Chelsea's Chastisement Page 3

  Chapter Three

  Denver, Archer, and Roland left their horses in the care of the stable hands, and then made their way to their apartments, close to the Council Chambers. They’d sent their valets, Lawrence, Samuel, and Jon, on ahead to make sure they had food and drink ready, but the contingent of guards still walked with them. The king was reluctant still to allow his princes or the women from the other world to walk around the castle unaccompanied these days.

  They heard excited voices near the hall of portraits, and Denver’s pulse quickened. The moon was full, after all. No one had crossed over in two months. “Perhaps tonight you two may get your wish.”

  When they entered the suite of rooms next to the hall, they found Mitchell, Archer’s father, and several guards standing near a woman seated on a sofa. Denver’s heart gave an odd lurch when he realized she was crying softly. Her knees were drawn up, and he couldn’t stop staring at her legs. They were toned and shapely, and she had on what the women from her world called shorts. They barely covered anything, and certainly not as much as the dresses their own women routinely wore.

  He pushed aside Mitchell and the guards to draw closer to the girl. “Can’t you see she’s frightened? Give her some room to breathe.” Pulling a chair close to the sofa, he tentatively touched her arm. She wasn’t wearing much on her top, either, and he had to struggle not to stare at her lush curves.

  Big emerald eyes regarded him with caution, and at the sound of his voice she brushed aside several strands of copper-colored hair that had fallen over her face. Denver had a sudden urge to touch that hair. “Where am I? What happened?”

  “It’s a complicated story, but I assure you you’re safe. What is your name?”

  She wiped her eyes. “Chelsea. Chelsea Barrows.”

  “A very pretty name.” For a very pretty girl.

  “Thank you.”

  Archer and Roland were next to him now, but still standing. Her gaze swept over each of them. “You’re all dressed like the men in the painting. Is it you three I saw? Or some of the other men in this room?”

  “No,” said Archer. “They are not true to life.” He held out his hand. “I am called Archer, and this is Roland. The man seated is Denver. We are princes of this kingdom. We won’t hurt you.”

  She didn’t shake Archer’s hand. Instead, confusion filled her face. “Kingdom? What kingdom? Where am I?”

  Archer glanced toward his father. “It would be easier to explain all this in more comfortable quarters.”

  “What does that mean? I don’t understand any of this. Tell me where I am and what’s going on, please.”

  Denver glanced up at Archer and Roland, and then he rose and smiled at Chelsea. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” He led his two friends to a corner of the room. “I’m in if you are.”

  Roland grinned and Archer snorted. “You’re kidding,” said Roland. “Not more than ten minutes ago you said—”

  “I know what I said. And keep your voice down. I can’t explain this to either of you. I only know there’s something about this girl that calls to me. I’ll claim her myself if you don’t want her.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” said Archer. “My father looks like he wants to have her for breakfast, and that alone is enough to make me want her.” He glanced toward Roland. “So? What’s your decision?”

  Roland glanced toward her again, and then he nodded. “I like her, too. And you’re right. There is something about her that I can’t explain. And your father is a lecherous old bastard.”

  Archer grimaced. “Yes, he is. Let us claim this girl before others show up, or he exercises his right to claim her.”

  Archer’s mother had been dead ten years, and by his birthright, Mitchell had as much right to claim a woman from the other world as his son did. But this girl wasn’t yet thirty. Denver would bet coin on that. Mitchell was nearly seventy.

  Roland asked two of the guards to find their valets and alert them they’d chosen a woman from the other world. Then Denver, Archer, and Roland returned to where Chelsea sat. Mitchell leered at her, but she gave him a death glare. Good for her! Denver liked her even more now.

  He pushed past Mitchell and the guards once more, and extended his hand toward Chelsea. “Please come with us. We’ll take you to more comfortable and private quarters, where there will be food and drink. We will also explain everything.”

  She took his hand, and as she rose he couldn’t miss her flinch slightly as Mitchell’s gaze roamed over her body. Archer saw it, too, and shook his head slightly as he moved behind Chelsea. At least now Mitchell couldn’t watch her ass as she walked.

  “All three of you have claimed her then?” asked Mitchell, his tone of voice giving the impression that such a thing was distasteful.

  Denver and Archer both turned to face Mitchell. “You have a problem with that, Father?”

  Mitchell narrowed his eyes. “I have no right to say you cannot do it, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Then we’ll be on our way.” Archer turned away, so Denver did as well.

  “What does he mean by ‘claimed’?” asked Chelsea, softly.

  Roland leaned close to her ear. “We’ll explain everything away from here.”

  Denver gave her hand what he hoped she interpreted as a reassuring squeeze, only to find her palm damp. He swore he could feel her entire body tremble as they made their way down the corridor. They were taking her to the part of the castle that housed suites especially set up for princes and the women they chose. Jarrett and Colton lived with Abigail in that part of the castle, and Parker and Jaxon lived with Brenna there as well.

  She glanced around at everything as they walked, her frown deepening when she saw the electric lights set at intervals along the way. “I didn’t travel back in time?”

  “No,” said Roland. “It’s a common misconception.” He gave her a grin. “Apparently electricity and castles don’t go together in your past.”

