Dragon Heat (Dragons of Perralt Book 2) Page 4

  Laila’s eyes clouded over as she thought about what he had said. “Why will he think I am a princess? How will you convince him? It’s not like it’s tattooed on my forehead, Princess Laila, available to the highest bidder. Only royals need apply.”

  Flint chuckled. “No, but when the ambassador of Lushcany introduces you to him as Princess Laila from the distant mountain kingdom of Perrault. He will believe it. Especially once he sees you.”

  Laila’s face blanched. “The Ambassador of Lushcany. You know him. I must say, you are a man of many secrets.”

  Flint froze in place for a moment. “More than you will ever know,” he said, as he reached for the small vial.

  “And this,” he said, as he handed the small clay jar to her. “This is for your wedding night. Pig’s blood. Sprinkle it on the sheets the next morning and it will confirm what he already wants to believe.”

  Her face turned a deep crimson as she examined the small jar. She looked up and stared into his eyes. A look of disappointment on her face. For a brief moment, he believed she might be disappointed in him. Why? What had he done?

  “That won’t be necessary,” she said, as she slowly slid the jar back to him. Her hands shook as she quickly brought them back together in her lap.

  Now, it was Flint’s turn to blanch. How was this possible? She was still a virgin. After all these years on the streets. With no protector. No family. The girl truly was remarkable.

  He looked at her. Yes, it was the truth. He could only shake his head in disbelief as a small pang of regret passed through him. Don’t underestimate her, he told himself. This young woman was not like most.

  Studying her for a moment longer, he thought of what it would be like to introduce her into the ways of love. To teach her how to enjoy life’s greatest pleasures. An urge to hold her in his arms and make her moan with happiness washed over him.

  He sighed and took the jar back.

  “Very well,” he said. That was all. It seemed more than enough.

  “So, I meet the prince, he asks me to marry him.” She gave a weak smile. “I don’t think your plan has a chance in hell. Two people do not fall in love like that.”

  Flint threw his head back and laughed before he could stop himself. “What does love have to do with it? This is a merger of titles. One of them as false as a fairy tale with a happy ending. No, do not expect love. Don’t forget, beggars cannot be choosy.”

  Her face fell with the realization of what he was saying. His heart went out to her. Like most girls, she had dreamed of wealth and love. Flint knew full well that such things were impossible.

  “I’m sorry, Laila,” he said. “I can do many things. Making you fall in love with the prince, or he you, is not one of them.”

  She looked down at her hands for a long moment, then nodded her head. “Of course, I understand. Girls like me don’t find love.”

  He bit his lip. Girls like her deserved so much more than just love. But, the world was a cruel place.

  “You never know,” he said. “While, I might not be able to make it happen. It might very well happen on its own. Heaven knows, he would be a fool not to fall in love with you.”

  She didn’t look as if she believed him. Instead, she stood up and nodded her thanks. “If that is all. I will leave you. You have given me a lot to think about.”

  Flint grimaced. The beast inside of him clamored to be set free and make this woman’s world perfect. To protect her from unhappiness. It took more will than normal to push him back into place.

  “Of course, my dear. We will discuss things later tonight at dinner. We may have a guest. Someone who can help you prepare. She is intimately familiar with court and what is expected of a princess.”

  Laila’s eyes sparkled with interest, but a sadness remained there as well. A realization that dreams were not always as she had hoped.

  Chapter Five

  Laila woke from her nap with the same troubling thought. ‘What would happen to her when they found out the truth?’ Would they kill her immediately or send her to the mines first?

  The thought of fooling a prince and all of his retainers. No, it was impossible. Her stomach clenched up as sweat beaded on her brow. Surely, they would know. One look at her and they could tell. A mason’s daughter. A gutter snipe. Unworthy to be in the same room as them.

  She reluctantly rose from her bed and began making herself semi presentable. She studied herself in the mirror. Looking for any clue that it might work. Flint said it would. Heaven knew, the man could accomplish a lot of things. But, could he convince an entire class of people that she belonged with a prince?

