I’d procured much grander accommodations.
“No. I’ve been staying at the Bellemore Manor.”
“Really?” His eyes twinkled as he raised a brow. “I heard Lord Barrington had put himself in a tough spot.”
“Yes. I helped him find his way out. Let’s leave it at that.”
He smiled. I could have let him know the details of what had happened, but my father respected my private nature and left it for me to share the parts and pieces of my life as I wished.
When the time came, I’d let him know Lord Barrington lost his estate to me in a card game set up to allow him to settle a gambling debt that had grown to epic proportions. Over the years we’d gambled in all manner of cards and other games. Both on my trips back here and other gambling establishments in the kingdom. He’d lost to me so many times, he couldn’t think clearly. Pride and ego driving him which only served to make him more careless.
I didn’t feel a bit sorry for him. Taking one of his four manor homes that he’s acquired in his own devious fashion was just tit for tat in my book.
“If only your brother found independence as seductive as you.”
“He is your problem,” I said, and with that turned away, heading out of the house and into the moonlit winter darkness.
My horse was waiting in the stables, fed and watered ready for the ride ahead. It was no short distance back to the Bellemore Estate, and in the snow and ice it would require greater care to get there.
Unlike a lot of the men I’d grown up around, who treated their horses as if they were disposable, there was no way I would risk Vela’s life just to get home a little faster. But that wasn’t where I was heading.
Not yet at least.
Chapter 6
Vasile
Saint Theodora’s School was mostly dark as I rode hard down the long, snowy driveway. In the moonlight, I saw two pairs of carriage wheel tracks—one approaching, and one departing, which I guessed had to be from her father dropping her off. I fucking hoped so, anyway. But it didn’t matter, really.
If she wasn’t here, my next stop would be her family estate.
Whatever it took.
Scanning the lit windows for any sign of her, I dismounted and wrapped Vela’s reins to a fence post under a thick covering of trees, keeping her out of the wind.
“I’ll be back soon, girl.” I patted her shoulder and reached in the satchel on the back of my saddle and pulled out two apples.
I held one to her lips until she chomped the entire thing into her mouth, spraying juice onto my gloved hand then left another on the ground within reach.
It was cold as hell outside. Winters in Praque can last for nearly the whole year, with some of the higher peaks perpetually snow-capped. But it’s the low-lying land that tends to become impassable in the darkest depths of the year, with snow drifts and avalanches a regular occurrence.
Being away in warmer climes with my uncle had left me somewhat unused to that sort of cold, but right then I didn’t care. I barely felt it. Every fiber inside my body was burning up to see her. To get one fucking glimpse of those royal green eyes and the swell of her tits which had my cock nearly bursting from the front of my thick trousers.
But window after window yielded no sign of her. I ran my hand through my hair and spun on the toe of my boot, thinking it through as I pulled the lapels of my jacket together at my throat, the night temperatures dropping further as the wind picked up and the tips of my ears numbed.
A noise to my right drew my attention—the sound of uneven footsteps. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears and the hard thump of my heart made it difficult to concentrate. The mere thought that Valeria could be close had my senses on alert, my near frozen dick saved only by the constant pulse of hot blood that called for what it felt already belonged to us.
Peering into the darkness, I saw the shape of a man, half staggering through the snow. He wore thick boots but his jacket was unfastened. The glint of a bottle of vodka caught the moonlight as staggered in an awkward circle, humming happily up at the moon.
As he raised his face to the silver light, I saw the glazed eyes, the thick lines around his mouth and deep in the flesh of his forehead. From the weathered look of his face, life had ridden him harder than most.
With my gaze, I traced his footsteps backwards, and there I saw the dim rectangular glow of light in a small window. The moonlight showing a small shack down the path and I caught the scent of wood smoke.
Groundskeeper, more than likely.
I set forward and in a few long strides I was within arm’s length of him and he staggered back when he saw me. He dropped his nearly empty bottle into the snow, where it landed with a powdery thump.
“You know who I am?” I said, getting in close enough to scare him a bit.
He blinked a few times in the moonlight. “No, sir.”
“Vasile Greengallow,” I said, nearly shouting into the wind.
And he inhaled, sharp and scared.
“You know my name?” I said.
“Yes, yes, sir. I do.”
Truth be told, he’d have to be a fucking half-wit hermit not to know the Greengallow name. We had our hands in most things in this territory, legal, partly legal, and everything in between.
I eyed the bottle of vodka sticking out of the snow. It was our label—a business we’d purchased first as a front but then turned straight. Or my father had, anyway. I’d been off doing more important and definitely more legal things.
“If you tell me where I can find Princess Valeria Valentine, I’ll send you a year’s supply of that.” I glanced at the bottle.
There was a flicker of temptation in his deep-set eyes, yet he hesitated. “Sir, I… I really should not…”
“Yes,” I said, stepping into him. “You really fucking should.”
He blinked off his drunkenness as best he could.
His faded blue eyes glimmered in the cold moonlight. Now that my vision had adjusted to the darkness, I saw he wasn’t just old.
He was ancient.
He’d probably been here since he was my age or younger. Dutiful protector and all that shit. Appealing to a different side of him would work better. And quicker.
“She’s in trouble. And I’m here to warn her.”
His look of tipsy confusion transformed into a dead-serious stare. “What sort of trouble?”
The worst fucking sort you can imagine.
“Big trouble, old man. Trust me. The less you know, the better.”
He rubbed his reddish cheeks with his crooked fingers, the sound of his phlegmy cough punctuated by a faraway wolf’s howl.
Christ, what a place to live this was—the wilderness of Praque was always calling, always encroaching. Always reminding us that no matter how powerful we thought we were as humans, we were just visitors here.
“She’s on the third floor, west wing,” he said. “The corner room. Toward the moon.”
Now we were fucking talking. I stepped back a little and extended my hand to his to thank him.
“I was never here, we clear?” I asked, as I turned to go.
“Yes, Mr. Greengallow,” he said with a respectful nod.
“A delivery will be on your doorstep within days. Water my horse for me as well will you? You will have my gratitude.”