Fantasyland 03 Fantastical (20 page)

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 whipped 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.

And I needed to go back home because the
people here
hated
me.

Nope, they didn’t hate me, they
detested
me.

Nope, that wasn’t right either, they didn’t
detest me, they
loathed
me.

And they were not to be won over by bright
smiles and politeness and I hadn’t seen Tor all day for them to be
won over by us making out or bickering.

No, that day for the first day since I
arrived in this world, I had to go it alone. And alone I went it,
touring the castle and the city before I could take no more, slunk
back and decided that I might be falling in love with a warrior
prince, and he was pretty magnificent (in bed and out of it) and
his world was beautiful, but I couldn’t take this.

I couldn’t take it.

I had found out that the other Cora had been
there three days…
three days
… and in all her bitchiness she
had left devastation in her wake. She was cold, imperious,
demanding, haughty, impolite, patronizing and even cruel.

In all likelihood she hadn’t offended
everyone in the entire city; she didn’t have superpower nastiness
like Minerva had. But she did enough damage to those she came into
contact with that it was clear rumor had run rampant.

The further fact (I’d heard whispers) that
she had nothing to do with Tor, who was beloved (I’d heard straight
out comments muttered loudly behind my back or around my person)
not to mention the future king and therefore responsible for siring
an heir to secure the kingdom (which she was stopping him from
doing, again, I learned this from straight out comments) didn’t
make her popular
at all.

In fact, people thought there was something
wrong with her (as they would, Tor was hot and his princedom was
awesome) and whatever was wrong was
no good.

As with Perdita, they didn’t even try to
hide their contempt for Tor’s wife. Glares, scowls, catty, loud
comments and one man even spit in the path behind me as I wandered
the cobbled streets wishing to explore, be friendly and experience
Tor’s city.

But the spitting, which was horrid, wasn’t
the worst.

It was the maids I heard talking as I passed
them in the castle after giving them a cheerful smile.

“He doesn’t like her gardenia so now she’s
wearing one of his other women’s scents that we left in her room,”
one whispered loudly and then joined in with her mate’s
giggles.

One of his other women’s scents. That vast
collection of bottles were left behind by Tor’s other women.

And the collection was
vast.

And I was wearing one.

That tiny tear in my heart that started our
night at the pub which I thought was long since mended split
painfully further.

I was a friendly person, I was social person
and I considered myself pretty strong. I’d weathered being switched
to a whole different world and warrior princessed my way through a
fight with the vickrants, for God’s sake.

But I was not friendly enough, social enough
or strong enough to endure the quantity and intensity of hate
coming at me that day.

In fact, in the end, I felt almost unsafe
without Tor to watch over me.

And without Salem or Aggie (I was scared to
ask anyone where I could find Perdita so I could ask for Aggie, so
I didn’t), I spent hours with not a single kind soul around me.

And that was enough.

I could bear no more.

So I needed to get home before something bad
happened. Like I fell in love with Tor or got stoned to death by
his people.

“Please God, send me home,” I whispered
through my tears as the beautiful vista lay before me, a vista no
one in their right mind would ever wish to leave but one from which
I
had
to escape.

“Cora!”

I heard Tor’s voice shouting my name. It
wasn’t close but it wasn’t far.

Shit!

I hunched deeper into my chair and hastily
wiped my face with the drenched, lace-edged handkerchief I found in
the huge, walk-in wardrobe in Tor’s room.

“Cora!”

There it was again. And it was closer.

Crap!

The handkerchief wasn’t working so I dashed
my fingers across my face, thankful that I hadn’t attempted any
makeup heroics with the kohl pencil.

I heard boots on marble.

Fuck!

“There you are,” he said and I sucked in a
steadying breath. “Bloody hell woman, didn’t you hear –?”

I pinned a huge smile on my face and turned
it to him.