Keeping her distance had proven shockingly difficult. The Calbernans were every bit as charming and amusing as they were reputed to be, and that was doubly—nay, triply, quadruply!—true for their leader. Everything about him appealed to her. When he spoke, the low, rich timbre of his voice made her pulse pound. When he laughed, the sound sank into her skin, and the flame that lived at her core flared bright and hot and hungry. And when he’d bent his head to murmur something to Autumn or Spring... sweet Helos, she’d actually been jealous...jealous! Of her own beloved sisters! Over a man she’d barely even met.
She’d never felt anything like it, and she couldn’t explain it. She must have spoken to at least a hundred Calbernan officers this evening, and not a single one of them—not even Ari Calmyria, who was the spitting image of his cousin Dilys—affected her even remotely the same way. Oh, the Calbernans were all handsome and charming enough, to be sure, but they didn’t set her blood to simmering just by breathing the same air.
The only upside to her bewildering hypersensitivity to Dilys Merimydion was that she’d known exactly where he was the entire night. That allowed her to take evasive maneuvers each time she sensed him heading her direction.
That small boon notwithstanding, the whole evening had left her nerves rattled, her serenity shattered. Hence, the solitary walk to the fjord by way of the garden’s quietest, most shadow-kissed tracts.
The terrace on the shores of the fjord was raised about eight feet above water level, with stone steps curling down on either side to a stone landing and the wooden pier that jetted out into the fjord. A dozen small boats were moored along the pier, including three small sailboats. Pleasure craft that had been brought out of dry dock for the enjoyment of the court, in case they or the Calbernan officers should desire to row or sail on the fjord.
Summer walked to the end of the pier, scowling a little at the piles of coiled ropes and anchors that had been carelessly left lying near the pier’s edge. She knew the workers were still bringing boats out of dry dock, and giving each a thorough refitting as they did, but honestly, couldn’t they have cleaned up their workspace at the end of the day? This was a hazardous mess.
She planted a slippered foot against one of the abandoned anchors and shoved it closer to the edge of the pier to give herself more room, when a voice announced from behind:
“It is a beautiful night.”
The sound of Dilys Merimydion’s already all-too-familiar voice made Summer jump and whirl around. One foot slid into the pile of coiled rope, and she had to fight to keep her balance.
How he had managed to sneak up on her without her notice when she’d been so acutely aware of his every move all night? She didn’t know how or why her hypersensitivity to him had failed her, but there he was, standing at the other end of the pier.
Just as it had all evening, her heart began to race.
“Forgive me,myerina,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
No, just to intrude on my privacy,she thought sourly.
When the Calbernan froze for an instant, looking taken aback, a tide of red-hot mortification flooded her cheeks.
Merciful gods! Had she just said that out loud?
Shehad!
“Forgive me,” she muttered. It was one thing to avoid a guest of the king. It was another to be rude outright. As a royal princess and a ward of the crown, her behavior reflected directly on Wintercraig’s king and queen. “It’s been a very long day.”
Instead stomping off in a fit of offended male pride as many other suitors would have, the Calbernan prince merely lifted his brows. Then the corner of his mouth curled up in a wry smile. “So youhavebeen deliberately avoiding me all evening. I thought it could be no accident.”
Under normal circumstances, when safely tucked behind one of her usual masks, Gabriella could have managed a smooth response that gave nothing away. Instead, being flustered, she snapped, “You didn’t seem to be lacking for company,” then wished the ground would open up and swallow her when Dilys’s smile deepened.
“Ah,myerina... I’m flattered that you noticed. It is true your countrywomen have made my men and I feel very welcome, but those women are not the ones I sailed halfway around Mystral to court.”
He had to know just how dazzling his smile was, all those straight white teeth and those gleaming gold eyes, such a vivid contrast against his bronze Calbernan skin. He was probably used to getting his way in all things. Flash that smile and those eyes, flex those impressive muscles, and most women would fall like ninepins.
He began to walk down the pier, closing the distance between them. With his every step, she became increasingly aware of his height, his beauty, the essence of fierce maleness that wafted off him like steam from a kettle. And of course, all those hard, rippling muscles flexing beneath the acres of warm, dark, satiny skin displayed so disturbingly by his scanty Calbernan attire. The iridescent sheen of his blue tattoos shone with an otherworldly beauty in the moonlight, as if he’d been sprinkled with stardust. The sight was strangely and strongly compelling.
She dragged her gaze away before her eyes followed the glimmering pattern of those tattoos to places she didn’t want to go. Everything about this man was dangerous to her, and since avoiding him didn’t seem to be working, it was time to try something a little more straightforward.
“Please, Sealord, let’s be honest with one another. You didn’t sail halfway around Mystral to courtmeeither. You came to court my sisters.”
That stopped him. Truth often had a way of doing that to a man. But she had to confess, this time it hurt a little to know he was no different from the others.
“Why would you say that?” he asked.
“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. “Do you know how many men have come to court the Seasons of Summerlea? Spring did the math last week. Seven hundred and ninety-two. You make seven hundred and ninety-three. Kings, emperors, princes, dukes, nobles and sons of nobles, even the occasional merchant king, anyone with wealth, power, or an ancient name. Autumn’s the Season most of them come for. She is the most beautiful, after all. The suitors who value intellect over beauty come for Spring.”
His head tilted to one side. His golden eyes gleamed in the moonlight.
“And who is it that comes for you?” he asked softly.
Gabriella could have kicked herself. She wasn’t usually so careless with her tongue. Or so honest.
