Kiss of the Goblin Prince (2 page)

He shook his head, his dark hair spilling over his shoulders. “This is practically summer.”

“Of course.” He was used to freezing Welsh winters and snow.

She draped the jacket around her shoulders, the lining still warm from his body. For a heartbeat she let herself be enveloped in his warmth and scent. Her body responded, craving a touch or something. It had been so long since she’d been close to any man. She pushed down the feelings. She was too old to fall over the first handsome man to offer her his jacket. Too old at twenty-seven. That little bit of envy grew a little more.

If she could, would she? If Brigit never knew, did it matter? She twisted the ring on her finger, then stopped, horrified at what she’d been thinking. Could she really betray the man she loved for a moment of pleasure?

Brigit counted out jumps and hops on the pavement, entertaining herself while they waited for the cars. Her handbag swung from her wrist. Amanda wanted to ask Brigit to stop, but she bit her tongue. She couldn’t wrap her daughter up in cotton wool and force her to sit still in case she had an asthma attack—no matter how tempting the idea.

Her gaze slid sideways, but Dai had his back turned to her and was studying the church. He probably wasn’t interested in her anyway. What man wanted an instant family? And if they did, it made her suspicious. On her other side, Roan and Eliza were talking softly. Their hands linked as if nothing could separate them.

That was what she missed the most. Having someone there. Someone she could count on. Someone to hold her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For just a moment she let her imagination wander. What would it be like to be held by someone other than Matt? To have more than Dai’s jacket around her? She shivered as if cold fingers traced the nape of her neck.

“The cars are here.” Brigit grabbed her hand.

Complicated
. She opened her eyes. Dating was complicated even without a fragile child that required constant attention.

Two black Jags parked in front of the church. Eliza had told them to be back in half an hour, but the wedding had taken less time than that. On the way here the guys had been in one and the girls in the other. Now Roan and Eliza would take one, which left her and Dai and Brigit with the other.

Dai held open the car door and Brigit slid into the backseat. Amanda followed, carefully swinging her legs in, knees together.
Stupid
slim-fitting dress
. Then he closed the door and got in the front. Out of the cool air, she took off his jacket and laid it on the seat, even though she wanted to keep it wrapped around her and hold on to his warmth a little longer.

She licked her lips, ready to try to get some answers. She had a hundred questions she wanted to ask, but quizzing him in the car probably wasn’t the best idea. Brigit listened to everything. With a small sigh, she leaned back and gazed out the window. Later.

Or maybe she was just making excuses to spend more time with him.

The chauffeur drove back through the city and stopped at the gourmet pizza shop not far from Eliza’s house. Dai went in and picked up the order. There was no fancy reception, just pizza and champagne. She watched as he walked back to the car, her fingers brushing his jacket. He didn’t move like someone who’d spent his life behind a desk. There was a grace that athletes and people who understood their body acquired. There was more to his life than study.

But it was much easier to label her attraction as curiosity and ignore the tightening in her belly. She touched the ring on her finger; she’d never taken it off. Couldn’t. Yet something about Dai made her want to explore the possibility.

Dai got back into the car and gave her a small smile as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. She forced herself to focus out the window. She didn’t have time to indulge or even dabble in lust, and Eliza’s new brother-in-law was definitely the wrong person.

***

With the pizza almost gone and an empty bottle of champagne sitting in the middle of the dining table, everyone eased back in their chairs. Pizza tasted better when it hadn’t been stolen and brought back to the Shadowlands. Dai’s lips curved. Everything tasted better when not eaten in the Shadowlands. He finished his champagne and flexed his fingers against the glass. He’d never expected to be eating in the Fixed Realm again, as a man. But then he’d never expected to live again as a man. For too many centuries he’d thought either the curse or a blade would claim him. Despite his years of magical study he’d never have guessed the cure to release him and his brother from two millennia of entrapment would’ve been as simple as love.

Then again, loving a goblin was never simple.

After everything they’d lived through, Roan deserved to be happy. He glanced at Amanda, who was pointedly studying her champagne. The gold band on her finger glinted in the light. She wore it even though her husband was dead—Eliza had been most helpful in filling in the details. Roan had made him and Eliza swear that neither of them would speak about the curse, goblins, and the Shadowlands to anyone, as if he were still king and could order the past away if no one ever spoke of it again.

Even if Dai lived for another two thousand years, he’d still wear the scars of his past. Unlike Roan, he couldn’t wash off the Shadowlands’ dust and move on. In the Fixed Realm the magic he’d studied became real and usable. If he let his vision slide, he could see the threads of magic that made everything…or that everything made, depending on the school of magical theory.

Roan and Eliza walked into the living room and put on some music. Amanda’s daughter slid off her chair and followed them, fascinated by the wedding—more than her mother had been. Amanda had smiled and nodded throughout the ceremony, but he’d seen the reservation in her eyes…and that wasn’t all he’d noticed. Even when he wasn’t looking at her, he’d felt her gaze on him. It was an odd sensation to be looked at and not have the viewer recoil in horror; he had to remind himself he no longer looked like a goblin. It was odder still to feel the fragile magic of attraction spin out from her and reach for him, seeking a connection he doubted she even knew she was making and he wasn’t sure he wanted.

For half a second he considered pushing the threads away, but he was curious. And he liked her smile—the unguarded one that lit her eyes and let him believe for a moment that he could live the lie Roan wanted him to and be a normal, modern man. For his brother he would do that today. Tomorrow…he’d see.

