent, decided against attempting makeup and started dressing.

  After pulling on another pair of lovely panties (these pristine white), I put on a cream, silky, lacy chemise and over that I pulled on a soft purple dress made of a light, flowing silk. The scooped neckline was way low, (indeed, without the lace of the chemise peeking over it, it would almost show my nipples), the waistline was empire (thus accentuating my breasts and drawing attention to the delicate lace) and the skirt was mostly straight with a beautiful drape and a slit up the front that also exposed the cream silk chemise. And last, the waistline was heavily, and magnificently, embroidered in a darker purple with hints of silver.

  Then I slid my feet into deep purple satin slippers.

  Then I went to the carved box on the dressing table where I’d seen some ribbons and hair clips and selected a pair of clips that were filigree silver with purple stones adorning them that looked like real amethysts. I pulled my hair back on either side but let the back fall long and I looked in the mirror.

  I didn’t look half bad but I also didn’t look like a fairytale princess

  I guessed it would have to do.

  I pinched my cheeks on the way to the sitting room and when I arrived I found another pretty room decorated in blues and peaches. There were comfortable chairs set in front of a wide, arched, multi-diamond-paned window, another chair with a round, button-topped, tassel-bottomed ottoman in a corner and a small, round, spindly-legged table in the middle accompanied by two chairs, their poofy, button-topped seats a plush peach.

  This table was laid with ornate silver, china, a crystal vase holding a single, perfect peach rose and it also held my breakfast which appeared to be French toast dusted with powdered sugar and covered in sliced strawberries, something rich, creamy and yummy-looking oozing out of the middle, coffee, orange juice and a jug of water with actual ice.

  My stomach growled and my eyes shot to the other thing in the room, the still dour-faced, buxom, kerchief-wearing, apron-dressed woman who clearly hated me.

  I pinned a bright smile on my face. “Good morning,” I greeted and looked down at the food. “This looks –”

  “If it pleases your grace,” she interrupted me, “I’ll say what I have to say while you eat, you can give me your instructions and I’ll take my leave.”

  At her words, my step faltered and I stopped.

  Then I moved slowly to the table, pulled out a chair and seated myself while saying softly, “Yes, please, that sounds perfect.”

  She approached the table but didn’t get too close, either because she couldn’t stand being in the same space as me or she thought I had the power to strike out and sink fangs into her.

  I poured coffee from a sliver service into a china cup and she began.

  “The last time you were here, your grace, you made it very clear that our service was… wanting,” she started.

  Oh shit.

  “This time,” she went on, “we will endeavor to meet your every whim to your exacting standards. I just require that you relate those standards to me prior to your expecting them so that I can educate my staff in what you will be requiring. That way, I won’t find my girls in fits of tears or need to talk others out of leaving their employment on the spot.”

  I stared up at her.

  Holy crap! What on earth did the other Cora do? Jeez!

  “Um…” What could I say? “I was…” Shit! “Uh, out of sorts last time I was here. In fact, I wasn’t…” Drat! “Entir
ely myself. It seems that I caused some upset.”

  “Indeed!” she replied tartly.

  “Well…” I started, pulled in a deep breath and leaned slightly toward her.

  Instantly, her upper body reared back.

  Yep, she thought I could strike out with my fangs.

  Yikes.

  I decided to sally forth and finished, “I’m very sorry about that. Very sorry. I was… it was… unforgiveable but I want you to know, and please tell your girls, that I am truly, very sorry.”

  She blinked.

  Then she rallied and snapped, “Fine. Now, do you have any specific instruction?”

  “Um… can I, uh… can you ask me that again in a few days? I’d like to get my bearings.”

  “With all due respect, your grace, no,” she answered shortly. “As I explained, I would like to know exactly what you require before you require it.”

  My mind whirled. Then I thought of something.

  “Okay, well, um, I don’t like celery,” I told her.

  “Noted,” she clipped and then glared at me as she waited for more.

