Masked Prince (Fated Royals Book 2) Read online

  Things were most certainly not in good order at that moment. Nellie needed help this instant. Her breathing was becoming increasingly labored and panicked.

  “Shhhh, shhhh,” I told her, scratching behind her ear to calm her.

  It had no effect; it even seemed to upset her more, because she started not to roll away from me but rather further onto my body.

  When she began to roll toward me, I heard the sound of footsteps squelching in the mud. I knew straight away it wasn’t my father; whoever it was, was moving too fast and with too much purpose to be a drunkard.

  Struggling to turn my head, I was confronted with an absolutely enormous man, crossing the muddy farmyard with huge strides. From where I lay, he looked like a brawny giant, ripped right from a fairy tale. His arms were as big as my legs at least. His neck was like an oak trunk. His bare forearms rippled in the sunshine, wrapped in massive muscles and interlaced with a network of pronounced veins.

  It was hard for me to get a sense of his face, shrouded as he was in an oversized hood. But whoever he was, he was huge. Few human beings would be able to shift a full-grown cow in labor… but he just might.

  “Hold still,” he said, squelching through the mud, leaving bear-sized footprints behind him. His thunder-like voice sent every nerve in my body twitching, some I hadn’t known existed until that moment. “I’ll be right there.”

  Nellie was as startled by this newcomer as I had been, and thankfully she attempted to turn her head to face him, shifting some of her weight off of me momentarily. Cows, like horses, have an immediate sense about a person’s intentions and nature. Close as I was to Nellie right then, I could feel her every movement and response.

  Even in her distress, she wasn’t alarmed by this stranger—exactly the opposite. His presence seemed to calm her instantly. I felt the same way, for even only just having laid eyes on him, not even knowing his name, I knew without a doubt he was a kindhearted and helpful man who meant us no harm.

  When Nellie writhed in a new wave of pain with a new set of contractions, I winced in a stomach-turning wave of my own agony.

  I breathed through it and managed to say, “We need to help her; she’ll die if we don’t.”

  He stood above me, pulling his hood off and tossing his cloak on the fence post nearby. As he did, I got my first good glimpse at his face. Burn scars disfigured his neck and one cheek.

  He wore his dark hair tight and short, and a scar cut through his eyebrow, across his forehead, and into his hairline. His jaw was angular and square, strong like the rest of him. And his eyes…even his scars seemed to disappear when his eyes, the same blue-green as the sea on a summer’s day, looked into mine.

  Oh, my goodness. I was shocked, not so much by his appearance, but by how much he must have suffered to come to look as he did.

  He glanced down at me, and in his clear turquoise eyes I could see he was ashamed of how he looked, perhaps expecting me to gasp or recoil. But I would never have done either.

  He squatted down beside me and grasped my hand. Then he began to wedge his elbow under Nellie’s flank to give me a little wiggle room to begin to free myself. His muscles bulged startlingly against the fabric of his shirt, and I was almost certain a thread snapped somewhere in the seams. But all my thoughts of his rippling body vanished from my mind when the pain from my leg roared up and through me, making me groan.

  He turned to look at me and searched my face.

  “Take it slow, now,” he said.

  I swallowed hard and nodded.

  Still though, he did not look away. What he searched my face for, I did not know. Horror, maybe. Or fear. But I felt neither.

  Looking up into those kind, thoughtful eyes, I felt nothing but protected and safe. Much to my surprise, lying there in the muck and in such terrible pain, a blush warmed my cheeks.

  He looked as though he could sense my growing panic. From the situation but also from having him this close to me.

  “What’s your name?” His voice was low and even, calming me the same as he was doing for Nellie.

  Breathless and tongue-tied, I managed somehow to stammer, “My name is Iris. Thank you for helping me.”

  As he worked to get Nellie off of me, he told me his name was Randal and that he had just been passing when he heard me cry out in pain. In his every careful gesture, it was clear to me that he cared for me and Nellie both. He wasn’t impatient or annoyed by the mess that I’d gotten myself into, just concerned that neither of us got hurt more than we were already. Once I was out from under her, he offered me his hand.

  I reached up to take it. My palm and fingers positively disappeared in his.

  “Can you stand?” He asked me, looking down at my leg in concern.

  Gulping down the pain, I nodded. But as soon as I tried to put weight on my left leg, it gave way beneath me. I braced myself for an ungraceful landing in the muck, but he had me safe in his strong arms. He scooped me up like I was weightless and carried me over to an old tree stump nearby.

  Randal moved a massive stone from a few yards away—one that I had never been able to shift an inch—and placed it in front of me so I could elevate my leg.

  “Now,” he said, “Tell me how to help the cow.”

  I blinked at him. What had I done to deserve this kindness?

  “You’ve done enough, really, I don’t want to take up anymore of your time. I’ll be able to help her.”

  He wasn’t hearing of it. “Hell no. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  I looked at Nellie, prone in the mud. The calf’s feet were out of the birth canal, as they had been for the last two hours.

  “The calf is breached,” I said. “Do you know anything about cows?”

