All's Fair in Love and Lion (11 page)

I frown at Ayres. “All right, old man, we’re going and we don’t need a chaperone.”

“We’ll see.” Ayres inclines his head. “Welcome to Dubay Castle, Miss Brighton.”

“Thank you.”

“Enjoy your stay, miss,” Ayres replies and disappears.

She gasps. “Does he always do that?”

“What?” I look around in confusion.

“Appear and reappear like he’s made of air?”

“Yes,” I reply as we walk down the corridors to the dining hall. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t know.”

I squeeze her hand. “I’m right here, and I’ll help you.”

When we enter the dining hall, Ayres materializes and pulls out a chair for Sasha, who eyes him warily. I hide my amusement and sit at the head of the table, next to Sasha.

Sasha clamps a hand over her mouth. “Do you eat like this often?”

I follow her gaze to the table laden with a myriad of food options from chicken to beef, salads, and three different kinds of vegetables. “I usually don’t even come to the dining hall. However, I will eat at home while you’re visiting.”

“You didn’t have to change anything for me.” She places a napkin on her lap.

“There are things I’m accustomed to which I wasn’t certain you would be comfortable with.”

“What do you normally do?”

“For starters, if I eat at home, my meals are delivered on a tray to my bedroom or den. Secondly, I generally don’t eat supper in human form, you understand?”

She crosses and uncrosses her legs.

Sympathy rises in me. “I realize this may not be the easiest thing for you to hear, but I prefer most of my meat . . .” I trail off a moment and watch her expression as I say, “Raw.”

She pushes her chair back a bit. “I see.”

“I thought you might like a familiar face rather than being left with servants while I satisfied my more natural instincts.”
Although, is she more uncomfortable with me here after what I’ve said?
I swallow a sip of wine, wondering how to proceed.

She gulps a sip from her glass.

“I hope that’s water,” I say as she puts the glass down. “I told Ayres your preferences.”

“It is.”

“Good. I don’t have to throw him out.

She pales slightly.

Great. I’ve scared her.
“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You’re quite sure?”

Silently, she nods.

We finish our meal in silence. Sasha dabs her mouth with one of the silk napkins and leans back. A maid rushes to clear her plate.

“Thank you,” she tells the servant.

The maid curtsies.

Sasha laughs. I raise an eyebrow. “I’ve never had anyone do that.”

“Ah.” Rising from my chair, I offer Sasha my arm. “If you’re ready, my dear, we can relax in one of the private rooms prepared for you.”

“Yes, please.”

I escort her from the room, down a series of corridors, until we reach a plainly decorated room. Inside, in front of a large fireplace, a loveseat and a coffee table are set up.

“This is cozy,” she remarks as I guide her to the loveseat.

Anxious, I ask, “Are you all right, now? At dinner it didn’t seem the details of my more feral side sat very well with you.”

“While I ate I realized it makes sense.”

“It’s better you know everything sooner rather than later.”

“Tell me everything.”

Pacing the length of the room, I rub my chin. “What haven’t I told you?”

“Do you prefer your lion form over your human?”

I stop in front of the fireplace and lean against the mantelpiece. “Depends on the situation. With you, I prefer my human form because you’re human.” I pause.
How should I continue?
“If I’m hunting, I prefer being a lion. Most of the time I’m human. The shape doesn’t matter, I’m comfortable in both.”

“Do you think you could show me what you look like as a lion?”

I whirl around. “You won’t be terrified?”

Shivering, she hugs herself. “Well, yes, I will. But, I might as well see what you look like.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to communicate with an animal,” she murmurs.

I stifle a chuckle. “Sasha, you’re thinking in terms of First Realm experiences. We Thirdling man-beasts are different, save for a few instances. Let me see if I can put this into terms you’ll understand . . .” An expectant silence permeates the space between us. Then an idea occurs to me. “Have you read Firstling author, C.S. Lewis’s
The Chronicles Of Narnia
?”

