The Prince With No Heart (6 page)

Violet sighed as if she regretted what she was doing. With half her attention, she petted the black fur on the donkey’s nose. “I swear to you, on my honor, this is your horse Balthus.” She bit her lip and swallowed. Augustin tensed at whatever she was girding herself to say. Her right hand clenched in a little fist.

“
The true prince sees beyond appearances
,” she burst out.

Her voice rang across the yard. To judge by her flush, she hadn’t meant to speak that loudly. Shocked at last by the stranger’s boldness, the merriment around them died.

“Care to repeat that?” Augustin asked softly.

She leaned closer, speaking only to him. “The true prince sees beyond appearances. Please, your highness. Mount him and you will see.”

Both Augustin’s eyebrows rose. “
Mount
him?”

“Your people love you, your highness. They will not think less of you if you go along with their fun.”

He gaped at her, staggered by her cheek. A beggar girl, giving
him
advice about his people.

“Please,” she said humbly. Beside her, as if it were agreeing, the donkey jerked its head up and down.

He had no reason to trust her, and couldn’t say precisely why he gave in. The plea in her eyes perhaps, or his knowledge that his sense of humor regarding himself wasn’t always the best.

“Very well,” he said. “I will ride ‘Balthus.’”

Cheers broke out around the bailey, taking some of the sting from the earlier laughter. Resigned to get through this, the prince swung into the saddle, the donkey short enough to make this no chore. Unfortunately, in addition to being short, the donkey had a belly like a rain barrel. Augustin’s legs stuck out as he made a circuit around the yard. He did his best to play along with the cheering, nodding gravely and waving at his admiring audience.

By the third turn around the dirt, he’d had quite enough. Servants from other parts of the castle were starting to stick their heads out the windows that overlooked the courtyard. Augustin rocked back in the saddle in preparation for dismounting. As he did, something snapped underneath his rear. He reached around to remove whatever it was and found a large walnut, split neatly down the middle. Inside, where a nut should have been, was a white sugar cube. Augustin tipped it into his palm and stared, hardly noticing that the donkey had stopped walking.

When he looked up, Violet was grinning at him from the front of the crowd. She looked so happy, so
approving
that for a moment he lost his breath. It occurred to him that sugar cubes were Balthus’s favorite treat in the world.

Ah
, he thought.
More magic
.

He swung out of the saddle, holding up the white cube for all to see. Then, with a flourish he hadn’t known he had in him, he fed the confection to the donkey.

If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed. The air around the fat donkey shimmered, and sparkled, and suddenly his stallion Balthus stood before him, noisily chomping his reward. Balthus wore his own tack and saddle. The only change from his usual were the daisies wound through his contentedly swishing tail.

The corners of the prince’s mouth tugged up. He couldn’t deny the lethal warhorse looked cute.

“Very clever,” he conceded to Violet, his compliment covered up by the general
oohs
and
ahs
.

“Extraordinary!” Eugenie or maybe Emmanuelle exclaimed behind him. “Madrigar is indeed a kingdom of wonders!”

Augustin could not respond. He was too busy watching Violet clap for him, seeming more pleased on his behalf than she was at pulling off this marvel. A knot of warmth swelled within his breast. The tangle hurt, but it felt good as well.

Almost as if he did have a heart in there.

Augustin arrived for the evening meal “dressed like a proper prince,” as his mother was wont to say. Snug black hose encased his legs, with a short, pleated sky-blue tunic to top them off. His full sleeves were slashed, and his black velvet cap bore a small feather. He’d brushed his shoulder-length wavy hair and shaved. All in all, he looked the part the queen wanted him to play.

He was afraid looks were as deep as it went. As little attention as he was paying, the musicians up on the balcony might as well have been squawking birds.

He kept seeing Violet beaming at him across the stable yard.

Women didn’t smile at him that way. They seduced. They flirted. In Eugenie’s case, they simpered. Sometimes they giggled like girls when he bedded them. They didn’t smile as if they were happy
for
him, as if he might be worth admiring for more than his masculine beauty or his sexual prowess.

