“There is no need to worry,” she said at Destrian’s obvious concern about the lack of provisions. “I was planning to head home in the morning, so I have enough to see us through until then.” Just. She kept the thought to herself.
“I’m sorry to be a burden.” He offered her a rueful smile. “You went out of your way to save my life, and here I am making yours difficult.”
“No more than usual.” She shrugged, bemused by his manner. To be on the receiving end of an apology from one she served was outside Eloise’s experience and certainly not what she expected from a member of the royal family.
After placing his dinner within easy reach, she took her seat and ate a mouthful of stew, savouring the flavour as it warmed her from the inside. “I know a place where a fallen tree has rolled under a rocky overhang and should still be dry,” she said between mouthfuls, wanting to reassure him that he need not fear freezing. “I shall go there in the morning and chop some more wood.”
“With an axe?” His eyebrows disappeared beneath his tousled fringe. “Yourself?”
“Well . . . yes.” Eloise shrugged again, and he muttered an imprecation. Rather than scold him this time, she was pleased. His unexpected concern for her well-being—that’s if she was interpreting his reactions correctly—increased her hope he would be receptive to her request.
Both hungry after their meagre luncheon, they fell silent as they ate the stew from wooden bowls with mismatched spoons. Mopping up the gravy with the last of the rye bread Cook had given her from the kitchen, Eloise rehearsed what she wanted to ask Destrian in her thoughts.
Her plan was presumptuous and unlikely to succeed, but now that the idea had formed, she couldn’t get the possibility of having a say in her future from her mind. Gloria would need to be swayed somehow, as she would never let her stepdaughter go when there was money to be made from her labour and through marrying her off.
A shudder coursed through Eloise at the thought of being wed to one of the men who had begun to visit the house for the purpose of ‘perusing the merchandise’. Older men, willing to pay for a virginal young bride to warm their beds, tend their homes, and take care of their unruly broods, the eldest not many years Eloise’s junior. Unafraid of hard work, she wouldn’t have minded if there was even the slim chance she would be treated with kindness or a modicum of respect. But she didn’t like her chances. It would have been different if her father was still alive.
Resigned to her fate, Eloise had stoically endured whatever had come her way since his death. But the thought of being married to a man she didn’t love, one who would, most likely, treat her very ill, filled her with dread. She only managed to get through her days by refusing to dwell on where the next leg of her journey would take her. But Destrian’s unexpected intrusion into her life had dispelled the miasma of apathy and denial she had allowed herself to become immersed in. Listening to him talk about a life she could barely recall or imagine had planted a seed in her mind. Of hope. Of possibility. Of the idea that maybe, just maybe, her life could take a different path.
After putting their empty bowls aside, she summoned the courage to speak.
“Thank you for the meal, Eloise, it was delicious.” Destrian spoke first, and she closed her mouth. “And thank you for your hospitality.”
“It was nothing.” Embarrassed by his praise, especially considering their primitive surroundings, she shook her head. “I’m sorry I have so little to offer.”
“Don’t apologise.” He reached for her hand, and this time she let him take it, let herself feel the comfort of another’s touch. Of Destrian’s touch. It was unwise, as had been watching him while he slept and regretting the fact he hadn’t kissed her. Intruding on her plan to ask for his assistance came another thought, one so shocking she flinched and snatched her hand away.
His barely covered chest rose and fell, as he expelled a sigh. “It seems I must ask for forgiveness again.”
“No, I didn’t mind. It’s just there is something I want to say, and I need to think clearly, and well . . .” Flustered, she hugged her arms around her middle, struggling to meet his gaze.
“You find it difficult to focus when I’m holding your hand?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean. . .” His smile widened, and a flush warmed her cheeks. “It didn’t seem appropriate, as I have a favour to ask.”
“A favour?” His expression sobering, he leaned towards her, the quilt falling to his waist. “I am determined to repay you for rescuing me, Eloise.”
“Oh . . . that’s . . . good.” Licking her suddenly dry lips, she dragged her gaze from the tantalising glimpse of his navel, up his not overly broad but still quite muscular chest. Refusing to linger on his mouth, she reached the sparkling eyes that had startled her at their first sight but now drew her into their emerald depths. Endeavouring to collect her scattered thoughts, she gave her head a quick shake.
“I don’t want payment, per se, but I have a proposal you might be interested in.”
“A proposal?” Destrian sat back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Anything. Anything at all.”
A nervous laugh escaped Eloise’s lips. “Anything encompasses quite a lot.”
“I mean it.” His eyes blazed with sincerity and something she dare not ascribe a source. The errant thought that had caused her earlier panic troubled her again, and she forced it aside, rushing to fill the potent silence.
“I want independence from my . . . guardian.” She dared not say stepmother lest he deny her request immediately, as a parent’s rights were greater than a trustee, akin to those of a husband. “My inheritance is gone, but I am not afraid to work for my living. I am good with herbs, and my tonics and creams sell well in the markets. If you could loan me the seed money to establish myself, I would be ever so grateful.”
