Page 84 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
“Well, simply because I chose to give up on my evil career does not mean I was willing to give up my independence. Take my advice, ladies: no matter how rich your husband is, you should always have your own income.”
“I’m a lesbian,” Franny replied bluntly.
“Oh, I apologize! I should say: no matter how rich yourspouseis.”
Brendon and I purposefully slowed our steps, allowing the others to get ahead of us, their conversation muffled by distance and trees. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice soft with concern.
“Nothing was too deep,” I assured him. “A few extra bruises may crop up in the morning, but I’m fine.”
“I know, I was the one who bandaged you. I meant … you ran out of the rehearsal. I wanted to go after you immediately, but I was a bit tied up.” His lips tilted in a rueful grin, though his eyes remained worried.
I didn’t know how to answer his question. The proposal and acceptance had come so easily, but now we had to talk about actual emotions, and I still didn’t quite know what mine were. “Watching the wedding, even though it was fake … I felt sick.”
“Because I was marrying your sister or …?”
I stopped and looked up at him. “Because you were marrying anyone other than me. But Brendon, I don’t know if I’m in love with you.”
He watched me without saying anything, sensing that I needed to gather my words.
“I might, someday, but with the kingdom spell … we don’t have a choice, and that terrifies me. What if, after all the adrenaline and shock wears off, we end up making each other miserable? I don’t want to trap you into anything—”
He cupped my cheek and I trailed off, waiting with baited breath for whatever he would say next. “For the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to being married. I want to be with you. Today, tomorrow, every day after that. I don’t know if it’s love, but I think it could be happiness.”
I gazed up at him, letting his words sink in. “God, that’s corny.” Before he could get too offended, I pulled him down for a kiss.
Chapter Thirty-One
Cyril and Lucinda parted ways with us outside of the forest to head back to town for the night. I heard Lucinda promise to sign copies of her books tomorrow after the festivities and both Franny and Kit practically skipped back to the castle, arm in arm.
“So, how long has Franny known about … everything?” I asked, watching them with a frown.
“The night before Kit arrived at the castle.”
“She knew Kit’s identitythe whole time?” On the one hand, I was glad Franny hadn’t somehow fallen in love with Kit thinking she was Brendon. On the other, that meant Franny had lied to my face from the beginning. Not that I’d been very honest with her over the past week.
“Your sister is more devious than she lets on,” Brendon replied. “You two have that in common.”
Devious was better than straight up ‘evil’ but still didn’t sound like something to aspire to.
He squeezed my hand and tugged me into the castle, then through the halls. I thought he might be bringing me to his room, but the next turn led to mine. “How do you know where my room is?”
He gave me a sly look, eyes hooded. “I may have already planned to seduce you tonight.”
I gasped like an outraged matron. “While you were still engaged to mysister?”
“It was her idea,” he said with a cheeky grin.
Unlike the tower, my bedroom door was unlocked, at least until he tugged me inside and slammed me against it. I winced and he paused, looking me over in concern.
“Too rough?” he asked. “Did we open any wounds?”
“A little.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss me. “But I’m fine.”
At first, he hesitated, still worried he’d gone too far. After a few seconds he matched my enthusiasm. Hands seemed to be everywhere—tangled in hair, slipping under clothes, clutching hips, and tweaking nipples.
Somehow we made it to the bed, a miracle since I hadn’t even remembered moving. Brendon pressed me into the mattress, one knee between my legs. We were both stripped to the waist and his pants hung low on his hips, almost forgotten in the excitement. His hand slipped down the back of my pants and I froze, clarity ruining my lustful haze.
Swallowing nervously, I tried to articulate the problem, but he kissed me again, stopping my words. I gripped his shoulder, digging my fingers into the muscle until he pulled away in surprise. “Pestilence,” I gasped, the only coherent word I could form.
