Free A Brother's Price by Wen Spencer Page B

it. “Do you know how long my family searched for Prince Alannon?”
    “My grandmothers were quite anxious to keep him.”
    Ren laughed, then fiddled on her fingers, counting generations. “We share great-great-grandmothers.” She tapped on her index finger, then stepped down to her middle finger. “Your grandfather was cousin to my grandmothers.” She wiggled her ring finger. “Our mothers are first cousins once removed, or second cousins?”
    “I’m not sure.” He leaned over to touch her pinkie. “This is us?”
    “First cousins twice removed, or second cousins once removed, or third cousins.”
    “Are there such things as third cousins?”
    “I’m not sure,” she admitted.
    “Perhaps it’s a good thing we did nothing in my mothers’ kitchen.”
    “Pshaw, sharing great-grandmothers means nothing.”
    “Are you sure?” Jerin tucked an errant lock of hair behind his ear. “There seems to be a great deal we’re not sure of.”
    She pulled him to her, her hands slipping into his gown to stroke his damp bare skin, her mouth warm and sweet on his. Her kiss left him breathless, trembling, and wanting more but not daring to go on, because this time he would not be able to stop. She held him, nuzzling into his hair. “I am sure,” she whispered into his ear, her breath hot, “that you are a beautiful man, in a beautiful silk gown, and I want you.”
    “I—I—” He wavered, then steeled himself to pull out of her arms. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t do it—I can’t betray my family. We’ve come so far from being thieves, but only because twenty of my grandmothers died in war, because Grandmother Tea lucked into finding Grandfather, because my mothers worked until they dropped to make this farm bountiful. I hate being the coin of their future, but—but—”
    And he knew, suddenly, that any look, or word, or gesture from her, and his will would go. He fled her, fled his own desire.
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    Chapter 4

     
    Jerin was not sure if he was relieved or disappointed that Odelia came to breakfast the next morning. She looked pale, weak, and battered, but pronounced herself up to riding. She spent the meal watching Jerin’s every move until Ren teased her for being a bird dog at point. Jerin had to admit there was an uncanny resemblance between the princess and a hunting dog locked on to a pigeon: the unwavering gaze, the orientation of the body toward the target, and the trembling desire kept carefully in check.
    As he feared, Ren announced that with Odelia fit to ride, they would be leaving. By setting out immediately, they would have a good chance of making the four-day journey downriver to Mayfair in time for the opening of Summer Court, where the princesses would preside as judges. Eldest offered the use of the Whistler dogcart to Heron Landing, where the royal steamboat was tied off. Odelia agreed that the small buggy would be safer than trying to take the ten miles on horseback to town. Breakfast finished, the women went out to hitch up the dogcart and saddle the horses. It happened so quickly, it wasn’t until Jerin set the last dirty plate next the kitchen sink that he realized the princesses were going, going for good, and that he’d never see Ren again. Suddenly it seemed something amazingly precious had slipped away, something he couldn’t grasp, no more than he could hold air.
    The paddock seethed with horses and women and children. Jerin stood at the edge, watching Ren give commands. Somehow she detached herself and came to him without seeming to seek him out. They stood in silence as Jerin tried to think of something he could say. Certainly not “Don’t go,” or “I think I love you,” or even “Don’t leave me here to marry the Brindles.” With his sisters near at hand, even “I’ll miss you” was dangerous. “Come back and visit” was impossible; he’d be married and gone within a few months.
    Finally, he found something acceptable. “Keep yourself safe.”
    She looked