Destrian blinked. “You want to start a business?”
Her hopes waning at his blank expression, Eloise covered her disappointment by tugging the shawl off the chair behind her and wrapping it around her shoulders. “I would pay you back every penny, with interest, but I understand if you’re not willing to take the risk.”
“I am not concerned about the risk.” After making sure his lap was covered—reminding her that he was naked beneath the blanket—he moved to sit on the side of the bed. “I don’t mean to pry, Eloise, but have you run away from an unhappy marriage or unwanted betrothal?
“No, well not yet.”
“And you’re not yet one and twenty?”
“Almost nineteen.”
Groaning, Destrian ran his hand through his hair, dislodging the bandage but, fortunately, not setting his wound to bleeding again. “You’re obviously a capable young woman, but how do you expect to survive without a guardian to keep you safe?”
“Safe?” She stood and paced towards the fire. “You think I am safe alone out here in the forest or being forced to work like a slave in my own home? What about knowing I could be married off at any time to a person not of my choosing?”
Destrian grimaced. “You are not the only one in that boat.”
“No, but do you fear being beaten, of being . . .” Tugging her shawl tightly around her, she couldn’t stop the shudders that racked her body. Now that she had faced the reality of her situation, its awfulness would not be kept at bay.
“I want to help you, but a young lady without protection going into business by herself . . .” He spread his hands. “Let me speak to my father—”
“No, that’s all right.” She had been foolish to think she could escape Gloria’s clutches or the fate that awaited her. She should have just asked Destrian for money and used it to run away, but that was even riskier than what she had proposed, and she wasn’t sure her pride would allow it. A loan was one thing, charity quite another.
To her relief, he let the matter drop. Checking to see if they were dry, she pulled his shirt and under-breeches off the line before tossing them towards him. Regaining her composure and resisting the temptation to
pursue the other line of thinking intruding on her thoughts, would be easier if he wasn’t naked beneath the quilt. With a heavy heart, she turned to face the fire, allowing him to dress in privacy.
If she swallowed her pride and accepted payment for helping Destrian, and if she could somehow convince Gloria to do the right thing, she could use it as a dowry to try and attract a better class of husband.
And pigs might fly.
The odds of her stepmother not taking the money for herself, or adding it to her daughters’ dowries, was zero, and Eloise huffed a breath at her foolishness for even entertaining the notion.
She could take Destrian up on his offer to speak to his father on her behalf, but the king was a busy man, with a war to win and a kingdom to set to rights. Interfering in what was, essentially, a family matter for the impoverished daughter of a disgraced noble would surely be beneath his notice. And what difference would it make? Only a dowry measuring in the hundreds of guineas would secure a husband who wasn’t twice her age and likely to abuse her. Even then, there were no guarantees.
If her father had been alive, he would have vetted the candidates, choosing someone he trusted for his daughter’s spouse. Shaking her head at the futility of that line of thinking, Eloise faced the realisation that she didn’t want to marry anyone, not even a good man. She would much rather have her independence and make her own choice of husband when she was good and ready.
The idea was a fantasy, one made even more impossible by the fact that, in the space of a day, she feared Destrian had spoiled her for ever wanting another.
“I’m dressed,” he said, and she turned to face him and the scandalous thoughts that had been teasing at the edges of her consciousness all evening. If she could not avoid being forced to marry and lay with a man not of her choosing, why not take the opportunity to lay with one she did want while she had the chance?
Chapter 5
Destrian hated disappointing Eloise, hated the look of desolation that stole over her delicate features when he dashed her hopes. He shouldn’t have said he would do anything to help her, as she was right . . . it encompassed too much. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. If she was a man, he would gladly set her up in a business of her choosing. But a young woman, one who had once been a lady? What she needed was a supportive guardian who had her best interests at heart, but without an inheritance to manage and profit from, he couldn’t imagine anyone taking on such a role. As for refusing offers of marriage and supporting herself through her own endeavours, he had never heard of a maiden accomplishing such a feat. If she was older, widowed, and had at least some male protection—an uncle, brother—it might be possible. It would also help if she were plain, less likely to inspire unwelcome attention, but Eloise was anything but.
She was beautiful.
Destrian couldn’t believe he had not seen it straight away, though she had been mud-spattered, her hair hidden by a scarf, and draped in a drab-coloured cloak. The gown she wore now was equally worn, but it showed off her feminine curves, curves he couldn’t help noticing. Unlike the elegant court ladies who barely raised his interest, Eloise captivated him, and it wasn’t just her face or figure or that glorious hair. She was interesting, intelligent, and clearly well educated. The longer he spent in her company, getting to know her, the more beautiful—and fascinating—she appeared.
Was that love?
It was definitely lust. His attraction for her was growing in tandem with the gentler sensibility, one as dangerous as another for a man in his position. Acting on the latter was out of the question, as he had promised not to harm her and could not afford a scandal. As for the former, he would be a fool to allow his heart to become engaged when his course was unalterably set, the one that could affect countless lives and required his marriage to another.
