Beyond a tiny little tic in her cheek, the rest of her face remained remarkably blank. “What exactly are you talking about?”
Gwenvael’s head tilted to the side a bit, not sure what else she thought he could mean. “The glass.” He went to poke one, but she slapped his hand away.
“They’re my spectacles.”
“Do you mean like a ‘spectacle of bad’? Or a ‘spectacle of horror’?”
“No,” she replied flatly. “They’re so I can see.”
“Are you blind?” He waved his hands in front of her face. “Can you see me?” he shouted, causing all those delicious-looking dogs to bark and snarl louder.
That constantly cold façade abruptly dropped as she again, but more viciously, slapped his hands away. “I am not blind. Nor am I deaf!”
“No need to get testy.”
“I don’t get testy.”
“Except around me.”
“Perhaps you bring out the worst in people, which is not anything one should be proud of.”
“You haven’t met my family. We’re proud of the oddest things.”
Her lip curled. “There are more of you?”
“None quite like me. I’m unbearably unique and, dare I say, adorable. But I do have kin.” He shrugged. “I’m so very sorry about earlier,” he lied. “And I’m hoping you’ll help me.”
There went that flat expression again. She had this constant expression of being unimpressed. By anything, everything. Yet he was beginning to find it kind of…cute. And annoyingly intriguing.
“I’m sure you’d rather I help you, but I delight in the fact that I won’t.”
That was her delighted expression? Eeesh.
Gwenvael pulled back a bit. “And why wouldn’t you help me even after I apologized? So sweetly too!”
“One, because you didn’t really mean that apology, and two…I really don’t like you.”
“Everyone likes me. I’m loveable. Even those who start out hating me end up liking me.”
“Then they’re fools. Because I don’t like you, and I won’t like you.”
“I’m sure you’ll change your mind.”
“I don’t change my mind.”
Gwenvael frowned a bit. “Ever?”
“Once…but then I realized I was right the first time, so I never bothered to change my mind again.”
She was not going to be easy, this one. Yet she wasn’t resisting him as much as simply not responding to him. No matter how he taunted her, she refused to rise to the occasion. He couldn’t be more irritated by that!
“Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll talk to your father then. See if he can convince you to act like a true and proper hostess.”
“You do that.”
Gwenvael continued to stand there, staring down at her, until she was forced to ask, “Well…?”
“Don’t know where he is.”
“Find him.”
“A proper hostess would show me the way.”
“A proper hostess wouldn’t have your kind in her home.”
“That was mean.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re not going to help me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I already explained this. I don’t like you. True, I don’t like most people, but I especially dislike you. I could start my own religion based on how much I dislike you.”
Out of ideas on how to handle this wench, Gwenvael went with one of his tried and true methods. He sniffed…and then he sniffed again.
The Beast blinked, her expression confused, but then her eyes widened in horror when she saw that first tear fall.
“Wait…are…are you…crying?”
It was a skill he’d taught himself when he was barely ten years old. With brothers like his, he needed it in order to get his mother to protect her favorite son as much as possible. He rarely used the technique now, but he was desperate.
“You’re so mean to me,” he complained around his tears.
“Yes, but—”
“Why won’t you help me?” he wailed.
“All right. All right.” She held her hands up. “I’ll take you to my father.”
He sniffed more tears away. “You promise?”
“Do I…” She sighed and stepped down from the fence. She didn’t jump down, nor did she step down daintily. It was a carefully, plotted step. He bet she took lots of careful steps in her life.
She came out of the gate and closed it behind her. “Canute, here.” The tasty morsel that had almost been Gwenvael’s afternoon meal immediately went to her side, his yellow dog eyes watching Gwenvael closely.
“And you,” she said to Gwenvael. “Come along.”
Gwenvael watched her walk away. Her clothes were bulky and plain. He couldn’t make out a bit of her body, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like under all that. Was she thin like a rail, or did she have some curves? Were her breasts big handfuls or things to be tweaked? Was her ass flat, or would he be able to grip it tight while he rode her? Did she moan, or was she a screamer?
She stopped and glared at him over her shoulder. “Well…Are you coming?”
And she didn’t seem to appreciate it much when he started laughing at her again.
Chapter 5
As soon as they stepped within the main courtyard, Dagmar felt every eye on them. People stopped in their work; the soldiers and warriors stopped in their training. And the women…Dagmar was surprised fainting wasn’t involved. She knew she heard sighing. Deep, longing sighs. When a servant girl carrying a large basket of bread to the soldiers’ dining hall walked into a wall because she was busy staring at the dragon pretending to be human, Dagmar could only roll her eyes.
“Are those men naked?”
Dagmar squinted across the courtyard toward one of the many training rings and nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Learn to fight in this cold naked, chances are you’ll be able to fight no matter what you’re wearing.”
“Are there a lot of naked fights among the Northland men? Is that something they enjoy doing?”
His teasing tone almost made her laugh. “If it is something they enjoy, I assure you not one will admit it.”
“I thought you would have asked me questions by now.”
“What would I ask you about?”
“About Queen Annwyl. About her affiliation with dragons. Or even ask me about my name.”
“It’s no concern of mine.”
“That’s a lie. And my name is Gwenvael the Handsome.”
“Fascinating. And I know my place, Lord Gwenvael. I know my role.”
“Oh, come on. You can ask me something.”
“All