Fantastical (Fantasyland #3)(25)

“I hope you find it to your liking,” she mumbled, her eyes slowly lighting as she looked at me.

“It can’t not be. If it smells that good, I’m certain it tastes heavenly.”

“We’ve had few complaints,” she informed me, her voice getting stronger, her lips tipping up.

“I bet not,” I replied and finally looked around to see the inside of the pub was as appealing as the outside. I looked back at her. “You have a lovely place here.”

She bobbed again and pink came to her cheeks. “Thank you, your grace.”

I looked back around, noted the pub was filling and my eyes went to her. “Sorry, I’m keeping you from your duties.”

“It’s my honor, your grace.”

Wow.

I smiled at her. “If you get a quiet moment, get yourself a drink and come sit with us,” I invited.

“Bloody hell,” Tor muttered under his breath.

“No funning?” the proprietress breathed, so shocked at my invitation, she didn’t hear Tor.

I shot an irritated Tor a look then rearranged my face to smile at the woman. “No funning. I’m Cora,” I extended my hand to her and she jumped back like it hissed and bared fangs. “It’s okay,” I encouraged her.

She studied me then timidly lifted her hand and her fingers closed around mine as I felt a murmur run through the crowd.

“Liza,” she whispered as my fingers gave hers a friendly squeeze. “Liza Calhoon. My husband Rory and I own this pub.”

“Lovely to meet you,” I let her go and gestured to Noctorno. “My husband, Prince Noctorno.”

Tor glowered at me but composed his features to a benign (but still gorgeous) smile when he turned and inclined his head to Liza.

She bobbed again, dipped her chin low, stayed bobbed down and muttered reverently, “Your grace.”

“Rise,” he murmured and she did.

Uh… wow!

“I’m honored, to be sure,” she told him.

He inclined his head again.

She grinned at him then she grinned at me then she said, “Enjoy your meals.”

“I’m sure we will!” I assured her, her grin turned into a smile and then she twirled and scurried excitedly away.

The minute she did, the crowd’s low murmur rose and this was likely because the future king was in their midst but I didn’t care. My mind was awhirl.

I was a princess. My husband lived in a castle. And there was a huge amount of food right in front of me.

All was right in my world.

I tucked in.

I wasn’t wrong; the food was fan-freaking-tastic. I snarfed down a half dozen spoonfuls of scrumptious stew then stopped in order to cut into the bread.

“You want bread?” I asked Tor.

“Yes,” he answered.

I sliced while asking, “Can I see your castle?”

“You’ve seen it.”

I dipped out a huge wodge of butter and started spreading it before I looked at him. “Okay, then, can I see it again?”

He eyed me. Then he said, “We’d be safe there.”

I stopped spreading butter and stared at him. “We would?”

“The Shrew cannot practice on sacred land. All royal land is sacred land.”

Was he serious?

“Are you serious?”

He was chewing. I waited for him to swallow then he said, “Yes.”

I stared at him again, counted, got to two then exploded, “For God’s sake, Tor! If we’re safe in your blinkety blank castle, why’d you take me to a cave?”

His eyes narrowed and he commanded, “Quiet.”

“No,” I shot back, dropping his bread and the knife. “I want to know.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Dude, you took me to a cave!”

His brows knitted ominously and he growled, “I told you, I do not like this name.”

“I don’t care!” I returned heatedly and, might I add, loudly.

Mistake. Big one.

He rose from his seat and was around the table in a flash. Then I was out of my seat. Then I was in his arms. Then his hard mouth was on mine. Then his delicious tongue was doing equally delicious things in my mouth.

When my belly warmed, my bones turned to water, my ni**les were tingling, a surge of wetness gathered between my legs and my arms curled around his neck and held on for dear life, he lifted his head and I gazed hazily up at him.

He held me plastered to his body and he didn’t move back even an inch.

“When I say quiet, Cora, you be quiet,” he said low. “You don’t, I swear to the gods, I’ll keep at you until you do and I don’t care if that means I’ve got to throw your skirts up and take you on the bloody table. Am I understood?”

Oh dear.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“You’re a bloody princess,” he clipped.

“Okay.” I kept whispering.

“Act like one,” he ordered.

I nodded though I wasn’t certain what that entailed.

He glowered at me. I tried to look contrite.

Then he let me go and started to move around the table but as he did a wave of sound hit us, he moved back to me, his arm circled my waist protectively and we both looked at the wild, cheering like mad crowd.