  And, what then? What if, by some miracle, she did marry a prince? It would be a cold, loveless marriage. A long life of loneliness.

  ‘But, you will never go to bed hungry, again,’ she thought. She wouldn’t have to constantly worry about being robbed, arrested, or worse. She would gladly trade happiness for security. Who wouldn’t?

  Sighing to herself, she tore her gaze away from the mirror and went downstairs. It was dinner time, and something told her that princesses were not the kind of people who were late. What was more, something told her, Flint was not the kind of man who easily tolerated tardiness.

  The delicious aroma of cooked meats and fresh bread greeted her as she approached the dining room. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  Laila pushed the fear and the thousands of sad thoughts away before she entered the dining room. She gasped immediately when she saw the beautiful woman at the far end of the room. Her hand resting casually on Flint’s arm as if it belonged there.

  The woman was dressed in a gorgeous, soft lavender. Stately, erect, with a heart shaped face and a body made for bedding. This was a woman who knew what she wanted and always got it. She appeared only a few years older than herself, but, Laila could see a world of experience in her dark brown eyes.

  At that particular moment, as the woman looked up at Flint. It appeared as if he was to be her next conquest.

  Laila studied them for a moment, the quick messages they sent back and forth. She had been wrong. The woman had already conquered Flint. Now, she was returning for a repeat match.

  The thought sent a cold pain to Laila’s heart. For some reason, the thought of Flint being with this woman reminded her of how much she didn’t belong.

  This was the kind of woman who should marry a prince. Beautiful. Secure in herself. Intelligent. And, about as far from a baker’s hovel as it was possible to be.

  “Ah, there you are,” Flint said as he moved away from the woman. He didn’t even have the awareness to act embarrassed to be found so close to this woman. The man was as dense as a brick wall.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed into a brief frown. Obviously, upset at being interrupted. Just as quickly, her eyes shifted. Becoming pleasant, welcoming. Laila balked for a moment. How was that possible? She was positive she had seen disdain in those eyes. Yet, the woman hid it immediately, and welcomed her like a long lost friend.

  “Laila,” Flint said with a slight bow. “May I present Lady Emily Marks. She has agreed to help us get you ready.”

  Laila’s mouth dropped open as she stared at him in disbelief. Had the idiot actually told someone of their plan?

  “I assure you. Emily can be trusted,” he said when he recognized the fear in her eyes.

  She didn’t care if he’d slept with this woman. That was no reason to trust her. Didn’t he realize what she was risking?

  “Please call me Emily,” the woman said, as she stepped forward to take Laila’s hands.

  Laila remembered to close her mouth as the woman examined her from head to foot. She glanced down at Laila’s hands resting in hers and tisked twice before glancing over her shoulder at Flint, and shaking her head.

  “One week? We have to have her ready in one week?” the woman said to him.

  “It is the best I could do,” Flint said in response. “The prince is only in the city for a short period this time of year. He wil
l be returning to his father’s kingdom in a little over a week. We must work fast if we hope to have Laila accompany him home as his bride.”

  Laila felt a slow anger building inside of her. They stood there talking about her as if she wasn’t even in the room.

  This Emily woman continued to study her, twirling her fingers. Telling Laila to spin around like she was prize livestock.

  Laila swallowed her pride and did as she was bid. She had promised to do what she was told. But her hand ached to reach for the dagger strapped to her leg and give this woman a lesson or two about what was real in the rest of the world.

  “Let me see you smile,” Lady Emily said with a hesitantly raised eyebrow.

  Laila tilted her head slightly and tried to give her impression of what a princess would look like if she smiled.

  Emily laughed. “At least she’s got all her teeth. That is something.”

  Laila gasped internally, the condescending bitch.

  Pulling Laila’s arms wide she continued to examine her. “Plus she’s got wide hips. Royalty like wide hips. Makes for good child bearing.”

