Diamond in the Rough

Summary: Remy makes his decision easily enough, but informs his prospective bride the hard way. And Etienne makes a suggestion that goes over very, very well.

Author’s Note: This is it. Just an epilogue to come, but I had fun writing this. I will be focusing on finishing Thrill soon, it’s still complex but slowly unraveling its plot for me a bit at a time. With Every Beat will be next, there is a bit of conflict that’s niggling at me with that story before I bring it to the obvious conclusion. And Odd Couple is a fledgling fic that still needs more outlining, but it will be all in good fun. Lots of fun.

I would like to thank my friends from L/R and Rendezvous for visiting and giving this story so much beloved feedback, as well as anyone else who stumbled on this story on this site. I’ve been enjoying hearing from you, as well as talking to some of you on my DeviantArt account, as well. I enjoy writing these stories borrowing these characters, so thank you for indulging my insanity.

Anna Marie sailed down the marble staircase looking particularly beautiful that morning in a wine red velvet gown trimmed in black satin ribbons. It was early in the day for such finery, but her lady’s maid took special pains to braid her hair in an elaborate style.

She beckoned to one of Remy’s butlers while he was moving a large urn of flowers. “Where is his Highness?”

“Prince Remy?” he asked politely. “He’s outside, milady.”

“Already?” she wondered. She left him, not seeing the bemused smile he wore in her wake.

She headed into the kitchen. Jeanne-Marie already had a plate waiting for her.

“Would you like me to serve you in the dining room, Highness?”

“Yes,” she replied curtly. “Will Prince Remy be joining me?”

“Actually, Majesty, he’s already out and about. He and Etienne already broke their fast an hour ago. Early risers, those two. It’s their habit, I’m afraid. Sometimes, his Highness is up at dawn.” Anna Marie wrinkled her nose in distaste. She swept out of the kitchen.

“I’ll take my eggs soft boiled,” she threw over her shoulder, ignoring the plate of scrambled eggs, fresh baked bread and soft, spreadable cheese Jeanne-Marie had already prepared.

“Yes, Highness,” she replied cheerfully. “Ugh…” she muttered under her breath.

There would be no love lost once she was gone.

Anna Marie made short work of her breakfast, in part to maintain her slim figure, but also because it was boring to eat without company at the table. Her lady’s maid greeted her when she went upstairs.

“Would you like your habit on, milady?”

“I hadn’t planned on riding today.” If Anna Marie saw another saddle in the next lifetime, it would be too soon.

“Very good, milady.”

“Fetch me my cloak.” Her maid curtsied and did her bidding, fetching one of black velvet with a red satin lining. Anna Marie felt powerful, dressed in her groom’s colors. It was only a matter of time before she was Queen Anna Marie of Shade and Sweet Water.

Her elder brother, Kurt, was due to ascend the throne of Rippling Seas once he took a bride, which was highly likely once their mother, Queen Raven, arranged a betrothal between him and Princess Amanda of the Winding Way. Anna Marie was the daughter of the royal family, so she had to marry someone of her station to live the way she was accustomed to and to attain the title she dreamed of.

Anna Marie went outside with her chaperone, ever mindful of her fine slippers. The weather was sunny but brisk, with a wind almost strong enough to blow her hood off her head.

Remy was in the stables, which she discovered to her great distaste.

“Good morning. Erm…were the two of you going for a ride?”

“Better den dat, petit,” Remy informed her cheerfully. “Ya look lovely, like a rose that survived winter.” She beamed.

“Why, thank-“

“Might wanna change, sweetheart. Dat ain’t practical for a hunt.”

“…you. Beg pardon?”

“Fox hunt,” Remy explained calmly. “The entire village will turn out for it, I’m t’inkin’.”

“But…Remy…Ah’m not much of a hunter. Ah think Ah explained that already.”

“It’s a wonderful opportunity, chere, for ya t’meet our countryfolk.”

“Couldn’t…we accomplish that just as easily with a festival of some sort, or a ball? That might ensure that I meet the right people…”

“The right people?” Remy cocked his brow. Anna Marie realized her mistake and cleared her throat.

“Ah mean…well. It would be nice to meet your countrymen in a more…civilized setting, Ah’m thinking.”

“Dere’s only so much room in the palace ballroom to host a large gat’ering. And everyone feels welcome at de hunts.”

“Well…perhaps Ah could meet them on mah next visit, Remy. Ah might be busy, what with having to consult mah seamstress regarding mah trousseau and all…”

“I wouldn’ wan’ ya ta get lonely, chere. I’d really appreciate it if ya could make an appearance. Jus’ wouldn’ be the same wit’out ya. And yer de guest of honor. Don’ wanna offend anyone wit’ yer absence, non?”

“Jeanne-Marie’s making cake!” Etienne piped up, grinning. “First we hunt the fox, but we have venison for dinner!’

“Venison?” She looked slightly green.

“Sometimes elk, too.”

“Isn’t that slightly…gamey?”

“Dat’s some fine eatin’,” Remy cajoled. She looked unconvinced.

But she smiled. A tidy, tight, sickly little smile.

*

The crowd slowly began to gather on the palace grounds. Jeanne Marie set out a late morning picnic brunch and organized the villagers who brought along various dishes, cheese and fruits. The palace bugler arrived and unpacked and polished his brass horn for the occasion. He stopped by and bowed jauntily to Anna Marie, and she tried not to wrinkle her nose at his ripe scent. He smiled at her with gappy teeth.

“Good morrow, milady.”

“Good, erm, morning,” she offered weakly.

“Tis a fine day for a fox hunt. The last one had some fight in ‘im, he did. Our lord Prince Remy caught him, trussed him up, and ‘ad the lil’ bastard stuffed and put in the Town Hall for all t’see.”

Anna Marie was aghast. “You don’t catch it and let the poor creature go?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he cackled, shaking his head at her as though she was daft.

Anna Marie retreated with her chaperone and lady in waiting to the dais as the rest of the preparations were made. Benches were arranged in neat rows and children began to mill around and shout. Some of them were from well to do families, and some of them wore rags, but all of them looked forward to the hunt, the older boys helping their fathers prepare guns and other weapons. Lures and traps were rigged throughout the surrounding woods.

