Page 5 of My Fae Lady

“I’m the daughter of His Grace Percival Ashleigh Mortimer Barton, Third Duke of Plantagaia, Marquess of Alswood, Earl of The Hidden Spires!” she groaned, squeezing the bridge of her slender nose. “Royal blood flows through my veins, and my cousin is so conniving you’d think he was fully fae. He'll contest the legitimacy of my marriage unless I have an unassailable witness, which means I must convince my father's dear friend, Mr. Hilferty, to see us married before the court date. Mr. Hilferty is a fae of great influence. I need a groom who doesn’t look like I found him out in the woods and pressed a desperate bargain on him, or Mr. Hilferty will never assist me. My husband must look and act convincingly like a gentleman. Don’t you see? Any misstep could delay my claim and enable my cousin to steal my home. I need someone Mr. Hilferty will accept without question and without raising alarms. Someone who doesn’t look like he has fleas!”

“I don’t have fleas!” Truly I didn’t, but the moment the vermin were mentioned, I had to fight the urge to scrape my claws across my scalp.

“By the goddesses, what am I going to do with you?” She let out an exasperated breath. Then her shoulders set and her furrowed brow smoothed. “Well, come on, then. It’s not as though I’ve a better choice. There isn’t time to go knocking on some other fae’s tree. Finding yours was aggravating enough . . .”

Giselle let the door fall open fully as she spun to head inside, sending the hem of her skirt and the trail of her long belt swirling. Her slippers padded across marble floors that didn’t match the rustic exterior.

I stepped through a magical barrier at the threshold that felt both Seelie and Unseelie in making. Order and chaos combined. Ancient magic swept over my skin, warming my body from the inside out.

I was home at last. The trickle of wild magic picked up from a drip to a slow stream, humming lightly under my feet.

I followed her into a study with overstuffed furniture and a roaring fireplace.

Giselle moved to the center of the room, folding her arms over her middle. Spine pulled up straight as a post, she recited the facts of our bargain as they now stood in that dry, formal manner of hers. “You will marry me in a fashion deemed suitable by Seelie and human custom. You will sign all required documentation and attend our wedding ceremony properly attired in apparel selected by me to best fool those in attendance. You will accomplish all this within two weeks.”

“Agreed. Hold on—two whole weeks? Why so long?”

She frowned at me, her rosebud-pink lips pressing into a thin line so tightly they paled. “Two weeks is no time at all to have something ready before the court hearing to declare my father dead, especially in the human realm with no influx of magic there to make my life easier. It’ll be quite a feat to get everything situated by then, considering what you’re giving me to work with here,” she said, gesturing at my person.

I snorted. “Just slap something together and tell me where to sign.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” she ground out. “Human courts don’t function like they do in the forest. And I’m the—”

“Yes, you’ve said already.” Rolling my eyes, I waved her words away. “Royal blood and all that.”

“When it’s finished—when my cousin is none the wiser and the judge and solicitors are satisfied—you will return to your home and leave me to my peace.”

“Agreed,” I said pointedly. Little did she know, I was already in my home, and I’d be putting her out the door before I left her to any peace. It wouldn’t do to force her out now. Not when I’d have humans trying to barge their way into my estate with their papers and laws and deeds and other such nonsense, all things Rook Manor might feel obligated to abide by after spending so much time in Seelie hands. The law of the forest held little weight here now. A marriage between us would renew my bond with the magic here, making it mine by every law the house served.

She let out a brisk exhale before completing the terms. “In exchange, my firstborn child will be delivered into your service after—actually, when would you like my child to be delivered to your tree in the forest?”

I sniffed. “Let the babe wean first, at least. Then I’ll have them.”

“As you wish. In exchange, my firstborn child will be delivered into your service upon being weaned. There. Satisfied?”

I closed the gap between us with a long stride, looming over her. Her head came no higher than my chest, and I reached for her.

She recoiled. “What are you doing?”

“Sealing our bargain.” I closed this new gap just as swiftly as the first, which sent her scrambling into the wall behind her like a startled rabbit.

“Sealing it with what?” She pressed her back to the paneling, drawing herself up tall.

“With a kiss,” I said, caging her in with my arms to stop her from fleeing farther. Watching a Barton panic pleased me deeply, but it was past time we got down to business. The sooner we were finished, the sooner I could reclaim my home.

Her magical eyes went pale yellow in surprise. “We seal the bargain with a what?”

“A kiss. It’s Unseelie law,” I said, my smile turning ferocious. “That’s not a problem, is it? You do know how to kiss, don’t you? It’s not so hard. You just pucker up your lips like so . . .”

The Seelie could be so dry and sensible, it was entirely possible she didn’t know. I took her chin in my hands. Careful of my claws, I squeezed her cheeks together, forcing her frowning lips into a pout.

She swatted my hand away. “I understand the mechanics of the act!” A flush stained her cheeks, turning her golden complexion ruddy and her eyes a matching rosy shade. “I’m just surprised. I assumed the Unseelie way would be far more barbaric. Bloodletting and leeches maybe. Not kisses.”

“Just the one kiss,” I offered consolingly.

“Thank the goddesses’ light for small favors, then.”

“Agreed.” I wasn’t eager to kiss anyone either. Romance and acts of affection were silly things favored by those who were foolish and younger than myself. My Unseelie peers acted as though it were the best part, but I didn’t care for it. Apparently, this Barton was equally uninterested, which improved my opinion of her a smidgen.