Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
His lips landed on her shoulder. “What do you think of that?”
“March, stop,” she gasped, trying to step backward. But there was nowhere to go.
His kisses moved up her neck. “We will be wed in a few months, Kerrigan. It is not as if this would be your first time.”
No, she had been with Fordham while they were at Waisley, her ancestral home. March had had spies reporting on her movements and threatened to sue her for her infidelity.
Kerrigan pushed him backward. “That hardly matters.”
“No one will know.”
She felt weak in his presence. His height and arms caging her into the alcove. Not that he could overpower her. She had stronger magic than him. She was hardly powerless in this situation, but the last thing she wanted was to draw out his wrath.
“I will know,” she said venomously.
He smiled at the edge in her voice and then crushed their lips together. Kerrigan gasped. She hadn’t thought that he would have the audacity. Up until that moment, he had played the perfect gentleman. Perhaps more into her than he had been during the Season, but still … he should have never initiated this.
“March, stop,” she cried, pushing against him.
He pulled back enough to trace a finger across her bottom lip. She jerked away.
“Why? If I could, I would have taken you right there on the battlefield. You were still covered in blood from your victory. A cloud of red curls framing your face, and you had never been more beautiful.”
Kerrigan swallowed. “This isn’t proper.”
“Fuck proper.”
Then, his lips landed on hers again, crushing and commanding. She could use her air magic to slam him back against the adjacent wall. She could hook her leg behind his and send him tumbling. She could do any number of things that would completely humiliate him. But there was no proper way to extract herself from his grasp, and unfortunately, she couldn’t anger him.
A hand clamped onto March’s shoulder and wrenched him away.
“Excuse me,” March snarled. He whirled around, prepared to argue.
And he was met with her father—Kivrin Argon, First of the House of Cruse.
“Lord Argon.” March’s throat bobbed.
“Unhand my daughter, if you will,” Kivrin said, deathly quiet.
March’s hands were clenched into fists. All she wanted to do was land one in his stupid face.
“I’ll remind you that you are not yet married to my daughter,” Kivrin said. “And you would remember that such pleasures should be reserved for the wedding night.”
March stammered out something like an apology, but Kivrin turned his back and ushered Kerrigan away.
“Thank the gods,” she whispered.
“Next time he puts a hand on you, remind him that you are my daughter,” he said with a wry smile. His gaze met hers. “And knee him in the balls.”
Kerrigan snorted. “I’ll remember that.”
A year earlier, Kivrin would have been the last person she wanted to see. He’d secreted her to the House of Dragons, and she’d lost her family, friends, and title in one fell swoop. She assumed he was embarrassed of her half-Fae heritage. Only to discover that he had done it to protect her. Her mother had been married to Vulsan, a savage man, who would rather kill Kerrigan than allow a bastard to run wild. When he’d come looking for her, Kivrin had hidden her away.
Their new relationship was rocky but promising. She’d never had real family before, only her found family.
“I’m glad that I located you when I did,” he said.
“As am I.”
He shot her a shrewd look. “I’m certain that is true.”
“Why did you seek me out?”
“Your eighteenth name day is approaching. You have returned to Bryonica and taken the name of House of Cruse. I never expected that to happen.”
“My name day isn’t for almost two months.”
“I’m aware of the day that you celebrate, but your actual name day is sooner. Only three weeks or so from now.”
She wrenched him to a stop. “What?”
“It was your mother’s request to hide your official name day to protect you.”
“My … mother’s request,” she whispered. “What else don’t I know about my mother? I thought she died in childbirth.”
His handsome face was like stone, but his eyes were sad. “I won’t discuss Keres with you. I … I can’t.”
Kerrigan softened at the words. “She’s my mother.”
“I know, Kerrigan. I know.”
She had so many questions but asking them now seemed wrong. “What does my name day have to do with this?”
Kivrin pushed open the door and gestured for her to enter. She sighed but did as he’d requested and entered the study. He waved a hand, applying a magical repulsion spell to the room to prevent eavesdropping.
“Kivrin?” she asked.
“I never thought that I would have this moment with you. I didn’t prepare,” he admitted. “I only realized it when the post arrived proclaiming that you had taken up the Bryonican mantle.”
“So?”
He went to the desk and leaned against it. None of the playboy prince was in his features. The weight of the world was on his shoulders. “The House of Cruse has been in decline for many years. Mistress Enara was a formidable woman, revered by all, a Society member. As all the heads of the House of Cruse have been for over a thousand years.”