Loving the Forbidden Prince-Chapter 4 - The Lion Lord

ETAN

Since the moment he entered the maze, Etan had been following that invisible string tied to his ribs, until he finally found the path that would bring him closer to her. He'd realized he could feel her as he exited the castle and crossed the gardens—and not just her presence, though that was the clearest. He could also sense some of what she felt.

And half an hour into this insanity she had been tense. But hopeful.

He'd taken another bend just as he felt her heart leap, then drop. So suddenly, he clenched his teeth. What had happened to her?

He'd hurried around the last corner and something within him burst to life as the maze opened into a clearing and he saw her silhouetted by the moon… in the embrace of another man?

He'd frozen in his tracks, until he heard her snap at the rogue, and realized that wasn't an embrace. She was struggling against him.

Burning hot rage erupted in his chest, right over his ribs where that impossible pull kept tugging at him. But he'd barely taken a step when she twisted, and suddenly the bastard was on the ground and she was threatening to… Did she just say, "twist off his appendage?"

As he watched her dispatch the brute, his mouth dropped open.

She was magnificent.

And she was going to be his.

He cleared his throat and made sure his voice carried all the weight of his title when he drawled, "I think the lady is telling you to keep your paws—and your tongue—to yourself in future."

*****

AYLETH

Her heart leapt at his words. She looked up with joy to find the reason her skin was alive with tingles was because her Lord had found her.

There was a strange moment when she first laid eyes on him. Something within her cried at last! As if he heard it, he stepped toward her, then caught himself and drew up short, glaring at the man under her foot.

She tossed Roarke's arm to the side and lifted her skirts to hop over him, ignoring his grunt when in her hurry, her heel caught on his ribs. She almost forgot herself enough to throw herself into the Lion Lord's chest. But she stopped just in time, coming to a halt just inches from him, that tug within her pushing her to move ever closer.

Even through the mask she could see the man glaring at Roarke, One hand on his sword, the other clenched to a fist at his side. But when she slid to a halt in front of him, he looked at her and his eyes lit up, along with his smile.

He put a hand to her cheek and asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes," she breathed. "You found me."

He chuckled, true surprise in his eyes, but joy in the sound. She filed it away in her memory, praying she'd learn how to make him laugh again so she might relive the warmth of it.

"Here I thought I'd shown up in time to save you, but I see perhaps I'm here to protect Lord…what did you say his name is?"

"Vitren. Roarke Vitren. He's a wanker. Ignore him."

Her Lord blinked at the curse and seemed to be fighting laughter. Ayleth prayed she hadn't used the word incorrectly again. It was a new one she'd learned from her Knight Defender. But they were both distracted as the wanker in question groaned and rolled to his hands and knees. As they watched, Roarke got to his feet and stumbled out of the garden without looking back. Ayleth wondered whether he'd even remember it tomorrow. Not that it mattered.

But then she looked at her Lord again and saw that, yes indeed, it mattered very much. The tension in his jaw as he watched Roarke leave spoke of barely leashed violence and rage. She put a hand to his arm, and he stopped straining in the very same way her horse did when he was submitting to her control.

Her Lord snapped his head around to look at her, his eyes wide behind the mask. "I found you," he said, like it was something he'd been trying to do his entire life.

"Yes, you did," she smiled.

They stared for a long moment and her nerves trilled in her throat. He stroked her cheek with his thumb—she wore a sparkling sapphire demi-mask that left the lower half of her face revealed. Sparks followed his touch like the trail of a comet.

"Do you feel that?" she whispered.

"Yes," he breathed, his eyes searching hers. "It's as if you've bewitched me," he said, his voice awed. "I'm drawn to you like magnets to the blacksmith. That's how I found you."

Ayleth didn't even want to blink and perhaps lose a moment with him.

But in that moment a deep voice only a couple of hedges away yelled, "Boo!" and several shrieks broke the night.

They both startled. Ayleth turned, but he was faster, placing himself between her and the noise, holding her behind him until he was sure they weren't going to be attacked.

When he turned back to her, he dropped his voice and took her hand, walking her into the shadow of the tree, then bowed. "I cannot stay here, for your sake, we cannot risk being discovered," he said softly.

They both knew if they were found alone in the dark, they would be required to marry. And while Ayleth's parents had been very clear that her purpose for the weeks of the Festival was to find a husband, she rather thought they had intended for her to take more than a few hours. And likely not by being trapped in a scandal.

And yet, she did not move.

"I can feel you," she said boldly.

He nodded. "And I, you. Do you know why?"

She shook her head. "No. And I cannot think that we have met before. I have never felt this. I would have noticed," she said, certain.

He nodded. They both stared. When she spoke she was breathless. "Please stay."

He sucked in a breath, turned to look at the hedges of the maze, then back to her. "Your reputation could be ruined if we are found."

She snorted and he seemed amused by the noise. "I cannot help but think," she whispered, "that I am already ruined for anyone else, sir."

A tiny noise erupted from his throat and he took half a step forward, one hand returning to her cheek, the other coming to rest at her waist and suddenly their mouths were only inches apart.

Ayleth gulped and licked her lips in preparation. His eyes flared and his gaze dropped to watch her tongue dart out. She felt him shiver. And everything within her ached to pull him close.

This was madness!

His hands tightened on her for a moment, as his body tensed. Then he shook his head without breaking the gaze. "I cannot… it wouldn't be right…"

"What?" she asked, hushed.

"We are alone. You should have a chaperone. I cannot be here with you alone. I cannot kiss you. Oh Light, I want to kiss you."

"Please?" she whispered.

He blinked twice and hesitated, but as she tipped her face up to meet him, he tore himself away, cursing, and stepped back, then back again. "It wouldn't be right. I do not wish to begin this poorly. You could never see me for a good man if I were to dirty your virtue at the first chance." His chest rose and fell too quickly, his eyes wide behind the mask.

"True," she said slowly. "So… perhaps at the next chance then?" She grinned cheekily and he growled but stopped himself from taking hold of her again. Her lips thinned, but she pulled them up in a small smile. "And yet, you do not leave me," she pointed out.

"I cannot," he said simply.

Ayleth sighed in frustration. She had been looking forward to her first kiss. But there was also a thrill within her, promising that the wait would only increase her pleasure. "Very well, Sir…?"

His eyes hadn't left hers. "The rules say we must wait for the unmasking," he said with a hint of the devil in his tone. But then he dropped to a whisper. "Can I ask you a rather personal question?"

"Of course!"

He frowned, but his eyes never left hers. "Do you… as I do… often find that the people around you speak to you as if you are your position in society, rather than a person?"

Her mouth fell open slightly. He had to be royal, then.

"You guess correctly, Highness," she said.

He gave her an awed look. "In that case, I have an idea," he said quietly and offered his hand to lead her to the bench behind her.

"What is it?"

"Why don't we speak now, from behind our masks, not from the place of what we are, but of who we are. At our cores. And then, at midnight, reveal the faces that match our hearts?"

She squeezed his hand. "An excellent idea," she whispered.