  Randal drew back one side of his mouth in a grimace, and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

  “Not a goddamned thing. I wish I did. But I’m a good listener. So tell me what I need to do.”

  This situation was far from ideal. But all we could do was try.

  “You’re going to have to restrain her head, most likely. If we could get her across the field, we could get her in the head gate. But it’s too far away.”

  “That’s alright,” he said, rolling his sleeves up over his gigantic forearms. “I can hold her. Promise.”

  He was…massive. And for a long second I found myself just staring, with my mouth half open, at his absolutely staggering size. Those forearms were like the posts that held up the house.

  Nellie’s labored grunt snapped me back to reality. Here goes nothing. Step by careful step, I walked him through it. He listened to everything that I said and followed my instructions to the letter.

  Unlike many male farm hands I’d known, he didn’t rush or make assumptions. He treated Nellie with care, unlike most, who treated the livestock with a cold cruelty as though they had no feelings.

  I guided him though how to tie the calving rope, what to do with the calf’s nose and head, and how to uncatch the elbow so that the calf was in the right position. Although it was hard, difficult, and messy work, Randal never balked or complained. He never second-guessed me either, never made me feel less-than for being a woman, or so much younger than he was.

  He treated me with respect and consideration, which was a very welcome surprise. There was a job to do and we did it—together.

  Finally, the calf tumbled awkwardly from the birth canal. Its gangly body lay motionless in the mud. That was the first time I saw Randal panic. He dropped to his knees beside the helpless calf.

  “Fuck, she’s not breathing, Iris. What do I do?”

  This part always panicked me as well, but somehow I kept calm, knowing that if I showed any doubt it would only make things worse for him. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s alright. Tickle her nose.”

  He tilted his head and blinked a handful of times, with genuine confusion on his face.

  “Do what?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Tickle her nose. Take a clean piec
e of hay from the bale behind you and gently tickle the inside of her nostril. Trust me.”

  Randal did just as I said. As soon as he wiggled the piece of hay in its nostril, the calf cried out its first breath. Randal’s face lit up with genuine happiness and he roared with a hearty laugh of relief and joy, as he turned to look at me with eyes sparkling. In that instant, whatever scars he bore on his face vanished, whatever ugliness he might have had on the surface disappeared. And he transformed into the kindest and most handsome man I had ever seen.

  At my instruction, he helped the calf find its way to Nellie, who set about happily cleaning it from head to toe. And with both calf and mother safe and healthy, I breathed a sigh of relief. Without thinking, I shifted my leg and a shooting pain made me nearly double over, first in simple agony and then with a nauseating realization that I hadn’t let myself even think about until now:

  Everything on the farm depended on my being healthy enough to work. And if I couldn’t keep things running, we’d lose everything.

  Chapter 3

  Randal

  I carried Iris out of the field. I fucking loved the way she felt in my arms.

  At first, she was stiff and awkward, but as we went along, she melted into me like she was made for me to hold her. I’d never been so close to her before and it took all my fucking strength not to lose myself in her gorgeous eyes, not to get wrapped up in memorizing every freckle and dimple.

  And her tits.

  Fuck almighty, those tits. The way her cleavage bounced as I carried her made my mouth actually water. Her hips against my arms drove me wild. I was so fucking close to her pussy I could almost taste it.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  Still though, I kept my shit together. Even when I asked her name, it was part of a plan I didn’t even realize I had. I knew her fucking name of course, but I didn’t want her to know that.

  I wanted to soothe her, and it seemed the safest question to ask.

  I wanted to ravage her right then and there. A casual, unguarded few words from her as I carried her, a single mention of me showing her what it meant to be protected, sent a shiver down my spine. Was it possible that she had the same desires as me? But all that would have to wait until she was ready. To take her the way I needed to, she would have to be healthy and strong.

  She’d be worth the fucking wait.

  I carried her to a makeshift bench that stood outside the milking shed. Once I’d set her down on the simple plank of wood, I knelt before her and untied the laces of her left boot. She had her skirt hiked up far enough to make me imagine the way my fingers would feel on the inside of her smooth, creamy-white thigh.

  Fuck.

  Her lower leg was swelling. It looked serious, but she was playing it cool.

  “Thank you again for helping me,” she said, smiling, but also wincing in pain. I could tell she was trying to be brave; admirable, but I wasn’t buying it. Not even close.

  “I’m fine now, really,” she said. “It’s just a bruise. I’m certain you have better things to do than look after me.”

  Fuck that. Nothing on earth was more important than her. There was no way in hell I was leaving her now.

  Fate had given me the shove into the mud I’d needed for the last year and a half. Now that I was here, I felt my resolve turn to stone. Somehow, someway, I would be with her, no matter what the rest of the world—or my family—would say.

  Carefully, I slipped her boot off her foot and her sock along with it. She hissed in pain when she saw the deep purple swelling that bloomed from her ankle.

  “I’m no medical man, but I don’t think that’s just a bruise.” I grabbed a milking stool from beside the bench and positioned it under her foot to keep it elevated.

  “Not to worry. Honestly, thank you so much,” she said, again putting on a brave face. “Surely you have other places to be…?”