She smiles. “I loved them.”

“You know how the lion, Aslan, was able to communicate with the children by speaking to them?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“It’s sort of the same principle. My voice is the same, merely gruffer.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll simply look different.”

“Okay.” She hugs her knees to her chest. “Go ahead and show me.”

I roll my eyes. “No reason to be scared.”

She lifts her chin defensively. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Perhaps.” I make my way past the coffee table, chairs, and loveseat to a clear spot on the other side of the room. “If you insist.” Lowering myself to the floor, I close my eyes and focus my thoughts. A light tingle starts at my feet and spreads through me. I feel my human body melt away. Opening my eyes, I swish my tails back and forth. Sasha claps her hands over her mouth. I watch her expression change from fear, to horror, then, fascination.

“This is me,” I growl. “Well, the other side of me, anyway.”

She presses herself against the couch cushions. I will her not to be afraid. Then, in tiny, hesitant steps, she approaches me.

“It’s all right.” I lower my voice to my softest growl. “It’s only me.”

I lower my head into her palm. I rub my head along her fingertips.

“You’re like a kitty cat.” She laughs, high and unnatural.

“You’ve tamed me.”

I raise my head and she stares into my eyes. “I do see you.”

“Yes,” I rumble. “You’ve nothing to fear. You’re my chosen mate, I’ll not harm you.”

She shivers at the word ‘mate’.

“My chosen wife,” I amend.

“That’s a little easier to handle.” Her fingers gently tug through my mane. “Feels like satin.”

I feel my mouth curve into a catlike grin. “I told you man-beasts were different.”

She buries her face in my mane. “You smell the same, too. Male and outdoorsy.”

“And you smell like flowers,” I answer, breathing in her delicate fragrance.

“Silly kitty.”

I nuzzle her hand. “Sweet lioness.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for my lady.”

She takes a step backward. “You can turn back to a human, now.”

Closing my eyes, the lion form disappears. I reopen my eyes and stand.

“How do you manage to do that fully clothed?” she asks. “I would’ve thought you’d tear right through the fabric.”

I clasp her hands in mine. “It’s magic, my sweet.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. I’m not the only man-beast here, and some can do things I’m incapable of doing.”

“Well, I don’t care. I think you’re impressive.”

A voice clears his throat. “After-dinner coffee, sir?”

Exasperation wells in me. “Oh for love of the Third Realm, Ayres!”

Sasha giggles. “I’ll have some.”

“Of course, miss.”

I mutter under my breath about servants with bad timing. Ayres’ face remains impassive as he hands me the other cup, bows, and leaves the room.

“Remind me to fire him the next time he interrupts us.”

Sasha nudges my shoulder. “No way. He’s nice.”

“He’s a nuisance.”

“How about a new subject?” She takes my free hand, leading me to the loveseat. She raises her mug. “This is really good.”

“Poor recompense for his timing.”

She sets aside her coffee. “How can we cheer you up?”

Giving her a sidelong glance, amusement rises in me. “I’ve a few ideas.”

“I bet.”

I draw her into my embrace. “Several, in fact.” I capture her mouth with mine.

As soon as the kiss begins, I’m lost. The delicious taste of her sweet mouth, tinged with a hint of rich coffee seduces my senses. She is my lioness, her every desire my command. I’ll give her anything.

The Creator help me, I need her like I need air.

Chapter 18: Sasha

Sunlight peeks through the window and dances across the wall. I lean against the pillows, savoring the last few days.

Saturday evening the stars shone down as Monroe and I strolled along his back balcony overlooking a reflecting pool. His whispered compliments still make my cheeks burn.

Sunday, he took me to his Castle’s tiny chapel. The beautiful stain glass windows and the private service were peaceful. The short, plump priest reminded me of a fairy-tale dwarf. He had kind eyes and afterwards told me he hoped we would be very happy.

A sigh escapes me. How lucky am I?

