Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams (35 page)

But it was more. When I left, I wanted him
to have something of me, something exquisite, something beautiful,
something to remember the times we shared which already, even
though I’d been with him a short time, were both of those.
Definitely.

And now I was seeing this idea was totally
lame.

“It’s… I’m sorry Frey,” I whispered.
“Thinking about it now, it’s pretty stupid. You hunt and ride
horses and sail ships. A delicate, glass dragon –”

He cut me off to order tersely, “Lay it in
its box.”

I blinked at his tone and at the harsh look
now on his face.

It wasn’t totally lame. He hated it.

He actually hated it.

God.

“
Right.” I was still whispering but it had
to be said, my heart hurt. I mean, Frey could be severe and even
callous but most of the time he was gentle. It was a gift. Even if
he hated it, I was surprised he wasn’t even
trying
to be gentle.

I laid it in its box but I no sooner had it
resting in its bed of vermillion silk then Frey was at my side,
flipping the lid to it.

Eek. He
totally
hated it.

I watched as he took the box off the bed,
moved it to the dresser and set it on it, so deep in my dejection;
I didn’t notice the care he took. Then I watched in vague confusion
that coated my disappointment as he walked to the door and not only
turned the skeleton key in the lock but also shoved one of the
wooden bolts home.

Then I watched in sharper confusion, some
surprise and still with disappointment as he stalked to me.

Okay, um… was he pissed?

It was just a present. A lame one, sure, but
that was nothing to be angry about.

Was it?

“Frey,” I said quietly, lifting a hand as if
to fend him off and stepping back only to hit bed.

I no sooner hit the bed when Frey’s body hit
mine.

Then we were down on the bed with him on top
of me and his fingers in my gown, pulling it up.

Ho boy.

Maybe I read him wrong.

“If needs be,” he growled, “you’ll go to the
Gales with wet hair.”

Ho boy!

He lifted his hips to move his weight from
me, yanked the dress up to my waist then he arched his back and
yanked the dress off, forcing my arms up with it.

Ho boy!

“Frey,” I whispered as one of his hands
trailed down my side then in and swiftly up to slide over my
breast, up my neck to cup my jaw.

And now his eyes weren’t blank. They were
fiery and that fire was in no way bad.

Okay, I read him wrong. He
definitely
liked it.

“
No one,” he was still growling, his chest
rumbling with it, a rumble so deep, it shook mine and there was a
fierce expression on his face, a face that dipped to within an inch
of mine, “
no
one,
since my
grandmother died when I was aged thirteen, has bought me a present.
Not one gods damned person has, since her death, given one single
thing to me.”

Oh my God.

That couldn’t be true. Please God, don’t let
that be true.

“Honey,” I breathed, wrapping an arm around
him as my other hand came up to hold him tight at his neck and I
thought we really needed to stop having (fabulous) sex and start to
talk, or, more to the point, he needed to stop listening to me
jabbering on about everything under the sun when we weren’t having
sex and I needed to start drawing things out of my husband.

“And never have I received anything so
exquisite,” he went on, “save the wedding kiss you bestowed on
me.”

Oh my
God.

He said that, I didn’t miss it, he
actually
said
that.

Shit, he was going to make me cry again.

“Frey,” I whispered, fighting back the
tears.

His hand moved from my jaw, around my back
and down over my ass where it pulled me up so my soft hips were
snug to his hard ones.

Then he declared in a thick voice, “I’m
bloody well taking my time thanking my wife and your maids will
have to wait.”

Yes, he liked it.

“Okay,” I breathed.

He studied me, his gaze intense, as if he
was memorizing ever centimeter of my face.

Then his head slanted and he kissed me.

Then he took his time thanking his wife.

And when Frey Drakkar took his time, he did
it right.

* * * * *

“I’m giving you a present every day,” I
muttered to the mattress, heard my husband’s chuckle then I felt
his hand glide light over the curve of my behind.

Then I felt his lips brush the skin of my
hip, they disappeared and I felt them touch my neck then, in my
ear, he whispered, “Thank you, my wee Finnie, I’ll treasure
him.”

