The girl slumped in relief, then hitched closer and whispered, “Wizards are nay good here, my lady, and they are banned from the Seventh Realm.”
“Duly noted. I will never use that word again.”
“Praise be.” Rill went to the smaller of the pair of wardrobes and opened it. “Would ye be willing to wear slippers this evening, or shall I fetch yer boots and clean them?”
Lexi didn’t have the heart to make the maid rid her boots of the unicorn manure, which was amazingly identical to horse manure. She had half expected it to sparkle with rainbow glitter. She supposed she’d watched too many unicorn cartoons as a child. “The slippers will be fine, but I will need my boots tomorrow. And whatever happened to my jeans and other clothes?”
“Yer verra fine jacket that ye explained yer grandmother embroidered for ye is hanging in the armoire. The modiste sent yer other clothes to the seamstresses and then the laundress. They’ll nay be ready for a day or two.”
Lexi didn’t remark that it seemed strange they could create an entire wardrobe in a matter of hours, yet it took a day or two for them to return her original clothes. “As long as I get them back. Those jeans are some of my favorites. They’re just getting good and broken in.”
“But they are breeches, my lady. Just like trousers or pantaloons, such as a man might wear.”
“They’re comfortable and perfect for when I ride. Please make sure I get them back as soon as possible.”
Obviously disapproving, the maid nodded. “Aye, my lady. I shall see to it.” She knelt to help Lexi slip on the delicate, low-heeled slippers that were surprisingly comfortable—but not as comfortable as her favorite boots.
“Thank you, Rill.”
“Ye are quite welcome, my lady. His Highness is waiting in the solar to escort ye to the dining room. Are ye ready to join him or is there aught more to be done?”
Lexi didn’t have a clue if there wasaught more to be done, so she decided to go with what she had. “I’m ready, thank you.” She headed toward the door, still amazed that everything fit so well, from clothing to shoes, even though she’d never had to go through the grief of trying anything on or measuring. A definite benefit to the Seventh Realm.
As soon as she opened the door, Jeros’s expression and the look in his eyes made her flush hot with a furious blush of happiness. There was no disgust or recoiling in his eyes. There was only admiration and something that could only be described as animal attraction in his entire demeanor. And she understood completely. She was more attracted to him, more drawn to him, than she had ever been drawn to anyone. He was even more handsome than before in his best Highland dress. The black cutaway coat accentuated his broad shoulders, which didn’t need any accentuating at all. His kilt, a dark purple with the faintest strips of white, belted and hugging his narrow hips, was tossed over one shoulder and pinned in place with an iridescent symbol she couldn’t quite make out. His black, shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a neat queue and gleamed with the sleekness of the finest silk. It, along with the cleft in his chin and the dimple in one cheek, gave him a roguish look. Heaven help her. He could’ve graced the covers of the historical romance novels she used to read.
“Ye are loveliness itself, my lady,” he said as he closed the distance between them.
“So are you.” She took his arm and breathed him in, smiling at his mouthwatering scent of warm cinnamon rolls and the sort of man you wouldn’t kick out of your bed for eating crackers. “Pure, dangerous loveliness.”
“Dangerousloveliness?” He escorted her from the room and down the wide, curving stairs.
“Yes. You know what I mean. The kind of loveliness that makes you worry about succumbing to its powers.”
He laughed. The deep, rich sound echoed throughout the high-ceilinged atrium lined with marble pillars, pristine white walls, and white marble floors striated with gold. Even though it was the year 1811 and Sevenrest Hall existed in the Highlands ofJeros’sversion of Scotland, Lexi noted how every space was flooded with an uncountable amount of burning candles, blazing sconces, and oil lamps. Apparently, the Seelie loved their light and spared no expense or effort to keep the brightness intact.
“I understand what ye mean when ye speak of worry about succumbing to beauty’s powers.” He turned them to the right and led her through a wide archway. “The Seelie are obsessed with both. Beauty and power. Another reason I take refuge at Sevenrest rather than remain at Court.”
“Do your parents take issue with that?” She was relieved when he seated her beside his place at the head of the long dinner table rather than at the far end. She found the massive room with its high ceilings and crystal chandeliers blazing with candles somewhat cold and intimidating. “Do they not insist you stay at Court and do whatever it is that princes do?”
“They insist.” He shrugged as he seated himself. “I ignore them. I am no longer a child to be told what to do.” With a grimace, he added, “Ye will see of what I speak when ye meet them.”
“Meet them?” Her stomach did a nervous flip-flop, making her thankful that she’d not yet taken a sip of her wine. “Why would I need to meet them?”
He eyed her with such sadness, it made her regret asking.
“I mean—I don’t have to meet them right away, do I?” She wouldn’t remind him that she still needed time to adjust and decide what she was going to do, but then she wondered if she should remind him. He acted as if her staying was a done deal.
“Eventually…” He paused and sipped his wine. “Eventually, ye will need to meet them, ye ken? Depending on yer deciding whether or not to stay here where ye belong or return to yer Kentucky.”
“You are not subtle, are you?”
His seductive smile sent a heated rush of need through her. “Subtlety gets one nowhere.”
She cleared her throat and decided to try the wine. “Elderberry! My favorite.”
“Mine as well. Since they dinna much care for Highland soil, we grow them in the conservatory. Mrs. Shimmerhill and the Green Fae tend to them until time for Cook to take over and make the wine, syrups, and jellies.”
“Are there special Fae clans for everything?” She took in the aroma of what appeared to be a savory pumpkin or maybe butternut squash soup as Nightleaf supervised another servant ladling the thick, golden creaminess into her bowl. “Rill told me of the Fae Serving Clan, and the jewelers, precious metalworkers, and tailors. Do the Green Fae see to the growing of everything?”