Etienne was excited, too, and Nanny was having a time of it trying to keep him in check. He kept running about and getting underfoot. His uncle Julien watched him with half an eye, narrowly rescuing a stray bow and quiver of arrows from his untried grasp.

“I hate hunting,” Anna Marie hissed under her breath. “It’s so…bloodthirsty and barbaric.”

“Puts food on the table, milady,” said her chaperone.

“Might give you a chance to get to know your betrothed a bit better, Highness,” her lady in waiting chimed in, but she, too, looked uncertain and squeamish.

Shortly, the assembled villagers crowded around the dais. The king’s crier announced his arrival.

“All hail his Highness King Jean-Luc and her Majesty Queen Candra,” he bellowed with great importance. The bugler play a resounding reveille that rang out through the courtyard. Jean-Luc and Candra ascended the dais and signaled to the crowd.

“It’s a fine day for a hunt. As we partake of this day’s activities, I would like my friar to offer a blessing for safe journey and shared success!” His friar was portly and quiet; he made motions over the crowd at large, offering his benediction. The villagers cheered with good will.

He also nodded in Anna Marie’s direction. “It is also my great pleasure to introduce our royal guest who is visiting us from the kingdom of Rippling Seas, Princess Anna Marie.” He didn’t introduce her as Remy’s bride, a very telling detail to have omitted, indeed. Anna’s smile faltered, but she waved gracefully to the crowd. The villagers were astonished by her beauty.

“Wouldn’t ya like ta change, chere?” Remy mentioned as he approached her elbow. He winked at her chaperone, who blushed and glared at him in disapproval.

“Whyever for?” She was proud of her fine raiment and had no intentions of putting on anything else.

“For riding on horseback,” he explained.

“WHAT???”

*

The next twenty minutes were a flurry of confusion and aggravation.

“I hadn’t planned on climbing into a saddle!” she explained, cheeks hot.

“But dis hunt’s in yer honor,” Remy chided her. “Surely ya wouldn’t wanna disappoint yer future countrymen? They’d be insulted if ya declined.”

“But…Remy…” Her mouth worked and she looked ready to burst into tears or smack him.

“Might wanna hop into dat nice lil’ riding habit my maman had made for ya,” he suggested helpfully, “unless ya trust the saddle ta be gentle ta yer fine gown.”

So she sailed back into the castle in a dither, fuming.

“Unless you trust the saddle,” she muttered under her breath. “Really, now!”

She hastily returned to her guest quarters and sat while her lady removed the habit from the press, smoothing the wrinkles from the jacket. She went through the pains of changing into the smaller hoop skirt and chemise, carefully guarding her hair from being mussed, rehung the cloak, changed into lightweight stockings and put on the less flattering riding boots which pinched her small feet. The process was painstaking and frustrating after taking such care before to look her best that morning.

“I hope he appreciates this,” she fumed as they swept back out.

Remy had Julien saddle a sedate looking butterscotch mare named, amusingly, Butterscotch. The horse nickered at her as she approached.

“Might wanna introduce yerself,” Remy said.

“Hallo,” she said. The horse snorted at her, flicking a drop of spittle on her habit. Anna recoiled.

With great difficulty, Anna was seated on the mare, who champed on the bit beneath her weight. Etienne was seated in front of his stallion at the forefront of the crowd. Anna Marie was jealous of the attention he gave his son, ruffling his hair and giving him a brief hug. She tried to move up a bit closer, but the mare shied and pranced slightly as she took the reins.

“Behave,” she hissed. The mare whinnied in warning. Anna Marie’s lady and chaperone looked nervous.

“Perhaps you ought not do that, Highness.”

“The sacrifices I’m expected to make for this engagement,” she complained under breath. “Once we’re wed, this kind of thing won’t be necessary. We’ll hold balls every season, not hunts. We won’t have to worry about the rabble.” Remy’s bugler overheard and gave her a sly look.

He raised the horn to his lips and blared the summons.

“HOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Jean-Luc bellowed, and the small red fox was released. She disappeared into the thicket, and the women in the crowd banged pots and pans to encourage its flight.

Butterscotch had grown impatient and decided she’d had enough. She caught the fever of the other riders careening off the main grounds and pricked up her ears. Anna felt her muscles bunch beneath her, tensing and releasing ominously.

“Oh, I don’t like - thiiiiiiiisssssss!” Her scream was loud and shrill. Her maids looked on helplessly, horrified and sending up low prayers.

It was hell on earth.

Remy was in his element, running down their quarry and leading his party after him. The wind buffeted his cheeks, and Etienne’s hands helped him guide the reins as they both gave his steed its head.

Anna Marie followed in his wake at an awkward canter, seat smacking the saddle repeatedly. “OW! Ooh! OW! Ooh! OW! Ooh!” She held on for dear life. “REMMMMMYYYYYY!”

Butterscotch dragged her through a narrow path thickly lined with elm trees. Anna Marie was slapped by myriad low branches. The surrounding villagers were no help.

“She’s a bonny huntress, she is!” one of them chortled.

“Ride lively, miss!” cried another one.

“HELP!” Butterscotch sped through a broad, deep mud puddle and splashed Anna Marie’s habit with stagnant water. “GAH!”

The fox was wily and quick. The villagers closed in on it, but it escaped into a hole, completely out of sight.

“It might be a gopher’s burrow,” Julien cried over the din of stamping hooves.

“Keep sharp,” Remy replied merrily. He was enjoying himself immensely and wished Logan was with him. He looked back, pulling his mount to a braying, rearing halt. “Princess! Ya all right?”

“No,” she whimpered miserably as Butterscotch trotted off in her own direction, carrying her hapless passenger off into the thick brush.

“Watch out for dat bush, dat’s-“

“GAH!”

“…poison sumac,” he warned, too late. The plants were overgrown and high, snagging her skirts.

“Go that way! That way!” Anna Marie ordered imperiously, swatting the horse with her reins. Butterscotch snorted indolently and stopped completely, munching on some nearby crabapples. Remy chuckled.

“Ya can catch up to us in a bit, chere,” he offered as he took off again.

