The Serpent Prince (Princes #3)(23)

“Yes.”

“What did she do?”

“Nothing. What could she do, after all, against a giant snake?”

“Well, surely she—”

He cocked a stern eyebrow at her. “Are you going to keep interrupting me?”

She pressed her lips together as if to quell a smile and started peeling her apple. He felt warmth spread through him. This was so comfortable, sitting here with her and bantering. A man could relax to the point that he forgot all his cares, all his sins, all the butchery he had yet to do.

He took a breath and shook the thoughts away. “Angelica’s flock of goats began disappearing one by one, and she was at her wit’s end. True, she lived alone, but sooner or later the king’s steward would come to take count of the goats, and then how would she explain their depleted numbers?” He paused to take a sip of wine.

Her straight, solemn brows were drawn together as she concentrated on peeling the apple with a small knife and fork. He could tell by the pinch of her brow that she wanted to object to Angelica’s lack of fortitude.

He hid a smile behind the wineglass. “Then late one night, a poor peddler woman came knocking at the stick shack’s door. She displayed her wares: some ribbons, a bit of lace, and a faded scarf. Angelica took pity on the woman. ‘I haven’t a coin to my name,’ she told her, ‘but will you take this pitcher of goat’s milk in trade for a ribbon?’ Well, the old woman was glad enough to make the bargain, and she said to Angelica, ‘Since you have a kind heart, I’ll give you a bit of advice: If you capture the skin of a snake, you’ll have power over the creature. You’ll hold his very life in your hands.’ And with that, the old peddler hobbled away before Angelica could ask her more.”

The lady had stopped peeling her apple and was looking at him skeptically. Simon raised his eyebrows, sipped the wine, and waited.

She broke. “The old peddler woman just appeared out of the blue?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Why not?”

“Sometimes I have the feeling this story is being fashioned as you tell it.” She sighed and shook her head. “Go on.”

“You’re sure?” he enquired gravely.

She gave him a look from under terrifying brows.

He cleared his throat to cover a laugh. “That very night, Angelica crept to the cave. She watched as the giant serpent slithered from the dark recesses at the back of the cavern. It circled the blue-flamed fire slowly, and then there appeared the nude silver-haired man. Angelica crawled closer and saw that a great snakeskin lay at the man’s feet. Before her courage could leave her, she leaped forward and snatched the skin in her arms.” Simon ate a bite of the pie, chewing slowly to savor the flavor.

He looked up to see Miss Craddock-Hayes staring incredulously at him. “Well?”

He blinked innocently. “Well what?”

“Stop teasing me,” she enunciated distinctly. “What happened?”

His cock jumped on the word teasing, and an image formed in his demonic brain of Miss Craddock-Hayes stretched nude upon a bed, his tongue teasing her nipples. Christ.

Simon blinked and pasted a smile on his face. “Angelica had the Serpent Prince in her power, of course. She ran to the fire in the brazier, intending to throw the snakeskin into the blaze and thus destroy the creature, but his words stopped her. ‘Please, fair maiden. Please, spare me my life.’ And she noticed for the first time that he wore a chain—”

She snorted.

“With a small, sapphire crown hanging from it,” he finished in a rush. “What?”

“He was a snake before,” she said with exaggerated patience. “With no shoulders. How could he have worn a necklace?”

“A chain. Males don’t wear necklaces.”

She merely stared at him in patent disbelief.

“He was enchanted,” he stated. “It stayed on.”

She started to roll her eyes, but then caught herself. “And did Angelica spare his life?”

“Of course.” Simon smiled sadly. “Celestial beings always do, whether the creature deserves it or not.”

She carefully set aside what remained of her apple and wiped her hands. “But why wouldn’t the snake be deserving of salvation?”

“Because he was a snake. A thing of darkness and evil.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said simply.

He barked a laugh—too sharp and too loud. “Come, Miss Craddock-Hayes, I’m sure you read your Bible and know of the snake that deceived Adam and Eve?”

“Come, my lord.” She tilted her head mockingly. “I’m sure you know that the world isn’t that simple.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You surprise me.”

“Why?” Now, inexplicably, she was irritated at him. “Because I live in the country? Because my circle of friends doesn’t contain the titled and sophisticated? Do you think only those who live in London are intellectual enough to explore beyond the obvious in our world?”

How had this argument happened? “I—”

She leaned forward and said fiercely, “I think you are the provincial one, to judge me without knowing me at all. Or rather, you think you know me, when in reality, you do not.”