A cool breeze stirred branches. Squirrels scampered up long limbed trunks, cheeks bulging with their hidden treasures. Birds flew overhead and every once in a while a car would idle slowly by.
He only knew what the metallic contraptions were because while he’d never been to Earth before, he’d seen pictures of this place. A long time ago, in a pub-- Skull and Crossbones, or maybe the Silver Dagger (who cared)-- point was, a man had walked in with a large box full of things he’d called pictures.
The man had claimed a fairy had dumped him on Earth. Of course they’d all laughed at his wild claim. Fairies wouldn’t do that, especially not godmothers, t’was truly a heinous thought to imagine one of them dumping a charge within Earth’s mad realm.
But the man had insisted, pulling out his box and pointing to it as proof. Gerard had dug through the box, intrigued despite himself at the frozen moment in time encapsulated within the glossy paper. He’d still not fully believed, but he’d grown a fondness for the paper, for the strangeness of the place called Earth. He’d tossed the pictures of kids and men aside, but had swiped one or two-- okay, ten-- of the one’s with women on it. He’d studied the entire contents of the box, almost to the point of obsession, entranced by the foreign beauty of the Earthly realm. In no way did that mean he’d ever wanted to see it for himself.
He sighed. None would believe this.
Gerard rubbed his temples, brows drawn at the pain throbbing behind his skull and ribcage. “Bloody, damn fee.” He groaned. What hadn’t she told him? That more than anything else worried him and gnawed at his gut.
And why was she so insistent he find this Betty Hart? Didn’t she see he would never mate, could never be happy with one woman? Who could? Once the beauty faded what more was there?
He’d tried once, tried to open himself to the possibility of a life with just one woman. Belle. The name alone made him want to spit. Legend made her out to be a virtuous woman, in love with a beast whose heart beat golden. He snorted. More like in love with the endless supply of coin to be had in the shaggy dog’s pocket.
Though none ever believed the tale, why... because that damn book! Nothing but lies. Lies told by one very conniving godmother. The very godmother heading the tribunal for his trial. He swallowed hard. Gods his only hope was Danika’s ability to convince a crowd full of angry citizens he was harmless.
He rubbed his temple. Damn, damn, damn, that orange headed tramp might cost him dearly.
Gerard glowered as the chatter of people interrupted his thoughts. A women scowled when she spotted him, a pair of brats exited the car. She hugged them to her, her frown deepened.
Gerard shuddered. He hated kids. Squawking screaming things. Too needy by half. Then a terrifying thought struck. What did Betty look like? Good gods he hoped this was not her. His pulse hammered wildly.
The woman wore bright blue glasses. What in the devil possessed her to wear that hideous color when she also sported a frizzy mane of red hair boggled his mind. But that was not the worst of it, her shirt was stained and she wore trews one size too large. A more hideous creature he’d never seen.
Her eyes widened, studying him with the wariness of prey spotting a predator. The strange creature grabbed her brats and bustled them into the library.
He rolled his eyes. Gerard would stay out here all damn day, the night even, Danika could not make him go to her. And if that’d been her, forget it. Surely the jury would return verdict soon, they’d been quickish last time. Pay some coin, apologize profusely... blah, blah, blah, and he’d been freed. This time should be no different, he’d done nothing wrong. But dread curled like a big greasy ball in the pit of his stomach. Would Galeta believe the lying tramp had tried to seduce him, would the King?
Gerard shook his head, ignoring the sick feeling. Danika would prove it and he’d be fine.
He breathed, ignored the burning pain in his shoulder and waited. Danika might even now be coming for him.
Any time now.
Chapter 3
“I hate men, a curse on all of them!” Betty growled, slamming some trashy romance into its spot on the shelf and rolled her cart to the next stop.
Trisha lifted a shapely brow. “Careful. Don’t take it out on Nora.” She petted the spine of the book with a small pout. “Besides, I told you James was no good. After hmm...” she tapped her chin, “oh, I don’t know, the second date. Loser.” Her upper lip pulled back with disgust.
“Pig,” Betty joined in, “he’s a...a...” Her face scrunched up when a customer glanced up with a sharp frown.