The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(38)

“What?” he asked, confused.

“You’re the curse. Or the answer to the curse. I’m not really sure which.” Love through supplication. He had forced her to submit and against all odds, she had fallen in love with the man. Just like the curse said she would. No one in her entire life had made her so angry and yet had made her feel so protected, understood and supported. This was a man who was strong enough to lean on. One worthy of love.

But it was all wrong. It couldn’t be.

“It doesn’t matter. All this doesn’t matter. My father…”

“You let me worry about your father.”

“You don’t understand there are marriage contracts signed, a substantial amount of gold coin involved,” she responded forlornly, still smarting from her father’s intention to sell her off like cattle.

Rhys watched her closely. “Is that what you care about most? Wealth and position? Is this really about me being a stable master?”

“No,” answered Beatrice without hesitation. Although she wished it were. It would be so much easier if she could just fall back on society’s rules about class. The truth was she was independent enough to believe she could make her own wealth. She didn’t need to marry into money. She didn’t need a prince. She needed a man who would stand up to her…stand by her. She needed him.

Rhys cupped her face in both hands. Searching her eyes before allowing his gaze to travel to her mouth. He tilted his head down, running the tip of his tongue over her full bottom lip, tasting her before delving deep. Capturing her mouth in a full kiss.

Beatrice’s world was tilting about her by the time he let her go.

“As I said, I will take care of your father.”

He was so confident, Beatrice was just hopeful enough to believe him.

“How about I take you for a ride?”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. Certain he didn’t just mean an innocent jaunt about the countryside.

“Sounds wonderful,” she said with a smile.

They emerged from the lavender stack and started to make their way out of the perfumery. Just as one of her workers were crossing their path, the man fell to one knee, “Your highness,” said the man, head bowed.

Beatrice looked at the worker with confusion. Raising her head to judge Rhys’ reaction to the absurd gesture, she was struck by his look of horror.

“Prince Rhysmont, as one of your countrymen, please allow me to say it is an honor to see you here,” continued the worker.

Beatrice took a step back. Prince Rhysmont. Rhys. Rhysmont. How could she have been so blind? So obtuse!

“Bea, let me explain,” began Rhys as he stalked toward her, arms raised.

Beatrice could only shake her head no as she backed away. The realization of his deception breaking over her. Before Rhys could stop her, she turned heel and ran. Knowing the layout of the perfumery far better than he, she was able to quickly lose him among the stacks of flowers and spices, slipping out a side door.

“Dammit,” thundered Rhys as he gave up his pursuit and ran for the front entrance, knowing instinctively where she would flee to.





Chapter Eight





“I know that isn’t a hunt saddle I see you putting on that horse,” warned Rhys as he walked into the stable.

“Go to hell,” spat out Beatrice without even looking at him, as she defiantly continued to saddle one of the estate’s horses after sending all the stable boys running away in fear. She glanced out the high bay window to the pasture beyond where Athena grazed. There had been no time to collect her.

Rhys turned to close the enormous wooden stable doors, placing the heavy wrought iron bar down to lock it. A small army would not be able to get through. She was alone with him.

“Bea, I’m not going to let you ride out unescorted, especially not astride.”

“You have absolutely no right to be giving orders to me. And don’t call me Bea!”

“As your husband, I have every right and I will call you whatever I damn well please…Bea.”

“You are not my husband nor will you ever be. You are nothing. Do you hear me?”

Rhys clenched his jaw, unprepared for how angry it made him to hear her deny what they shared.

“Just go back to whatever kingdom you came from, your highness, because there is nothing here for you now,” she furiously continued as she pulled the straps on her saddle tight.

Rhys let her continue to think she was leaving this stable on that horse while he went to the tack room to collect a few items. As he was quickly learning, Bea responded more to action than words. That was fortunate because he wasn’t a man who liked to stand around explaining how he should be obeyed, he would much rather show her.

He started by placing a hefty canvas bag filled with saddle blankets in the center of the stable after placing one large soft blanket on the floor. He then selected one of the larger saddles on offer. Black leather with a smooth wide seat. Placing the saddle over the canvas bag he returned to the tack room for several leather straps, careful not to choose any with buckles.

Beatrice watched him out of the corner of her eye. Having absolutely no idea what he was about. Refusing to feel slighted that he obviously didn’t care about her angry outburst. Apparently not, if he was continuing on with the subterfuge of being a stable master! Not that she cared. She was through with him. Through with the damn curse. To hell with the gypsy and to hell with her father. She was done with the lot of them.