“If I think you’re trying to weasel out, you fail the task, and I won’t marry you.” At least, not until he makes amends. “Convince me, Alistair. Be sincere for once.” I prod him in the sternum with one outstretched finger just to make my point. He captures my hand and reels me in for a kiss. I don’t have the wherewithal to resist him.
“I can take care of one task right now.” He captures my hand and leads me to the door with his shirt still hanging open to the waist.
“Alistair. We can’t be seen exiting your room together.”
“No one will care.” A lopsided grin appears. Smug. He isn’t chastened at all. Arrogant prince. I’m not going to let him leverage a scandal to force my hand. At least I know him well enough to suspect he would try.
“Icare. My reputation is the one that will be damaged, not yours. At least finish getting dressed.”
Reluctantly, he does. He pushes the thin pearl discs through the tiny slots and pulls on a waistcoat. I watch, suppressing a smile. When he’s done, he pulls me in for a lingering kiss. I let him. When he pulls away, I take his face between my palms. “I want you to succeed. Find my stepfather and bring him back. Marry me properly. Please? For both our sakes?”
19
ALISTAIR
Fuck.What am I going to do about Tremaine?
A headache pinches my temples at the thought of having to request yet another delay from my father. Will Elinor relent if he refuses?
At least one problem has a straightforward solution. I stride over to my guard and prod him with the toe of my boot. “Othmar.”
“Sir? I wasn’t asleep, I swear it. Resting my eyes but wide awake.”
I don’t care if he was sleeping on the job. He has been a serviceable if not spectacular guard. Now he will have an opportunity to do the kind of service that will set him up for life. “How would you like to be promoted?”
He blinks at me. “Are you quite well, Your Highness?”
“I need a favor. If you agree to it and follow through, I’ll grant you land and a title above the rank of knight. Manage your estate properly, and you’ll never need to swing a sword again.” Something must be done about that tumbledown country house of Tremaine’s. Now that he’s dead, ownership reverts to the crown. Not that anyone knows he’s gone just yet.
Worse, I can’t even prove he’s dead. Rolling Tremaine’s body in a carpet and hauling him out of the cellar was a grim task, but I should have thrown his corpse onto the pavement instead of into the moat. Made it look like a suicide. Killian wouldn’t have made such an amateurish mistake. What a mess I’ve created for myself. I must produce a reasonable facsimile of Tremaine. One good enough to fool his own daughters.
Then, I need to find a way to make Tremaine die publicly, immediately after the wedding’s conclusion.
Impossible. But if Elinor needs to see her stepfather give his consent to our marriage in order to feel secure in our union, then she will have it, no matter what dark arts I’ll have to resort to.
“I’m quite fond of my sword,” Othmar says, interrupting my churning thoughts.
He doesn’t appear to intend anything untoward by this statement. How did a man this wholesome manage to survive in the barracks? A mystery for the ages.
“Unless you want to,” I agree easily. I don’t care what he does with his weapon as long as he performs this one service for me. “But it’s a commitment.”
“What kind of commitment, Sir?”
“The marital kind.”
Othmar blinks stupidly. “Marriage?” His voice squeaks like a teenage boy whose balls have just dropped.
“To Lady Anastacia Tremaine.”
He relaxes immediately. “I do like a girl with—” He mimes a curving motion with both hands. “You know. Big ones.”
“Yes, I understand some men have a penchant for a certain physique.” How fortunate for me that Othmar’s preferences match Lady Anastacia’s description. “Is that a yes?”
He nods eagerly.
“Tomorrow morning, then?”
“Tomorrow?” He gapes at me in shock. “Won’t I have to secure her father’s permission first?”