Violet smiled at him like a friend would do.

He shook his head at the servant who was offering him a meat platter. His plate was full of things he was not eating. He sipped his wine, then twirled his silver soup spoon around his fingers. Because he wasn’t being careful, he failed to evade his mother’s meaningful frown. She probably wanted him to converse with the princesses. His father sat at the table’s head beside her, smiling faintly at everyone. The king of Madrigar was so genial, so sweet natured and biddable that it was no wonder his mother ran the country.

What Augustin needed was a wife whose nature was more like Violet’s. With a queen like her, they could rule side by side.

The thought shocked his fingers into fumbling on his spoon. The utensil spun through the air and fell with a loud clatter.

“Bad luck!” Eugenie declared with her tinkling laugh.

“No, it’s good luck,” Emmanuelle contradicted. “It means company is coming.”

If
they
were the company, Augustin thought they both had the right of it. Patience snapping like a twig, he rose from his chair and bowed.

“Forgive me,” he said when everyone looked at him. “I have personal business I must see to.”

He saw the glare his mother shot him but stubbornly ignored it. His steps lengthened to strides as he left the room, eagerness speeding through his veins. He had the irrepressible sensation that freedom was just one leap ahead - though he knew that was unlikely.

Pride be damned. He couldn’t hold the bowstring a moment longer. He had to take another shot at his beggar girl.

* * *

Violet didn’t know whose decision it had been to leave Balthus in the spacious stall underneath her loft. Maybe the horse had determined it. He looked suspiciously pleased with himself as she brushed the curry comb down his side.

Squares of moonlight slanted in the barn windows, allowing her to work without a lantern. Violet often cared for her mare this way. To her, the steady stroke of the brush was soothing. As she found a spot Balthus liked having rubbed on his croup, he blew out his breath and stood hipshot. He was a huge animal, far taller than she was and all rippling muscle under his gleaming coat. She should have been intimidated, but when he swung his head around and smugly batted his equine lashes, she couldn’t be anything but amused.

To her relief, he seemed none the worse for having been temporarily turned into a donkey.

“I know your secret,” she murmured. “Let a woman get her hands on you, and you’re nothing but a big baby.”

“Some would say all males are.”

Every nerve in her body tingled.

“Augustin,” she said, remembering too late she should call him
your highness
.

He certainly looked nice enough to deserve the formal address. He leaned in the moonlit entrance with his strong arms crossed and his church-door shoulders casting a broad shadow. The princesses’ lovely gowns had given her a sting this morning, but they paled next to his outfit. The prince’s tunic and hose were finer than anything she owned, and so well fitted she had no trouble picturing how he’d look naked. He must have been accustomed to them. He didn’t seem worried about dirtying them here.

He pushed off from his perch as she stared, the way he stalked toward her making her nervous and very wet. His legs were gorgeous in those tight hose. She couldn’t help wishing she could see his rear view too.

Remember the fairy’s warning. If you let this man inside your body, you’ll forget everything you owe your people
.

Her tempter stopped outside the metal gate to the stall, a barrier Violet doubted was stout enough. She struggled to speak lightly. “Does this visit mean you’ve forgiven me for embarrassing you?”

His mouth slanted on one side, its lush shape apparent even in the low light. “I could be convinced to.”

His voice was husky. Violet’s tongue crept out to her lips.

“Come out of there,” he coaxed. “Thanks to you spoiling him, Balthus has fallen asleep.”

She came, but only because she didn’t want to disturb the horse. Well, not
only
because of that. The prospect of being close to Augustin also drew her. He took her hands, tugging the tips of her sturdy boots to his jeweled slippers. A tremor that had as much to do with nerves as desire skittered across her shoulders.

Though she was a princess herself, he seemed far too grand for her.

“What do you want of me?” she asked, gazing the long distance up to him.

His long-fingered hand smoothed a fallen lock behind her ear. “Everything,” he said, watching his movements and not her eyes, “but I would settle for you balancing the scales between us.”

