Page 13 of Caroline the Cruel
“Yes, alive,” she responded, returning her eyes to the warrior-like man before her. “I have other plans for them.” A cat-like smile widened Caroline’s pink lips as she shifted her focus back to the documents she’d been reviewing.
Angus put a hand on Althorpe’s shoulder as he walked from the room. “You know what is expected of you. I’ll return as soon as I am able.”
Over six and a half feet of Specialist Johnneth Althorpe towered over the opposite end of the mahogany table. Caroline swallowed, staring up at the imposing man Angus had left her alone with. Johnneth’s dark hair was cut close to his head, how all guards were, which accentuated his high cheekbones and well-proportioned facial structure. Though he appeared about ten years older than her, his tan skin was stretched taut and only smile lines appeared on each side of his supple mouth and at the corners of his mischievous hazel eyes.
Where Felix’s brawny muscles wrapped over his broad shoulders like a prized bull, Johnneth was more compact like a racehorse, lean and built for speed. Tight cut muscle peaked out of sleeves cuffed around his biceps and at the collar of his uniform. His sinewy thighs flexed, the cords outlined by the fitted fabric of his pants, as he shifted his weight, waiting for her command like a mountain cat poised to strike. Specialist Johnneth Althorpe appeared deadly, and that sent a little thrill tingling up her spine.
But he was beautiful, too. Breathtakingly so, and as she studied him, she wasn’t certain she’d ever seen such beauty in the male form. Johnneth put Felix to shame—so much so that she questioned what she’d ever seen in the latter. She would still punish him, though. You couldn’t wrong a queen and get away with it.
Caroline opened her mouth to speak, then darted her assessing eyes to his ringless hands before her cheeks flushed. Why did she have to do that? This guard belonged to her, regardless of whether he was attached or not. And here she was, acting as if she’d never seen a man before.Honestly, she scolded herself.
The corner of his mouth was kicked up ever so slightly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips like he read her every thought as plainly as if she’d spoken them aloud.Cocky.She’d seen that in his file. Caroline glanced back over at the papers in her hand wondering if she’d made the wrong decision.
“Character flaws,” she read aloud. “Overconfident. Has been known to misjudge his own ability. I think I’ll add prideful to the list.” Caroline tapped a finger on her pout, then scratched a note on his record. She was done with overly self-assured men. She should take care of this now. “Shall I knock you down a level, Johnneth? I could compel you to crawl after me on your hands and knees until you learn your limitations. Would you like that?”
“No, Your Majesty.” Muscles in Johnneth’s neck flexed, but his face betrayed no emotion. He threaded his hands behind his back and continued to wait for her order.
“And you’re also aware that my last three guards have vanished… POOF.” Caroline made an explosion gesture with her hands. “Gone in a blink with no discernable clue left behind.”
He nodded, the hint of a smirk twitching at the edge of his lips.
“I won’t warn you again. Don’t make me break you.” Any trace of that fledgling grin slipped away, and Johnneth swallowed. Caroline savored it, knowing that she could make a man like that nervous. “Now, go take your position. I’ll be another few hours here.”
Johnneth averted his eyes downward as he took his position before his enemy. The rumors were true. That almost iridescent blue-black hair that hung in sheets over her slender shoulders, those full pink lips, knowingly quirked up at the corners. And her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of, not grey, butsilver. Caroline the Cruel was staggeringly beautiful. It took all of his self-control not to openly gawk, to let his hungry eyes roam over her fine features and keep them glued to the pink stones surrounding them.
After all this time he’d failed to get close to her. She was at Roskide, he’d be stationed at Bowring. She was at the vineyard; he’d be training at Roskide. It was as if the Gods were intentionally keeping him away from her.In five years, as he’d worked his way up the ranks through their army, into the guard, and to the elite castle guard, he’d never even happened upon a chance encounter close enough to really take her in. And there she was, gripping a sheet of paper in her hand with his name on it.
Five years of his life. That’s how long he had to serve to get his appointment and Johnneth finally figured out her commander’s weakness. Used that weakness to his advantage. Angus truly lived to serve his queen. He had no partners, no family, hardly a possession in his sparse room. Angus was the queen’s man. And Johnneth played to that.If you’d just give me this opportunity, he’d said, begging the commander,it would mean the world to me. It had almost made him cringe to speak the words, to prattle on adoringly about the queen and her kingdom, the enemy he’d come to Everstal to dispatch.
Years of practice told him his features were schooled into a blank stare as her hungry eyes tracked across his body, threatening to send unbidden shivers skipping across his skin. Shewantedhim. Of course, she did. He was more than aware of his looks, his robust form and how women responded to it. This young queen, down a lover, was no different. She felt desire when she looked at him. It was going better than he could have hoped.
“Of course, Your Majesty. I’ll be here. Your wish is my command.” Johnneth allowed his voice to deepen enough to encourage her wandering thoughts, but not enough to invoke her wrath.
As he stood near the door, he caught her glance up at him more than once from the corner of his vision. It had taken him years to get here, but now that he was in her presence, assassinating the unsatisfied woman before him was going to be easy.
Chapter 2
“Andwhereareweoff to this morning, Your Majesty?” Johnneth asked, as he placed a foot into a stirrup, swinging the other across the speckled blue-grey gelding that Angus gave him upon his appointment. The unused leather of the saddle creaked under his weight as he shifted forward, and he wished he had time to break it in before such a long ride. It was the first time since Angus had assigned him to her, they’d left the intimidating fortress of Roskide. Caroline had told him to be prepared to be gone for three nights, nothing more, which made him bristle.
“Oh, a favorite subject of mine is having an issue with his labor. We’re going to go help him correct it.” Caroline had already been there when he arrived at dawn and was now fussing with her own mount.
In the two weeks Angus had been gone, he was on double duty, but Angus instructed Specialist Holzman to share the burden and he took the overnight shift outside the queen’s chambers so Johnneth could get a full night of sleep before their trip. Satisfied with his own adjustments, he dismounted and followed the queen back into the stable building to attempt to convince her to take a carriage,again.
“Your Majesty, it would be a lot easier to keep you safe if you would consider—”
Caroline held up a hand, silencing him as she, along with two servants, slipped behind a velvet covered screen. Moments later, the dress she’d been wearing appeared on top of the screen.
Fabric rustled, and the queen grunted. The two women dressing her were mumbling something to the effect ofhold stillunder their breath.
“My people need to see me, Johnneth. I won’t hide in Roskide, or in a carriage. I’ve done that and it isn’t fun. Besides, I’ll be protected,” she said. A wispy, playful glint edged her voice.
“I won’t be able to protect you—”
“I didn’t mean you,” she cut him off, huffing. “But it seems veryin characterto assume so.”
Johnneth cursed the assessment Angus has written on his dossier—cocky. He let out his own huff and crossed his arms over his chest. If she only knew.
Metal clinked from behind the curtain, raising Johnneth’s hackles. If someone attempted an assassination while he was mere feet from her, it would lose him his position, along with any opportunity he may have for his own attempt. And without rosenwood no less. She’d live, become more guarded than ever, and he’d be fired. Still—
