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Baxter pushes away from the wall of books and strides across the room, his gait slightly unsteady. I call no attention to it and turn to look down at my charge. The woman slumbers peacefully with the hint of a smile on her mouth. My cock jumps at the memory of kissing her.
If that was enjoyable, then how will fucking her be? I cannot fathom.
Sliding my arms underneath her body, I pull her to my chest, cradling her delicate frame. She turns her head toward me and burrows her face into my shirt. A small sigh of pleasure leaves her parted lips.
The unexpected act of trust catches me off-guard, and I wrinkle my brow. I’ve never been a man that women seek out for comfort. Sex, danger, and mystery? Yes. Those things I can provide ad nauseam. But security and comfort? That is not a game I’m familiar with.
My frown stays in place the entire way to the guest room upstairs. Having been to Baxter’s house more times than I can count, it’s as familiar to me as my own, which sits just across the road. His strange behavior at my arrival earlier can be explained by the soft bundle in my arms.
The question is: why?
I don’t give a flying unicorn’s ass that this woman is the Princess of Hearts. She might have a royal cunt, but if the rumors are to be believed, it’s been royally fucked. Her lack of memory—or playacting—explains why she was hesitant to engage with me.
Does Baxter find her station in life intimidating? With the madness spreading throughout Wonderland, no one will care about much here soon. Even so, as the brother to the Royal Messenger, Baxter should be used to the upper echelon. Or would’ve been, before he was exiled from Court.
Perhaps the woman in my arms is a painful reminder of that.
Maybe even had something to do with it.
I walk over the large bed and halt just beside it. Alice’s hesitation earlier must’ve tainted me because I’m loath to put her down. I can’t recall the last time I held a woman for the simple pleasure of it. My mind rebels, dredging up memories to counteract my musings.
An image I’ve buried to the deepest, darkest corners of my psyche rises. It’s brief, but the agony it brings lingers, even after I shove it away. My chest heaves with breath, and my hands shake. The weakened state of my body propels me to lay the woman down on the mattress.
I step back and fold my arms over my chest to still the trembling. And to refrain from snatching her back to me. Instead, I run my gaze over her, taking in every detail until my heart rate steadies.
Little birds are not dangerous. No, they areindanger. At all times. Especially this one, who’s flightless and unable to defend herself.
Or is she…?
Baxter needs to disclose what he saw that upset him so. If he won’t do it willingly, then he and I will have a serious disagreement. One that could end with an altercation.
Now wouldn’t that be fun?
CHAPTER8
ADELAIDE
“Hello, little bird. Did you sleep well?”
My eyelids feel as though someone laid weights on top of them. It’s a struggle to open my eyes, but once I do, I’m immediately alert.
Lucien smirks at me from where he sits in the chair located across the room. His outfit is different than before. It’s a mix of black and white, like a chessboard. Along with a solid ebony coat, he’s wearing a pair of matching pants, but his dress shirt underneath is a crisp white. The top hat from before is still present, sitting off-center on his head and giving him a roguish look. Under the brim is a pair of expensive-looking glasses covering his kohl-lined eyes.
“Tell me, what did you dream of?” he asks in a seductive whisper. “Do you remember anything?”
I get into a sitting position and quickly scan the area. The guest bedroom is a decent size, but the bed and armoire take up most of the space. A cushioned stool sits opposite of Lucien’s tufted chair, and a pile of books and papers are stacked on top. The walls are bare except for two scenery paintings.The only imposing thing in here is the man staring at me with an impish sparkle lighting up his blue gaze.
“What happened?” I ask.
He leans forward, placing his forearms on the tops of his thighs. “You tell me.”
“I have no idea. The last thing I remember is Baxter ordering me not to fight him.”
“Based on his reaction, I’d say you did more than that.”
My lips pull to the side in a frown. “What do you mean?”
“After the man was inside your head, he came away looking shook up. Baxter does not rattle easily, so tell me what you did.”
