Page 41 of Ruthless Scoundrel
Reina takes a deep breath. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she begins in a deep voice. “Or, gentleselkies,” she corrects and we both chuckle. Her golden hair is wavy, framing her face and shoulders wildly. I love the way she looks right now.
“Tonight, I bring youThe Plight of Sir Henry.”
She looks at me expectantly and mimics clapping her hands. I clap vigorously. Now I know. Clap often. Whenever she pauses, just clap.
The play begins with her narrating the situation for Sir Henry. He’s in need of a wife to claim his inheritance from his father, but no woman has yet caught his eye.
“I need your shirt,” she says once Sir Henry has arrived at a ball.
I raise my eyebrow and grip the hem of my shirt. “You just want to see my chest.”
She rolls her eyes. “I need it to differentiate characters.”
“You could always take offyourshirt,” I offer.
She kicks sand at me, and I block my face with my arm.
“All right, fine.” I smile and strip my shirt off.
Her eyes rake across my marked chest and I pause, letting her look. She shakes herself with a start and reaches out for the shirt. I toss it to her and she wraps it around her head like a bonnet.
“Sir Henry, so lovely to see you again after so long,” she says in an overly effeminate voice.
“Could this be Arelia, my childhood friend?” she monologues for Henry as he talks of her beauty, and how much she’s grown.
“Yes, it’s been so long,” she says, clearing her throat and assuming Henry’s voice.
The plight goes on. It turns out, Henry was scorned by Arelia, but not of her own doing. Her mother forced her to move away and move on, separating the two. But they were destined for one another, and in the end, they were married.
I clap hard, then whistle, as the sky turns dark blue. “Wonderful show!”
Reina bows, then throws my shirt back at me. But I like the way she stole looks at my chest throughout her performance, so I leave it off.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, holding out the stick with a selection of roasted fish.
“Starved,” she says, ripping the meat off one and digging in.
I try not to watch her, but it’s so hard not to. Everything she does is delightful.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“We should bed down soon. Get a good night’s rest,” I say.
“Are we close?” she asks, holding her hand over her mouth as she talks.
“I’m not sure,” I lie.
There’s a port on this island—I felt it as we were coming in. It’s on the west side, and no more than two docks, but it’s enough. There’ll be an inn, and likely a small settlement. Not enough for the princess to escape into, but enough of one that she might be stolen from me.
“Come,” I say, holding up the copper manacles.
She scowls. “You don’t expect me to wear that tonight?”
I snap the first one on my wrist. “Yes, I do. No one will take you from me.”
Her cheeks flush and she looks away. “Fine. Let me finish my meal and handle my business.”
She eats the rest of her fish in silence, and I pace beside our makeshift dwelling. I need her beside me and safe. I need her chained and close, yet I don’t know why.
