Seduced by the Alpha prince

Gone fishing

*Jayne*

Four hours later, I curse myself for my stubbornness, for not accepting Barkley’s offer to help. I had forgotten how much is involved in preparing for the hunt and the arrival of guests. Sixty invitations had been sent out. Fifty-eight have been accepted. Including spouses, unmarried sons and daughters, more than a hundred people will soon descend upon my quiet country home. It has been so long, so very long since I ave entertained to this magnitude. An occasional guest for dinner, a relation or two, but not a flock of the curious. In equal measure, I dread and welcome the coming days.

I make my way up the stairs to my husband’s bedchamber, hoping he has been roused already. It takes so long for Randall to prepare him for the day. Seafort has lost far too much control over his bodily functions.

Four times a year, Randall takes him to the spa at Harrogate for the healing waters. Although I have always wanted to accompany him, Seafort asks me not to, fearful I would be embarrassed by his limitations. It hurts me that he would think so poorly of me. But I brush my tender feelings aside, because his challenges are so much more difficult to face.

It’s only recently, when his physician introduced him to a contraption known as a catheter, that Seafort has begun to regain his confidence and feel any comfort in being around others. He is now spared public embarrassment over what he can no longer control. Such a proud man he is.

Hence the reason Seafort had declared that it’s past time for a hunt… even though he won’t be able to participate in what was once his fondest sport. “I shall enjoy listening to the baying of the hounds once again,” he says.

I admire his optimistic outlook; he never seems to pity himself. I hope the entertainments and country party I have arranged will please him and bring him great joy, and that none of our guests will stare at him with questioning eyes.

‘How bad is it really, Seafort?’

My heart would break for him if all does not go well.

To my surprise, he is not in his bedchamber. The library, then. Ready and eager to greet those who will soon be arriving. To my consternation, however, the library is empty of his presence as well. Although Randall is sitting in a chair reading.

“Where is the Alpha?” I demand.

Randall shoots to his feet and bows. “My Luna. Forgive me. The Alpha gave me leave to read one of his books. I thought this one might suffice, and sat for only a moment.”

“I don’t give a fig where you sit and read. Where is the Alpha?”

He looks decidedly uncomfortable, as though he knows I won’t be pleased with his answer. I’m not.

“The prince took the Alpha fishing.”

*Barkley*

“Good Goddess, I can’t remember the last time I felt such... freedom,” Seafort announces.

Standing along the bank of the stream, I glance over at Seafort. With his back against the tree where he sits, and a pole held loosely between his hands, he appears to be at peace. Since the accident, whenever I visit my friend, we’ve remained in his library, drinking, conversing, lamenting our poor choices. Like me, Seafort is an outdoorsman at heart. I am determined that our visit will go differently this time.

It helps immensely that Jayne is occupied preparing for the arrival of guests and attending to last-minute details. I know she wouldn’t approve of my plans. From what I have witnessed, she is too protective of Seafort; she coddles him.

Suddenly, I wonder if part of Seafort’s desire to give his mate a child rests with his need to divert much of her attention away from him, to give her something else to worry over.

A child would certainly accomplish that. Although most children of the high packs are tended to by nannies and governesses, I can’t quite see Jayne relinquishing the reins for any great length of time. She will be involved with the child. It is her nature to protect, to nurture, to ease the way. She will no doubt keep the little pup far away from him… whether or not he is the father. I wonder who is second on Seafort’s diabolical list.

I remember her bright red cheeks during breakfast. I am accustomed to her giving me the cold shoulder, always just shy of a cut direct. But this morning she was skittish, more uncomfortable with me than usual. For a moment, when she saw me sitting at the table, it looked as though she intended to march from the room. My accommodations are deplorable. That much I had anticipated. But her gaze flicking over me and not settling with a glare is unexpected.

I test my fishing line before testing other waters. “You mentioned your ridiculous notion to Jayne.”

I see no need to clarify further. Only one ridiculous notion has been spouted since my arrival. In truth, it is the only ridiculous notion I can recall that Seafort has ever possessed. When only silence greets my words, I gaze back at him once again.

Seafort gives a hapless shrug that unbalances him. He starts to list to one side, releasing his hold on his pole to straighten himself.

I look back at the water, giving my friend the opportunity to grapple with his gracelessness in private. My first inclination is to rush over to assist him, but I know Seafort would resent the interference, the implication that he can’t attend to his own needs… even if in many areas he can’t. Like me, my friend is a proud man, probably too proud for his own good. I don’t want to consider what it has cost Seafort to ask me to get his mate with child. I am not certain Iwould be willing to pay the price, no matter how much I love the she-wolf.

“You had the right of it,” Seafort eventually says, sounding winded, as though he’s run a great distance. “She was none too happy with me. Afraid that leaves it up to you, old chum.”

I swing around. “Pardon?”

“You will need to charm her, wear down her resistance to the idea.”

“You have gone mad.” My voice holds a biting edge. Seafort might find all of this amusing; I do not. I remember the chill that entered the breakfast room with her. But more, I recall the tantalizing scent of her as I assisted her with her chair. Jasmine. Exotic. Enticing.

Her flawless skin beguiles me. I was so tempted to slide a finger along the column of her throat. I want to kiss away the firm set of her lips. The last thing I want is for Seafort to grant me permission to seduce his mate. I suspect Seafort has no clue regarding how much I would enjoy doing so. He might view it all as an uncomplicated transaction, but I see it as a quick journey directly into hell.

No matter how short a term I spend with any she-wolf, I share not only the physical, but the emotional as well. Warmth, caring, concern, enjoyment. Love I hold in reserve. I’m not certain I can withhold that elusive emotion from Jayne. She strikes me as a she-wolf who would demand all… even if she comes to me expecting naught but my seed. Time with her would not be simple. Complications abound. I am certain of it.

“You are on the verge of having a hundred guests,” I say now, “and you wish me to flirt with your mate?”

“Not openly. I’m not daft. But surely you can arrange moments alone with her. You’ve done it with other she-wolves.”

“Your wife is not other she-wolves.” I’m surprised by the roughness in my voice. I turn my attention back to the stream. Leaves are drifting to the ground on the slight breeze. Those killed by the advance of winter. I wonder if Jayne’s frigid mien toward me would kill me. Quite possibly.

“Pity both your brothers are married,” Seafort says. “I doubt either of them would lack the courage.”

“Courage has nothing to do with it!” I snap. Although it does. I fear I could easily lose my heart. But I can’t confess that to Seafort. “It is simply a bad idea on so many levels, and I believe we have already reached our quota for bad ideas.”

“I did have a jolly good time of it that night, Barkley. Until the end, of course. How are my jewels?”

His pet name for the girls he loves. Glancing back, I meet my friend’s gaze. “Well taken care of.”

“I have thought about telling Jayne.” He says.

I shake my head, “I advise against that course. No good would come of it.”

“It might make her appreciate you more.” He points out.

“I see her but once or twice a year. You see her every day. It’s a very bad idea, Seafort.”

“I suppose… Good Goddess! I’ve got something here!” He calls with glee.