  “They do, but not until about one hundred and fifty years ago. Also, what most people think of as a castle is more of a palace, really. This is too clean and luxurious to be a medieval castle. If I didn’t travel through time, what is this place?”

  “It’s an alternate universe.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She didn’t say it in a way that implied she believed Roland was joking, rather that she was fascinated by the idea. Denver and Archer exchanged a surprised glance.

  “So it is true. They do exist.”

  “Yes,” said Denver. “Because here we are, and now you’re here, too.”

  “And that portrait was a portal?”

  “It was.”

  “Are there others?”

  “Many of them.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “There are many secrets about the paintings we don’t understand.”

  When they reached the area near the suites, Lawrence, Jon, and Samuel were already waiting for them in the corridor. “One of the guards alerted us, Sire,” said Lawrence, bowing slightly. “The rooms will be ready in about two hours. Will you take food and drink in the sitting room for now?”

  “Of course,” said Denver. “Thank you.”

  They led Chelsea inside and she whistled at the décor. “Wow. I’ve seen pictures of palaces all over the world, and this would measure up to any of them.”

  “I’m pleased you like it,” said Denver.

  He indicated a sofa, and she took a seat at the far right, still glancing around the room. He pulled a chair over so he could face her, and Roland and Archer each did the same. She regarded them in turn. “Okay. This is a lot to take in, and I don’t even know where to begin. So…what is this place, why am I here, and what happens now?”

  * * * *

  Archer leaned back in his chair, crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, and grinned. He liked this girl. She seemed genuinely interested in everything, and her eyes were the prettiest color of green he’d ever seen. “This is the kingdom of Ashdow
n, and you’re in an alternate universe.” He cut his gaze briefly toward Denver and Roland. “And you’re here because we’ve claimed you. It’s our birthright to do so as princes of this kingdom, descended from King Reginald I.”

  Now her gaze turned wary, and he knew he’d better calm down a bit before she bolted. They didn’t need a repeat of what Jaxon and Parker had gone through with Brenna her first few hours here. “Claimed me for what, exactly?”

  “As our companion,” said Roland. “Our sexual companion. But that’s not the only reason you’re here. In choosing you, we also pledge to protect you and care for you.”

  She swallowed hard, and then she blinked a few times, her face registering first disbelief, then curiosity, and then an emotion Archer couldn’t quite interpret. “Your birthright, you say?”

  As Archer, Denver, and Roland explained the history behind that, starting with the curse placed on their women by a king from Enfield, and ending with the portraits and what they knew, and didn’t know about them, Chelsea leaned forward, her chin resting on top of her curved hands and her elbows resting on her knees. When they finished, she sat up again, and was about to speak but the doors to the hallway opened, and Jon, Roland’s valet, pushed in a cart filled with tureens, plates, silverware, and drink.

  After he left the room, Archer began to fill plates for all of them. “I’m sure you have questions for us.”

  “A few dozen, actually, starting with the obvious. Are you actually telling me your kingdom has gotten away with faking your bloodlines for thousands of years?”

  “No, we’ve only been doing that for a few centuries or so,” said Roland, passing her a plate. “Before that, we were too busy trying to keep peace with the people of Wythmail.”

  “And until someone from Enfield overheard Abigail, Jarrett, and Colton talking about the portraits, they had no clue they existed?”

  “That’s up for debate,” said Denver, frowning. “But now we know for certain that they are aware of them.”

  She took a bite of the sandwich. “Wow. This tastes so fresh.”

  Archer handed her a glass with punch in it. “You’ll find the food and drink taste different here. We don’t use chemicals or preservatives like they do in your world.”

  “Thank you.” She took a drink. “Very good. So now that Enfield knows about the portraits, what will you do?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “If they’re your enemy and have infiltrated your castle guards and your Council, why not simply go in and wipe them out? Didn’t you say you had an army that could do that?”

  “Our king would never condone such an action,” said Roland. “It would make our tenuous position with Wythmail worse, and we might well find ourselves with enemies on both sides.”

  She ate and drank while she asked questions, and as Archer watched her, he wondered how long ago she’d had a decent meal. “Who’s to the north?”

  “No one,” said Archer. “The Great Lake lies to the north, and on the other side is a kingdom called Dearth. We have no trade with them.”

  She nodded. “And to the south?”

  “The Wastelands,” said Roland. “Where people who are banished are sent. But the royal families have nothing to do with them. They’d just as soon kill any of us as look at us.”

  “So your only ally is Wythmail, and it’s an unstable relationship at best. You’re surrounded by potential enemies.”

  Archer nodded. “Yes, we are.”

  “With whom do you trade?”

  “Wythmail, mostly,” said Denver. “And the peasants trade with people in the Wastelands, who in turn trade with other kingdoms.”

  “What kingdom is east of Wythmail? Are they allies?”

  “They’re not enemies,” said Roland.

  “And what about west of Enfield?”

  “We do not know them.”

  “There has to be a way for you to increase your allies. I can’t believe you’ve lasted this long without being invaded.”

