The Spellbinding Courtship: Calatini Tales Book 0.5 Read online

  Once Aragon returned to the family townhouse, he snuck around back and slipped inside. Please let Mother not spot him. She'd guilt him into remaining for dinner if she did. He dashed upstairs and changed into riding clothes then left the way he'd entered.

  He relaxed when he rode from the stables without anyone stopping him. He inhaled the brisk spring air with a smile. Devon's suggestion was the perfect remedy to forget the grasping potential brides and stressful council meeting.

  After riding through the crowded streets of Ormas, he left his bay mare at the stables at the end of Mermaid Street and strode to The Gold Griffin, grinning at the peeling sign swinging above the door. He loved the rowdy tavern and had since he first stumbled across it four years ago.

  He'd been riding home from the nearby orphanage his youngest brother Hawke supported. The gold griffin sign had caught his eye because griffins were land creatures renowned for inspiring truth and taking lifelong mates—an unusual choice for a tavern near the docks. So he'd gone inside, and from the first, everyone at the tavern treated him like an ordinary man rather than the heir to a wealthy duke and cousin to the king. Unlike everyone at court and Mother's candidates. Plus, the tavern's special gold ale glowed when telling the truth, so the card games were always honest. He visited as often as his duties allowed.

  Once he entered The Gold Griffin, Aragon nodded at the porter then sat at the bar. Although not packed yet, the tavern was still busy. Sailors bawled chanteys and spilled their glowing tankards of gold ale as they swayed. On the opposite wall, several groups played cards, eyeing their glowing ale after every move. Scattered about the other tables throughout the tavern, tradesmen ate an early dinner in clusters of one or two.

  The huge tavern keeper wiped his hands on his tattered apron and barreled over with a broad grin. "Afternoon, Lord Treyvan. What'll you have today?"

  Warmed by Micah's hearty welcome, Aragon grinned in return. "Afternoon, Micah. A fish pie and a tankard."

  Micah nodded. "Right away."

  When the tavern keeper returned with his steaming fish pie and glowing tankard, Aragon's mouth watered. Definitely much better than suffering through dinner with Mother's candidates. "Looks delicious, as always."

  Aragon and Micah discussed the tavern while Aragon devoured his meal. Once he finished, he ordered another tankard then joined a group playing cards. Like his companions, he eyed everyone's tankards to discern deceitful plays. While he played cards over the next few hours, more patrons arrived until the tavern was raucous and oven-like.

  'Twas well past dinner when Aragon tossed down his final hand and allowed the blacksmith who'd been watching for the past hour take his seat. Mother's candidates surely must have departed, although Mother would scold him for missing dinner when she saw him. Yet a relaxing evening had been worth it.

  He shoved through the packed tavern but halted before the door. Rain splattered outside, and dark puddles littered the ground. He glanced at the porter. "How long has it been raining?"

  The porter shrugged. "Since shortly after you came. Doubt it'll stop any time soon."

  Aragon grimaced and blew a sigh. "Of course not." He eyed the tavern. 'Twas much too crowded to stay. He'd brave the rain. If only he'd brought a cloak spelled for it. He stepped outside and sprinted down the street toward the stables.

  Halfway there, the cold and steady rain burgeoned into a numbing deluge so heavy he could barely see. Wetter than a drowned firecat, he darted into a nearby doorway to wait for the rain to ease. He should have remained at The Gold Griffin despite the throng.

  When he bumped the door behind him, it swung open, and he stumbled inside. He brushed back sodden hair from his eyes and studied his sanctuary from the deluge. Although shabby, the brown entrance hall was florid with golden sconces and dark-red carpet.

  A hulking man covered with scars held open the battered door. He appeared more like a brawler than a porter as he inspected Aragon without expression.

  Aragon offered a weak smile. He'd not offend such a behemoth. "Evening. Wet one tonight. Could I shelter here until the worst of the storm has passed?"

  The hulking porter grunted. "Not up to me. Mistress!"

  A blonde woman in a scarlet gown with a precariously low bodice sailed into the entrance hall. She eyed Aragon up and down. "And who might you be, sir?"

  Aragon blinked at the woman. Considering the furnishings and her attire, this must be a brothel of some sort. He'd prefer to shelter elsewhere, but he was here. To offset his bedraggled appearance, he swept a courtly bow. "Lord Treyvan, mistress."