He would treasure his dragon.

I closed my eyes, felt happiness wash
through me, turned my head, opened my eyes and smiled at my
husband.

“You’re welcome, my handsome husband,” I
whispered back.

His eyes went soft and he smiled back, sweet
and gentle, leaned in, kissed my temple then moved from the bed,
throwing the covers over me.

He’d already dressed and come back to kiss
me before he went to his own bath and now I watched him walk to the
door. He unbolted it, unlocked it and threw it open while I sighed
contentedly.

All four of my girls were standing
outside.

“Have a courier deliver the box on the
dresser to my ship in Sudvic without delay. Its contents are
fragile so tell him if I see even the barest crack in the glass,
he’ll answer to me. Also tell him to instruct Skylar that I want it
mounted in my cabin before Finnie and I arrive tomorrow,” Frey
commanded, all four of them stared up at him with mouths open then
Esther finally nodded, peeled off and disappeared.

I smiled yet again.

He so
totally
treasured his dragon.

Frey turned back to me.

“I’ll be back to escort you to the Gales,
wife,” he called.

I pushed lethargically up on both forearms
and called back, “Awesome, husband.”

He shook his head and grinned. Then he
disappeared.

My girls rushed in with Bess closing the
door.

Then they all stopped four feet from the bed
and stared at me.

“
Hey ladies,” I greeted, totally not caring
I was naked and in bed and had obviously been thoroughly and
vigorously laid by my hot, virile husband who
seriously
liked my present.

They all kept staring at me.

Finally, Jocelyn stated, “Balls to ten
minutes.”

She was right. Ten minutes were over about
an hour ago.

I burst out laughing.

As I knew they would, they joined me.

Then Alyssa rushed to my dressing room and
came back with my robe. I struggled to put it on under the covers
as I heard water sloshing next door.

Time for a bath.

Then the Gales.

Then, tomorrow, adventure.

Bitter Gales

“Hurry Esther, The Drakkar has been waiting
in the bedroom for twenty minutes,” Bess hissed urgently at Esther,
who was twisting, curling and pinning up my hair. “I just walked
through and there’s no mistaking he’s getting impatient.”

Ho boy. That probably wasn’t good.

“How much time do you need, Esther?” I
asked.

“Ten to do your hair and ten to get you
dressed,” Esther answered.

“Can we cut that in half?” I requested
thinking of a Frey who was not hiding his impatience which could
mean bad things.

“We’ll do our best,” Jocelyn decided. “Here,
lift your foot. We’ll put your shoes and jewelry on and then, when
Esther’s done, we can just add the dress.”

I nodded to Jocelyn and lifted my foot as
she kneeled on the floor in front me and I said to Bess, “Tell him
ten more minutes.”

She looked like she wanted to tell Frey he
had to wait ten more minutes like she wanted her fingernails to be
pulled out at the roots.

So I said gently, “Tell him
I
said that, honey.”

She nodded and took off and Jocelyn shoved
on the other shoe while Alyssa came forward with my necklace.

It was crazy and at first I thought way over
the top but honestly, being a princess, you totally needed four
maidservants.

“
I can’t
wait
to see The Drakkar’s expression when he gets a look at
you,” Alyssa breathed as she carefully dodged Esther and put on my
necklace.

“Me either,” Esther muttered.

“When he sees you, I hope he actually takes
you to the Gales and not back to bed, like he did when he saw your
underwear,” Jocelyn remarked, moving away to get my earrings, “it
would be a pity we spent all that time teaching you and you didn’t
get to dance.”

This would be true. The dances were fun.
Though dancing with Frey was a lot more fun.

Bess came hustling in the room, eyes wide,
expression slightly pale.

“He says we’ve got five minutes,” she
announced.

I started softly giggling because I reckoned
this was Frey being generous. He didn’t strike me as a man who
liked to wait.

A few minutes later, when I’d been perfumed,
my gloves smoothed on and the final touches of jewelry added, I
heard Esther announce, “I’m done,” and felt her hands move away
from me.

