Claimed & Seduced (5 page)

“From what he said he fell off his cambeest.” It wouldn’t do to tell the entire truth because the questions would be incessant.

“Where would you like to break your fast? Should I set the table in the formal room?”

“No, something informal out on the terrace would be nice. It’s a beautiful morn.”

“Good idea,” Hortese said and her hair tendrils practically danced above her head such was her excitement. “I’ll prepare a tray while you change. Hilda is busy with the berry wine.”

She sped off before Keira could thank her. Change her clothes? The prince had already seen her in this casual garb. Besides, she didn’t want him to think she was primping. No, better to stay as she was and enjoy the novelty of someone pleasant to share her day. Running the farm was a hard and lonely business. If it weren’t for Hortese, Hilda and Melvyn, she might have given up long ago.

Footsteps in the hallway told her Jarlath was back, and she pasted on a welcoming smile. “Is your cambeest settled?”

“Once he got over the shock of the nosy malpacks half his size. You have a decent herd, and they’re fairly uniform in their gray coloring. Do you breed them for meat or for their fleeces?”

“Their fleeces. Marcus started the herd with two purebreds and the herd grew from those foundation breeders. I sell off yearlings each season and purchase one or two new additions to keep diversity within the herd. Malpack fleece is in high demand and goes into many clothing replicators as a base material. Come out to the terrace. We’ll sit out there to enjoy the morn.”

Very conscious of the prince at her back, she strode down the hallway, past the stairs leading to the next level and into the large family room with the enormous portrait of Marcus and out the double doors onto the terrace. The scent of flowers hit her straightaway, centering her as it always did. As a child of the Greenmont tribe, she had an affinity with plants and nature. Another reason to reject marriage to a casino boss, gambling in all forms being the main source of income for the House of Cawdor.

“Keira, this is beautiful. Who takes care of the garden?”

Jarlath’s warmth distracted her, his fresh scent pulling her body to sensual awareness. Memories of her vivid dreams brought a burst of heat to her cheeks.

“Keira?”

“I take care of the garden,” she said, her words almost tripping over each other. “It’s in my genes. My mother comes from the Greenmont tribe on Gramite.”

“The House of Cawdor are the dominant rulers on Gramite,” Jarlath said.

“Yes.” Not much more to say. The House of Cawdor and the House of the Cat were often at war. Xavier Cronan and his Cawdor council coveted the natural mineral deposits of Viros and plotted to gain ownership. A cease-fire was in effect, but relations strained to breaking point.

“How did you meet Marcus and undertake a union?”

“Marcus made the arrangement with my mother during a time of relative peace.” Blunt words. The facts, yet this truth hid so much.

“Do you miss your home?”

“No.”

“But here on Viros, the locals aren’t cordial toward you.”

“No, they’re not, but this is my home. I have my gardens and the farm to occupy myself. Hortese, Hilda and Melvyn for company.”

“But you’re lonely.” Jarlath stared out over the garden, his attention diverted, yet she was ultra-aware of him and the simmering attraction between them.

“You don’t know me,” Keira said, stung at her transparency. She
was
lonely, yet hearing the prince state the fact made her seem a helpless loser.

“I’m surrounded by family, by friends and servants. I am lonely, so I think I might recognize the trait in others.” Jarlath turned his attention on her, his visage ablaze with lust and passion. “Since the first moment I saw you, I’ve wanted to steal a kiss. Will you allow me?”

He was lonely too? That didn’t seem right. He was the prince and heir to the throne.

“Keira? Are you ignoring me or have I made you speechless?”

Her defensive shell snapped into place. While her upbringing might be humble and low key, she wasn’t stupid. He was playing, teasing her. “Is that why you left your bed so early? Because you wanted a kiss? Any woman in the kingdom would kiss you. I’m sure you don’t lack for offers.”

“You see me as a man rather than an instrument for advancement. I trust you.”

Keira barked out a laugh and clapped a hand over her mouth to dam her amusement. When she couldn’t stop her grin, she let her fingers fall away, giving up her fight for decorum. “Marcus’s son and daughter would say I am most untrustworthy. They’d tell you to flee before I sink my claws into your tender heart.”