She continued to cajole the horse. “Ah’ll give you a pink silk saddle if you just move that way,” she sniffled. “As many yummy oats as you can eat! Sweet green apples and carrots if you just go that way!” she hissed futilely. She flapped the reins again. No response from Butterscotch.

She called out to some of the other members of the hunting band. “Couldn’t you please help?” she pleaded.

“Sorry, yer ladyship,” one of them replied contritely. He hurried back toward her mount but Butterscotch shied again the closer he came on his own mare.

“She won’t behave!”

“She’s a right fickle bitch, aye,” he chuckled. Anna Marie was aghast at his language and demeanor, but to his credit, he was tall and looked very strong, handling his own horse very competently.

Butterscotch reared back. Anna clung to the saddle and screamed.

“CALM DOWN, MILADY!” he cautioned her, riding up alongside her swiftly and reaching out to grab the reins. “Shhhhhh,” he urged. “Calm down, now! You’ll upset your horse!”

“UPSET MAH HORSE!” she accused bitterly. Her face was red and blotchy, and her lips were twisted into a grimace. Wide, damp green eyes stared him down. “Your joking, aren’t you? Please tell me you’re joking.” He steadied Butterscotch with some effort.

“You’ve had a fright,” he soothed.

“I’ve had a horrible day!”

“The hunt’s still young,” he said, surprised. “Pray, continue. There’s a chance to get caught up.”

“Ah hate this,” she wailed. “This is so…provincial! And barbaric!” He looked distressed and wanted to reach for her in some way, but she was royalty, and it would be unseemly.

“Do you perhaps need some refreshment, Highness?”

“Ah need an end to this,” she sniffled. “Ah…Ah planned to accept his proposal, an-and plan our engagement…”

“He hasn’t formally asked for your hand yet?”

“He’s supposed to!” she cried. Then she straightened up haughtily. “Let’s get this over with.” She steered Butterscotch away from his mount and attempted once more to follow the hunting party, which was roughly a mile up ahead near the narrow stream.

Her seat was still deplorable.

Joseph watched her with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. Despite the unflattering nature of her predicament, she was lovely. He wondered what she was like when she was more in her own element. Perhaps indoors? He followed after her, closely but not too closely. Her dignity was taking as much of a bruising as her body.

Butterscotch’s ears pricked and swiveled, and she began to pick up the pace from her sedate trot to a canter, gradually easing into a gallop. Anna Marie held on for dear life.

Suddenly, the hunting party seemed to slow down, and they squabbled amongst themselves. Their shouts intrigued Anna Marie.

Suddenly, she saw something russet brown dart out from the brush up ahead. It seemed to be fleeing away from them.

“The fox!”

The creature was determined to evade them, but it picked that moment to bear down on Anna and her fickle mare. “Oh, no…wretched little beast, don’t come over here!’ The men were armed with their muskets and arrows, and she was right in the path of their fire…

“NO!”

“BE AWARE!” Remy bellowed. “Hold your fire!’

“AHHHHH!” The fox darted away, but the hunting party simply flowed around her in a flood of hooves. Butterscotch reared again, overstimulated and having finally had enough.

Up went the horse’s front hooves. Down Anna Marie went, flying backward as the horse pitched her to the ground. A large bramble bush broke her fall.

Remy brought up the rear, pulling his horse to a stop.

“Anna! Chere, are ya all right?”

“Ohhhhhh…” Her voice was strangled and miserable as she struggled to right herself, but her legs were bent and thrust halfway into her chest from the awkward angle in which she landed. Each time she tried to gain purchase to get up, she fell backwards onto her rear. Her habit was slightly torn, and she had bits of leaves hanging from her frayed plaits. She looked disheveled, helpless, and at her wit’s end.

“She’s not very good at riding,” Etienne observed. Anna Marie heard him and railed at them.

“NO! AH’M NOT GOOD AT RIDIN’! Ah can’t stand horses, or hunting, or being out in the open in the bush like this!”

Remy looked at her quizzically, but she could have sworn there was a gleam in his red eyes. “Well…why didntcha say so, chere?”

She had very few words for him at that point. Speech evaded her and her mouth began working again. Her voice came out in low, hissing fits and starts. Before Remy could reach her to assist her, however, one of his couriers, Joseph, halted his horse and rushed over. He waded through the brush and held out his hand.

“Milady! Please tell me you’re all right? Were you harmed? How can I help?”

“Take. Me. Back.” Her voice was beleaguered, and her large green eyes filled with tears.

“Back to the palace?”

“Ah…beg… of you.” He gently tugged her to her feet, and before Remy could open his mouth, he lifted her up into his arms, no longer concerned about the differences in their station. She was light as a feather to him as he carried her to more stable ground. She was hiccupping and sliding into shaky, gulping sobs…

“…and that beast HATES me, she has it in for m-me, and Ah’m sweating, and Ah didn’t get to wear m-my new gown-“

“There, there,” he soothed as he carefully helped her up onto his horse instead, then climbed on behind her. His chest sheltered her back, and she twisted her face around her shoulder to see him.

“You’ll take me away from this?”

“Yes, Highness. I will. Gladly.”

“Yer horse ain’t in de stable yet,” Remy reminded her.

“I will return to take care of that, Highness.” Julien pulled alongside Remy, hearing their exchange.

“I will take care of it, brother.”

“Merci,” he winked. Julien winked back, sighing over the sight of Anna and Joseph retreating to the palace on horseback.

*

The hunt was successful. Unlike the bugler’s earlier boast about the outcome of the previous fox shoot, this particular creature was turned loose in the forest. The villagers made merry, but they were curious about the princess’ absence from the festivities. Mead, ale, and cordials flowed and minstrels played. Etienne played with the children and sent Nanny into fits when he soiled his tunic and boots, but Remy indulged him.

Remy felt slightly guilty, but he was having such a good time at the gathering that he couldn’t regret Anna’s predicament for long. He was grateful; her constant presence by his elbow the past couple of weeks had taken its toll. Remy wanted some peace and quiet once he was back within castle walls, and he wanted uninterrupted time with Rene. Anna Marie’s visit was nearing its end, and he couldn’t be happier. He guessed that she would be, too.

