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  Orla was lured to Underhill via a candy stand, lands wrapped in ribbon, and given an out via the agreement of the autumn king. She bribes him with candy, and things do not go to plan.

  At a winter fair, Orla is lured by the scent of fudge to a stand that seems separated from the traffic around it. After some polite chatting, she snags her mitten on a gingerbread house, goes to disentangle it... and finds herself sitting, wearing a ribbon for clothing, and spectral instructions on how to get home are glittering on the wall.

  Looking for the autumn king is a strange thing to do in heels and a fetish outfit, but when she finds him, asking him to send her home is first and foremost on her mind. He agrees, but he is going to take his time. He does not say why.

  Their evening devolves into chess, fudge, and foreplay. Suddenly, Orla thinks that three days might not be enough.

  Back home with no memory of her time in Underhill, she finds herself crying at strange times. It isn’t until she goes to arrange a donation to the museum she works for that she remembers what she’s missing.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Sweetest Fall

  Copyright © 2020 by Viola Grace

  ISBN: 978-1-989892-66-4

  ©Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. With the exception of review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the express permission of the publisher.

  Published by Viola Grace

  Look for me online at violagrace.com.

  Sweetest Fall

  Falling Underhill Book 2

  By

  Viola Grace

  Chapter One

  Orla walked through the stalls at the winter market and kept her mittened hands close to her chest like a t-rex. She was starting to sweep the area for sugary offerings or her friends, whichever came first.

  The scent of fudge caught her, and she turned her head to look out of the heated tent, and there, standing in the centre of the square, was a fudge stand with wintery decorations all around it. Orla turned on her heel and stalked toward the stand, her mittens tapping together happily.

  The man at the stand grinned as she approached. She skidded to a halt and grabbed the stall for support. “Oh, icy here.”

  He chuckled. “It is, but this is where they stuck me, so this is where I will be. What would you like?”

  She glanced down and nodded. “Butter pecan.”

  He laughed. “A woman who knows what she wants. A slab or serving cut?”

  “Servings, please. My friends have ditched me, and this is my sole consolation.” She looked at the display as he cut the fudge into tiny blocks. He included an itty-bitty fork, and she grinned. “Thank you.”

  She paid and looked at one of the display pieces. “This gingerbread house is adorable.”

  She stroked it with her mitten and froze when the house moved. She carefully extracted her hand and unsnagged her mitten, coming into contact with the ceramic lollipop with her fingers. She found herself in a rush of autumn leaves, and when she looked around, she was not in the winter festival anymore.

  Her clothing was gone; she was wearing a set of ridiculous shoes and a ribbon. That was it.

  She got up, and her legs wobbled. She was not used to the added height.

  The building around her looked horribly familiar, but the scent was gingerbread and vanilla. She smiled slightly, her hand brushing against the table. There was a soft rustle, and she grinned. “The fudge came along!”

  She didn’t know where she was, but she had fudge.

  She wandered around the house and looked in the fireplace. She shivered. It was too cool to be naked and trussed up in public. In private, sure. Orla laughed. She always laughed when she was losing her mind, but at least, this time, she had snacks.

  A chime sounded, and there was a glittery wall. Elegant script appeared, and she read the directions to her insanity.

  Find the king of autumn; he alone can release you and return you to the world that you have come from. Ask him, and he will send you home. No harm will come to you in this realm.

  She watched as the glittery wall disappeared.

  She looked back at the table and picked up the silky wrap that unfolded as she held it up by two fingers. She draped it over her arm and held it on the same side as the fudge box. There was nowhere to sit now. The chair had vanished with the glittery script. The temperature was falling, and she knew that the best thing for her body temperature was to get hiking. She was cautiously confident that there would be a path to wherever she needed to go. Orla didn’t know why she thought that, but she did.

  She stepped outside the gingerbread house and looked around. She was standing on a cookie cobblestone path, and the lollipops were larger than she was. At this angle, she could even see the edge where she snagged her mitten.

  “Holy shit.” She examined every angle of the lollipop before looking around for the path she was supposed to take. A tumbling maple leaf approached her, and she sighed, accepting that as a sign. The wind was cold, so she shook out the bit of gauzy fabric and wrapped it around her shoulders. Surprisingly, it worked.

  The shoes were shockingly comfortable, and she followed the occasional tumble of leaves in the direction she was supposed to go. Maybe.

  * * * *

  Lugh ate an apple in the hall of the winter king, and he watched Voronwe typing at the small box in front of him. “Why are you torturing yourself?”

  Voronwe absently said, “She likes the cold.”

  Lugh paused. “What?”

  “No matter how cold I am, she curls up against me.”

  Lugh snorted and shook his head. “Certainly, you are exaggerating.”

  Voronwe smiled slightly. “Conjure images of the past, and you will see for yourself. Only a day has passed in her world, so I want to make sure that no extra time passes. I am eager to be back in her arms again.”