“You believe in love?”

She sighed, wondering how their conversation had morphed into this morass. “Love isn’t a fashionable concept on this planet, but my people—my mother’s tribe—believe in having a true mate. This is the belief I was raised with, and I’m afraid the concept stuck.”

“My parents married for expediency. I believe they like and respect each other but I have never seen them act with true affection.”

“How did we get on this maudlin subject? Ah, here comes Hortese with our tray. Please take a seat, Prince Jarlath.”

“I like it better when you call me Jarlath. It’s nice to avoid thoughts of the castle and duty.”

Keira stared, caught by the humor glinting in his beautiful green eyes. While she sensed intimacy was a mistake, she agreed to his request. A flutter of internal wings beat against her breastbone, the Cawdor part of her heritage urging her to go ahead, to give in to instinct. Friends, she told herself sternly and the crow settled with a grumpy
caw-caw
resounding through Keira’s mind.

Much to her father’s displeasure her half-breed status didn’t let her shift to a crow, which meant his ability to use her as a marriage bargaining chip hadn’t been as successful as he would’ve liked. Flying stars, this talk of loneliness was leading her along memory paths she chose to ignore.

“Jarlath, would you like me to serve your meal?”

“Yes, please. Do you sell the produce from your garden?”

Keira handed him a cup of steaming tay. The pale green liquid bore a mint-fresh taste and cleansed the digestive system. “Hortese and Melvyn help me run a market stall once a week in town. Sometimes we attend the night market in the castle square. We sell most of our garden produce at the markets, and I employ several locals to package and process our crops.”

“Would I have heard of your stall?”

“The HKM stall.” Keira handed him a glass of breakfast parfait. “This contains some of the berries you helped me pick.”

“It’s bound to taste delicious then,” Jarlath said. “From memory HKM supplies the castle.”

“Yes, a man called Saulite runs the operation. I keep to the background because the minute I show my face conversation falters and the whispers begin.”

“But the charges against you were dropped.”

“Doesn’t matter. I come from Gramite and my husband died in mysterious circumstances. I faced the indignity of not one, but two public trials. I am a pariah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. The situation just is, and I must accept the circumstances. I could depart and start over on another planet, but I find myself stubborn. It’s too much trouble to leave and begin again.”

Jarlath nodded in agreement. “Sometimes it’s easier to go with the known quantity.” He spooned up a mouthful of the parfait and groaned in appreciation. “It’s tasty.”

Keira grinned and applied herself to eating. They made short work of the parfaits and the sliced fresh fruits on the tray. Hortese had also included some of Hilda’s savory pastries, and Jarlath devoured two.

“That was delicious,” he said, reclining back into his ergo chair. The chair adapted to his relaxed posture and he gave a satisfied sigh of approval. “If I’m not careful, I’ll go to sleep.”

She had the luxury of open scrutiny since his eyes remained closed. He appeared calmer today, as if he’d left the stiff royal part of his personality back at the castle.

“Do you have any specific tasks to carry out today?”

“Yes.” His reply was short and didn’t encourage questions.

“I’ll make sure I send you on your way soon.” Keira kept her voice light and cheerful, despite disappointment striking at the idea of him leaving. He’d mentioned a kiss, and although she pondered his motives, she would have enjoyed an embrace with a handsome man.

“Not before I get my kiss.” He cracked his lids open to focus on her. “I was serious about that.”

A shudder of longing speared through her along with a punch of heat. It was as if he’d read her mind. Her thoughts skipped on to the meat of his words. Oh to be held again in the arms of a muscular and attractive man. One who desired her as she desired him in return.

“That wouldn’t be proper.”

“Fukk proper,” he muttered. “I suppose it wouldn’t be correct to tell you that last night I dreamed about tasting you. Every part of you. Your mouth. Your breasts. Your quim. I dreamed of removing your black trews to reveal your sassy arse. I imagined undressing you until you were naked.”

Keira felt her mouth drop open as she stared at him, and the heat in her face intensified. His gaze blazed with such passion and longing. His words weren’t a line designed to get her into his sleep-bed.

“I imagined the hot, tight fit of your quim as I pushed my cock inside you.” His voice had lowered and taken on a sexy rasp.

