Chapter One #4
orgasm to get me feisty. I don’t feel like taking this from him. I feel like
trying again. “Send in the next guy. We’ll see if he can do better.”
The next guy might be even hotter. He’ll be French or maybe
Italian.
Beck turns around, and I find myself shrinking back again.
His gray eyes are as hard as stones, and his demeanor changes from lazy to
menacing in a heartbeat. “What did you say?”
The question is a challenge. The chill in his voice almost
makes me shiver.
“Nothing.” A healthy sense of self-preservation kicks into
full throttle now as Beck stalks back toward me.
“Excellent. Best you say nothing right now if you can’t say
something sweet.” Beck’s entire body is rigid, every muscle screaming his
frustration. “I’m exhausted. I rode all night to get here before the
tournament. I’ve eaten very little, and now I’m horny as hell. I am not in a
good mood. You have no idea the trouble you’re going to cause me.”
I hold my head up. The last thing I need is to be told how
much trouble I am. I know. I’ve been told my whole life by a mother and father
who hadn’t really wanted me and a husband who felt the same. I might be in
chains, but I hold on to my pride. Sometimes I think it’s all I really have. “I
wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble. Please feel free to not purchase me.”
Beck sighs, and I can sense the weariness in him. That
connection I’d felt during sex seems like it’s still open. His emotions are
almost palpable. His tiredness goes far past the physical. That weariness
invades his soul. His shoulders slump slightly forward. The sudden desire to
wrap my arms around him almost overwhelms me. I want to lend him my strength.
“I’ve waited years for this day,” he explains in an
emotionless voice. “You cannot understand the joy I should feel at finding you.
If there was any other choice, I would walk away. I can offer you nothing. I’m
going to spend the last of my gold entering the tournament. I won’t even have
the money to feed you. If I had an ounce of pride left, I would let you go, but
my brother is dying. I can’t allow that to happen. You’re the only one who can
save him. I swear on everything I am that I will find a way to take care of
you.”
He turns to leave. Tears well in my eyes. I don’t understand
everything he’s said, but I know he means every word of it. Even in chains and
terrified for my life, I feel safe with this man. Somehow, I’d formed a strange
connection with him in those moments his hands had been on my body. “Stop.”
Beck turns, his stance wary. He’s waiting for me to yell at
him again. I can feel that, too. I can’t blame him. I’ve been a bit difficult.
“My name is Meg,” I say softly.
He rewards me with a slight curling of his lips. His
pitch-black hair is gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. I wonder
how it would feel flowing all around me. “I like that, Meg. I’ll call you my
own sweet Meggie.”
“If I help you with your brother, will you let me go home?”
The smile dies, and I wish I hadn’t asked the question. “I
told you, I’m your home now, me and Cian. There’s no way back. Even if there
was, I wouldn’t let you take it.”
So this dream is going to continue. I have to admit, I’m
intrigued. Somewhere in the middle of our intimacy, I’d even forgotten I’m
dreaming. “Are you going to buy me now?”
Beck shakes his head. “It’s not like that. This is a
tourney. The gnomes make more money this way. Every male who wants to purchase
you buys into the tourney. We then fight until there’s only one left standing.
That man will be your master.”
“But what if you don’t win?” The thought horrifies me. There
are other men? How bad will they be? At least Beck has proven he can be
somewhat kind.
A slow, intensely confident smile splits his gorgeous face.
“Don’t go worrying. I always win.”
He strides out of the tent, letting the heavy curtain fall
back into place, and I’m alone again.
What is happening and why does it seem so damn real? What if
this isn’t a weird dream? What if that creature I caught glimpses of took me to
some strange place? The people seem to speak English, but there had been that
strange lilting language as well. Gaelic, Reeve had said.
Maybe I’m in Ireland or Scotland. I’m pretty sure I hit my
head when I was kidnapped.
My stomach churns. Have I been kidnapped?
I force my head up as a petite woman enters the room with a
pitcher and washcloths. It’s weird but I’m getting used to being bathed by too
short women. They grow them small here. If she’s like the others, the little
woman will be professional and gentle. I should be happy she’s here, humming as
she goes about her work. Beck left the evidence of my orgasm all over my thighs
and pussy. It would be rather embarrassing for someone else to come in and find
me covered in my own juices.
The short, blonde woman smiles up as she washes away my
reaction to Beck. “Don’t worry, miss. His Highness will be kind to you.”
“His Highness?” I ask, but the woman has finished her work.
With a mysterious smile, she walks out. “And what the hell did he mean by
gnomes?”