Seduced by the Alpha prince

Yearning

*Jayne*

Once outside, I inhale deeply the brisk night air. The sky is so incredibly clear. A thousand stars and a full moon guide my steps, each one taking me farther away from the residence and my role as gracious hostess. Usually, a walk through the grounds relaxes me. Even in winter, my gardens abound with color. Pansies, in particular, nestle in the soil and bring me smiles. But in the moonlight, they are little more than silhouettes. A reflection of my life. A mere shadow of what I had expected it to be.

I give myself a mental shake. I despise giving in to the morose musings. I have legs, sensations, and a mate who has disappointed me but once in his life. Some she-wolves have far less.

I reach a curve in the path and turn onto a less-traveled stretch until I reach a wrought-iron bench. I sink onto it. This isolated section of the gardens is my sanctuary, the place where I come to weep copious tears in solitude.

I think I have succeeded so well in hiding my numerous disappointments and heartaches from Seafort. But then last night when he made his ludicrous suggestion… Perhaps he reads me far easier than I realize. As much as I fight not to, I do regret not having children. I have always envisioned myself with several dark-haired sons and daughters.

A twig snaps. I freeze, listening intently, not even daring to breathe. I know I’m safe here. It’s probably a deer. They often traipse through the gardens. I hear something brush against the foliage. A looming shadow appears and steps into the moonlight.

The very last person I wish to disturb my sanctuary.

“Luna Seafort,” Barkley says, his words accompanied by what I’m certain sunlight would have revealed to be a mocking bow.

“My prince.”

He looks at me, “It’s a bit late for you to be out, isn’t it?”

“My behavior is none of your concern.”

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Have Seafort sent him out to spy on me? I bristle at the thought, then chastise myself for the lunacy of it. Not to spy on me, but to enchant me, as though Barkley has any chance at all of succeeding in that regard. I would bed a beggar before I would bed him. A filthy, odorous man in rags would be preferable to the far too handsome and polished Prince who stands before me now.

“No.”

“Then you won’t mind if I join you.”

He moves toward me, and I rise. “Of course I mind. If I wanted company, I would have company.”

“It seems we are of like minds. The presence of so many makes me itch after a while.” He says.

I shudder. “I’m not itching.”

“But you’re bristling.”

“I sought solace, which you have destroyed. Good night, My prince.” I make to brush past him.

He grabs my arm. “Stay.”

I wrench free of his hold. “I don’t believe so.”

“Please. I won’t speak. I won’t even sit. I’ll simply stand over here…” he strolls to the other side of the bench, “…until the boar leaves.”

My heart lurches. “There’s a boar? In my garden?”

His smile flashes in the moonlight. “It’s the reason I darted off the path, only to discover another. I think we’re quite safe here.”

“How will you know when he’s left?”

“I’ll check in a bit.”

I gaze into the blackest shadows through which I would have to walk in order to return to the house. I don’t hear anything. I glance back at the bench, at the Prince. Reluctantly, I sit and glare at him. “Don’t be asinine. Sit.”

He does so without uttering a word. Strange, how even with my cloak and his coat, I am aware of his penetrating warmth.

We are silent for several moments before I dare to ask, “Were you in the gardens to meet with someone?”

I wait, and at last, I peer over at him. He touches a finger to his lips.

“You may speak,” I say curtly, irritated with myself for being somewhat amused by his antics.

“I don’t wish to disturb you.”

“You’ve already failed on that account, so answer my question.”

He tilts his head slightly, “Why do you care?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Well, if you must know, I had not arranged any sort of tryst, so no, I was not planning to meet anyone.”

“The ladies are wagering, you know. On whom you’ll take a fancy to while you’re here. If you were to tell me who she is to be, I could place a wager, share the winnings with you.”

Again, he smiles. “I had no idea you were so devious.”

Neither had I. It annoys me that I’m motivated more by curiosity about his affairs than any true desire to win a wager. “So, who is she?”

“I’m not one to seduce and then tell, even when money is involved. If the she-wolf wishes it to be known, that is another matter.” He leans near, and I feel the increase in his warmth, smell the brandy on his breath. “Although if I were you, I would wager that I will entertain no-one while I’m here.”

“Guilt? Because Seafort can’t?” I ask.

He straightens slowly. “No. I’m simply not in the habit of insulting a she-wolf by seducing her in a hovel of a room.”

Shame swamps me. It is not in my nature to be so unwelcoming, and yet where he is concerned, I seem unable to prevent myself from doing what I can to make him aware of my distaste regarding him. I press the flat of my hand to my forehead. “My apologies. I had no right… I’m sorry. You brought my mate joy today, such as I’ve not seen him experience in a good long while. And I’m showing my gratitude by acting as a curmudgeon. Forgive me.”

“I forgave you before you asked.”

I almost release a bitter laugh. He is attempting to charm me. I will not be charmed. Neither do I wish to continue along that path of conversation. I hold my tongue, and we sit in silence for several long minutes. I don’t like the comfort of it, as though we are accustomed to each other’s presence, as though each could enjoy the company of the other without words. Such ease is reserved for married couples who know each other well and accept each other’s flaws.

“I do believe there are no finer hunting grounds in all of England than those owned by Seafort,” Barkley says. “The fences and hedgerows are so high that they make for challenging hazards. Sets the heart to racing. The foxes are quick, the hounds quicker. I remember the first hunt after you and Seafort married. I had never seen a she-wolf partake in the sport before. I thought Seafort was simply indulging you… new husband and all, trying to earn your favor… but you flew over the hazards with the best of us. I was quite enthralled by your performance.”

I love riding over the countryside. My horse is a fine fencer. While I don’t want to, I have to agree with his assessment of the joy to be found in the hunt. “There is little that is quite as exhilarating.”