*

There was a low knock on the door of Remy’s study later that night. Remy nursed a glass of whisky as he stared into the fire. He didn’t like his day’s reflections being interrupted, but he rose and answered the door.

“Remy? May Ah speak with you?” He found Anna on the other side of the threshold. She was wearing a casual muslin gown and her hair was down. She also wore no cosmetics and looked like a girl of twelve, uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Come in, petit.” Her chaperone curtsied and stood outside the door while Anna Marie went inside. She smoothed her skirts and sat by the hearth.

“Ah think we’re at an impasse. Remy…we have nothing in common. Ah wasn’t expecting this.”

“So you feel we wouldn’t suit?”

“Exactly. Ah feel we want different things.” She swallowed. “Perhaps Ah didn’t realize before that your lifestyle was so…rustic.”

“Fancy dat.”

“Etienne’s a charming boy,” she continued, “but…Ah might not be mothering material quite yet.”

That’s an understatement. “Can’t try ta make ya over inta somet’in’ ya ain’t, chere.”

“Oh, Remy…Ah hope you understand, also, that…I was very impressed with a member of your household staff. His name was…Joseph?” Remy’s brows almost flew up into his hairline.

“Ya don’ say.”

“Well…I know it’s somewhat unorthodox…could you perhaps take him a message for me?”

*

And the next day she was off. Candra, Etienne and Remy breathed a sigh of relief. Anna Marie returned to Rippling Seas in her silver carriage with little fanfare, and Jean-Luc informed his court that the betrothal hadn’t taken place, leaving Remy still eligible. Prospective brides from neighboring towns cheered at this news as word spread.

But Remy was tired.

He stared into the fire as he reclined in his comfortable chamber, nursing a glass of whisky. Suddenly, without knocking, Etienne shoved open his door and wandered inside. His smile was coy as he joined his father on his bed and made himself comfortable beside him.

“How’d ya get Nanny t’turn ya loose?”

“I dunno,” Etienne shrugged noncommittally. Remy had no doubt that she was in a dither, no doubt searching high and low for him.

“Don’t give her a hard time,” Remy chided him, but he snuggled his son, kissing the top of his auburn head.

“Papa?”

“Oui?”

“I miss Logan.”

Remy sighed. “Me, too, petit.”

“So why can’t we go back and get him?”


*

Logan leaned over the railing of his balcony and watched his sentries pace the grounds. He picked up his pipe and filled it with his favorite, pungent tobacco and took it back inside. Then Logan held it in his mouth while he tightly rolled a leaf of paper into a long, thin tube. Logan held the end over a lit candle to borrow its flame and used the makeshift taper to light the bowl of his pipe. He inhaled the smoke hungrily and headed back outside, enjoying the cool night air.

It was late, and most of his servants retired to bed. Logan didn’t mind being alone with his thoughts now; he preferred it to the constant scrutiny of everyone in his household since Remy and Etienne returned to their own kingdom.

Even in a crowded room, he felt lonely.

Remy’s voice haunted his sleep. His responses to his servants’ well meaning questions were clipped and grudging, and everything he saw reminded him of the chestnut-haired prince. He missed Etienne’s laughter and his penchant for mischief.

Queen Eliza had been quiet over the past weeks, deciding it was too soon to arrange meetings for Logan with potential brides. Her son needed a reprieve. Things were still too raw.

Logan felt restless and craved the feel of wind in his hair.

He stole downstairs and snuck outside, closing the front door as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Victor. He wasn’t in the mood for his continued insistence that Logan needed his services as a bodyguard. More importantly, he wasn’t in the mood for any “I told you so” speeches delivered with Victor’s characteristic dubious sympathy.

Logan buttoned his cloak on his way to the stable and found it dimly lit by lanterns on either side of the doorway. He approached his mare’s stall and greeted her with a low click of his tongue. She tossed her head and flipped her tail at him, anxious as he was for the ride.

“Where do ya think yer goin’?” Logan whipped around and glared into Victor’s blue eyes. The blond giant stood with his arms folded over his broad chest. Victor sighed. “It’s late. Ya shoulda summoned me.”

“I don’t recall needin’ to.”

“Ya always need to,” Victor chided him. He opened the mare’s stall and calmly tugged her out by her bridle, stroking her nose and long neck. She lipped at him, looking for treats, and Logan was annoyed that Victor already had slices of apple in his pockets, as though he had planned for a while to head Logan off at the stable.

“How did you know I was comin’ out?”

“Habit. Yer predictable, sire.”

“Yer a pain in my ass, Victor.”

“At yer service. Where we headed?”

Logan sighed. “The usual.”

*

Remy’s carriage rolled smoothly to a stop in front of the rustic looking inn. It was modest and familiar; he’d stopped their on his initial journey home from Towering Trees. The hospitality was genial enough; the innkeeper fussed over him and promised the most comfortable room he had, as well as the finest leg of mutton Remy ever tasted. He wasn’t entirely surprised when Remy chose to keep his hood pulled over his distinctive long hair, shielding most of his face and draping it in shadow. His host recognized his royal signet ring on his right hand and the red family crest embroidered on his tunic and assured him he would help him maintain his anonymity during his stay.

Remy finished his meal slowly and watched the patrons of the inn with amusement, particularly a table in the back where three relatively young looking men sat drinking ale. They were each striking but appeared to have little in common. They still laughed and chatted easily as though they were old friends, enjoying each other’s companionship. It made Remy envious.

Remy gradually retreated into his thoughts, immersing himself in memories. Logan’s touch infused his flesh, marking him like a tattoo. Logan’s warning to him to forget him, to forget what happened between them mocked him. How in the hell did he expect Remy to do that? Witchcraft? A magic potion? Turning back time to the moment his mother informed him of their first meeting?

It didn’t matter. Remy would have done the same thing, again and again, if he’d had it to do over. He wouldn’t deny the attraction he felt for the older, gruff prince, or lie to himself that what they had didn’t mean everything to him.

Logan meant more to him than air. Remy had fallen in love with him so strongly that it hurt.

Etienne had hugged him fiercely when he left. Remy left him with the strict injunction to obey Nanny when he was gone. His son gave his decision a firm stamp of approval.

