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Yet more proof they were prudish here.
Not fun.
“Right,” I replied.
“There’ll be guards at the front and back doors.”
Wait.
“Why?”
“Your father didn’t keep great company and regularly had unsavory visitors.”
“Wonderful,” I said to the ceiling.
“Satrine,” he called.
God, I hated that he couldn’t call me by my real name with that beautiful voice of his.
I looked back to him.
“This will be over soon.”
“Okay.”
“There’s that word. What does it mean again?”
Man, I needed to keep my guard up.
And that, too, sucked.
“It’s a language Mom and I made up. It means ‘all right’ or ‘fine’ or ‘good.’ At least it does this time.”
There you go times two. I was getting good at lying on the fly (Lord help me).
His lips curled up. “Okay.”
Yes, he was killing me.
I smiled at him.
He bent and kissed my forehead, which was outrageously adorable and sweet.
When he backed away, he bid, “Enjoy your reunion. I’ll return for breakfast at nine.”
“Righty ho.”
He shot me a hot smirk, a fabulous wink, and then he took off.
I couldn’t spend a lot of time with Maxine because she didn’t need to be overstimulated while she was getting used to being out of basement prison and in this house with me and Mom. Mom was her constant, so Mom stuck with her.
Though, before he left, the doc assured me that with time, she’d warm to me. I just had to be patient.
As for me, I went about checking out the house, making sure Idina was good, and casing the joint for stuff we might be able to sell or just plain steal so we could have our own pocket money (and then some) should anything go south, or we found a witch for hire, and we’d need the cash to actually hire her. I scored by finding two books that taught French/Fleuridian in the library. I also dealt with the fact that the servants were practically dancing on air (there was a definite feel of “Ding Dong, The King is Dead, Long Live the Queen!”).
Eventually, I shared dinner with Mom and Maxine (who was timid and quiet, but I was right, really sweet), then preparing for bed.
Which brought us to now.
And me telling Mom I was marrying Loren.
“Okay, babe,” Mom said while pacing, “the man is gorgeous, like, whoa, what? gorgeous, but this is not a good idea.”
“I know. That’s why I have an alternate plan.”
She stopped and gave me her look that said, Spill.
“We’re going to steal a few of Dad-not-Dad’s things we can sell, and otherwise purloin whatever we can so we have a stash so we’re not destitute should he cut us off, which Loren tells me he can, and considering he’s a massive douchebag, he will.”
“Damn,” Mom mumbled.
Good to know I wasn’t dim. She hadn’t thought of that either.
“Then we’re going to find a witch.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“I don’t know. This world is cray-cray. They probably have storefronts. We’ll just wander town. Ask around.”
“What I mean is, how are we going to find one, explain what we need, and get home without that other witch’s curse turning everything to shit because we told someone else we’re from a parallel universe?”
Oh man.
I hadn’t thought of that.
She put her hands on her hips, glanced at Maxine, then looked to me.
“Honey, I think we’re stuck here.”
Something happened inside me that felt suspiciously like my heart leaping in joy, but I not only didn’t let on, I didn’t even admit to the feeling.
“What about Keith?”
She looked away.
Yeah, she liked Keith. He was a good, solid guy. One of the first who treated her right.
Really right.
“Mom, we’ll get home.”
She turned back. “How?”
“I don’t know. Two days ago, it seemed impossible to spring you. Now, you’re sprung and wearing satin. We just can’t give up.”
“And complicating things by marrying a hunk? How will that help?”
“I didn’t say it would help. I just said I was doing it. Or letting him think I am.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants to marry me, and he crushed Edgar’s hand for me after…” I pointed to my eye, “this.”
Mom’s face got hard.
“Good,” she snapped. “But you know, he also showed up downstairs, doing this making no sound, even while breaking in a locked door. It just happened that I was staring at that door longingly, which I’d become prone to do, and I caught him coming in. He snuck up on that jerk who was watching us and, zzzzzziiiiip, slit his throat.”
Holy cow.
Eek!
“Didn’t blink,” she stated. “Not even a flinch. The guy dropped. He nabbed his keys. His buddy tossed a blanket over him so Maxine, who was thankfully sleeping, wouldn’t see. And then he came to the bars, opened the door, and said, ‘How do you do, my lady? I’m Loren Copeland, Marquess of Remington, and your daughter sent me to fetch you.’’”
“Cold,” I muttered on a shiver, though it was also totally hot, and I had feelings of pride (and instantly denied them) and wonder (and instantly denied those too) and maybe titillation (because that was badass, and I didn’t deny that part).