The door flies open and Serena, the maid Monroe assigned to me, comes in. Her pale copper eyes gaze at me with curiosity. Why doesn’t she ever ask me the question on her mind?

She curtsies. “Miss Brighton, Lord Monroe would like to know if you wouldn’t mind going with him to pay a visit to Lord and Lady Cantrell?”

“Who?”

“I’m sorry. Lord Bast and Lady Alexia.”

I pick up a robe and slip from the bed. “Oh, his friends.”

“Yes, miss.”

Butterflies take up residence in my stomach. What will they think of me? Will they think I’m good enough for Monroe even though I haven’t any magic? “Okay.”

“Very good, miss.”

I bite my lip. “I don’t know what to wear.”

“I can help, if you’d like,” she says shyly.

“Please.” I start toward my suitcases.

She shakes her head. “No, miss. Not there.” She leads the way to the walk-in closet. I peer through the doorway to watch. She sorts through expensive-looking clothes before choosing out a white and blue ankle-length dress.

She carries the garment out carefully and lays it on the bed. Tentatively I touch the skirt. Fabric softer and more delicate than silk caresses my hand.

I yank my hand back with a jerk. “I can’t wear this.”

“Believe me, miss, you’ll fit right in with Lady Cantrell. I hear she’s elegant even in the most informal occasions. You must wear it.”

“But, what if I get something on the skirt? Or worse, tear the hem?” I finger the dress again. “I’m used to suits and cotton.”

“Please, miss. Don’t argue. If Lord Monroe hears he’ll yell at me for upsetting you.”

“Why would he do that?”

She wrings her hands and shifts her weight back and forth. “He’s ordered the staff to see to your every need and comfort. We can’t disobey. We’ll be fired.”

Exasperated, I smack my forehead. “Good grief!”

She jumps.

I lower my voice. “All right. I wouldn’t want you to lose your job because of me.”

“Thank you, miss. I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ve never dressed such a grand lady. Please allow me.”

“I’m hardly a grand lady.”

“You don’t understand. Lord Monroe is very influential. You know he’s on the Council. No one crosses him unless they’re willing to come out of it worse for wear.”

“Except Bast.”

“Lord Cantrell was never afraid of Lord Monroe,” she chortles. “He and the Master have been friends their whole lives. Don’t move. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

As she dresses me, I gaze into the full-length mirror. An image of a fairy-tale princess greets my eyes. Mesmerized, I study the round neckline, high, empire waistline, and elbow-length fluttery sleeves. I run my hands down the fitted bodice. How do they make a garment so amazing?

She sweeps my hair back into a loose braid, weaving silk forget-me-nots on a wire through my hair. Light blue ballet flats complete the ensemble.

“There,” she says stepping back. “Oh, miss, you’re lovely! Lord Monroe is going to be so pleased.”

“Thank you, Serena. I hope so.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“Am I meeting Monroe somewhere or is he going to come to get me?”

“He’ll come for you. He looks dashing!” She covers her mouth in horror. “I mean, yes, miss. I’m sorry for behaving in such a free manner.”

I touch her shoulder. “You don’t have to be so formal around me. I don’t mind if you think Monroe is dashing. I agree with you.”

She gives a flustered curtsy and flees the room.

Monroe enters and watches Serena’s departing figure. “What happened? Did you shout at her? Do I need to have a talk with her?”

“No, I didn’t and please don’t do anything. I think she’s shy.”

“Ah, yes. She’s been trained to say as little as possible, work quickly, and stay out of the way.”

“I like her, but I don’t want her to be afraid around me. She’s deathly scared of you.”

“Unlike my errant valet.” He pauses and gazes at me. “You’re a vision.”

“Serena found it.” I spin in a circle, giving him the full effect. “It’s not mine, though.”

“Yes, it is. I had the dress made for you. I didn’t want you feeling out of place. Things are more formal here.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Tucking a finger under my chin, he lifts my face. “It’s my pleasure to provide for you.”