If Logan would have him, then his son would have a second father, the best kind a child could hope for. Remy had made his choice, but now he was afraid he’d lost his chance with his refusal. When he left Logan, he looked ahead to the possibility of marrying another woman. How would Logan handle his pleas to come back to him? There was so much wounded pride in his dark eyes mingled with heartbreak the morning that he left. Logan would be perfectly justified in sending him away with his tail between his legs.

Remy could only try.

The night wore on, and the nighttime dancing began. Hands clapped and feet stamped as men and women whirled around the floor with abandon. Remy enjoyed dancing, but he wanted to maintain his disguise and be left in peace.

The door swung open, letting in a rush of fresh, cool night air. Remy looked up from his musings and his jaw dropped open in surprise.

Logan strode inside, grinning and greeting the crowd at large. The patrons acted very familiar with him, clapping him on the back, very questionable conduct to direct toward a prince. But Logan enjoyed it, reveled in their warm greetings. He settled himself at the table in back, which Remy found ironic, sitting down with the same three gentlemen who caught his eye.

Victor brought up the rear. Remy recognized the burly guard from their excursion to the forest and he smiled. He seemed full of himself, and he made no bones about ordering himself an ale as well, despite that he was on duty to protect his sovereign.

The three men engaged in cards. Remy tapped his fingers in a hectic tattoo as he made up his mind.

He longed to speak to Logan on stronger footing, away from the crowd, but his body was already craving his presence, just to sit near him and hear his voice, to feel that warmth and virility that seemed to radiate from him.

He saw Logan turn in his seat, twisting his body around to look out at the crowd, as though he sensed someone watching him. Remy rose from his table and wove his way through the boisterous crowd. They paid him little heed.

He stood over them and watched until they acknowledged him, staring at the tall stranger in their midst.

“Hullo,” Warren greeted him. Remy nodded at the handsome blond. He was the kind of man Remy would have easily been attracted to before he met Logan, someone pretty and unattainable looking, but the blond had an arrogant air about him.

The second young man was good looking in a simpler, more wholesome way. He was medium height and weight with a boyish face and dark brown hair. His eyes were large and brown as walnuts, and they held a mischievous glint. He looked Remy up and down, unashamed to stare.

Logan’s third companion took him by surprise. He was enormous in girth, solidly built like Logan, but he was covered in lush, thick indigo fur. He resembled an enormous jungle cat, and he held his cards with paws instead of hands. His clothing strained at the seams, and he wore a pair of reading spectacles. In his own odd way, he was also beautiful. Silently Remy wondered what it would be like to hold someone like him close and wallow in all that fur.

Logan appraised him coolly, setting his cards face down on the table. “What brings ya here, stranger?”

“Have you room for a fifth?”

“Have you any coin?” the brunet asked impudently. Remy withdrew a small pouch from his belt. It looked heavy. The lad made room at the table, getting up to grab another chair.

Remy sat across from Logan, keeping his face shielded.

“Man like you with so much ta hide must be pretty sharp at cards.”

“Oui.” Logan’s eyes narrowed. He reached out and began gathering up all the cards from around the table.

“Time ta deal.” He shuffled them rapidly, breaking the deck three more times to do the job thoroughly. He handed them to Warren, and he dealt them out quickly.

They placed their bets in the pot. Logan was stoic, not the merry joker he’d been a few minutes prior.

Hank’s hackles rose at the odd silence that fell over the table. “Perhaps we need more ale,” he suggested.

“Won’t make it any less painful when you lose to me,” Bobby piped up.

“In a minute, you won’t be able to afford ale,” Warren challenged. He laid out his cards. “Flush.”

“Damn it!” Bobby hurled down his cards and kicked the leg of the table. From what Logan could see, he only had a pair.

“Ya always cut up when ya lose,” Logan chided him. He nodded to the stranger. “Cat got yer tongue?” Remy shrugged. He reached into his pouch and threw in two more gold coins. Logan threw in his bet as well and nodded to Hank.

“Might be too rich for my blood.” He laid down his hand. Two pair. Logan snorted.

“Ya always gotta walk on the safe side, Blue.”

Logan and their guest watched each other over the table. Remy threw another coin into the pot. Unflinching, Logan did the same.

“Come on,” Warren muttered impatiently.

“I got all night,” Logan murmured.

“Dis ain’t where I planned on spendin’ it.” Remy showed his cards. A hush went over the table.

Royal flush.

Logan’s cards fell from limp fingers. “Damn,” he muttered. “Beginner’s luck,” he accused.

“Non. M’unlucky. Cards are easy. But I lost somet’in’ more valuable t’me den gold.”

“Gonna have a hard time convincin’ me of that. Ya don’t seem like the kinda man who loses much of anything.”

“Non?”

With a flourish, Remy sat back from the table and removed his hood.

Bobby, Warren and Hank stared at him openmouthed. It was the prince of Shade and Sweet Water in their midst.

“I lost de one thing dat mattered t’me most. I realized how much of a fool I wuz. It’s time t’get it back, even if I hafta beg on my hands and knees.” His jaw was set and his hands were fisted in his lap.

Logan’s jaw was working and his brows beetled together, making him look like a pot about to boil over.

“Chere,” Remy pleaded.

Without another word, Logan pushed himself out of his chair and spun, stomping outside.

*

Logan was on fire.

Victor was hot on his heels, hurrying after him with his cloak. “Sire, it’s cold, yer gonna catch yer death!”

“Might keep me from killin’ somebody right now,” he growled.

“It’s early yet.”

“I didn’t like the company.”

“Maybe ya need ta hear me out, anyway.” Remy caught up to them, looking out of breath. Stray hairs escaped his neat braid from bundling it under the hood. His cheeks were flushed and he looked piqued.

“Ya have a lot of nerve comin’ back.”

“Damn skippy,” Victor added.

“Shut up,” Logan warned him. He shoved away the cloak that Victor kept trying to hand him. Vic sighed raggedly and waited by Logan’s horse, holding the reins.

“It didn’t work. I ain’t engaged. She wasn’t de one.”

“Well, ain’t that a shame. Guess ya gotta try again, eh? Plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Remy’s tired of tryin’, and it don’ change what he already knows. I’m in love already wit’ someone who’s perfect in ev’ry way, mec.” Logan snorted.