  Lugh scowled, and he conjured the images of the winter king and his little mortal cavorting on nearly every surface in the hall, including the chair Lugh was sitting in.

  Lugh let the images fade. “No weeping?”

  “No.”

  “No wailing?”

  “No.”

  “No threats to have her family or village attack you?”

  Voronwe smiled. “Her family lives hours from her.”

  Lugh huffed. “You got lucky. The two I got fainted and disappeared.”

  The winter king looked up from the flat box. “In that case, you had better get back to your castle. The confection house has returned, and there is a warm body walking in the way to your hall.”

  Lugh got to his feet. “Are you sure?”

  “I know every warm body in all of Underhill. There is a new one walking the path past the scrying pond right now.” Voronwe returned to his studies.

  Lugh left the hall to his friend’s laughter.

  Sure, the first two had been lovely, but they had been bound in a ribbon that would not come loose. It was the reason that he had come to winter, to begin with. If another woman had come to his demesne, it was Puck’s last chance, so he would have been far more careful with this one.

  Lugh got to his horse and mounted, urging his friend through the archway and down the path back toward the scrying pool where he spent hundreds of days staring and wondering if he was ever to find a woman to love again. He missed women—the softness, the scent, and the quiet voices.

  He kept his gaze focused on the sweep in front of him the moment that he crossed the bord
er from winter to autumn. The other two women had fainted just beyond the confection house and had soon disappeared. The tracks that he followed were the same style of shoes the other women had worn, and he followed them a considerable distance into the forest. She was really making good time.

  The scrying pool showed a lot of footprints around it, and his eyes widened when he realized she had consumed some of the water. There were no footprints beyond the scrying pool, but there was a set that led to a stand of trees that moved slightly as he approached.

  “Hello?”

  There was the slithering of silk, and bright green eyes were staring at him. “Oh. Greetings, lady.”

  She cocked her head, and locks of dark red hair slipped across her eyes. She straightened, and he was surprised at how tall she was. She still wasn’t the height of a fey, but she was very tall for a human woman, at least in his remembrance.

  “Um, hello.”

  He held out his hand. “You can come out. I won’t bite.”

  She nodded, looked at his hand, and put her pale and soft hand in his grip. He slowly drew her out of her hiding place, and then, the wrap that had concealed her fell away, leaving her wearing the same tightly wrapped gold ribbon that he had provided to Puck at the meeting. The others had all opted for ribbon. It was small, easy to determine who the woman was for, and compact for Puck’s handling.

  Her skin was pale, but her hair was red, and in his memory, the two things were linked. Her leaf green eyes were stunning, and he wanted to continue to draw her against him, but common sense told him to stop when she was free of the trees.

  She reached up and pulled at the pin in her hair, letting the red locks loose around her. She exhaled a little at being slightly more dressed. She looked up at his head, and a light went on in her eyes. “You are the autumn king?”

  He paused. “I am.”

  She looked at him with the lightest flush in her cheeks. “I am Orla. Can you send me home?”

  He swallowed and nodded. “It will take three days. Will you come with me to my home?”

  “Um, do I have to?”

  He grinned. “That is where I will be, and it is safe from drafts, and you can rest there.”

  She looked at the hand that he wasn’t holding. There was a flat box in it, and she nodded. “Right. Okay. Please, and thank you.”

  He nodded and led her to his horse, lifting her up and onto the saddle, then he settled in behind her. He carefully wrapped a hand around her waist to steady her, and while he closed his eyes at the silky feel of her skin, he started his horse back toward home.

  Her curves were a temptation, but he held to his gentlemanly instincts no matter what his body was roaring at him to do. He also was fairly sure that he would not be able to get through the ribbon. It seemed to tighten as he touched it, and Voronwe had mentioned that it would only unravel when the woman was consenting. It was handy that the winter king had gone first. He was now a font of information on how Puck’s tricky little spell worked.

  Lugh inhaled as silently as he could, and he caught a whiff of warm woman and candy? He smelled butter, nuts, and sugar. She smelled delicious.

  He directed the horse to take the long way home, and while it glanced at him, it walked the long way calmly, and the woman was slumped in his arms before they arrived. He was worried that Puck had found another unsuitable woman, but when he moved his hand on her ribs, she stirred and squirmed against him.

  He suddenly regretted waking her and carefully dismounted before taking her by the waist and lifting her off the horse. He dismissed the tack, and his steed shook its head and thundered off to join the rest of the herd.

  She swayed, and he offered his arm. Orla took his arm with a slight smile and entered his home. Lugh was trying to remember how to seduce a mortal, but it had been a very long time.

  Chapter Two

  Orla found out while crouching in the woods that the gauzy fabric actually hid her, even from her own eyes. When the gorgeous brunette dismounted and walked toward her, the fabric snagged and exposed her eyes.