“I’ll get the dress,” Bess declared and
hustled to the shimmering bolt of blood red satin scattered with
jet beads that was resting over the lounge.

“Get yourself up, my princess,” Alyssa
ordered and I got up and walked to the mirror.

In short order, they had my ensemble
complete and it was so awesome, even if Frey was waiting, I took a
moment to examine myself in the mirror and take it all in as Bess
did some final spritzing with perfume behind my ears and at my
cleavage (yes, royalty didn’t even spritz).

The girls had told me that any member of the
aristocracy would be wearing the colors of their House. And it was
Mother’s idea that I would not wear the deep red color of the House
of Wilde the gold that denoted the crown of Lunwyn or my own color
(as Winter Princess) of ice blue.

Instead, I would wear the color of the House
of Drakkar, blood red.

And that I was, a blood red satin gown that
hugged my body tight from ample cleavage to hips then flowed to my
feet with a small train at the back. It was liberally and
artistically decorated with hundreds of thousands of polished jet
beads, heavy around the bodice but lightening as it skimmed my body
and becoming only a sprinkle at the hem.

The gown didn’t have long sleeves but was
off the shoulder with short, thin straps that made the bodice a
sweep across my exposed cleavage and shoulders.

I had on long, black silk gloves that went
up high on my triceps and, over the gloves at each wrist, was a
tangle of strand after strand of jet beads. At my neck was a choker
of more strands of beads, the same dangling from my ears. My makeup
was done in deep colors, charcoal grays and blacks at the eyes and
raspberry at the lips and cheeks. And my hair was swept up
elegantly but softly in curls and twists.

But the best of all was the headpiece.

Mother had told me when a Drakkar queen sat
the throne, she didn’t wear a crown. She wore somewhat what I was
wearing.

A headpiece made of woven and dangling jet
beads that covered my forehead from hairline to nearly eyebrow with
dips of it coming to the bridge of my nose and down my temples.
This disappeared into my hair at the sides but was woven through
the curls and twists.

It… was…
awesome
.

The whole thing was.

Though, it had to be said, the dress was
super tight and weighed a ton and that headpiece thing, albeit
cool-as-shit, was kind of annoying. However, I figured I’d get used
to it and hopefully be having so much fun, I wouldn’t even notice
it.

“
Oh, Finnie, you look
beautiful
,” Bess breathed and I smiled because,
silently, I agreed.

Usually, I could take my looks or leave
them. Mom had taught me how to play to my strengths, thick hair,
unusual eyes, burgeoning curves (before she left me, they’d
burgeoned since) and I did it without thought.

Truthfully, I would never have guessed that
red would look good on me but with the dark makeup and the jet
beads, my hair seemed shiny white and the blue of my eyes was
stark.

So now I thought I looked
fabulous.

I took another moment before joining Frey
to embrace each of my girls and say quick, heartfelt words of
thanks before I rushed (trying not to look like I was rushing) out
of the dressing room and into the bedroom while taking in a soft
breath. I was looking forward to Frey’s reaction because it was
safe to say my husband thought I was beautiful (since he’d told me
this more than once) and I couldn’t wait to see what he thought
of
this
.

I got three feet into the room when I
stopped. Vaguely, I noticed his eyes come to me and he did what he
often did when he first saw me, his body arrested and his eyes
locked on me.

But I was too busy taking him in to note his
reaction.

Holy moly.

I’d never seen him in anything but his so
dark brown it was nearly black clothing.

But now he wore
all
black. Black breeches, polished black boots and a
black shirt with puffy sleeves and a high collar that covered his
neck nearly to his earlobes, tied with a cravat. This old-fashioned
getup might look ridiculous on any other man but absolutely
did
not
on him. He
had a shined, black leather strap on a slant across his chest to
which was attached not to a rough hide but instead a length of
high-quality black wool that hung at a slant on the back and, where
it ended at the backs of his calves, there was a short edge of
glossy black fur. His thick, dark hair had been swept back, his
strong jaw was shaved and he looked so beyond handsome, for a
second, I couldn’t breathe.