  Unable to take it any longer, Laila pulled her hands from the woman’s grasp and started to reach for her dagger.

  Flint stepped forward and took her arm before she could retrieve the weapon. He looked at her sternly and shook his head slightly. Not now, he seemed to be saying, not here, not now. But, a small smile of merriment danced behind his eyes.

  Laila let out a long breath and stood erect. If she couldn’t stab this woman, then she would beat her at her own game. She was taller than Lady Emily, younger, and maybe with some help prettier. This woman wouldn’t last ten minutes in the back alleys of the town.

  Then a bolt of understanding shot through her. The one thing this woman would understand is if Laila could take Flint away from her. The thought would drive her crazy.

  Smiling to herself, she reached out and gently rested her hand on Flint’s arm. Just as she had seen this woman do earlier.

  Pulling herself to her full height, she looked down her nose and said, “Why, thank you, Lady Emily, I have been told that men do find my hips rather enticing.” She then glanced at Flint and gave him a knowing smile.

  The look of concern that flashed across the woman’s face was priceless and even more enjoyable than stabbing the bitch in the belly.

  “Yes, well, it might work,” the woman said, as she continued to study her. “The eyebrows need work. And, that hair.”

  “What’s wrong with her hair?” Flint said. “I like it.”

  Laila felt her cheeks grow warm. Flint liked her hair.

  “You’re a man,” Lady Emily said. “What do you know? It isn’t just the prince we have to convince. It’s his mother, his aunts, and sisters. The wives of his friends. If any of them suspect the truth they’ll put a stop to the wedding so fast, it will make your head spin. They cannot afford any family scandal. They don’t want to look stupid in front of the other royal families.”

  Laila’s insides clenched up. How was she going to pull this off? She couldn’t be a princess, it was impossible.

  “The hair we can fix,” Emily said. “It is the hands I am worried about. They look like she’s been laying bricks all her life.”

  Laila winced as she looked down at her hands. She’d never noticed before. It had never been important. But, the woman was right. The back of her hands looked like they had been rubbed with sandpaper, the nails were cracked and jagged. Her palms were worse, as rough as a cow’s tongue.

  These were not the hands of a princess.

  “Can we fix them in time?” Flint asked. She wanted to slap him. Why couldn’t he like her hands? The feeling of joy at his happiness with her hair disappeared in an instant. He didn’t like her hands.

  Emily shrugged. “I don’t know, we can try.” She said to Flint. Turning to Laila, she said, “I want you to soak your hands every morning in palm oil and every night in goat fat. One hour each. Just before the party, we will do them up. You’ll see. It might work.”

  Laila turned to Flint, silently asking him his opinion.

  He smiled encouragingly and said, “You can do this, Laila. I am positive.”

  She felt her insides grow soft at his simple smile. If he thought so. Maybe she could.

  “Shall we eat?” Flint asked, as if they hadn’t just spent the last few minutes tearing her apart.

  Laila’s stomach threatened to rumble at the thought of food. She quickly placed a hand over it to try and calm it down before she embarrassed herself even more.

  Stepping to the first chair to the right of Flint’s, she pulled it back and began to sit down.

  “No, Laila,” Emily exclaimed. “You are a princess. You always wait to be seated. Either by a servant or the highest ranking male in the room. Do you understand?”

  A flash of shame washed through Laila as she fought to hide per burning cheeks. How could she be so stupid?

  Flint shot her a look of pity then quickly moved to pull her chair back.

  “My mistake,” he said. “I should have been quicker. It won’t happen again, Princess. I assure you.”

  Her heart grew with wonder. The man was taking the error for himself. Trying to save her from the embarrassment.

  She allowed herself to be seated, then watched Emily like a hawk perched above a chicken coop. Every move was analyzed, categorized, and memorized. The way the woman unfolded her napkin and gently laid it in her lap. The way she sat erect, not allowing her back to touch the chair.