  He was polite, friendly, had oak leaves in a crown on his forehead. When she was in front of him and he was pressing up against her butt and back, she really hoped that the ride was short. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the hand on her waist and the heat radiating through his shirt.

  She could smell apples, and the warmth and the scent let her relax and nearly ignore the sensation of an erection pressing against her back. She didn’t want to guess at the size, but big enough came to mind.

  His hand remained steady; it didn’t wander. He was not trying to cop a feel when she was stuck, so she let her guard down and enjoyed the rocking motion of the horse. She felt herself getting drowsy.

  When his hand moved, cool air rushed in, and she straightened and did a little squirming stretch with as little movement as possible. She saw him looking at her, and she tried to sit straight again, but they were approaching a fairy tale castle that was decorated with all the accoutrements of autumn. There was a vineyard to one side and a huge meadow to the other; horses grazed in the distance.

  He rode through the main gate, and when they were inside the walls, he dismounted and then lifted her off the saddle. She wobbled a little on the shoes, and he offered her his arm.

  As she stared, the saddle and all leather bits on the horse floated away into leaves, and the horse spun and ran out to sprint through the gate, heading for the meadow with his buddies. She smiled and then looked back to the autumn king. She took his arm, and they walked toward his home with all of the colours of harvest being represented in banners hanging from the wall and a huge swath of fruits, grains, and vegetables. She clutched her little pack of sugary goodness and walked with him to a place by the fire.

  She sat down, jumped up, blushed, and then sat again.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She muttered. “I forgot what I was wearing. The chair is cold.”

  He frowned. “You can have my chair.”

  She chuckled. “I will warm it up; it will just take a bit of effort.”

  He nodded. “Orla?”

  She looked up. “Yes?”

  He looked like he was wrestling for a question. “What is in that box?”

  She opened the box and the scent of fudge filled the room. “Basically, sugar melted into butter and sweetened milk, boiled, and poured and then sugar-coated pecans.”

  The autumn king blinked. “They make such things?”

  Orla giggled. “There are far sweeter flavours than this. Would you like to try some?”

  He looked wary. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  She got up, walked over to him, and broke a tiny corner of the sweet off on the little fork. “Open up, please.”

  He gave her a grin, and then, he opened his mouth. She put the tiny piece of fudge on his tongue and withdrew the fork as he closed his lips on it.

  His dark hazel eyes went wide, and he licked his lips to capture any crumbs that had come off the fork. “What is that called?”

  “Fudge.”

  She turned to walk back to her chair, and he snagged the ribbon wrapping her. It tightened uncomfortably, and she lost her breath.

  She landed on his lap.

  He blushed. “Apologies. May I have another piece?”

  Orla laughed. “Of course.” She broke off a slightly larger piece and placed it on his tongue. His mouth closed on the little fork, and she pulled it out. She took a piece herself because she could see that she wasn’t going to have her treat much longer if he continued to enjoy it.

  She put the fork between her lips with a piece, and she tasted apples. She blinked and looked at him. She really did want to know if he tasted like apples, but she didn’t know how to enter that into the conversation.

  He looked at her mouth, and she clued into the fact that she still had the fork between her lips.

  She set the fork back in the box and closed it. She swallowe
d the liquid sugar she had swirled around with her tongue. “You have to pace yourself if you aren’t used to it.”

  He was still stirring his tongue around in his mouth. “That taste is powerful.”

  She nodded and was about to speak when he kissed her. It wasn’t a polite getting-to-know-you kiss. This was a deep and searching kiss. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, tasting something that made her eyes open. Apples!

  She pulled back and blurted out. “You taste like apples.”

  He grinned. “Is that how you translate it? You taste like sugar even after the sugar is gone.”

  “Translate?”

  “The fey have been seducing humans for eons. Our scent and taste alter to lure you in.”

  She blinked. “It does?” Orla cleared her throat. “So, this is some kind of seduction?”

  He stroked her cheek. “Well, you are here for a few days, and you won’t remember what happened when you return home...”

  She bolted out of his lap and sat in the icy chair again. “I’m good.”

  The heat from the fire seemed to elude her. She sat and shivered in the chair, and the autumn king sighed and waved his fingers. A super-soft blanket settled against her skin, and she wrapped it around her. She held it together at the front and said, “Thank you.”

  He inclined his head. “You are welcome. My skills at socializing are rusty. So, what do you do in the mortal realm?”

  She blinked at the surreal change of topic. “I work in the acquisitions department of a museum. We collect exhibits from donors and maintain their artifacts for a tax deduction. We arrange for the security for the displays and get the right archaeologists to do the research on the items.”

  She smiled. “What do you do here?”

  “Well, here it is eternal autumn. I go for rides across the landscape, read, occasionally meet with one of the other kings for chess.”