wench wasn’t just giggling, either. It was an outright laugh.
Vince put his hands to either side of him, but they just sank into the muck, too. He pulled them free with a distinctive sucking noise, leaving two fist-sized holes that immediately filled with water, reflecting back the grimace he was giving first one and then the other of them.
“You do your creed well, toad prince,” she said, once she had the laughter under control.
“Toad prince?” he replied. And then he said it again, louder than before. There was nothing for it. He looked at both hands, blew a sigh of disgust over them to warm them slightly, placed them atop his bare knees, and grunted himself upright. It took every bit of his strength and made muscles bulge from his thighs and stomach, and there was a moment when he didn’t think he was going to be able to gain his own feet, but it was done. The hole he’d made with his buttocks immediately filled with water.
“You see?” she said. “I am right again.”
“About what?” Vincent went to a twist and busied himself with pulling the tree-mash from the back of himself. All that managed to do was make his lower arms a mess of mud as well.
“You. And a bath.”
And with that, she turned and left him.
Chapter Two
A man was coming for her. He had been for almost eighteen months, ever since the day her sister Kendran had wished such a thing upon her. Sybil wiped the sides and then the tops and finally the bottoms of all her apothecary vials. It was a chore of love and one she enjoyed. Every bottle hinted at the contents within, with a thumbprint made of lamp oil and soot. She’d then scratch a symbol through the lines, marking what was inside. It was her special pride and joy: all the treasure she’d accumulated. All the good she could do…as well as the evil.
Sybil sucked on her bottom lip as she handled the tansy vial. It was useful for granting death…or it could be used for ridding a body of an unwanted babe, but that usually resulted in death as well.
That was why no one else in the keep had access to the apothecary cabinet belonging to her. No one. That was also why there was a huge hasp of a lock barring it, and before that, anyone would have to get past her pet and guardian, the large wolf named Waif. Sybil tossed a kiss motion toward where Waif reclined and was rewarded by a slight whiff of sound. That gave her pause. It was more than his usual unblinking stare.
She knew why. Waif knew it, too. The man was coming for her. A man so unsuitable it would serve as payment for any teasing and tormenting she did. She knew that’s what the wish was. Kendran wanted her to fall in love. Useless emotion that it was. Falling in love? And with a man lacking a handsome face, or a brawny frame, or even strength of character that Sybil valued the highest? The man from her dream fit the description perfectly.
Even if she’d never seen him.
The shadow from her dreams was just that: dark and wispy and stunted to the stature of a dwarf. That’s the man that was coming for her and the one she’d do her best to avoid. It certainly wasn’t the immense, muscled, blond, fair-faced Adonis of a fellow that had dropped out of a tree today and bothered her at her chores.
Sybil paused at the door, the handle turned down preparatory to opening it. In her other hand she held the large metal key with which she’d secured her cabinet. She nearly shook her head over constant thoughts of the blond fellow. It wasn’t difficult to ascertain the reason. That man had much to engage a woman’s interest. It was obvious he deserved and expected it.
Sybil was still shaking her head as she shut the door, leaving her pet wolf to guard the interior. There was the distinctive click of the door latching, and then there was the likewise distinctive sound of a throat clearing. Sybil pulled in a gasp and turned slightly, managing to keep the reaction from showing anywhere on her body.
“Well?”
The blond fellow from the marsh was moving from an indolent position leaning against a bit of rock wall even as he spoke. He was more massive than she remembered. With hands upon his hips and legs apart, he effectively spanned the width of her tower hall. He’d also found a way to a bath and laundry, if what she smelled and observed was accurate, since he was splendidly attired in little more than a kilt of blue and black, while the open sides of his doublet were leaving none of his brawn disguised. He probably should have donned a shirt as well, she decided, eyeing him with what she hoped was disinterest.
“Well…what?” she replied, since he did nothing more than block her hall while he waited.
“I’ve bathed,” he replied. And then he grinned.
Sybil had to look down as the strangest shiver ran her frame the moment she glimpsed teeth and what promised to be actual dimples as well. Her own body’s response was unfamiliar, unwarranted, and not going unnoticed. At least by her. She could only hope her voice had the same disinterested, modulated tone as always when she needed to use it.
She looked back up. One of his eyebrows was cocked, and his head was slanted slightly. There was a visual array of ropelike muscle pounding from the belly he was displaying as well. It was very practiced, very posed, and very unnecessary. It was also stupid.
“So?” she replied, finally.
His eyebrow fell, as did his smile. He had wickedly dark eyes, and with them dark lashes, both of which were incongruous and superficial-looking with his coloring. He knew it and was used to wielding it, which made the reaction her body was giving even worse. He’d lowered his chin, made a knot bulge out on side of his jaw, and favored her with a stern look, but since it was being shadowed by his lashes, it didn’t do much. It was just as theatrical as the rest of him.
Sybil’s lips quirked despite her effort.
“So…you approve?” he asked.
“You are verra handsome, toad prince,” she replied.
He blinked once and then lifted his chin a fraction. His eyes weren’t black, after all. They had amber shading that, when struck perfectly by the light, glowed with a touch of gold. Sybil forced the most horrid belly tingle to subside even before it had a good start. She didn’t have time for brainless, brawny, beautiful men with large opinions of themselves. She knew who did, though: her stepmother. She narrowed her eyes before he spotted her instant knowledge.
“And?” he prompted.
“And what?”
“I’m verra handsome and you have named me a toad prince. What else?”
Sybil shrugged. “Naught.”
She dipped her head and slanted her shoulder and made a move around him in a dismissive fashion. He took a sideways step and blocked her. Sybil looked at his feet and then tried again. This time, she moved to the other side of the hall, taking three steps and gaining a half step forward of progress. One of his sideways lunges, however, and she was blocked again. She blew the slightest sigh through her lower lip, making it puff out and a wisp of her hair flutter.
“Vincent,” he said.
Sybil ran her gaze up the mass of flesh he was displaying for her and met his eyes. The wretch was smiling. He was openly doing it now and showing full teeth. She tilted her head to one side and regarded him, forcefully ignoring every bit of how it felt. Every bit. Especially