He put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. Amanda looked up and their gazes met. For half a heartbeat he saw more than he expected in her green eyes. More than a passing interest. Hunger, desire, longing—then she blinked and it was gone.

Maybe he imagined it, or saw his own emotions reflected there. After two thousand years as a cursed man, maybe he didn’t know what he was seeing or what he wanted. It had been so long since he’d had a choice. Even before the curse, his life had been in the hands of the Roman general Claudius. A hostage to guarantee Roan’s good behavior. All it had done was fuel their need for rebellion. Without the druid’s curse, they would have died Celtic warriors.

Amanda ran her tongue over her lower lip and leaned forward. He smiled, encouraging her attention even though he knew it was a bad idea. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to brush her off. He was too tempted to see how close he could get to the fire before getting burned.

“Was that Welsh you were speaking in the church?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but realized he couldn’t lie directly to her. “A dialect.” An ancient dialect no one else spoke. The language of the Decangli was as dead as the tribe.

“What did Roan mean when he said the vows were accepted? You’re not part of a cult?”

Dai laughed. “No cult.” He thought rapidly through the service to find an explanation. He couldn’t say the gods they’d been raised to believe had witnessed the vows. She wouldn’t accept that. Magic and gods didn’t go hand in hand anymore, people no longer believed in magic. “The ring bouncing thrice on the floor was sign of good luck. An old sign of good luck.”

More half-truths. If he wasn’t careful, he’d trip on his lies and be caught in a net of his own making. Music filtered into the dining room. A slow song. He knew he’d be escaping the house for a long walk when Amanda and Brigit left. He didn’t want to be in Roan and Eliza’s space. He needed to find his own place. Nineteen centuries of living with his brother in the Shadowlands was long enough.

Amanda nodded, as if accepting what he said as truth. “He loves her?”

“He does, with all his soul.” Or whatever was left of it after the curse. But that at least wasn’t a lie.

She stood and smoothed her dress over her hips in a gesture that drew his gaze without him realizing. He looked up before he was caught lingering over the curve of her waist.

“Do you dance?” Her voice was soft and uncertain.

“Pardon?”

She glanced at the table then back at him, this time speaking with more confidence. “It’s a wedding; will you dance with me?”

Amanda walked around the table, her steps short because of the narrow skirt of the dress. But it clung to her legs in a way he’d noticed as she walked down the aisle, and in a way he couldn’t avoid noticing now. He learned to control the physical response to attraction long before; the self-loathing that usually followed wasn’t as easy to contain.

He got up. “I’m not very good.” There’d been no call for dancing either as a Roman slave or as a goblin.

“You don’t have to be. It’s a slow song,” she said, like it explained everything.

Dai inclined his head. This wasn’t a battle he was going to win, and losing should be more enjoyable. Any other man would’ve leapt at the chance to dance with her, but instead he was wrestling with memories from his old life that threatened to poison his future.

He took her hand and her fingers curved around his. Her hands were cool and her touch light, as if she wasn’t sure about what she was doing. Her other hand skimmed over his chest to rest on his shoulder like a feather. He faltered for a moment, not sure what to do. He’d spent his life fighting both Romans and goblins, and too long at the mercy of Claudius. Was he even capable of the gentle touch Amanda deserved?

“On my waist,” she murmured, her lips curving in a small smile, as if she was just as hesitant as him.

“We could go into the living room.” His hand settled on her waist, the dress silky beneath his palm.

Amanda tilted her chin and looked up at him. “No, here is fine.”

She moved a little closer, her perfume not masking the warm scent of her skin. She moved slowly, her body lithe in his hands. They were close, yet he wanted to pull her closer and feel her against the length of his body.

But if he did, he knew what would follow and he could only resist so much before he would succumb to the sensation. He focused on the woman in his arms and the light touch of her hands on his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him without the intent to injure. Or the last time his hands hadn’t damaged all they touched.

He glanced down, but her eyes were closed. Her expression wasn’t one of contentment, but one of sadness. The gold wedding band on her finger shone in the light. He was standing in for the man she still loved. For a moment he wanted to be the one to remind her what a living one felt like—after all, she shouldn’t be wasting the life she had pining over what she’d lost. Life went on, whether you wanted it to or not. He’d learned that the hard way. In his next heartbeat, he knew he could never be what she needed. He knew his reactions weren’t right, and he would never be normal. He was too broken.

The song ended, but neither of them pulled away. Her hand remained on his shoulder, their fingers still linked. Those little, magical threads were already strung between them, creating a bond.

She opened her eyes and glanced up at him, then leaned a little closer. He wanted to kiss her to see how she’d react. But he took a breath and pushed down the sharp-edged desire. For a moment he’d let himself be lost and he didn’t want to spoil what had happened by taking something that wasn’t offered.

“Mom…”

Amanda pulled back and released his hand as if she’d been stung. The magic between them snapped. The loss was as sharp as a whip, then gone almost before he could recognize the sting.

Brigit glanced between her mother and him, and he knew he’d crossed a line that had never been drawn before. She’d never seen her mother with a man.

“Will you dance with me, Mommy?”

“Yes, of course, sweetie.” She took her daughter’s hand, but as she reached the archway leading to the living room, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her lips were parted a fraction as if she wanted to say something, but she just smiled and turned away.

Dai blinked slowly and let his vision shift so he could see the weave of magic. She might be walking away, but those tentative golden threads reached for him. This time he let his own meet hers halfway, even though he knew if she took them back it would hurt.

But it was his choice to make. After so many years his life was his own to command. No king. No Claudius. No curse.

He was free, and he was beginning to understand what that meant…even if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

Chapter 2