“You’re being extravagant again.”

“No more protests. You look lovely.” He squeezes my hand. “We’ll go to breakfast and afterward stop at Bast’s castle. Alexia will be delighted to meet you. She’s been one of my greatest supporters.” Before I can say anything else he whisks me from the room.

After breakfast, Monroe leads me out into the courtyard.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” he says.

I tighten my hold. Monroe gives me a half-smile and closes his eyes. My vision blurs and dizziness encompasses me. Then things come back into focus. A gigantic door looms in front of us. Monroe bangs on it.

A man, slightly older than Ayres, opens the door. “Lord Monroe. I assume this is Miss Brighton?”

“Yes.” Monroe grins. “Sasha, meet Rictor, Bast’s ever-patient butler.”

Rictor gives me a polite bow.

Monroe rests his foot on the threshold. “Is your idiotic master awake?”

“He’s in the main parlor today, sir.” Rictor bows and Monroe leads the way through various stonewall passages. Portraits of men and women with dark eyes stare down at me as Monroe speeds down the hall. Like Monroe’s castle, Bast’s home is also drafty and I wish I had thought to bring a sweater.

At last we stop in front of a plain wooden door. “Bast, you misbegotten jackal, are you in there?” Monroe bellows.

“For love of the Third Realm, Monroe! One would think Miss Brighton would’ve encouraged manners in you,” a voice tinged with humor calls. “Come in, you foul lion.”  

Monroe bangs open the door. We step into a large, airy room filled with high-back onyx chairs padded with red cushions. In one of them, near a fireplace, a woman sits. Her long, black hair shimmers in the firelight. Deep purple and blue highlights sparkle in her tresses. Her hair cascades down her back, held in place by a silver headband. She wears a floor-length, shiny purple gown, with sleeves that stop an inch above the elbows. The skirt flows down to her feet. Silver bangles glitter from her wrists and a gold ring on her left hand catches the light. She’s the most elegant woman I’ve ever seen. How can I approach her? Then she smiles. The knot in my stomach loosens and I get the feeling I can tell her anything.

A man, a little shorter than Monroe, with sleek black hair, dancing dark eyes, and a huge grin on his face steps forward. He clasps Monroe’s free hand. “I see you finally brought Miss Brighton. Now we know who’s got you acting like a lovesick puppy.” He gives me a wink. “I’m Bastian J. Cantrell, but everyone calls me Bast.” He bows.

Monroe leans over and whispers in my ear, “We’d like to call him another name, but we don’t want to insult females or other canids.”

Bast shoots him a glare. “We have another name for Monroe, however no one wants an angry donkey.”

Monroe folds his arms. “He’s jealous because lions are better hunters.”

Bast raises an eyebrow. “Are you compensating for something, Monroe?”

A tinkling laugh fills the room. “Both of you stop.” Bast’s expression softens as the woman rises and glides over. “I’m Bast’s wife, Alexia.”

“Monroe says you are expecting. Congratulations.”

She glows. “Thank you so much, Miss Brighton.”

“Please, call me Sasha.”

Alexia gives my hand a tug. “Come by the fire and we’ll talk. The men can bring the coffee.”

“Go on,” Monroe whispers, “she won’t bite.”

I grimace at Monroe’s joke and sit in one of the chairs next to Alexia.

“I’ve never seen Monroe so happy,” she says. “He must love you very much.”

“He says he does.”

“No doubt.” In a soft voice she says, “And you, do you love Monroe?”

“I don’t know. He’s promised to give me time.”

“Monroe is a gentleman. We’ve been quite worried about him. You see, he and Bast are like brothers.”

Monroe and Bast pick up mugs of coffee and join us. Steam rises from the cups, sending a rich, chicory scent into the air.

“Alexia worries about everyone,” Monroe interrupts. “She’s acted as a mother would before she even conceived.”

