Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Gemma had a vague impression of being in a castle, which couldn’t be true. She had to be hallucinating or still dreaming that she’d gotten stuck in The Legacy of Magic. What a trippy dream.
She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching hard for wisps of Skarde still lingering in her imagination. She’d dreamed of being against his chest and hearing his heart beating beside her ear over the movement of the horse. His heart had sped up after she stared at his lips. He’d wanted a kiss too.
One kiss that he started couldn’t be too much to ask. One fantasy kiss before she was forced to face reality.
The sound of rain pelting against windows and a crackling fire…
Wait a second. There was no fireplace in her one-bedroom apartment.
The room smelled like a wood fire. Who still burned wood?
Carbon emissions, greenhouse gasses, and all that made it frowned upon.
It also smelled like him in here. She burrowed deeper into the pillows.
Comfortable pillows. She recognized these.
Her heart pounded as she pushed up to a sit. And found herself wearing her underwear in Skarde’s bedroom.
There must be a ton of other rooms in the castle, but he’d put her in here, again. Either that meant none of the others were furnished—hard to believe—or he wanted her here. And didn’t that give her a case of stomach jitters mixed with warm fuzzies?
“Great, you’re up,” said Serish.
She yanked the covers up to her chin. “Where’s Skarde?”
“I told him you’d be awake in time for breakfast.” The mage opened the metal over the windows, which showed the setting sun before the covers blocked it out.
“Technically, it’s your dinner and his breakfast. I may be old, but my magic still works on human wounds.
Check out your arm. I bet it looks almost new by now. ”
She rotated her arm. The edges along the arrow puncture on both sides were pink and almost healed, not even scabbed. At home, it would’ve taken two weeks at least to achieve this level of almost-gone. “How long was I asleep?”
He rolled his eyes upward as if calculating while she held her breath. Had she been out for that long? Then he shrugged. “Maybe a day.”
“That’s like a few hours in my world.” She gripped her head. “I had this work meeting about new protocols. Not good that I missed it.”
“I’m sure they’ll manage without you. Here, in this place, you have the job of saving Skarde.
That’s much more important. I heard you pulled him up from a cliff.
That sounds like fun. I’ll have them bring in the bath for you.
I laid out new clothes. They might not be your style, but we need you dressed a bit more…
” A mischievous glint entered his eyes. “Feminine. He’s this close to breaking over you, which is fantastic.
” He held his forefinger about an inch from his thumb.
“Breaking? What does that mean?”
He threw back his head and laughed.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Pacing, growling, and having a general conniption about everything. Plucking flower petals.” In a sing-song voice he added, “She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me…”
“Flower petals?” Not an image that made sense—Skarde in all his leather and scowling while plucking flower petals like a love sap. Nope.
“Only kidding. It’s a good visual, though, isn’t it? Kind of like when that green ogre agonized over Fiona with his sunflower.” Serish’s face drained of color.
“What? You’ve seen that movie? You know what a movie is?” She yanked the sheet to wrap herself in something, but it wouldn’t come off the edges of the bed. Screw modesty. A slow pace toward the mage, even in her underwear, increased his level of fidgeting.
His eyes bounced around, but when they met hers there was clear lucidity in their depths. This guy knew something about her travel between worlds. He’d been to her world and watched movies.
“Do you know anything about the disc that brought me here? The one that was given to Val?”
He emitted a crazy laugh. “The green ogre is this dodgy, old guy a few towns over. Don’t believe a thing he says. Dinner’s in twenty minutes. Take two lefts and then go down the stairs that spiral around.”
He rushed out.
She pulled open the door and yelled, “Come back here!”
* * *
Was it two lefts and down or three?
She tugged at the top of the period piece gown.
It didn’t have classic medieval puffy sleeves, nor was it Hollywood barmaid cliché.
The baby blue color with intricate gold stitching might be gorgeous and complement her eyes, but the dress had been designed for someone with far smaller boobs and much longer legs.
The ultra-low neckline meant no bra, and a good percentage of her boobs hung out.
Thank God the dress hadn’t come with a corset.
She should’ve worn one of Skarde’s shirts instead. At least it would’ve provided better coverage up top, and she had no problem showing off her legs. Deep inside, she wanted Skarde to see her as pretty. If that meant wearing a too-small medieval dress, then so be it.
