The Lynx Who Purred for a Sidhe Prince (6 page)

made Corbin’s knees go weak and his body respond.

“You really didn’t need to do that,” he said huskily. “I’d have

gladly helped you out.”

Winter took a deep breath and looked away. “I know. But I had

my reasons why I said no. Everyone here, and you in particular, mean

the world to me. But I’m afraid I have deceived you.”

“Deceived us?” Corbin repeated. “You don’t have a deceitful

bone in your body.”

As he spoke the words, Corbin realized he believed them, too, and

yet he’d automatically jumped to the conclusion that Winter had slept with someone else and made fun of him behind his back. He shook

off the bitter taste of the guilt and decided he’d never again allow

himself to fall prey to jealousy so easily.

On his side, Winter seemed increasingly miserable. “I wish that

were true,” he answered. “You know how I told everyone that I’m the

nephew of the current Sidhe king?” When Corbin nodded, Winter

continued, “That’s true, but I’m also a prince and the true heir of the former king. My father and mother were killed in an Unseelie attack,

and I was too young to deal with the problems of a nation in turmoil.

For that reason, my uncle took over. I am under his authority, at least until I reach my thirtieth year and can make an active bid for the

throne.”

Corbin had known Winter was royalty, but the idea that the Sidhe

might actually be the leader of a nation was mind-boggling.

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Compared to that, Corbin had very little achievements. While he’d

done some work for his father when the other lynx had needed it, he

actually loved running his auto shop. Once upon a time, he’d been a

partier, but now he preferred leading a quiet life. How could that sort of thing possibly measure up to the glamour of Winter’s existence?

But that wasn’t the point here, now was it? Corbin couldn’t

believe that such a simple omission had caused so much torment for

the young fae. “I’m sure you’ll be a great king,” he offered. “But

there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

Winter nodded. “A year back, when the Cunninghams visited my

uncle, he told me that he wanted me to come here to help heal those

injured. He also instructed me that once Layton’s baby was born, I

should steal the child and bring him to the Sidhe palace.”

Nothing could have surprised Corbin more than such an

admission. He knew King Sterling had demanded Shea in exchange

for a peace treaty between the Sidhe and the shifters, but he’d never expected Winter to be in on it.

If it had been anyone else telling him this, Corbin would have

made sure the person in question never saw Shea, or anyone from his

family, ever again. But this was Winter, and as biased as Corbin’s

judgment of the Sidhe might be, he knew Winter would never wish

Shea ill. It was quite obvious that Winter did not approve of his

uncle’s methods. Judging by Winter’s defeated stance, the Sidhe also

expected to be rejected for this secret.

Corbin’s heart hurt for Winter’s pain. The beautiful fae had

obviously been carrying this burden alone for far too long. “He forced you into it somehow,” Corbin said. “What did he threaten you with?”

Winter’s eyes widened. “I…You…You don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you,” Corbin answered. “Now tell me

everything.”

Still looking a bit awed, Winter started to explain. By the time the

Sidhe had finished, Corbin was so angry he couldn’t see straight. How could King Sterling do such a thing to Winter? How could Winter be

The Lynx Who Purred for a Sidhe Prince

41

forced to choose between his people and the shifters he’d come to

care about?

Corbin would not allow Winter to suffer anymore. “You’re not

alone in this,” he told the Sidhe. “The Cunninghams have to be told,

but I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

The relief on Winter’s face was staggering. The Sidhe actually

seemed close to tears. “Thank you. I don’t think I can face them on

my own.” He wiped his eyes, confirming Corbin’s guess about his

near crying. “I should talk to them as soon as possible. Would you

come with me?”

“Of course.” Corbin kissed Winter’s forehead. “I’ll wait for you

outside while you change.”

Winter released a small laugh. “Right. I wouldn’t want Byron to

scent me like you did.”

It was probably pointless to tell Winter that Byron would most

likely smell him anyway. The shark’s abilities awed and scared

Corbin a little. But there was no reason to make Winter even more

nervous than he already was.

As he’d said he would, Corbin left the room and closed the door

behind himself. He leaned against the wall, musing about what he’d

learned. He had to think coolly about this and separate his reason

from the anger. Why would the Sidhe king be so adamant on having

Shea? Shea was only a shifter baby, granted, a lovely one, but still, one without any magical abilities whatsoever. What would Sterling

have to gain from kidnapping him? Was it only a ploy to steal the

throne from Winter?

He was still musing over these questions when the door opened

and Winter came out. He offered Corbin a small smile and said,

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Corbin took Winter’s hand, marveling at how right it felt to hold it

in his own larger one. He thought that maybe Winter felt the same

because the Sidhe seemed to relax a little. “Thank you for this,

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Corbin,” he said. “I don’t know what will happen, but it doesn’t seem so hopeless anymore.”

“No problem, sweetheart. Now let’s go find the Cunninghams.”

As they walked, Corbin mused over these new revelations. In his

heart, a new certainty was rising. There was only one answer behind

this yearning, this feeling of rightness. Winter was his mate. Corbin had been so blind and refused to see it in fear of what it would mean for his old life. But now, he realized his foolishness. As soon as he could, he would approach Winter with his heart open and he’d

confess his feelings. Perhaps it was corny and lame, but as long as

Corbin had Winter, he could deal with being called a hopeless

romantic.

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Chapter Three

The party was still in full swing when Corbin led Winter into the

gardens. As expected, Skylar Cunningham busied himself with

making everyone feel right at home. Byron was nowhere to be seen,

and Winter surmised the shark-shifter must have taken refuge

somewhere. The man was not at all a social butterfly like his mate,

although, to his credit, he did make the attempt.