She didn’t need his heated gaze to explain what he meant. Her nipples swelled and tightened, her clit tickling the folds that protected it. Those three sharp points pulsed in time to her quickening heartbeat. “You want me to take your prick in my mouth.”

Again the prince stroked the side of her face, finishing with one thumb pressed to the dent in her lower lip. “I’d love to feel this pretty mouth on me. If you’re shy, I can teach you what I like.”

Violet’s grin broke out before she could stop it. He might be surprised to know how little
teaching
she required. “I promised my father I would remain a maid, not that I was innocent.”

* * *

Augustin had seen expressions like hers before. Their feyness almost always led to heady pleasures. His body should have reacted as usual: with healthy but not dramatic interest. Instead, his pulse careened straight into a gallop, his already eager cock punching a good inch longer in his codpiece.

Still smiling, Violet put her hands on his waist. Her fingers were hot, her thumbs gently squeezing his taut muscles. That small compression made his cock lurch toward her again. The reaction must have been strong enough to see.

Violet quirked her brows at him. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I am,” he rasped, too aroused to be embarrassed.

She began nudging him backward. “You’d better lean your shoulders against that wall.”

She was suggesting his legs wouldn’t hold him up. That didn’t seem possible; he was extremely fit and no stranger to this act. All the same, he let her direct him. When he was positioned as she thought good, her hands slid down the sides of his hips and legs. The shiver this stirred surprised him. Maybe she
was
going to have more than the usual effect.

She was on her knees, reaching under his hip-length tunic for the points that held up his hose. Augustin abruptly found himself unable to leave everything to her.

“I want to remove this,” he said, wrenching out of his constricting tunic. He tossed it somewhere, his eyes closing heavily as her hands slid under his linen shirt to his bare torso.

How good her touch felt shocked him. Had his nerves been asleep before meeting her? He’d never thought that to be the case, but his breath came faster as her fingertips skimmed his belly’s ridges. Light as air, they whispered around his navel, tickling the curly edge of his pubic hair. It was a tease he wasn’t sure he could stand. The veins in his cock beat like soldiers marching, the tip leaking heat for her. If she didn’t touch it, he was going to die.

She undid the fastenings of his codpiece and let it fall.

“Please,” he said, then clamped his jaw against more begging.

She ran the back of her slender fingers up the thick underridge, her head close enough to his groin that her breath fanned him. At the top of her stroke, she turned her hand so she could drag her fingertips down the reverse route. The delicacy of the caress made his balls shiver.

“You’re beautiful everywhere,” she marveled.

She pulled her second hand up his thigh, ruffling the hair along it before curving her palm gently around his testicles. He groaned deep in his chest, unable to keep it in.

“Move your feet apart,” she said.

For some unholy reason, being told to do so by her caused his prick to jerk higher. The hand that cupped his balls pushed farther around them. Her fingertips found the stretch of smoothness between his anus and scrotum, pressing firmly and kneading it. The prince’s teeth nearly split his lip. Sensation spread out from her palpations in hot tight waves. His sphincter clenched on itself. It felt like Violet was squeezing pleasure straight into his prostate.

“Jesus,” he gasped. “All right, you’ve done this before.”

She laughed, the chuckle so smugly pleased he couldn’t help smiling. She’d known all along what she was doing. “Shall I suck you now, your highness?”

He answered by spearing his fingers into the night-cooled silk of her hair. His eyes had been closed before, but this he had to watch.

She bowed to him like a dream, lips parted, breath coming quick and warm. When her lips molded to his crest, another shock kicked through him. Her mouth was soft and just wet enough. She pushed an impressive ways down his shaft, not quickly but with her tongue rubbing sweet delight into his underside. Those licking motions felt a bit too good for his self control.

As to that, watching his cock slide into her mouth pushed him too close to the edge. Panting, he pulled one hand from her hair and curled it into a fist, hoping this would help him restrain his urge to shove straight into her throat. Experienced or not, she wouldn’t welcome that. Continuing to torment him, she pulled up as slowly as she’d gone down, her rosy lips a band of tight satin around his shaft. Then only the head of his prick was in her.