“Trust me, your precious Alrik is fine. Just fine. Like a bitch in heat he can’t wait to see you, which is why he sent me to fetch you and bring you to him.”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, the words coming before I’ve had a chance to properly vet them, but once spoken, I find I don’t regret them.

“Alrik would never send you—or at least not to fetch me. He’s well aware of your cruelty, Rhys. The demeaning way in which you enjoy treating me.”

Rhys smiles, runs a hand through his glossy golden waves, blue eyes sparkling in the dark as he says, “I will neither deny, nor apologize for that. In fact, I fully admit to believing that my brother is an idiot for choosing you when he could have the lovely, bewitching Esme instead. But then, as it turns out, my brother’s idiocy is now working in my favor. Because of his bizarre attraction to you, Esme, my beautiful flame-haired goddess, is free for me to pursue. And so, it seems, under the circumstances, my brother and I have called for a truce. And as he busies himself with his duties, he has sent me for you. So come now, your marriage awaits. Don’t make me wake your whole house.”

“Now?” I blink into the darkness, sure he misspoke.

“Yes, now. It’s all very cloak and dagger—top-secret business. So come, grab what you need, get yourself dressed, and come around back to where my horse waits.”

But despite his instructions, I remain rooted in place, refusing to budge from the window, knowing better than to take Rhys at his highly unreliable word. Sure that if Alrik were to send anyone for me, it would be Heath, not Rhys, the brother he doesn’t trust, the brother he detests.

Rhys sighs. Sighs and shakes his head. Reaching into the pocket of his overcoat when he says, “Fine. Here. Read it and weep. But whatever you do, make it fast. I’d like to get back to my own bed at some point. I’ve a plump little dairymaid warming my sheets at this very moment.”

Suppressing an irresistible urge to roll my eyes, I pretend to ignore that last part and watch as he deftly climbs the trell is just outside my window, body moving swiftly, catlike, thrusting the folded paper into my hand as he perches himself on the ledge.

I step away, pull my gown tighter around me, then push my long golden hair over my shoulder so it hangs down before me. Trying to deflect the way his eyes hungrily roam me, pausing everywhere they shouldn’t and not being gentlemanly enough to make any attempt to hide it.

Recognizing the red wax seal Alrik always uses to mark his correspondence on his numerous letters to me, I unfold it quickly, smooth out the creases, and read:

My dearest Adelina:

If you are reading this now, it’s because you refused to take Rhys at his word.

Good for you!

Once again, you’ve done me proud. Though, just this once, I ask that you trust him. It seems my brother and I have finally forged some common ground and now find ourselves working together—working for our own greater good, so to speak. So it is with an easy heart and a clear conscience that I beseech you to go with him.

Unable to locate Heath, I found myself in need of an ally and turned to Rhys, correctly assuming he’d be delighted by the news of our secretly marrying, or, as he’s more prone to put it: “Alrik’s ridiculously romantic, foolhardy blunder.” But laugh as he may, I’m afraid the joke is on him, for he will never experience the kind of love you and I have found in each other.

Still, despite his making fun, he is sharp enough to understand that my marrying you frees him to pursue Esme and ultimately to pursue the crown, and probably the position as “Father’s favorite son and heir” that I once occupied as well. But none of that matters in light of what I now stand to gain—the ability to fulfill my long-held dream of a life lived with you.

So now, I await you, my darling—my bride—my wife!

Please hurry to me!

Yours always and forever—

Alrik

“So, what do you think? Does it pass the test?” Rhys lounges on the ledge, one leg dangling into my room, the other bent, propped on the shelf, serving as a rest for his hands.

I glance between the note and him, having to admit that it was certainly written by Alrik’s hand, and clearly not under duress, so I take a deep breath and nod my consent.

“Good,” Rhys snaps, reaching toward me and snatching it back. Shoving it deep into his pocket without first taking the time to properly fold it, he looks at me, tells me to hurry, then hurtles right out my window, right out of sight.

Chapter sixteen

“Climb on up.”

I look at him. Frowning as I say, “Up there? With you?”

“Unless you prefer to walk.” His shoulders rise and fall as though he’s prepared to let me do just that.

“Why don’t you walk and I’ll ride?” I place my hands on my hips, vowing to tell Alrik about this later.

“Nope, not a chance.” He shakes his head. “For one thing it’s dark out. For another it’s cold. And, for another…” He prolongs the pause, making me wait for it, as though I actually care. “I’m not all that big on acting nobly or gentlemanly. Especially when I don’t expect to get anything out of it. Though, if I were to get something out of it, then I may reconsider.”

I gaze up into those glinting blue eyes, the haughty arc of his golden-blond brow, the flash of white teeth in the blackened night sky. A sight that leaves most girls feeling faint, weak in the knees, ready to succumb to his every whim and need—but for me, it just makes my stomach turn, makes me feel as though I might heave.