Once Upon a Knight. Jackie Ivie

of sound. That gave her pause. It was more than his usual unblinking stare.

      She knew why. Waif knew it, too. The man was coming for her. A man so unsuitable it would serve as payment for any teasing and tormenting she did. She knew that’s what the wish was. Kendran wanted her to fall in love. Useless emotion that it was. Falling in love? And with a man lacking a handsome face, or a brawny frame, or even strength of character that Sybil valued the highest? The man from her dream fit the description perfectly.

      Even if she’d never seen him.

      The shadow from her dreams was just that: dark and wispy and stunted to the stature of a dwarf. That’s the man that was coming for her and the one she’d do her best to avoid. It certainly wasn’t the immense, muscled, blond, fair-faced Adonis of a fellow that had dropped out of a tree today and bothered her at her chores.

      Sybil paused at the door, the handle turned down preparatory to opening it. In her other hand she held the large metal key with which she’d secured her cabinet. She nearly shook her head over constant thoughts of the blond fellow. It wasn’t difficult to ascertain the reason. That man had much to engage a woman’s interest. It was obvious he deserved and expected it.

      Sybil was still shaking her head as she shut the door, leaving her pet wolf to guard the interior. There was the distinctive click of the door latching, and then there was the likewise distinctive sound of a throat clearing. Sybil pulled in a gasp and turned slightly, managing to keep the reaction from showing anywhere on her body.

      “Well?”

      The blond fellow from the marsh was moving from an indolent position leaning against a bit of rock wall even as he spoke. He was more massive than she remembered. With hands upon his hips and legs apart, he effectively spanned the width of her tower hall. He’d also found a way to a bath and laundry, if what she smelled and observed was accurate, since he was splendidly attired in little more than a kilt of blue and black, while the open sides of his doublet were leaving none of his brawn disguised. He probably should have donned a shirt as well, she decided, eyeing him with what she hoped was disinterest.

      “Well…what?” she replied, since he did nothing more than block her hall while he waited.

      “I’ve bathed,” he replied. And then he grinned.

      Sybil had to look down as the strangest shiver ran her frame the moment she glimpsed teeth and what promised to be actual dimples as well. Her own body’s response was unfamiliar, unwarranted, and not going unnoticed. At least by her. She could only hope her voice had the same disinterested, modulated tone as always when she needed to use it.

      She looked back up. One of his eyebrows was cocked, and his head was slanted slightly. There was a visual array of ropelike muscle pounding from the belly he was displaying as well. It was very practiced, very posed, and very unnecessary. It was also stupid.

      “So?” she replied, finally.

      His eyebrow fell, as did his smile. He had wickedly dark eyes, and with them dark lashes, both of which were incongruous and superficial-looking with his coloring. He knew it and was used to wielding it, which made the reaction her body was giving even worse. He’d lowered his chin, made a knot bulge out on side of his jaw, and favored her with a stern look, but since it was being shadowed by his lashes, it didn’t do much. It was just as theatrical as the rest of him.

      Sybil’s lips quirked despite her effort.

      “So…you approve?” he asked.

      “You are verra handsome, toad prince,” she replied.

      He blinked once and then lifted his chin a fraction. His eyes weren’t black, after all. They had amber shading that, when struck perfectly by the light, glowed with a touch of gold. Sybil forced the most horrid belly tingle to subside even before it had a good start. She didn’t have time for brainless, brawny, beautiful men with large opinions of themselves. She knew who did, though: her stepmother. She narrowed her eyes before he spotted her instant knowledge.

      “And?” he prompted.

      “And what?”

      “I’m verra handsome and you have named me a toad prince. What else?”

      Sybil shrugged. “Naught.”

      She dipped her head and slanted her shoulder and made a move around him in a dismissive fashion. He took a sideways step and blocked her. Sybil looked at his feet and then tried again. This time, she moved to the other side of the hall, taking three steps and gaining a half step forward of progress. One of his sideways lunges, however, and she was blocked again. She blew the slightest sigh through her lower lip, making it puff out and a wisp of her hair flutter.

      “Vincent,” he said.

      Sybil ran her gaze up the mass of flesh he was displaying for her and met his eyes. The wretch was smiling. He was openly doing it now and showing full teeth. She tilted her head to one side and regarded him, forcefully ignoring every bit of how it felt. Every bit. Especially the itch of sensation at each breast tip, where she must have donned an underdress that hadn’t been rinsed thoroughly because it chaffed with what had to be lye residue. Especially there.

      “I ken your name already. You told me.”

      “So say it.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I’m asking you to.”

      Sybil pulled in a breath and complied, giving her voice the most enticing, sensual, deep-throated undertone she knew how, as she drew the first syllable of his name out in a lengthy fashion before finishing it with a moan of sound.

      The reaction was immediate and visual. The mass of man jumped slightly as if an itch of sensation made it inevitable. Sybil was around him and almost down the hall before she heard his boots coming after her.

      She stopped, turned fully, and put both hands out, blocking his way for a change. She was watching his reaction as he slowed to a crawl of movement and then halted just shy of her and stood there, breathing deeply. Sybil was matching him but kept the beginnings of agitation to herself.

      “You’ve a reason for delaying me?” she asked finally.

      “I’m na’ delaying you,” he replied. And gave that little smirk-smile that came with one dimple. “At least…na’ this time.”

      She took a deep breath. “My stepmother is a verra gracious woman. Anymore. Especially to me. I dinna wish any of that changed,” she replied.

      His confusion was almost perfectly portrayed. Sybil had never met a better liar. Poser. Deviant. Her eyes narrowed even more.

      “’Tis obvious to me, my toad prince. You are one of my stepmother’s newest lovers. She has them. Ever since my father’s death in spring of last year, there has been a string of handsome young men about the castle. All dancing attendance on her. Without end. ’Tis her reward for the life she lived with him. I dinna’ begrudge it to her.”

      “Lover?” he questioned, putting a meaning behind the word that she didn’t recognize.

      That was odd. She didn’t like odd. She swallowed the excess spittle her mouth was cursing her with and continued, making certain he knew of her knowledge.

      “Dinna’ let it fash you.” She ran her eyes up and down his frame and ended up back at his belly, where a roping of muscle was still moving with his pounding heart. “You are by far the most handsome. Much. She sees well. It’s my guess she’ll na’ be dismissing you as quickly as she did the others. Unless you give her reason.”

      She finished on a whisper. He was choking. It sounded in his next words. He was a terrible choice for a lover. He wasn’t even loyal. Sybil was already thinking through the selection of herbs she could use. The Lady of Eschon didn’t deserve such a cheat and a wretch. Both of which he was proving himself to be the longer he bothered the only other young female in the castle: Lady Sybil.

      “You th-think…I’m one of your…st-stepmother’s…lovers?”