“That’s a stretch. Look, Rem, it was fun. Lots of fun. But ya can’t play at this anymore. Ya need a wife and someone who will be a good mother to Etienne. That little boy…” Logan’s voice choked up slightly, but he mastered it. “He deserves that and so much more.”

“You can give him dat,” Remy exclaimed. He rushed forward and took Logan’s shoulders in a strong grip, refusing to let him shake him off. “He loves bein’ around you, homme. Yer all he talks about since we left. The princess my parents found fer me didn’t suit. On the surface she was perfect, but inside she wuz all wrong. It made it dat much worse when I didn’t have ya ta wake up to in de mornin’, or ta hear yer voice before I go ta sleep. It wuz like I fell in dis great big hole an’ couldn’ dig myself out. I can’t sleep. Don’ wanna eat. Can’t t’ink straight wit’out you.”

“Ya can’t just sample me and throw me aside. The milk ain’t free, Rem. Ya had the chance ta buy the cow.”

“Do ya love me?” Remy asked him, ignoring what he just said.

Logan looked stricken. He slapped Remy’s hands away and turned from him. Remy’s eyes were bleak.

“Do ya love me!” he cried. Victor watched in amusement as the younger prince got good and worked up. He loved high drama.

“Go easy on him,” he muttered. Logan glared at him and then ran his hand through his hair, rumpling it in his familiar gesture.

“Does it matter? Obviously it wasn’t enough before. Ya wouldn’t have left if it was. I…I’m…all wrong for ya.” His voice broke, but he rallied, spinning to face him. “Ya killed me when ya left. I died inside, and I haven’t made it back yet. Ya gouged out this big hole in my chest and ripped out my heart.”

“Non. Dat ain’t what I wanted t’do. I wanted yer heart. But I wanted ya t’give it ta me.”

“You hurt me.”

“Didn’ mean it. I’d never do it again. Ever.”

“Don’t take me for a fool. Yer the king of breakin’ hearts. Hundreds of women, Rem. That’s what my mother said about how many women threw themselves at ya hoping ya’d choose them. Was I just another one waitin’ in line?”

“Non.” Remy laid his heart out completely. He rushed forward and took Logan’s hands this time, struggling to hold onto him, like a tug of war. “I wuz waitin’ for you, chere.” His eyes shone ominously in the darkness. “I wuz waitin’ for you dis whole time an’ didn’t know it. I loved Bella wit’ all my heart, but I never t’ought I’d find someone I’d love wit’ all my soul til I met you.”

“Bullshit,” Logan choked.

“I love you. An’ I know you love me.”

Logan’s face was still suffused with anger, but his hands squeezed Remy hard enough to punish. “Do ya know what ya’ve done ta me? Do ya know how much it hurt ta watch ya walk away? Ya made me love ya. Ya made me love yer little boy. I thought about what it’d be like ta have a family.”

“We could be a family!” Remy railed back. “Dere’s nothin’ in de rules sayin’ we couldn’ be a family! Logan, I would love you til the day I die, and I wan’ Etienne ta know you as his second father. We’ll be dere wit’ you til de end. We won’t leave. I’m here now, chere.”

It was the phrase both of them had spoken myriad times over their sojourn together at Logan’s castle, whispered tenderly in the dark. It never meant so much to Logan as it did now.

“Ya arrogant, cocky bastard,” Logan grated out. Tears pricked at his hazel eyes, but he didn’t let them fall.

“Yer hardheaded and stubborn. Just knock some sense into you, mec. We have a good t’ing right here, if ya jus’ reach out an’ grab it. We can be hurt, on our own, or be happy toget’er. So damned happy. I’ll be so good t’you and love ya right. I’ll love ya so hard.”

“C’mon, fer cryin’ out loud, give the poor bastard a break,” Victor snapped. Logan glared at him over his shoulder. Victor sighed and retied the horse’s bridle to the post. He strode over to them. “Look. Don’t make me knock yer heads together. Ya came ta drown yer sorrows here after pissin’ an’ moanin’ about how ‘oh, he left me, he broke my heart, I don’t know how I’ll ever care like that again.’ Boo-stinkin’-hoo. He’s standin’ here in front of ya. He’s grovelin’, that close ta kissin’ yer boots. Reach out for the poor bastard with both hands.”

“Yer oversteppin’ yer boundaries,” Logan reminded him.

“And yer overlookin’ the obvious. The kid loves ya. Right, Highness?”

“Oui.”

“I ain’t gonna stand out here all night waitin’ on the two of ya ta make amends. Accept his apology,” Victor demanded.

“Ain’t I yer prince? Don’t you work for me?” Logan asked incredulously, but Remy was holding on to his hands so tightly they ached. He looked back up into his face. Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks. “Damn it, don’t cry…”

“I love you,” he sobbed miserably.

“Damn it,” Logan swore. His shoulders heaved in resignation, and he gave in, finally pulling Remy into his arms. He groaned in relief at the solid feel of his familiar weight against him, his herbal cologne mixing with his natural scent that was so intoxicating.

“The hoops I hafta jump through ta get anyone ta listen ta me,” Victor sighed. Logan’s breath hitched ominously and his fingers were digging into Remy’s back. “Shit. Here come the water works…”

Victor wisely walked back into the inn and waited inside the doorway for the two princes to have their moment. “It’s about time,” he murmured before ordering himself some mead.

*

Logan threw some coins at the innkeeper and barked that he needed another room for the night. He handed Victor the heavy brass room key.

“Good night,” he told Hank, Warren and Bobby.

“You’re leaving?”

“No. I’m turning in.” Remy waited a few feet back, watching him with hungry eyes. Logan collected his cloak and waved his hand dismissively at the table and the pile of coins in the center. “Drinks are on me.”

“So you’re done with cards for the night?” Warren asked needlessly.

“I ain’t gonna hafta gamble again another day in my life.” They didn’t know if he was speaking literally or figuratively. Logan clamped Remy’s hand in his grip and practically dragged him after him from the lounge.

Up the stairwell they stumbled, unable to take the steps fast enough. They hurried around the corner and Logan crammed the key into the hole, fumbling with it.