  The woman, who must be the brothel's madam, eyed him up and down again. "The Duke of Childes's eldest son?"

  Aragon jerked a nod. The gleam in her blue eyes echoed that of Mother's more grasping candidates. Wonderful.

  The madam smirked. "You're perfect. That'll be twenty gold."

  Perfect for what? And twenty gold was a year's wages near the docks—much too steep for shelter from the rain. Aragon glanced at the hulking porter, who chuckled and held out his hand. Aragon sighed. Despite the outrageous price, at least he could dry off. He handed money to the porter.

  "Follow me." With an imperious wave, the madam led Aragon upstairs then down a long hall. Muffled moans, shouts, and thumps came from the many closed doors.

  Aragon fought a blush. Although not celibate like his middle brother Mel who'd become a priest last year, he was no rakehell like Hawke, who found a new lover every few nights. Honestly, he couldn't fathom that—lovemaking should be more than mere recreation. So he'd never visited a brothel, kept a mistress, or even taken many lovers.

  As they reached the final door, he cleared his throat to explain he only wanted a room. "Er..."

  The madam purred a chuckle and opened the door. "Go on then, my lord. Enjoy your night." She prodded him inside and shut the door behind him.

  Aragon swallowed and glanced about the tawdry room. He wasn't interested in seducing its owner and would rather enjoy his night alone. But how could he refuse without insulting the girl? Perhaps more gold would help.

  But then his gaze halted on the adorable lady with sandy-brown hair and freckles hovering beside the crimson bed. From her shabby yet decorous dress, she must be poor gentry and desperate. As he met her dark-gray eyes, his breath stilled, and his heart pounded in his ears. Goddess, he'd never met anyone so spellbinding.

  After a moment, the lady lifted her chin then strode over and smashed her lips against his.

  Chapter 3

  The day after the black witch's visit, Selena hid in her chambers and sketched madly until her uncle strutted out the front door an hour before dinner. Thank the Goddess he'd finally left. Her hands trembling, she dropped her sketch journal to yank on her cloak and grab her reticule. She'd only be gone the evening, so she'd bring nothing else with her.

  Then she slipped out to find the brothel on Mermaid Street. The footman had mentioned 'twas two doors from The Gold Griffin and three from the stables. Clutching her cloak about her, she bent her head and strode to the brothel. Her pulse surged at the brothel's unmarked door. She gulped a breath then made herself knock.

  The door creaked open to reveal a hulking man covered with scars. He eyed her but said nothing.

  Selena lifted her chin, gripping her threadbare reticule. She must sound decisive or he'd never let her past. "I've business with your mistress. Direct me to her."

  A bisected eyebrow quirking, the massive porter stepped back and waved for her to enter.

  She glanced about the hall as she entered, her stomach quivering. Although not luxurious, the furnishings were clean and just this side of tawdry. Better than she'd expected.

  The hulking porter led her down a hall with sepia wallpaper, amber sconces, and maroon carpet. He knocked then opened the carob-brown door at the end of the hall. "Lady here says she got business wi' ya, Madam Lorelei."

  Selena swallowed then glided into the madam's study. A prickle skittering up her neck, she shut the door and lowered her
hood. "So I do. May I sit?"

  Her blonde hair arranged in frothy waves that belied the sharpness in her blue eyes, Madam Lorelei raked Selena with a long glance. "What business, pray tell?"

  Selena perched in the plush chair before the desk. Before revealing her plan, she must find out if the madam was trustworthy. "I've a potential proposition for you, but I must speak with some of your girls first."

  Madam Lorelei arched a brow. "I'll give you five minutes to meet them, but after that, you must pay for their time."

  Selena nodded and clutched the reticule in her lap. "Five minutes shall be plenty, but I must speak with them alone."

  Madam Lorelei's scarlet taffeta rustled as she rose. "Follow me." She led Selena upstairs and down a long hall.

  Even though 'twas during dinner, couples were raucous behind the many closed doors they passed. A blush scorched Selena's cheeks. She'd never dreamt coupling would sound like that.

  Madam Lorelei smirked as she opened the final door. "Is this private enough for you?"

