Fantastical (Fantasyland #3)(48)

Tor didn’t respond just brushed his thumb across my bottom lip.

Nice.

“And,” I went on, “it’s important that I learn to do those things well.”

“I’m a patient teacher,” he informed me.

“You didn’t seem all that patient ten minutes ago.”

His lids lowered sending his sexy look off the charts then his head lowered and he brushed his mouth against mine but didn’t take his lips away when he spoke.

“I’ll be more patient next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yes, next time,” he replied, rolled so he was on his back and I was on top of him, his hand lifted the fall of my hair at the side of my head, gliding back so his fingers cupped the back of my head and put pressure on, bringing my face closer to his, “which starts right… about…” my lips touched his, “now.”

Then he kissed me.

Then he took his time showing me another way to be the best princess I could be.

And it was freaking magical.

Chapter Fourteen

I Wasn’t Myself

I heard the sound of heavy draperies being pulled back, bright sunlight touched my closed eyelids and I felt my mouth curve in a satisfied smile.

Hell, if it was physically possible for me to purr, I would do it.

I was on my belly, na**d as the day I was born. I felt the covers were up over my bottom, exposing my back and I stretched out my arms, arched my back into the bed and opened my eyes.

I was thinking of all my princess instruction, and there was a lot of it, three and a half lessons (the half was Tor going down on me and it must be said, the man could use his mouth), and just how much I liked every nanosecond of my lessons (and boy, did I like it) when I looked around the massive room expecting I’d see a handsome (hopefully naked) man letting in the light.

But I didn’t.

I saw a buxom woman wearing a kerchief on her head, a long, white apron pinned to the front of her long dress and a dour expression on her face.

Eek!

I yelped, yanked up the covers and whirled to my back, lifting up to sitting.

She crossed her arms on her chest and glared virtual daggers across the room at me.

“Uh…” Shit! “Heya,” I called.

“Your breakfast, your grace, will be served in your sitting room,” she announced in a cold voice.

“Um… my sitting room?” I asked.

She stomped to a door and slapped a hand on it then turned back to me.

“Sitting room,” she said on a near snap. “Of course, I understand, it being so long since you’ve slept in your husband’s bed, you’d forget.”

Oh dear.

“Uh…” I mumbled.

“I’ll leave you to dress but I’ll speak to you during breakfast regarding any of your instructions for my staff.”

She said “my” in a highly proprietary way leaving me to understand precisely what she meant.

They were not Cora’s staff. They probably were Tor’s but they were definitely not Cora’s and in his absence, whoever she was, they were also definitely hers.

“Um, okay,” I said softly.

“If you see one of my staff in the meantime, I’ll ask you to delay in any instructions you might have for them until you can share them with me.”

I was thinking Tor didn’t pay enough attention last time Cora was there. I was thinking Tor was wrong about just his men hating her because she didn’t warm his bed. I was thinking Cora was an even bigger bitch than ever and that was saying something.

“I can do that,” I replied carefully.

She nodded her head once.

“I’ve laid out your clothes. Those and anything else you may need for your toilette,” she stomped to another door and slapped a hand on it, “will be in your dressing room. If you would be so kind,” she spat the last two words, “ten minutes before you require it, pull the cord so we’ll know when to serve your breakfast.”

“Sure thing,” I said quietly, she squinted at me, sniffed then stomped out of the room wafting so much frost in her wake, I shivered.

Then I looked around the room wondering where the f**k Tor was.

Then I slithered around on the bed searching the sides for my nightgown, found it, snatched it up, pulled it on and darted to the privy off the bathroom thinking thanks, Cora, just what I need, another mess you’ve gotten me into.

* * *

As requested, ten minutes prior to needing it, I pulled the pale blue velvet, tasseled cord in the dressing room (a very pretty room, a lot smaller than the bedroom, painted a soft yellow accented in pale blues, creams and lavenders with a beautifully painted screen, a chaise lounge covered in lavender velvet and a dressing table topped with a bunch of fancy bottles and other fairytale land beautification detritus).

I found my time in the dressing room a little nerve-wracking considering I didn’t entirely understand the clothing that was laid out for me.

I mean, there was a lot of it. I couldn’t possibly have to don it all.

Then I realized that it wasn’t one outfit, but a selection.

I made my selection and noticed two things. One, these clothes were of far superior quality to what I had been wearing and two, they were very different than what I had been wearing.

And they were exquisite.