“C’mon, c’mon!” he growled. Remy covered his hand with it and helped him turn it, and his heat sent a jolt of electricity through Logan when his chest pressed against his back.

“Lemme in, chere,” he whispered into the side of his neck. “Wan’ you so bad.”

They nearly fell inside. Logan kicked the door shut and his hands shook as he lowered the bolt on the door and turned the lock. Remy was already at his back again, and his hands crept around his waist. “God, chere…missed you…” His breath was hot against his flesh, steaming his neck before he lapped his supple skin. Logan groaned and leaned into the contact, so hungry for it. His hand reached up to cup Remy’s jaw as he kissed him and tangled in his long, beautiful hair. His hands stole up to his chest and he felt Logan’s heart pounding beneath his palm. Remy painted the crest of his cheek with kisses, moaning at how good Logan tasted. It had been too long, he wanted all of him at once and knew he wouldn’t be able to get enough.

Remy felt so right, wrapped around him and whispering his name in his ear. He nibbled and sucked his earlobe, setting Logan ablaze. Heat coursed through his belly and pooled in his loins. His hips bucked back against Remy, and he felt the hardness pushing against his crease.

“Wan’ you outta dese clothes, chere. Wanna love ya down again an’ again.”

“Take me,” Logan rasped as Remy’s fingers pried apart his shirt buttons, then snuck inside the flap to caress his hard little nipple. He leaned into Remy’s lips, turning his mouth up to his for a savage, hungry kiss.

Remy tugged his shirt, nearly ripping it, and popped off the last button by accident, but he was so eager to feel Logan’s warm bare skin beneath his hands. Logan gasped sharply at the feel of his palms sliding over him, memorizing the contours of his muscled back and firm pectorals. Remy nudged him, leading him with butting of hips toward the bed. Logan waited there, craving more of Remy’s ministrations, and Remy didn’t disappoint him. He trailed kisses over the broad, high slopes of his shoulders and licked a path down his spine. Logan quivered and shuddered, sucking in gulps of breath at how good it felt. While Remy wooed him with his mouth, his hands worked on the fastenings of Logan’s trousers.

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Wanna see you,” Remy answered him with so much passion. “So beautiful…”

“I ain’t beautiful,” Logan argued, but he groaned when Remy gently bit the globe of his ass once it was bare, then licked the wound.

“Y’are, chere. Ya break my heart lookin’ at you. Ya drive me crazy. And ya taste so good.”

“Remy,” Logan pleaded with him as he shoved his pants down around his knees. He drew in a breath at how appetizing Logan looked from behind, all sculpted muscle. He had a gorgeous ass, round and ripe, the skin satiny smooth and taut. Remy traced the curve with his fingertip, making Logan shiver. He teased the small dents where his glutes joined his lower back.

“So beautiful,” he repeated, bending down to his crease. He breathed over it, then tasted it. Logan cried out in shock and pleasure.

“Aw, God,” he moaned. Remy’s hands stroked the columns of his thighs, memorizing their broad, tapered shape as he dragged his tongue over the divide of his ass. Logan was vulnerable and sensitive there, and Remy’s mouth felt incredible, doing things that were turning him into goo. The cords of Logan’s neck strained, and unintelligible sounds were leaving his mouth. His knees buckled when the tip of his tongue probed his snug hole. He groaned and breathed into it, dilating him to explore him more intimately. His tongue swiveled and pressed inside, stroking his sensitive channel and tissues.

“Remy…” Remy’s only response was a long groan of pleasure and satisfaction as his tongue now plunged deep, almost stretching him. The change in pressure felt so good, and Logan’s manhood jerked and throbbed with need. Remy nudged Logan’s feet slightly more apart and reached for his dangling sac. He cradled it in his palm and gently stroked it, enjoying its heaviness and hairy texture. Logan was so masculine and virile, and he was exactly what Remy wanted.

Logan fell forward, planting the heels of his hands on the bed. His hips thrust back, pushing his ass into Remy’s face, urging him to work him faster. Remy was floored by his responsiveness and the way he trusted him in such a vulnerable position. “I want you,” Logan said hoarsely.

Remy withdrew his mouth and replaced it with one long, slender finger, pushing inside Logan in one neat thrust. He twisted his hand in sharp, quick corkscrew motions, plunging inside to the hilt. Logan’s cries were guttural and harsh; he tried to bite them back and his breathing was choppy.

“Gonna make ya call my name, chere,” Remy promised huskily. Then he leaned forward and engulfed one of Logan’s balls in his mouth and gently suckled. Logan came undone, changing from merely aroused to a cursing, grunting, bucking creature with no other awareness of anything but the man behind him telling him how sexy he was, how much he wanted him. The thrusting and lapping of his flesh in concert pushed him toward the edge. Remy added a second finger, thrusting more slowly, deeper, seeking out the sweet, hidden little knot of nerves. Logan made a small, choked sound when he found it, and his eyes shuttered in pleasure.

Remy throbbed for him, erect just from laying his hands on his lover and hearing him moan and curse. A pearl of slick fluid beaded up in the tip of his cock, and Remy was painfully swollen. He craved Logan’s heat, and he couldn’t wait anymore.

“Tell me ya want it, chere.”

“Take me,” Logan demanded roughly. He turned and gazed back at him over his shoulder, and his eyes were dark and desperate. “Now.” Remy kissed his way back up his broad back and grasped Logan’s hips. He squeezed them briefly, enjoying how supple they felt.

“Yer sure?”

In reply, Logan turned and kissed him, lips hard, rough and demanding, and he swallowed his small whimper.

The rest of Remy’s clothes landed randomly about the room as Logan stripped him quickly, almost ruthlessly. They settled back on to the bed, and Remy covered him, stretching along the length of his hard body.

The kisses weren’t gentle. Teeth nipped and suckled, and cheeks, jaws and necks were scratched by each other’s stubble. Logan’s hands worked at Remy’s long plait, undoing it and letting the long fall of hair fan out over both of them. It felt luxurious, running his hands through it and brushing it back from Remy’s handsome face.

Remy shunted and ground against him, his rock-hard pelvis nearly bruising Logan. The friction was decadent as their erections bobbed and rubbed together in a choppy rhythm.