  “And, um, my husband doesn’t like that gardenia scent.”

  Her brows shot to her hairline. “That is, as you know, your grace, your specifically requested scent. You did, as you know, your grace, make rather a fuss about it last time.”

  Uh-oh.

  “It’s lovely. I mean, I think it’s beautiful. Utterly perfect,” I lied. “But Tor doesn’t like it so, perhaps –”

  “Noted,” she bit off curtly.

  Oh boy. She wasn’t melting at all.

  “Okay, well,” I kept trying. “I was wondering, if Tor can’t do it, could someone take me for a tour of –”

  “The kitchens,” she finished for me. “Of course, it’ll be arranged immediately.”

  “No, I meant the castle,” I explained and her head cocked sharply to the side.

  “You had no interest the last time.”

  Of course I didn’t.

  “Well, I wasn’t, uh… myself the last time.”

  She nodded once. “Noted.”

  I bit my lip. Then I asked, “Where is Tor?”

  “He has, as you know, your grace,” she stated tersely, “been away for some time. He has things to do and those things, I hope you don’t mind if I be so bold as to inform you, don’t all involve dancing attendance on you.”

  Lordy, but she hated Cora.

  “Right,” I whispered.

  “So he’s doing them,” she concluded.

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “Is there more?” she snapped.

  “I don’t think so,” I answered.

  “Last time, there was more.”

  I bet there was.

  “Well, if so, I’ll be certain to speak to only you about it,” I promised.

  “Fine,” she clipped. “And how long will you be gracing us with your presence this time? Will you be leaving this eve?” she asked hopefully.

  “Uh… no.”

  Her expression finally changed but only to obvious disappointment.

  Yeesh.

  The door behind me opened, she looked over my head, her eyes got big and I twisted in my chair just in time for Tor to get there and pull me right out of it and into his arms.

  Then, kid you not, right in front of the woman, his head descended and his mouth captured mine in a long, wet, hot, racy kiss that left me with my arms wrapped tight around his neck, my body arched against the length of his and my lungs breathless.

  His mouth went away nary an inch when he lifted his head and his eyes found mine.

  “Good morning, wife,” he whispered.

  My belly melted.

  God, how I wished the last word in his sentence was actually true.

  “Good morning, husband,” I whispered back.

  He grinned and his arms tightened, pulling me even closer.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked an outwardly innocent but totally intimate question in a low, slightly husky, intimate voice which meant no one could miss the intimacy.

  One of my arms slid from around his neck so I could cup his jaw with my hand.

  “Very good,” I whispered and the fingers of his hand that was splayed at my hip dug in.

  “How good?” he murmured.

  “Very good,” I murmured back.

  His grin turned wicked.

  The area between my legs pulsed.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  His fingers dug deeper. “Very good,” he growled and I liked that he was, so I pressed into him.

  His eyes went to the table then back to me.

  “You haven’t had breakfast?” he enquired.

  My hand slid down to his neck. “I think I slept in.”

  That got me the wicked grin again. Then he said, “I have things to do, love. Can you find ways to stay occupied?”

  “I think so,” I replied, though I wasn’t certain since the only person in his castle that I had really talked to clearly detested me and the rest the other Cora had set to fits of tears or threats of quitting, I was wondering if I should leave his rooms.

  “Only stupid people get bored,” he muttered, my body stilled and then I felt my face go soft.

  “That’s what my Mama told me,” I whispered.

  He grinned at me again, this one wasn’t wicked, it was warm. It was a close call but I reckoned I liked the warm one even more.

  Then he turned his head to the side, lifted his chin and asked, “You’ll take care of my bride, Perdita?”

  Hesitantly, I turned my head to the side and took in the clearly astonished, pale-faced woman called Perdita who was staring at us with rapt attention and complete shock.

  “Perdita?” Tor called and she lurched.

  “Yes, your grace?” she answered.

  “You’ll look after Cora?” he queried.

  “Of… of course,” she replied.