  Except for the groans coming from the next room. Selena blushed harder but nodded. Would she truly be experiencing that soon?

  Madam Lorelei purred a chuckle and nudged Selena inside. "I'll send three of my available girls up. Remember, five minutes only."

  Selena nodded again as the madam left. Goddess, could she really do this? She glanced about the room as she waited. Although tidy and clean, the decor was oppressive. Everything was crimson or black. It made downstairs appear tasteful.

  After a rap on the door, a willowy brunette, plush blonde, and dainty redhead entered. The willowy brunette purred, "You wanted to meet us?"

  Selena swallowed, eyeing the three girls. They all appeared healthy, and none appeared scared. Hopefully, they'd speak truthfully. "How do you like working here?"

  The girls glanced at one another, then the plush blonde drawled, "Well enough. Madam Lorelei treats us decent and always makes sure we're protected."

  The dainty redhead sniggered. "Especially you, since you're her daughter."

  The willowy brunette waved a hand. "Madam Lorelei treats us little different, and you know it."

  Selena gripped her reticule. "So you'd say Madam Lorelei is honest?" When the girls nodded, her chest loosened, and she smiled at them. "Thank you for your time. You may return to your prior pursuits."

  The dainty redhead scowled at her. "Don't you wanna bed one of us?"

  Heat swamped Selena again. That explained the madam's earlier smirk. "No, I just wanted to speak with you."

  When the redhead began to protest, the lush blonde hauled her from the room with the willowy brunette close behind.

  Selena wiped damp palms on her taupe dress then strode from the room as well. She refused to hear the sounds from behind the other doors as she passed. She slipped back down to the madam's study and knocked on the door. At Madam Lorelei's reply, she entered and sat before the desk again.

  Madam Lorelei arched her brows as she inspected Selena. "Done already?"

  Selena inclined her head, fighting another blush. She must act composed. "Yes, your girls were most helpful. Now about my proposition..."

  A wry smile curved Madam Lorelei's full lips. "I should have known your proposition would be more than a night with one of my girls."

  Selena gulped a steadying breath. If only she could abandon her plan, but she must continue. "I want a night with one of your patrons instead. I must be rid of my virginity before I return home."

  Madam Lorelei eyed Selena. "And what do I get out of your proposition?"

  Selena lifted her chin. "You may keep whatever fee you ask of your patron. I'll leave how much you charge up to you." Hopefully, 'twould be enough to tempt the madam. She'd nothing else to offer.

  Madam Lorelei's eyes gleamed. "I suppose you wish to remain hidden during your time here."

  Selena shook her head despite her clenched stomach. Losing her virginity would be futile if Uncle Adan never discovered it. "Only until the deed is done. Then I want you to fetch my uncle."

  Madam Lorelei snorted. "I'm not inviting a furious uncle to my brothel."

  Selena sighed. The madam's refusal was understandable, but without seeing Selena at the brothel, Uncle Adan would doubt her missing virginity. Perhaps she could request a healer to prove it instead. She sighed again. "Very well."

  Madam Lorelei leaned forward, her scarlet bodice dipping precariously. "If you're serious about this, you must follow the same rules as my girls."

  Selena frowned, her shoulders tensing. Rules? What kind of rules? "Meaning..."

  Madam Lorelei snickered. "Nothing horrible like you're imagining. You'll be free to leave whenever you wish. All my girls are."

  Selena relaxed then gestured for the madam to continue. Thankfully, she was honest like her girls had said.

  Madam Lorelei snickered again and straightened. "You must wear a contraceptive charm that also protects against venereal diseases."

  Selena forced a nod and gripped her reticule. She'd not considered pregnancy or diseases when devising her plan. "A wise precaution, but I don't possess one."

  "I provide them as part of my room and board for my girls." Madam Lorelei rooted in a desk drawer then tossed a wire bracelet at her. "Here."

  Selena eyed the thin bracelet. Although contraceptive charms were harmless, this one appeared unimposing. "I can't pay for it."

  Madam Lorelei smirked. "Never fear; your patron will." When Selena slid the contraceptive charm about her left wrist, Madam Lorelei continued, "Second rule, none of my patrons are rough with my girls unless they pay handsomely for it. I introduce those men as satyrs to the girls."