  Archer straightened up as the men each chuckled. “We should put these women from the other world on the Council. Jaxon told me Brenna said the same thing.” He gave Chelsea a long look. She was so pretty, and he wasn’t sure if she’d engaged them in talk of their politics to avoid the reason they’d told her she was here, or if she was genuinely interested in such things, but it was time to return to the subject.

  “Have you had enough to eat and drink?” he asked.

  She nodded, then wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Yes. Thank you. That was delicious, and I appreciate the hospitality.”

  Roland chuckled again. “I don’t think you understand, Chelsea. This is your home now. With us. Here, in these rooms. You’ll have your own bedroom, but I don’t imagine you’ll spend too much time alone in it.”

  The other two smiled, but Chelsea didn’t. Archer watched her carefully. There was no fear in her eyes, but neither was there contentment. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She stood carefully, as if testing the floor beneath her feet. When she spoke, her voice shook slightly, and his heart went out to her. It wasn’t their intention to frighten her, merely to take what their birthright dictated they had a right to.

  “Look, this place is fantastic. Really amazing. And I’d love to sit here and talk to you guys about it, but I’m really tired now. It’s been a … it’s been a very weird day. I’d really like to go home now. So, if you’ll do me the courtesy of showing me how to do that now, I’d be very grateful.”

  Archer stood and moved in front of her. He saw her swallow again, so when he took her hands, he did so gently. “Chelsea, you don’t understand at all.” He spoke softly, slowly, as one might do to a small child. “You cannot return to your world. The portraits only work one way. This is your home now. Here. With all of us.”

  Chapter Four

  If Archer hadn’t been holding her hands, Chelsea would have simply slipped to the floor. His words rang in her ears, like an echo, and then they reverberated around her brain until she was certain she’d pass out from their magnitude. What he said couldn’t be true.

  She shook her head, and gazed into his hazel eyes, mesmerized by the depths of emotion in them. His blond hair looked soft to the touch, and she loved the way all three men wore theirs long. It gave them sexy, devilish looks. All three were gorgeous. No doubt about that. Denver’s hair was dark, and his eyes were deep pools of chocolate. Roland had dark hair, too, but his eyes were as deep blue as sapphires.

  Gorgeous or not, there was no freaking way she was going to give herself to three men. She couldn’t do that. Could she?

  Of course you can’t! How can you even entertain such an idea?

  That fucking painting. Why had she taken it? Why hadn’t she tossed it out the window as soon as it changed?

  “What?” It was all she could manage to say, and the word came out as more of a squeak than an intelligible sound. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I have a job. I’m in school. I’m halfway done with a graduate degree in medieval history and politics. I can’t stay here. It’s just not possible. I mean…you’re each handsome and sexy and all that, but I have responsibilities. I left the coffeemaker on in my room, for God’s sake. What if there’s a fire?”

  She stopped when she realized the three were grinning at her like she was a precocious child. She sounded like one right now, that was for sure. “What you said can’t be true. I can’t be stuck here.”

  “I’m afraid it is true,” said Roland, his voice soft and sexy. Had it been that seductive before?

  She shook her head, tried to back up, but only succeeded in plopping back down on the sofa, suddenly very aware of three big, strong men in the same room with her. She reached for the pitcher and managed to tip her half-full glass all over the cart.

  Denver reached over and righted it, then poured more punch into her glass and handed it to her. “It’s all right. Drink. You’re okay.” His voice, too, now sounded dark and sexy. What the fuck was going on? Was the drink
spiked? Had they drugged her?

  She slammed it back down on the cart and stood, pushing past all three men this time to pace the room. There were so many doors leading from it. Where did they all go? One of them had to lead out of here. She opened one at random, and startled the heck out of a man dressed as servant that she recognized from earlier, plus a young girl dressed in a white cap and long, dark blue dress.

  The girl curtseyed after staring wide-eyed at Chelsea for a moment. “Pardon me, Miss. Your room won’t be ready for at least another hour or so.”

  “It’s all right, Anne,” said Archer, coming up behind her. “Just let us know when you’re done.”

  She curtseyed again. “Yes, Sire.”

  Archer closed the door and turned her to face him, placing a hand on each shoulder. “You’re all right. We promise. That was Anne, by the way. She’ll be your maid.”

  “I don’t want a maid.”

  “You’ll need one. The dresses and corsets are impossible to get in and out of alone, and if we do it for you, you’ll never be dressed.”

  She stared into his eyes, unable to look away from his gaze this time. What had they done to her? “What’s in the drink? What did you give me?”

  At first, his handsome face registered confusion, and then hurt. “Nothing. We’re not in the habit of drugging girls to get them into our beds.”

  “I meant no offense.” Well, maybe not, but if you were him, you’d have taken offense to that, too. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” What? “I’m afraid. Not of you three.” That was true, and the realization surprised her. “Of all this. I don’t understand it.”

  He shocked the hell out of her by pulling her into his arms and holding her close. His body was so warm and hard, and she leaned into his embrace because not to do so felt wrong. She couldn’t even explain why she suddenly felt comfortable in his arms, and her mind was so weary and confused she didn’t want to try. He stroked her hair and back, and she closed her eyes and let it happen.