In a way, Winter wished he could talk to Byron first. Skylar had

been great during Winter’s entire stay here, and he was fiercely

protective of his children. Winter would much rather face Byron’s

wrath than Skylar’s disdain and disappointment.

In the end, Skylar intercepted them before Winter could be ready

to face the seahorse. “Hello, Winter. Is everything all right? I saw

Alexis earlier, and he told me you seemed upset.”

Most likely, Skylar had drawn it out of the incubus because the

seahorse had a way of making a person open up to him. Taking a deep

breath, Winter said, “Actually, I’d like to talk to you and your mate, if it’s possible.”

Skylar arched a brow. “Is it urgent, or can it wait until

tomorrow?”

“It’s urgent,” Winter replied. “It’s about Shea,” he added, just to

get his point across.

“Very well then,” Skylar said, his tone suddenly all business.

“Follow me. We’ll talk in the office.”

With that, Skylar headed back into the house. The office was one

of the few locations in the Cunningham mansion that Winter avoided.

The two shifters hadn’t explicitly told him he needed to stay away,

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but most official business took place here, so Winter only ever came

around if explicitly invited. After all, he was technically speaking still a stranger.

Skylar didn’t ask any questions or make any comment as they

walked. In fact, he didn’t speak at all, which was unusual of the

seahorse. It made Winter nervous, and he squeezed Corbin’s hand

tighter, finding anchor in the lynx’s strength.

Finally, they reached their destination and, of course, found Byron

already waiting there. “What’s this you want to tell us about Shea?”

the shark asked without preamble as his mate closed the office door.

Winter swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat. This was

it. He finally had to face his choices and his lies.

“My name is Winter Tomacelli, and I am the heir for the Sidhe

throne. My uncle, the current king, sent me here to steal Shea. I have no idea what he wants with the baby, but he is insisting on me taking him back to the palace as soon as possible.” He spoke as quickly as

possible, not knowing when Byron would cut him off. “I’ve tried to

stall, but there’s nothing more I can do. He gave me two days before

he brands me as a traitor. Once that happens, I expect he will send

someone else to retrieve Shea. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this before, but I was worried you wouldn’t believe me or you’d hate me. I never once wanted to separate Shea from Layton and Preston. I swear

it.”

He waited for a reaction, but none came. Finally, Byron gave him

a cool look and inquired, “Is that all?”

“In a nutshell,” Winter replied, somehow managing to keep his

voice steady.

“All right then.” Byron got up from his desk, his large figure

looking more imposing as ever. “Now, I’d like to ask you one

question.”

“Please do.” Winter was willing to answer any questions Byron

had. After all, he’d deceived the man for over a year. The

Cunninghams deserved a little honesty now.

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“Do you consider Skylar and me idiots?”

Winter gave the shark a blank look. Was that a rhetorical

question? Was he expected to answer? Clearly, Byron didn’t believe

him because otherwise, why would he ask such a thing?

Before he could come up with a coherent reply, Skylar offered the

answer to his dilemma. “Winter, did you really think Byron and I

would allow you or any other stranger next to Shea without

investigating his or her purpose here? Of course we knew why you’d

been sent in our home. It wasn’t even hard to guess with the offer

your king made us. We were just biding our time to see what you

would do.”

Byron shook his head, his lips twisting into a smirk. “I don’t know

what your king was thinking. Did he really believe we’d forget about

the offer he made and not make the connection with your stay here?”

In truth, Winter had asked himself the same question many times

and had concluded that the shifters were too self-assured to believe

one Sidhe could breach their defenses. His mind went hazy. All this

time, he’d been agonizing over what to do, and they’d known. They’d

watched him. How could they have been so cold? Surely they must

have realized how much the situation irked him.

Even so, he knew he had no right to feel slighted. He’d been the

one to deceive the Cunninghams first, and even if they had expected

it, that didn’t justify his own deed. He bit his lip as hard as he could to suppress the feeling of acute humiliation coursing through him and

asked, “So now what? I can’t keep him from trying to take Shea.”

“Of course you can.” Skylar started looking through the office

library and retrieved a tome. Much to Winter’s dismay, it looked a lot like a copy of the Sidhe Sacred Law, the equivalent of their

constitution. It was an ancient piece of legislation, and of course

Skylar couldn’t have the original volume. That particular tome was

encased in thick, enchanted glass in the Sidhe palace library. But

either way, seeing the book in Skylar’s hands surprised Winter. What

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piece of information could the Sacred Law keep that would help them

in their predicament?

“Our main problem isn’t that Sterling wants Shea, but that

Sterling is the Sidhe king. If you were to take the throne, his power would be gone and the threat neutralized.”

“That’s true,” Winter answered, “but I’m not old enough to seize

the crown. I need to at least reach my thirtieth year and my maturity as Sidhe.”

“There is a way around that,” Skylar answered. “Come now. You

must know what I mean. You’re royalty. You must have studied the

law extensively.”

Dread coursed through Winter. “No.” He shook his head

resolutely. “Absolutely not. You would have me wed my own uncle?

That’s folly.”

He felt Corbin’s shock at his proclamation, and even Skylar

seemed a bit taken aback. Perhaps he hadn’t realized the true meaning of the law he’d mentioned.

“What in the world?” Corbin asked, speaking for the first time

since they’d entered the office. “What do you mean wed him?”

“We Sidhe have always been a very conservative people. Many of

us are still purists to this day. A long time ago, when the Sacred Law was written, this tendency was taken to the extreme. There is a