  Laila copied each move. The gentle smile of thanks to the servant serving her. Which fork she used for which course. The way her arms never touched the table. The woman was perfection.

  Emily glanced over, perfectly aware of what Laila was doing, giving her a slight nod of approval each time she accomplished something.

  Flint, at the head of the table, was oblivious. He ate with gusto. Rested his arms on the table and sometimes used the same fork for two different courses. Why did he get to act like a heathen? she wondered. Why did society have two different rules for women and for men?

  The meal progressed, Laila was beginning to feel comfortable. She almost believed this might be possible. It wasn’t so hard. Just new rules. Heaven knew her old life had a million and a half rules. These were just different rules. Break them, and you stood out. Follow them, and a person could blend in.

  Reaching over her shoulder, the footman poured a deep ruby drink into a goblet in front of her. She watched Emily daintily grasp the crystal cup and bring it to her lips.

  Laila, followed suit, bringing the wine to her lips, she took a long sip and immediately spit it out across the table. The crap tasted like spoiled laundry.

  Flint's eyes grew as big as toadstools. Emily simply smiled and shook her head.

  “Jesus,” Flint said. “Even I know not to do that.”

  Laila’s heart sank, things had been going so well. Her feet yelled at her to run, but she was frozen in place. How could she have been so stupid?

  Emily laughed and said, “Oh, how many times I have wished I could do the same thing. Don’t get me wrong, Flint. Your wine is very good. But, it is an acquired taste. I should have warned her.”

  Laila looked across at the woman. Was she making fun of her, or was the woman really trying to be kind?

  “It appears you don’t like wine, dear, not everyone does. Especially the heavy wines of Caylan,” Emily said. “In the future, just bring the drink to your lips. That is enough.”

  Laila said, “Thank you,” and tried once again. This time, letting the liquid barely brush her lips. She then smiled at Emily, and gently returned the glass to its place on the table.

  Emily nodded her approval and then turned to Flint. “She did very well. She learns fast. But, there are a thousand more things she must know before the Ambassador’s party. I’m not making any promises, mind you, but this might work. Maybe.”

  Laila’s heart soared, she had passed her first test. Even more, th
is woman of high birth had given her praise. Granted, the bitch didn’t deserve to be forgiven. But, she’d hold off on stabbing her in her sleep for a while.

  Chapter Six

  Flint unbuckled his sword, removed his hat, then coat and gloves, before handing everything to Sharp.

  “Where’s the Princess?” he asked his butler, his eyes drifting to the stairs.

  He had instructed everyone to refer to Laila as Princess. It was the only way she was ever going to believe it herself. His staff had quickly acquiesced. No rolling of eyes or disparaging remarks behind closed doors.

  “In your study, Sir,” the butler said, as he put away the coat. “The Princess said she would wait for you there.”

  Flint nodded. The day had gone longer than he had planned. It seemed the Ambassador wanted the party to be perfect. It was amazing what happened when people learned he was the brother-in-law to the Queen of Lushcany.

  Shaking his head, he mumbled to himself. It will be over soon, and you can return home and leave this wretched city. He would return to the valley as hero. Alone, but a hero.

  Stepping into his study he halted for a moment as Laila looked up at him. Their eyes locked for a long second. A burning need flared up inside of him. He had to push his beast back down. Now, was not the time nor the place.

  She sat behind his desk, her hands in bowls of white goop. He frowned at her, questioning what she was doing.

  “Goat’s fat,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “I think it’s working.”

  “I thought that was a joke,” Flint said.

  “No,” Laila exclaimed. “Even Mrs. Peabody said it would work. She said I could do it here, while I waited for you.”

  Flint nodded as he walked to the decanter and poured himself a glass of whiskey. What was it about this woman that made him uncomfortable? It was like being in a room full of traps. As if any mistake could cause him to make a fatal error. The wrong word or the wrong look between them and he’d have her on the rug before the fire.