“I can’t help it,” Alexia says. “Monroe needs looking after.”

“Do not,” he protests.

Bast laughs. “Sure you don’t. What about when you lose your temper? You need someone who can coax you out of it. I’m tired of being in charge of that.”

“No one asked you to,” Monroe retorts.

“Now, boys.” Alexia cuts in. “You keep arguing and you’ll give Sasha a bad impression. She’s not used to your banter.”

Monroe sits next to me and hands me one of the cups. “It’s Bast’s fault,” he says in my ear. “He brings out the worst in people.”

“I heard that.” Bast settles in the empty brown leather chair near Alexia. “Around him we can’t be happy. No smiling, either.”

“It would teach you a lesson if someone wiped that smirk off your face,” Monroe grumbles. “It’s only out of respect for Alexia that I haven’t done it.”

“You two are terrible.” Alexia shakes her head. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Monroe. I prefer my husband intact.”

I lean closer to Alexia. “Do they always behave this way?”

She eyes Monroe and Bast mischievously. “Yes, always. You and I are going to have our hands full keeping these two from ripping each other apart. The good news is, they actually love each other as family and wouldn’t do any serious harm.”

“That’s what Alexia thinks,” Monroe interjects. “I’ve no problems skewering her empty-headed husband.”

“If you could catch me before I’d run you through.”

Alexia claps her hands together. “Let’s remember we have a guest and we don’t want to scare the poor thing off.”

Bast’s expression changes to horror. “The Creator forbid! We’ll back to dealing with a woebegone lion.”

“Oh, thank you, Bast,” Monroe says, his tone sarcastic. “I appreciate your consideration of my feelings.”

“Anytime.”

“Perhaps,” Alexia says, “if Sasha doesn’t mind, you can go hunting and get your excess energy out. She and I can have a nice,
quiet
chat, while you two take your competition elsewhere.”

“Do you mind?” Monroe asks.

I shoo him off. “Go be a lion.”

Monroe presses a dramatic kiss on my lips.

Alexia laughs while Bast makes gagging noises. My cheeks burn.

Monroe tosses me one last smile, then stands. “Come on, Bast. Let’s see what we can stir up.”

“How about we try Bermont Woods this time? I hear the bison have come back.”

Monroe rubs his hands together. “A delicacy.”

“Not in front of Sasha,” Alexia scolds. “Bring me back a deer if you don’t mind. I prefer venison.” She turns to me. “In my current condition, I can’t transform and go with them.”

“Monroe and I talked about this a little.”

“Thank you for understanding. We’re generally in control of that side of ourselves, but going too long makes one antsy. It’ll be a while before I can hunt for myself, again.”

Bast kisses her cheek lightly. “I’ll bring you back an extra special one to make up for it.”

She pats his arm. “My sweet Bast.”

Monroe leans over to give me another kiss and Bast grabs his arm dragging him away. “Easy there, you aren’t married, yet.”

Monroe grumbles, but gives me a wink as they leave the room.

Once they’re gone, Alexia pulls her chair closer to mine. “Now we may talk.” When I don’t say anything, she sets aside her cup and gets comfortable in her seat. “Tell me about your world, the First Realm. I’ve never been there.”

“Not everyone lives in a castle. Mostly apartment buildings or houses.”

“The castles are family legacies. So, rather than tearing them down, most of us are content to furnish them for our own use.”

“There’s no magic in my reality, either,” I continue. “We do everything for ourselves, or use machines.”

She leans forward eagerly. “Tell me more.”

“For one thing, cars aren’t as fast as closing your eyes and willing yourself wherever you want to be.”

Alexia runs her hands over her stomach. “Are they comfortable? I’ve never ridden in one. Minuet Randolph rode in a couple when she met John. She told me it’s very different.”

“It is. You see the scenery and everything go by, whereas with magic it’s immediate change. Your way is a little disorienting.”

“I can imagine. Have you met Minuet and John?”