Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
There’s a moment when no one moves.
Then the prince murmurs something to one of his squires, and our servants rush forward to show them all the various places they’ll need to go, and I’m left standing at the bottom of the grand staircase, watching them all scatter.
My father observes them too, then beams down at me as if this is a good thing. As if being ignored by the handsome, blond-haired prince is an honor and a privilege instead of a slight. There are so many things I cannot say to him now! I cannot say that the eighteen-year-old prince who shook at the sight of me showed more interest than this man. I cannot say that perhaps I prefer the eighteen-year-old prince who at least had the good sense to be nervous!
I can’t say that because it wouldn’t be true. I had time to look at this new prince—Prince Jasper—in his riding clothes, and he had a man’s body, tall and muscled and strong, and before he spoke and let me know that he is not bothered with me, I felt a flush of desire and familiarity.
Within a minute, or perhaps two, the entrance hall is empty, and servants are making their way toward my father and me to soften the blow of being so thoroughly dismissed.
“Finally,” my father says, his voice soft, so it is like I am the only one who hears. “Finally, a prince who has shown interest! Leave him to his business, Cora. The two of you will meet tomorrow for tea.”
“I know, I was—”
“I need a messenger,” my father calls. “We need to get word to the other suitors today. Tell them to wait until requested, by order of the king.”
Chapter 8
Cora
With a kiss of my cheek, my father sends me back to my rooms without seeming to worry that I am angry. Perhaps I am in a rage! I cannot even decide why.
“I want to change,” I request sternly, controlling my voice as much as I can. It’s not often that I feel quite like a brat but once I’ve spoken I second guess my tone. “Please,” I add, knowing full well I cannot untie myself from this contraption.
It’s not Alice’s or Blanche’s fault that any of this has happened. I don’t know whose fault it is—whether it is mine, or my father’s, or some other party that wishes for me to become so frustrated by the prospect of marriage that I refuse entirely or settle for a man I do not want—but I shall not take it out on the women who are the closest people to me in the castle. “I want out of this gown now. Please.”
They fuss over me, taking off the outer layers carefully so that they don’t disturb my hair.
“You don’t need to worry about it. I will not be going down to dinner. Or lunch. I will…I will go ride. I need my riding clothes. And some food to take with me.”
“Princess, we—”
“If you are worried, then send a guard with a basket. I will eat by the stream. It will be good for me.” I lower my voice to add, “I need the fresh air.”
What I need is to get away from this castle, and this prince, and the way he didn’t even care to look at me. My emotions are a swirl of hurt.
I know I would feel much better if I had the shadow man’s hands on me again. If he would come and make me writhe on his cock. He cannot have been in my rooms more than an hour. I would not need more than an hour, and then I can guarantee my mood would be much improved.
Though nothing will improve the situation I am soon to find myself in.
Even if this prince decides he is interested in me, that could change in an instant. When the palace physician announces that I am not a virgin, whatever opinion he has of me will be forever altered. That is true of all the princes who have come to see me and left again without making any formal overtures.
I cannot decide why it bothers me so much more with this man than the others. Prince Jasper did not seem encouraged to please me. He did not seem motivated to kiss my knuckles, though he was in his riding clothes, so perhaps he was trying to spare me the scent of sweat and horse.
But why was he in riding clothes? Why did he ride here instead of traveling in a carriage? He had to have known I would be presented to him upon his arrival. That is the way it is done, and he is the one who sent word that he was coming, so it cannot have been a mistake.
Nothing about Prince Jasper makes any sense to me.