“You must be anticipating tomorrow.”

I shake my head. “I shan’t go on the hunt.”

“Why ever not?”

Glaring at him, I say, “I will not leave Seafort to plod back to the residence on his own.”

“You love the hunt.”

“I love him more.”

I can feel his penetrating gaze as he scrutinizes me. It makes my skin prickle.

“It is rude to stare.”

“Why would you not take part in the hunt?” He asks.

I sigh, “I explained my reasoning.”

“No, you provided a reason, but not the true one, I wager.” As he studies me further, I hear the tapping of his foot, a steady beat.

“You’re going to draw the attention of the boar,” I mutter.

“You seek to punish him,” he says.

“Why should I care about punishing a boar? You’re the one who sought to escape him.”

“Your mate. You’re not joining us in the hunt because he can’t.”

Irritation swells. “My purpose is not to punish him.”

“Not intentionally perhaps, but the result is the same when you deny yourself pleasure and enjoyment. The guilt adds to his burden.”

I shake my head. “I will not throw in his face what he is no longer capable of.”

“He may not be able to chase after the fox, but he brings pleasure to others by inviting them here. Unselfishly he offers them the challenges and victories provided by his land. I think that is far more noble than riding a horse.”

I pause, considering his words. I’ve always focused on what Seafort has lost, never on what he can still offer. The thought that Barkley might be right gnaws at me, and I feel a knot of guilt forming. Am I somehow responsible for Seafort’s melancholy? I don’t want to dwell on that right now, so I quickly change the subject. “I extended invitations to your brothers. They both sent regrets.”

“Their Lunas are… in the family way.”

A tightening sensation grips my womb, an ache for what I may never experience. I refuse to acknowledge it, unwilling to let another’s good fortune overshadow my own feelings. “I fear I’m not quite up on all the family news. How many is this now?”

“It will be the third for them both. Bryant has a son and daughter. Blake has two sons.”

“Does Alpha Blake desire a daughter, then?” I ask.

He smiles warmly, “I think he only desires that the child be healthy and that his mate survives the ordeal of birth.”

“The ordeal results in such joy.” A joy I’m not likely to experience, not unless…

Barkley’s gaze meets mine, and I know he’s thinking of Seafort’s ridiculous proposal. I can’t deny his attractiveness, nor can I ignore the legends surrounding his skills in the bedchamber. But I have little interest in legends. I’m the first to look away.

“Do you think he’s still about?” I ask. “The boar?”

“Probably. I’m willing to risk having a look, if you like.” He says.

I shake my head, suddenly reluctant to leave, to be alone. “I suppose no harm can come from waiting for a few more moments.”

“Except that you’re getting cold.”

Before I can respond, he stands, removes his coat, and drapes it over my shoulders. It envelops me in luxurious warmth, carrying his rich fragrance. I move to take it off. “Now you’ll get chilled,” I say.

He closes the coat more securely around me, taking his seat again, suddenly closer than before. “My comfort has no bearing here.”

“I will not be influenced,” I state succinctly.

“Pardon?” He asks.

“I’m well aware that you’re attempting to gain favor.”

A corner of his mouth hitches up. “Believe me, if that were my intent, I would not be so subtle. I would not speak of my brothers or wagers regarding my possible conquests or my habits when it comes to she-wolves. No. I would focus on you and you alone.” His warm fingers… how can they be so warm when the air is so cool? skim along my chin, guiding my gaze to his. “I would tell you how beautiful you looked during dinner. How much I enjoyed the way your eyes sparkled when Seafort ridiculed my attempt to help him land his fish. I would unpin your hair and bury my fingers in it. I would trail my mouth along your throat, your cheek, across your lips, and I would settle in for a kiss that would warm you much more effectively than my woolen coat.”

Just the thought of it ignites something within me, and my traitorous body responds with heat and longing. I’m starving for affection. “Don’t,” I rasp. “I don’t wish to play these games.”

“It’s not a game to me, Jayne. I take Seafort’s request seriously.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s ludicrous. Disgusting. Abhorrent.”

He gives a small shrug, “He wants you to be happy.”

“Then he shouldn’t have been friends with you.” I shoot to my feet, knowing my words are unfair, but I can’t stand his nearness, his sultry voice, his tantalizing touch. His coat falls to the ground, and I immediately miss the warmth. But I refuse to pick it up. Instead, I scan the shadows, desperate for distraction. “How will we know when the boar is gone?”

“Considering the time, I suspect by now he has returned to his Luna. She never allows him to stay out past midnight. Not even at the clubs.”

I swing around. He is sitting negligently on the bench, his long legs outstretched, his tanned breeches hugging his firm thighs. Why do I have to notice every bit of his perfection? “Pardon?”

“I suspect Alpha Longfield has retired to his bedchamber and his wife by now.”

I blink several times, “Alpha Longfield? You said there was a boar you were seeking to escape.”

“Yes. Quite. Alpha Longfield is a bore. The man’s conversations are far less interesting than watching grass grow.”

“I thought… you led me…” I narrow my eyes. “I thought you meant a creature. A wild hog.”

“I daresay that would be far more interesting than Alpha Longfield.”

Oh, the man! I want to stomp my feet, shake him, make him behave. But I do nothing except express my displeasure with words. “I think you knew what I thought and were content to let me think it so you could work your wiles upon me.”

“You are a suspicious wench, Jayne.”

“It is Luna Seafort to you. Good night, my prince.” I huff.

With that, I turn on my heel and march back to the house. The man is insufferable.

And yet for the span of a heartbeat there, as I gazed into his eyes and felt the touch of his fingers, I yearned… for exactly what, I do not wish to acknowledge. But it has been a good long while since I have yearned for anything that even remotely resembles a dream.