  “Excellent,” he muttered, gave me another squeeze to get my attention, I looked at him and he commanded, “Now give me a kiss before I go.”

  I tilted my head to the side and teased, “Earning my French toast?”

  His brows drew together. “Your what?”

  “French toast,” I replied, tipped my head to the table and his gaze followed, “breakfast.”

  His eyes came back to me, they moved over my face, something I didn’t understand working behind them then he corrected, “Custard toast, Cora.”

  “Custard toast?”

  “That’s what we call it.”

  “Oh,” I whispered.

  Yum. That sounded way better.

  “Sweets,” he called and I focused on him. “My kiss.”

  Feeling Perdita’s eyes on us, I got up on my toes, touched my mouth to his and intended to give him a chaste kiss but his head slanted, he leaned into me, his mouth opened over mine and chaste was a fleeting memory.

  I was breathing heavily when his head lifted.

  “Don’t get into any trouble,” he warned.

  “I won’t,” I panted.

  He grinned. Then he stated, “I’m not jesting, be good.”

  My head tilted in confusion. “I’ll be good.”

  “Like a princess would be good,” he clarified and I felt my eyes narrow.

  Then I snapped, “Tor!”

  “Cora,” he returned.

  “All I can be is me,” I informed him, he stared at me then he sighed.

  Then he turned his head to Perdita and announced, “My wife can be stubborn and she gets things in her head. If she tries to save a wounded bird, invite every innkeeper in the city to dinner or the like, stop her. You have my permission.”

  “Tor!” I cried, trying to pull away but he pulled me back.

  “You’re a princess; you’ve got to stop being so damned friendly.”

  “You didn’t complain about how friendly I was last night, three times,” I returned only to hear Perdita gasp.

  Crap!

  My head w
hipped around to Perdita and I babbled, “I’m sorry. So sorry. So, so, so, so sorry. That was rude. I shouldn’t –”

  “It’s fine,” she cut me off, her dour expression gone, she was, dear God, was I seeing things right? She was smiling and it was glowing. “Perfectly fine.” She bustled to the door repeating, “Perfectly fine.” She stopped at the door and looked at me. Then she floored me by finishing, “I’m glad to see, your grace, that this time you’re more yourself.” Her eyes flitted to Tor then to me, then she lifted a hand and called merrily, “Cheerio!” and she disappeared.

  I blinked at the door.

  “What’s this about being more yourself?” Tor asked and I looked up at him.

  Jeez, did making out with Tor and starting to bicker with him win over the frosty housekeeper?

  God, I hoped it was that easy.

  “Nothing,” I muttered. Then pushed on his shoulders. “Go, be a prince, rule your princedom, I have a castle to peruse and innkeepers to ask to dinner.”

  His arms got tight and he growled a warning, “Cora.”

  I rolled my eyes then rolled them back to his face. “Oh, all right, I won’t ask any innkeepers to dinner.”

  He studied me then shook his head and his mouth twitched. Then he gave me another squeeze, a brush of his lips against mine, he let me go and walked to the door.

  When he had it open and was halfway through, I called, “Is it okay if I ask their wives?”

  He turned, speared me with a glower, I grinned at him, his glower disappeared when he winked at me, my breath caught at how damned hot he could wink and then he vanished behind the door.

  * * *

  “I need to go home, I need to go home, I need to go home,” I whispered my prayer into the falling night as I sat curled up in a padded, iron chair in a secluded corner of one of the many balconies in Tor’s huge castle. “I’ll miss Tor and I’ll hate leaving him but please, please, please God, send me home.”

  The people were lighting their lanterns, windows were beginning to glow and the street lamps were being lit.

  And I was crying.

  Nope, I wasn’t crying. I was sobbing.

  Nope, I wasn’t sobbing either. I was bawling.

  Because, outside of the day the curse started, that day was the worst day in my entire life – the short one I’d led here and the long one I’d led at home. Both of them. The worst day ever.