Shoes would’ve been nice. The floor was cold, even with rugs and mats every few feet. Without the extra inch of height that shoes might’ve provided, she had to lift the hem of the dress to avoid tripping.
By the time she reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, which were the tight curvy kind that made you feel as if you were about to face plant at any moment, her head spun.
On the last step, her foot caught the dress’s hem. She tripped, but shuffled a few steps forward, thinking herself on the winning side of disaster, before failing to catch her balance. She landed solidly onto her knees behind Skarde.
“Damn it. I almost had the save.”
He turned. His gaze fell.
A glance down and, of course, one of the girls had popped out.
Kill her now.
“They just can’t behave themselves, especially around you,” she muttered as she stuffed her cleavage back into the dress.
“Are they looking for attention?” He compressed his lips as if trying not to laugh.
“In their defense, they haven’t seen action in ages. They were teased recently by this vampire who gave them marginal satisfaction. Now?” She met his gaze and struggled not to smile in response to the mirth dying to bust free from him. “They’re out of control.”
“That dress…” His laugh broke free from him, a glorious sound that sent chills straight to her abdomen and southward.
Own it, girl. “The color is beautiful, but your last girlfriend…no, you don’t do relationships.
Whichever hookup you had who left this gown clearly didn’t have anything like these ladies to contend with.
Admit you’re desperate to handle boobs this fantastic and real.
” She shook her chest a bit, but then grabbed at herself when her breasts almost popped out again.
“Oops, shouldn’t do that. No boob jiggling.
” With a cough to clear her throat, she continued her previous thought.
“Based on my few glimpses of women in this world, there seems to be a lack of women with decent cleavage. I suppose that means adequate coverage is difficult to be found.”
“Yours are…” He eyed her chest and added on a hoarse whisper, “Quite something.”
“Thanks. Are they going to distract you?” She glanced down. “They so want out of this top.” With a long sigh she added, “Should I put something over them so they aren’t tempted to show off to you? I know you’re trying to keep things…” She searched for the right words. “Less tempting.”
“I’d hate to hinder their efforts.”
“Let me rephrase. I’m starving. These ladies are being squeezed so tight that I’m scared if I swallow too hard the entire top might explode. Then you might lose control. I’ll, of course, go with it, and then? I’d still be hungry, which means I’ll get angry. That’s a bad place for me.”
Laughter erupted from him. He unbuttoned his shirt.
“Oh, no no no.” She covered her eyes but peeked between her fingers. “I can’t have a meal with my boobs covered and yours not. Not with the nipple ring. Now you’re playing dirty.”
He swiped a hand across his eyes to wipe away tears of mirth. With his opposite hand he thrust the shirt at her. Between laughs he said, “Take it.”
She threw both hands over her eyes. “Cover yourself. Please, I’m begging for mercy. I forgot how spectacular… Good lord, you’re hotter than anyone this side of the moon. My girl parts are getting overheated.”
“Girl parts?” He put the shirt in her hand before he strode toward the exit, shaking his head, chuckling. “I’ll get a new shirt.”
“Oh my, the ink on your back…” She called out before he left, “I’m dying. The worst part is you won’t do any single freaking thing about it.”
He was back moments later. No, not moments but seconds later. He must’ve super speeded the acquisition of a new shirt. Internally, she smiled.
A small brown head peeked around his legs.
“You have a dog?” She clapped her hands together. “I’ve always wanted a pet.”
She went to her knees and held out a hand.
“This is Slayer. I found him last year and he’s stayed around.”
“Why did you name him Slayer?”
“He’s deadly and sly when he wants to be.”
The little dog crept over to her and sniffed her hand. She smiled when he let her pet his back. “You’re a handsome little guy.”
Slayer wagged his tail.
“Let’s eat.” Skarde waved at the table that was big enough to seat thirty.
“Where’s your seat? I refuse to sit a hundred yards away from you so we have to yell at each other across this table.”
He pointed to the chair at the end. Then he held out the one next to it, helping her get seated.
As soon as she sat, food appeared. A lot of it. Slayer took up residence between her and Skarde as if on standby for falling bits.
She took a sip of whatever was in the cup and found it to be kicked-up cider. “What’s this?”
“Something fermented, I suspect.”
She raised her cup. “Cheers. Here’s to unplanned rescues, odd dwarves, and—”
“Punching my brother’s privates.”