The Outcast Prince

“You could sell and live here.”

And rattle around like a lonely pea in a pod like Gran? But she didn’t say that living here alone held no appeal. She’d known this place when it was full of life and that was how she wanted to remember it.

“And lose money on my place?” It wasn’t a sellers’ market at the moment. She shrugged. “I know you’re trying help, but I’ve thought of everything.”

“At least get quotes so you know exactly how much you need to fix the place up.” He smiled, the white of his teeth catching in the light. “Quotes, at least, are free.”

“True.” She could do that. Maybe if she’d been more attentive while Gran was alive the house wouldn’t have gotten so shabby. But she hadn’t wanted to see that Gran wasn’t coping. Gran had always been strong and capable; to see her as anything else would mean acknowledging she was getting old.

“Hey. It’ll be fine.” The back of his fingers brushed her cheek.

“And you know this how?” He saw the past, not the future.

“Because I have faith in you.” He kissed her, not chaste or even curious. His mouth claimed hers as if he were starving for contact and needed everything she had. When his tongue swept over her lips she opened her mouth to taste him.

Lydia pressed her body closer, needing to feel him against her. Without words getting in the way there was no doubt about what he wanted. Her hand slid up his neck and her fingers threaded into his dark curls. The need that had been simmering in her belly broke free. She wanted him like she’d never wanted anyone. She wanted to sink into his touch and forget everything. A moan escaped her lips as his hand gripped her hip, and the length of his shaft pressed against her in a tempting promise of things to come.

“Not up here,” he murmured against her lips. “There are spiders.”

She opened her eyes and realized he was being serious. A moldering attic was not the best place to pick for a tryst. She took his hand and led him toward the ladder, an idea forming. He followed her down, which gave her a moment to check out his butt.

Caspian followed as she went down a flight of stairs, but instead of going to the room they were using she walked past to the landing that overlooked the entrance. She wanted a glimpse into the house’s past. She wanted a glimpse into what he saw, to understand him better. Asking him to do that in the bedroom wouldn’t be right, he’d already said he didn’t want to pry into those parts of history. But out here? Would he agree or brush her off? She saw his raised eyebrows and wondered if she was asking too much.

“I want to see what you see and be a part of the house.” What would she be saving by keeping the place?

“I can’t do that.”

“But you could tell me what you see.”

He looked at the wooden railing but didn’t touch it. “It’s not a party trick. I can’t be in the past and with you at the same time. Too long and reality and the past blur. It’s why I needed to eat and ground myself this morning.” He lifted his gaze to her. “You don’t want to recreate what has already happened.”

“Not recreate, but I want to know what it is you see when you are in the house.” She took his hand in hers. “Just let me into your world for a few minutes. I won’t ask again.”

She could see the possibilities spinning in his mind. He wasn’t used to talking about it let alone sharing anything about it.

“You could have asked me over dinner about the table.”

“It’s just a dining table. I was thinking something more… intriguing.”

He smiled and it hid a thousand secrets. “There’s no such thing as just a dining table.”

Eww. But then she remembered she’d been eating breakfast at that table since she was old enough to sit in a chair. What he was talking about was decades old.

“Are you sure you want to get a taste of what I see? Because you’ll never be able to look at it the same again.”

“Then how do you live with it?”

“I buy new furniture. The antiques I sell so I don’t have to live with the history. I try not to buy things that have been present during a murder. I don’t like the vibe.”

“Okay.” That wasn’t the direction she’d been hoping to take. “How about one object, your choice.”

He looked at her as if trying to work out what it was she wanted. Then he pushed her against the railing, his hands on either side of her. She put her arms around his neck and risked a glance over her shoulder.

“I won’t let you fall,” he murmured in her ear. “But now you are part of it as she was.”

And she realized this was it. This is what she’d asked for. He’d picked the railing and had pushed her against it the way someone else had been years before. Caspian’s cheek was against hers, his breath on her skin, and while she couldn’t see his face she could feel the tension in his shoulders beneath her hands.

“She leaned back as far as she could, not caring of the danger. His arm around her waist as he kissed her neck and slowly moved lower. The risk of getting caught, but neither cared.” He swallowed. “Lust is the overriding emotion. The longer I tap into the past the more real it becomes. Music drifts up from downstairs. Laughter.”

Her breathing quickened as he moved against her, hard against her stomach. But as his hand slid around her waist she realized he wasn’t actually with her. He was in the past. And she understood what he meant and why he’d been reluctant to do this.

She slid her hands down his chest then pushed him back, breaking the connection.

He took a couple of steps back and blinked. “I thought you wanted to know.”

“I do… I did. You got lost.” Was he back?

“Not lost; when I’m lost it’s very hard to get free. That hasn’t happened in a very long time.”

“You weren’t here either.”

“The impression was close to what I want, so it was easy to tap in and easy for it to take over.”

“Close to what you want?” She took a couple of steps, until she was toe to toe with him.

“Mmm.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her. His other hand snaked around her waist and drew her closer.

She untucked his shirt and slid her hands under, needing to feel his skin. He must have had the same idea as he worked open the buttons on her shirt and pushed it off her shoulders while she tried to do the same to him. Her fingers skimmed the muscles of his stomach down to the button on his jeans, then she flicked it open.

“And what is it that you want?” She needed to make sure he was here with her, now.

“You, in the room down the corridor.” He tugged on the waistband of her jeans as he walked backward toward the room they were sharing.

Chapter 15

Neither of them had bought groceries so it was bread from the freezer again for breakfast. It was so boring and normal. He hadn’t had breakfast with anyone in… well, in four years, since he’d walked out on Natalie. Lydia knew what he could do and she’d still come back to bed for more.

After several days of being surrounded by Greys and a twitchy Dylis, he felt good. He smiled at Lydia as she sat opposite him at the table. The shop was closed, so he had nowhere to be and nothing pressing to do. And there were no mirrors in the yard—which probably meant Shea was pacing his front yard, but Shea could wait.

A movement on the windowsill caught his eye. A fairy wren hopped along, stopping and turning, its feathers flashing brilliant blue in the morning sun. Caspian watched, willing it to vanish, or to be attracted to him and not a herald for the Court. Not today, not here. Not now.

Three knocks at the front door shattered the hope he’d had. He’d been lulled into an obviously false sense of security. The wren flapped away, its job done. Whoever was waiting out front was associated with Court.

Lydia looked at Caspian. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

He was, but he’d thought he’d gotten away with it when they’d taken so long to come. “I’ll go have a look.” He finished his coffee.

The fairy knocked again. This time the sound reverberated with power and Caspian felt a stirring in his