Remy was holding him, devouring him, drinking kisses from his mouth, but it was time to claim him. “I love you, James,” he grated out. He sounded so desperate, and his skin was breaking out in a sweat from the effort to maintain some control.

“Don’t ever leave me.”

“Never, chere.”

Logan’s thighs spread and he lifted his legs up, flexing his knees to expose his nether regions, cock standing at the ready. His taint quivered when Remy lightly stroked it with his fingertip. Remy reached down and stroked himself, gathering up the droplets of precum and slicking them over the plump head of his cock. He leaned in and pressed himself against Logan’s tight, sweet pucker, teasing him. Logan whimpered and his breath caught.

Remy hooked Logan’s left knee over his shoulder and then pressed himself inside, sheathing himself neatly in Logan’s snug warmth. Logan’s features twisted briefly in pain, and he exhaled a shuddering breath. Remy reached for his cock again and primed Logan, pumping him as he began to thrust, distracting him from the discomfort. Logan grew accustomed to the stretch and the feeling of fullness soon. The friction suddenly outweighed the pain, and the unpleasant burning ceased as Remy’s cock continued to leak its essence, slicking his passage. He found Logan’s prostate, and he pounded into it over and over again. Logan’s teeth clacked together with the force of Remy’s pistoning hips slamming into him. Even though his voice was still tender, Remy’s expression was desperate and his possession was almost uncontrolled.

“Damn it, chere,” Remy grunted. “So damned good…” Logan’s walls squeezed him in a tight, loving grip. It felt amazing to push himself into that heat, to be joined so completely to this man underneath him. Logan’s hands fisted in the sheets and his head was flung back, his chest arching up toward his lover.

“Harder,” Logan gasped. He wanted all of him. The pleasure was building within him, swelling and pulsing and pushing him over the edge.

Remy broke first, unable to bear the sensations assaulting him in concert with Logan’s voice crying his name. His climax thundered through him, making his body spasm and buck. Waves of pleasure flowed over him, and the resulting jerks and thrusts of his hips brought Logan to his own fulfillment. He stared up at Remy helplessly, mouth agape on a long, rough cry. His seed streamed from him in long, thick spatters that landed on them both, while Remy’s drenched his insides.

Moments later, they laid tangled together, listening to each other’s breathing. Logan felt sore but good, and it felt so right to have Remy’s head tucked under his chin so he could occasionally bury his lips in his soft, lush hair and enjoy its scent. Remy half-dozed, lulled by his long caresses and thudding heartbeat. A bleary smile was plastered across his face.

“I probably shoulda let ya grovel a little longer,” Logan murmured. Remy snorted and poked him in the ribs.

“I’ll grovel for ya in de mornin’, den. T’ink ya’ll enjoy dat, de way I do it.” He lightly kissed Logan’s collarbones, lapping up a hint of his salty sweat. Logan groaned in contentment. Remy raised himself on his elbows and stared down into the face he loved so much. “In de meantime, ya gonna hafta settle fer beggin’. Marry me?”

“That’s what’s been naggin’ me this whole time,” Logan told him. “What does that even entail?” He cupped Remy’s jaw in his broad palm, letting his thumb feather the corner of his mouth.

“Technically, neither one of us is de bride,” Remy reminded him. “So it’s an equal partnership. We share de same title an’ equal control of our kingdoms. Ain’t no dowry involved. An’ we confirm de union in de royal court in front of witnesses.”

“But then what?” Logan hadn’t been thinking that far ahead. Things changed now that they were on the brink of jumping in with both feet.

“We meet in de middle. Literally.” He grinned down at him and kissed him. “We build a home on de border between Towering Trees an’ Sweet Water.” He punctuated each sentence with a nibble of his lips, making Logan chuckle. “We raise Etienne. He has equal contact wit’ de grandparents on both sides of de family.”

“Remy…do ya want more kids?” Logan looked worried, and he gathered him against him again, unwilling to let go of him until he got a feasible answer.

“Let’s cross dat bridge when we come to it. Have ya ever considered a surrogate mot’er, or even a consort?”

“I ain’t gonna share ya.” Remy met Logan’s sudden scowl with a smile.

“Remy has a son. If it came down to it, mec, Remy’d share you if it meant dat ya could be a papa. But just your body. I could never share yer heart, chere.”

“I belong ta you, body an’ soul, darlin’,” Logan said.

“I know dat. But Remy also knows dat ya’d sire some of de most beautiful children de world has ever seen if yer heart led ya ta want dat. I’d love any child ya brought into dis world as much as m’own son, because it’d be a part of you.”

Logan’s eyes pricked and his voice seemed to clog in his throat. “Damn you, Remy,” he grated out. His hand snaked around the back of Remy’s neck and he pulled him down for a consuming, desperate kiss.

In the adjoining room, Victor had retired for the night, done with the revelry downstairs. Even though some of the maidens tempted him, he was still technically on duty, since the prince was off of palace property, and he had to be ready to protect him at a moment’s notice. This was next to impossible if there was a warm, willing body in bed beside him.

But his musings were interrupted, yet again, by the sound of throaty groans and curses through the too-thin walls.

“Shit…they’re goin’ at it again?”

Frustration and even a hint of envy made him bury his head beneath his pillow, trying to block out the sound of the headboard next door banging against the wall. He heard the prince of Sweet Water crying Logan’s name and sobbing in two different languages how good it felt to let him take him.

“Guess yer done beggin’, kid,” Victor muttered. “Can’t a guy catch a break? Sheesh…”

*

The next day, the princes returned to Towering Trees and entered the castle hand in hand, looking radiant and jubilant. Jonathan and Eliza greeted the news with a bit of confusion, but relaxed and perked up once Remy explained that his prior betrothal fell through. As soon as they sat down at the dinner table that night, they were already chattering away a mile a minute about preparations for their union. Eliza joked briefly about them being joined in wedded “patrimony,” which made both men snicker. It was one of the nicest dinners Logan could remember having with his family, and it felt right, seated beside his groom and holding his hand.


Epilogue

Summary: Ya don’t wanna know.

Author’s Note: I had to add this. Yes, I’m demented. But everyone in this story had to have a happy ending.