6. Anna

Anna

" W hat was that about?" my mother seethes. "I thought we were stopping the wedding so that you two could marry."

The carriage ride home has been a solid twenty minutes of her ranting and raving about how I've failed her as a daughter and how no man will have me after what happened at the wedding. I pity all the women who lived in this era; why are we glorifying it in books and movies? If my books are correct—and they probably aren't—her logic is extremely flawed. If I were truly her daughter, having once been engaged to a prince would be leverage to marry a lord, duke, or any other desirable match.

It's not as if anyone knows what happened on that piano.

While I was asleep, James must've made himself busy setting everything up before I woke up, somehow convincing every character in the book that Eliza was destined to be his wife. Based on how he acted when I saw him, I don't believe that to be the case; someone else could be in here, pulling the strings.

And then, there‘s the ominous warning from Kathryn…

Fiction and reality are mixing in a way I'm no longer comfortable with. "Mama, remind me, when was the wedding announced?"

Before she can answer, the carriage stops, and someone speaks to the coachmen for a moment. Both of us sit silently and flinch as the door flings open, and a man demands, "Miss Anna, you must come with us at once."

"Under whose authority?" my mother growls, and I'm enjoying the feistiness that she doesn't usually have in the book.

"Prince James's request."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I grumble under my breath, careful no one may overhear. "We'll take our own carriage," I offer, but he holds the door wider. "Or… not?"

"Where my daughter goes, I go," Mama insists, stepping out before me.

A coachman helps her get out, but in an instant, the door slams shut, and I hear a "yah" from the servant driving the carriage. I fall back further into my seat as the carriage moves and bumps quickly away from her. I make out her faint scream, but it quickly dissipates the further we ride away.

"Slow down!" I shout to the driver, holding on to the door of the carriage to remain seated.

The roads are rough, and if I'm not careful, my tits will bounce right out of my dress. It isn't as if I could tell them, and he doesn't slow the carriage until we reach the castle. By which point, I'm a dishevelled mess—nowhere near presentable for royalty. As I step out of the carriage, I don't make it more than a step before James takes me in his arms, our lips crashing into each other as if I haven't seen him in months.

I shouldn't enjoy this quick rendezvous, but I can't help myself. It's feverish, and if he had his way, I'd be naked right here. The thought has my pussy wet with excitement. Giving in, I sigh against him as his tongue sweeps across mine. It's foolish; he's real, and when we wake up, he'll expect this hot tryst of ours to continue. It was all fun and games when it was only a dream.

This is something else entirely.

The ground shakes beneath us, the same as it did the first time we were in this dream. A rumble comes from his chest as he speaks against my lips, "What do we do now?"

I pull back, hands braced on his chest and rush out, "This is our fault. It happens when we change the story."

James takes my hand and ushers me inside as the quake subsides. He doesn't stop, dragging me through the castle until we reach a bedroom. It clicks shut, and he locks us inside. "No one should find us here."

"You think a bedroom is the best idea?" I cross my arms over my chest, but it only hoists my breasts higher in the corset, so I quickly pull them down, resting my hands on my hips instead.

His amusement is undeniable as a smirk tugs at his mouth. "While I love the idea of fucking you until the sun rises, we need to get out of here. This dream is out of hand." He rushes to the bed and fluffs a pillow, then gestures for me to either sit or lie down. I remain rooted in place.

"Why didn't you marry Eliza, like I asked?"

"Because I don't love her. I'm not going to marry a woman I don't love, even in a dream. Haven't you heard of ‘manifesting?' I won't risk it."

"You sound like Jen, but… you don't love me," I counter. "Why would you have married me when we were here last time?"

"If you recall, I didn't want to marry Eliza then, either." James stalks toward me, a prowl in his gait. "True, I may not be in love with you at this very moment. But, fuck , Anna, I'm utterly obsessed with you." As he reaches me, he doesn't kiss me as expected. Instead, he stands his ground as I raise a defiant chin. "I've been unable to think of anything or anyone else since we first met here weeks ago. Every night, I promise myself it will be the last time, but I will the dream to recur each and every time I sleep." He tucks my wind-swept tendrils behind my ear and keeps his voice soft as he continues, "I want you more than I've wanted anything in my life."

"This is all pretend, a figment of our imaginations. You want a fictional woman."

"I'm not asking you to marry me when we wake up. But I refuse to marry another woman when you're right here in front of me."

"The book," I whisper breathlessly.

"Fuck the book." James slides his hand into my hair, gripping a fistful and tugging gently. "Here? You're mine, Anna."

He tosses me onto the bed as if I weigh nothing, and a giggle escapes me, but I quickly school my features and reply, "I'm not yours."

"While you lie to yourself, shall I check to see exactly how wet you are thinking about me tasting you again?" As he pulls my dress up, his fingers caress my legs from my calves to my thighs, spreading me wide as he reaches them. He rips away all of the fabric, leaving me bare to him, and my body reacts despite my internal protest. His growled sigh makes all of my inhibitions leap out of the window. "As perfect as I remember." Lowering to one knee, he asks, "Do you want me to stop?" I pull up onto my elbows, shaking my head, and he nips at the flesh of my inner thigh. I stifle a yelp, making him chuckle darkly. "Fuck, it's going to take everything in me to not touch you when we wake up."

"Then don't."

Any sane woman would say no to this… but I am no sane woman. Trying to fix an author's book with a dream is proof of that.