failed to exhaust him, physically and mentally.
Why he’d thought it necessary to go and see how the old crone was fairing on a Monday morning was beyond him. She had been affected by the never ending cold everyone else seemed to have caught, for close to three weeks, so he’d brought some chocolate and pastries from Tarina’s – the best of the best – hoping to cheer her up.
He was regretting it almost right away. The woman was fine now; she’d outlive him, especially if she didn’t stop throwing him to the wolves. She'd calmed things down during her illness, but now, she was back to her old tricks.
His visits were always unannounced, yet every single time, save for a small reprieve during her illness, she had a merry band of potential wives lined up.
Chase wondered if she kept them locked up in the dungeons to ensure they were always available whenever he dropped by. Knowing her? Probably. The woman wanted great-grandkids, and she wasn’t above treachery, trickery and blackmail to get them. As a rule, Chase never drank unless he saw her take a sip from the same teapot, first: she’d slipped in some aphrodisiac in his glass. Twice . There also was the one time when he’d thrown up and passed out – he was quite certain the weird “new brand of tea” might have had something to do with it.
Yes, his grandmother had spiked his drink with a date rape drug. If he hadn’t managed to crawl to his car and lock himself in, he would doubtlessly have been found in a compromising position and dragged to the altar.
That Monday, Chase sat in the drawing room, on a large sofa opposing Mimi Hunter’s armchair.
The Queen seemed rather unthreatening; a regal, still beautiful woman of sixty-something – or so she said. He was pretty certain she actually approached the big 8-0 but as Chase wasn’t quite suicidal yet, he’d never dreamt of correcting her loose understanding of basic math.
The Queen was telling him about how she’d love nothing more than to go back to her well-deserved retirement. Again.
When her daughter had gotten married thirty five years ago, she’d taken the reigns of the kingdom; then, quite tragically, she and her husband had died, leaving Chase parentless and the kingdom, without a sovereign.
Chase was aware that he was very, very lucky to have Mimi. Without her, the kingdom might have ended up in the hands of whatever noble managed to prove a claim to it; without her, he would have been nothing more than a scared, lonely orphan amongst so many. There also was a strong possibility that the nobles next in line for the throne might have tried to kill him, a defenseless, vulnerable seven-year-old.
But the very day his parents’ deaths were announced, riding a thoroughbred all the way from her distant estate without any guard, the strong, intimidating Dowager had appeared at the palace; little as she might like Court, she came back to raise her grandchild, and to assume the place of Queen Regent, that she’d hold until such a time as when Chase would marry.
Some stupid-ass rule stated that the monarch of Enom ought to have a spouse before ascending to the throne, to his exasperation.
Right about now, it was pretty hard to remember why he was so grateful.
Chase was surrounded by legs and boobs. Most guys wouldn’t complain, but he wasn’t at liberty to even contemplate doing anything with the endless sea of curves before his eyes.
A while back, the women Mimi had thrown his way had been covered from head to toes in business suits and elegant casual dresses, but she’d grown desperate sometime around when he’d turned thirty; now, his potential wives walked around with low necklines and very, very short skirts designed to entice him.
Mimi wasn’t quite certain of his taste and it showed: there was a tall, skinny blonde, a tanned, curvy brunette, a plump redhead, an ebony goddess who somehow managed to pack up crazy curves on a thin frame… Chase adjusted himself with a
Why he’d thought it necessary to go and see how the old crone was fairing on a Monday morning was beyond him. She had been affected by the never ending cold everyone else seemed to have caught, for close to three weeks, so he’d brought some chocolate and pastries from Tarina’s – the best of the best – hoping to cheer her up.
He was regretting it almost right away. The woman was fine now; she’d outlive him, especially if she didn’t stop throwing him to the wolves. She'd calmed things down during her illness, but now, she was back to her old tricks.
His visits were always unannounced, yet every single time, save for a small reprieve during her illness, she had a merry band of potential wives lined up.
Chase wondered if she kept them locked up in the dungeons to ensure they were always available whenever he dropped by. Knowing her? Probably. The woman wanted great-grandkids, and she wasn’t above treachery, trickery and blackmail to get them. As a rule, Chase never drank unless he saw her take a sip from the same teapot, first: she’d slipped in some aphrodisiac in his glass. Twice . There also was the one time when he’d thrown up and passed out – he was quite certain the weird “new brand of tea” might have had something to do with it.
Yes, his grandmother had spiked his drink with a date rape drug. If he hadn’t managed to crawl to his car and lock himself in, he would doubtlessly have been found in a compromising position and dragged to the altar.
That Monday, Chase sat in the drawing room, on a large sofa opposing Mimi Hunter’s armchair.
The Queen seemed rather unthreatening; a regal, still beautiful woman of sixty-something – or so she said. He was pretty certain she actually approached the big 8-0 but as Chase wasn’t quite suicidal yet, he’d never dreamt of correcting her loose understanding of basic math.
The Queen was telling him about how she’d love nothing more than to go back to her well-deserved retirement. Again.
When her daughter had gotten married thirty five years ago, she’d taken the reigns of the kingdom; then, quite tragically, she and her husband had died, leaving Chase parentless and the kingdom, without a sovereign.
Chase was aware that he was very, very lucky to have Mimi. Without her, the kingdom might have ended up in the hands of whatever noble managed to prove a claim to it; without her, he would have been nothing more than a scared, lonely orphan amongst so many. There also was a strong possibility that the nobles next in line for the throne might have tried to kill him, a defenseless, vulnerable seven-year-old.
But the very day his parents’ deaths were announced, riding a thoroughbred all the way from her distant estate without any guard, the strong, intimidating Dowager had appeared at the palace; little as she might like Court, she came back to raise her grandchild, and to assume the place of Queen Regent, that she’d hold until such a time as when Chase would marry.
Some stupid-ass rule stated that the monarch of Enom ought to have a spouse before ascending to the throne, to his exasperation.
Right about now, it was pretty hard to remember why he was so grateful.
Chase was surrounded by legs and boobs. Most guys wouldn’t complain, but he wasn’t at liberty to even contemplate doing anything with the endless sea of curves before his eyes.
A while back, the women Mimi had thrown his way had been covered from head to toes in business suits and elegant casual dresses, but she’d grown desperate sometime around when he’d turned thirty; now, his potential wives walked around with low necklines and very, very short skirts designed to entice him.
Mimi wasn’t quite certain of his taste and it showed: there was a tall, skinny blonde, a tanned, curvy brunette, a plump redhead, an ebony goddess who somehow managed to pack up crazy curves on a thin frame… Chase adjusted himself with a
Similar Books