  Kneeling before her, I looked up into her dark eyes. This is where I fucking belong, I thought to myself. But I had to think quick—I needed a good excuse for “passing by” her farm, as I’d said before.

  The place was pretty much in the back of beyond. I also wanted an excuse for staying as long as possible. I was usually a shitty liar, but this time it came easy. Necessity and invention and all that shit. So I glanced around at the property, as if for the first time.

  “This is Millstone Freehold Farm, correct?” I knew good and fucking well where I was, I’d been coming here for over a year, sitting a distance away where I could watch her, but I could see the sparkle in her eyes as she bought my lie.

  Iris nodded. “That’s right.”

  “The royal land council hired me to come do some maintenance on the barns. I’m a carpenter.”

  Iris blew out an exasperated breath as a smile tipped her lips upward and the thought of them around my cock had me as hard as the anvil I saw outside the barn doors.

  “Well, finally. Thank goodness for that. The far stables are one storm away from falling down.”

  Never mind. If she wasn’t safe and well, I didn’t give two shits if every outbuilding on the property collapsed that second.

  “The barns can wait. Let’s get you taken care of,” I said. “Tell me what to do to help you.”

  She shook her head, embarrassed. “No, no. No need. You just go about what you need to do.”

  What I need to do, gorgeous, is fuck you until you scream. To taste what I already know will be the sweetest pussy in the kingdom.

  No. That’s wrong.

  In the fucking world.

  If only she knew how badly I needed to look after her, both in bed and out of it. But clearly, she wasn’t used to having someone care for her.

  Tough shit. She was damned well going to have to get used to it.

  “You just walked me through birthing a calf. Surely you can tell me how to bandage your leg.”

  Iris looked away and a blush reddened her cheeks. “I’m fine.”

  That fierce independence was sexy as hell, but she wasn’t going to win this one. Time to shut this discussion down for good.

  “Iris. Do I look like a guy that likes to repeat himself?”

  She looked right at me through wide eyes, and inhaled quickly in surprise. I could tell my change in tone startled her and I was glad. I fucking meant what I said, always. But there was something else as well. A willingness to obey that set my desire crackling.

  Something changed in me around her. I nearly forgot about the monstrous appearance of my face. Her eyes showed me none of the disgust or recoil I usually encountered from delicate folk. She was someone that seemed to see me, not just my scars.

  “I’m going to help you. Period. So stop with the bullshit. We clear?”

  “Okay,” she said, looking slightly flustered. “There’s a basket of linen bandages inside. On the shelf beside the milk pails.”

  Shit, yes. The way she looked at me when she was a little scared of what I might do? So fucking hot. “I’ll be right back.”

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the milking shed, but once they did, I had confirmation of what I had long suspected from watching her from afar: her father was a useless piece of shit. She ran this place, not her father. It all came down to her.

  One side of the shed, where I found the strips of linen, was organized and clean; not a cobweb or a speck of dust anywhere. But the other side of the shed held a disused workbench, with tools encrusted in bedding dust and spiders’ webs.

  The floor of the shed was immaculately clean, right up to the edges of the old bench, as if her father had warned her not to touch his tools, or else. It pissed me off, but I shoved down my anger for the time being. I finally had her alone; for now, all the rest of it could fucking wait. I carried the basket of bandages out to her and knelt before her once again.

  As gently as I could, making sure not to touch any of the bruised areas, I placed her heel on my knee. I could tell she was in pain, but she was tough and strong. She leaned forward, making her breas
ts compress against her thigh in a tantalizing line. I pulled my gaze away from her cleavage and watched her lightly run her fingers over the bone of her lower calf, wincing every so often.

  “Tell me what you’re doing,” I said, watching her every move.

  “I’m feeling….” She gulped down a wave of pain. “…Feeling for anything broken or out of place.” Using her fingertips she moved up and down the bruised area.

  “And is it?”

  She gritted her teeth and shook her head at the same time.

  “I don’t think so.” She leaned back and took a deep, steadying breath, wiggling her toes while rolling her ankle in a circle. “Just sprained, I think.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Yes, it’s good. But it’ll still take time to heal.” She handed me a few of the bandages and told me exactly how to wrap her leg. I went slowly, careful to keep some tension on the linen strips, but not too much. Once I had her leg carefully wrapped and the linen tied in a bow to keep it secure, she once again gave me that look of embarrassment.

  “You have work to do. Please don’t let me keep you.”

  Damn straight I had work to do.

  “That’s right. These cows won’t milk themselves, will they?”

  Milking cows was a fuckload harder than I’d imagined it would be. It took me a while to get the hang of it, and she almost died with laughter when I squirted myself in the face with one of the teats, but slowly I found my rhythm.

  I listened to her directions, following everything to the letter. Whether she realized it or not, we were already locked in a dance that I wanted to take with her again and again. It was the dance of respect and obedience, of listening, learning, and obeying. Though it wasn’t my nature to be the one following direction, it was my job to show her how it was done… so that she could do it for me in return. On her back, in my bed, with my dick deep inside her.