  Her eyes widening, Selena swallowed. Dear Goddess, such a man would be almost as bad as the winner of the black witch's auction. "I don't want one of those."

  Madam Lorelei flashed a sharp grin. "I didn't think you did. I shan't bring you a rough one."

  Selena sighed as tension released her throat. "Good."

  "And my third rule doesn't apply since I'm getting your entire fee." Madam Lorelei arched her brows. "Any other requests about your patron? A specific man, perhaps?"

  A pang darted through Selena. "No one specific, but I'd like a decent gentleman if possible." 'Twould be the closest she'd get to love.

  "A decent gentleman?" Madam Lorelei coughed a laugh. "You're aware that can be difficult at a brothel near the docks, right? Gentlemen keep to the fancier brothels unless they want a bit of rough."

  Selena winced. Of course they did. "The best you can manage is fine." She couldn't wait for better.

  Madam Lorelei pursed her lips. "Are you certain you wish to do this?"

  Selena suppressed a shudder but set her jaw. "I must do this, so yes." What Uncle Adan and the black witch planned was so much worse.

  Madam Lorelei shook her head but rose. "Come along then."

  The madam led Selena back to the room where she'd met the girls. Again, Selena made herself ignore the sounds coming from the other rooms. She didn't want to hear what she'd soon experience.

  When Madam Lorelei left, Selena removed her cloak then prowled about the room, keeping away from the bed. She could hardly believe she was about to surrender her virginity in this garish room. She'd always assumed she'd share that with her husband after a swift courtship, just like her parents had. But mourning that was futile.

  As she waited for her patron, she paced the far side of the room, muttered prayers to the Goddess, and toyed with the vial of lymon balm scent in her reticule. She and Mother had made it two summers ago, so smelling it almost soothed her, but not as much as her sketch journal would have.

  When the bedroom door finally opened and a man entered, Selena froze like a hunted moonrabbit. From the cut of his sodden clothes, he was a gentleman, likely a rich one. And he was handsome with seal-brown hair, dark-umber eyes, and strong features. What was such a gentleman doing at a brothel like this?

  She and the gentleman stared at one another for a long moment. Her skin tingl
ing, she forgot to breathe. He was exactly what she'd pick given a choice. She inhaled and lifted her chin. She'd better get started on her plan. She strode across the room and smashed her lips against his.

  Chapter 4

  Dumbfounded by the spellbinding lady's rough kiss, Aragon froze.

  The lady threw her arms about his neck and continued mauling his lips. She knew nothing about kissing. So why was she in a brothel near the docks? She must be more desperate than he'd realized. 'Twould be wrong to exploit her desperation, no matter how much he hungered to kiss her for real.

  He wrenched his head away and rasped, "What is this?"

  Her arms fast about his neck despite his dripping clothes, the lady scowled at him. "Kissing, of course."

  Aragon couldn't resist a snort. "That was not kissing."

  The lady narrowed eyes the color of black moonstone. "Teach me how to kiss then."

  He scrutinized her pursed lips, his heart quickening. The adorable lady was too tempting to resist. Surely one kiss couldn't be considered exploitation. "Very well."

  Aragon brushed a featherlight kiss against her lips until she softened with a sigh. Then tilting his head, he captured her lower lip and caressed his tongue against hers until she returned his kiss. Her refreshing lymon scent surrounding him, he raised his head and murmured, "Now that is kissing."

  The lady blinked at him as she licked her reddened lips and wobbled a nod.

  He ached for another kiss, but that would be exploitation. He removed her arms from his neck and stepped back to find somewhere to talk. Unfortunately, the lurid room was dominated by the crimson bed. But a small chair was tucked in the corner.

  Aragon drew the lady to the bed and helped her sit. Then he snagged the chair and settled across from her, shifting his shoulders to loosen his sodden jacket. "I'm Lord Treyvan. You are?"

  The lady's brow furrowed. "Lord Treyvan... Lord Treyvan... I feel as if I should know that title."

  He almost smiled. Even the brothel madam had recognized his title, so the spellbinding lady must be a stranger to Ormas. And she'd responded to his kiss without knowing who he was. If only he could continue concealing his identity. "The Duke of Childes's eldest son."