She stared, mesmerized by his words, by the pictures they painted. By him. “Then what?”

“I woke up way too early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to visit you instead of following my normal routine.”

“I see.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “How could you when I don’t understand it myself?”

His words were low and private, but her hearing was good, a trait from the Cawdor side of her bloodline.

“I was going to pick some herbs to prepare for the market,” she said abruptly. “Would you like to help?”

“No one ever asks me to do anything. They always want to do things for me.”

“Well, in that case, let me put you to work. I also need to pick some nuts. You’re much taller than me, so you can take charge of that duty.”

Jarlath rolled to his feet and held out his hand to help her rise. “It would be my pleasure.”

Keira nodded, pleased by his acquiescence, although she wished he’d follow through on his desire to kiss her. An informal breaking of their fast was fine, but jumping the prince might take things past right and proper.

I
nstinct had led him to Keira, and he was glad he’d allowed himself the freedom. The woman was beautiful, so sexy and gorgeous that all he wanted to do was touch her. Kiss her. Hell, why not add even more honesty to the equation. He wanted her full stop. And wasn’t that a kick in the gonads. She came from an enemy planet and was an accused murderess. Add the fact she was a widow and not a virgin, she was firmly in the unsuitable associates camp.

Try telling that to his cock, to his feline, to the man.

The sec he’d entered her presence, his feline had stirred, his other form moving even more insistently than the day before. He’d need to attempt a shift again once he reached the privacy of his rooms to test his theory, but it appeared his feline recognized something in Keira and wanted to interact.

“Where do I harvest these nuts? Are they for the market?”

“Yes, later today, Hortese and I will shell and roast them. We’ll grind some into a paste. The nut paste goes well with a slice of fleur-bread. The rest we’ll sell to market goers to snack on as they wander the square.”

Jarlath accepted a basket and followed her out into the colorful garden. Plants of many varieties bloomed in profusion. He had no idea of the names, but the vibrant colors leapt out and demanded visual attention. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Purple. Even gold and silver. The scents were just as intoxicating as the colors and textures. Keira had a true gift since the castle gardens were a mere shadow of her plot.

“This is the tree. Pick the bright yellow nuts. They are the mature ones.”

“Where will you be?”

“I’ll be clipping herbs from the next row over. We’ll be close enough to talk if we speak loudly.”

And disturb this slice of heaven? Jarlath set to, picking the yellow nuts. As Keira said, the mature nuts were high in the branches, probably because she’d already harvested the lower level. His sat-com vibrated in his pocket. Jarlath paused to check the screen. Ellard. He pushed a button to silence the call and returned the com to his pocket. His conscience almost got the better of him but he was safe. He deserved some freedom.

But Ellard will worry
.

Sighing, Jarlath removed his sat-com and entered a text message.
I need time alone to think. Safe. Will return before dusk
. That done, he resumed picking nuts.

“Do you work this hard every day?”

“I like to keep busy.”

Jarlath found himself frowning. He was happier doing things too, although most of the duties his father delegated to him were of administrative nature. He had no true purpose except, according to his parents, finding a suitable candidate for wife. Apart from that, all he did was make appearances during formal occasions and charm visitors. Gods, no wonder he was feeling restless.

Not long ago he’d chided his brother for his careless attitude. His parents disliked Lynx engaging in trade, yet his brother persisted in hauling freight from one planet to the next. For the first time Jarlath understood. Everyone needed a purpose, a task to complete. Pride came with honest toil.

“How many staff do you employ?”

“Here at the farm there is Hortese, Hilda and Melvyn who work fulltime. We hire locals from the village if we require extra staff. I also employ people at the factory and weavers to turn the malpacks fleece into cloth to sell to the replicator manufacturers.”

Not only beautiful but an astute businesswoman. He let his mind drift back to her body. Shorter than him but strong and feminine. He should have kissed her when he first mentioned the subject instead of yakking like a chatter-bird.

A bark of amusement escaped him at the thought. Cristo, he’d never spoken to a woman in that manner before, yet she hadn’t balked at his frank language or—fukk dirty—conversation. If anything, she’d appeared intrigued.