Giving his head a quick shake, Destrian dismissed the possibility that he had fallen in love with Eloise. Something so momentous couldn’t occur after such a short acquaintance. Even if it had, there was no chance of it being reciprocated. She had reacted with fear when he had made an advance upon their arrival at the cabin, and she was sure to be annoyed with him for denying her request. At the rate he was going, he was lucky she hadn’t turned him out into the storm. Whatever emotions he was feeling—attraction, affection, or a combination of the two—gratitude and circumspection were the only ones he could afford to foster.
That was assuming his head had any say over his heart.
After studying her stiffly held back for a moment, he donned his shirt and struggled into his under-garments, his ankle making it difficult. She’d not said as much when tossing his clothing onto the bed, but he agreed it was past time he covered his nakedness with something other than a quilt.
After informing her he was decent, he raised his foot back onto the bed, Eloise catching his wince as she turned to face him.
“Is your ankle paining you?” Crossing to his side, she removed the bandage, frowning at the sight of his misshapen and multi-coloured flesh. “We need to bring down the swelling. Pity I didn’t think of it earlier, as I’ll have to climb a fair way up the mountain to find any ice.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” Destrian grabbed hold of her arm, wondering if there was anything this slip of a girl wouldn’t take it upon herself to accomplish.
Eloise stared at his hand on her arm, but when he went to withdraw, she surprised him by covering it with her own. Lifting her gaze to his, the light in her deep brown eyes warmed him despite the cabin’s increasing chill.
“I wasn’t going to go now. It is almost dark.”
“You will not go at all. I’ll not have you putting yourself at risk for me. You have done enough already.”
Her lips curved into a shy smile, causing the heat in his chest to spread.
“What is it?” he asked, and she gave a little shrug.
“I’m not used to having someone worry about my safety.”
“Well, you do now.” He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact, but his voice dropped low, and her smile faded. For a long moment they stared at one another, the air between them crackling with something other than fear. Destrian had his suspicions about its source, but he wasn’t experienced enough at reading women to be certain. His efforts to set her at ease about his intentions had been successful, as she no longer seemed afraid of him. Gone, too, was her anger and disappointment from mere minutes earlier. If he wasn’t mistaken, it had been replaced by the same desire that burned low in his belly. The change was sudden, unexpected, and intensified his own feelings to an almost unbearable degree. Hating the fact he could not act upon them, he took a deep breath.
“Would a bucket of cold water help?”
“I beg your pardon?” She stepped back.
“To soak my ankle and bring down the swelling.”
“Right. Your ankle.” Spinning around, she went to fetch the bucket she kept near the door, tipping the contents into a pot and refilling the kettle. “I’ll just go fetch some fresh water from the creek. With the way the temperature is dropping, it should be cold enough to do the trick.”
“Eloise, wait,” Destrian called, not having meant for her to brave the elements again. Ignoring him, she grabbed the lantern off the table and headed out the door.
“Damn,” he muttered, swinging his leg back over the side of the bed and rising to stand. It took a moment to get his bearings, his head deciding to pound in time with his throbbing ankle.
Now what?
Going after her clearly wasn’t an option, as he would be more hindrance than help. Recalling the location of the creek they had passed on their way to the cabin, a journey that would take some minutes, he decided to make use of the chamber pot in the corner before she returned. The cabin didn’t boast anything so sophisticated as an outhouse or water closet, and he hated knowing she would have to empty the covered pot in the morning. It wasn’t something to which he normally gave much thought, like so many of the other chores he had witnessed her perform
over the course of the day. He would do it himself if he could manage it, anything to show he thought of her as more than a servant.
While he was relieved Eloise wasn’t trapped in an unsavoury marriage—though it sounded like it was just a matter of time—he found it hard to fathom a guardian getting away with treating his ward so ill. Then again, under Althelos’ rule, fairness and chivalry had been relegated to mere incidentals, a situation he was determined to help his father rectify.
With the quilt around his shoulder, the pitiful fire struggling to dispel the cold, Destrian sat on the wooden chair and awaited Eloise’s return. He cursed the fact he could not go after her, but without a miraculous recovery, or the sudden acquisition of a pair of crutches, he was next to useless. The wind howled, whistling through cracks in the timber walls and setting his nerves on edge. The likelihood of anyone being out in this weather was remote, but the thought of someone seeing the lantern and going to investigate—of accosting Eloise—saw him rise to stand. Hopping on one foot, he crossed to where the rest of his clothes hung on the makeshift line, planning to dress and find something to use as a cane. But before he could retrieve his breeches, the door opened.
“What are you doing?” Eloise asked, her slender arms straining with the weight of the water-filled bucket.
“Ah . . . checking to see if the clothes are dry?” Destrian returned to the chair and retrieved the quilt to better cover himself. “They’re still damp,” he added more gruffly than he intended, embarrassed to have been caught out. She would probably laugh if he told her he had been planning to come to her rescue.
“Sorry about the cold, but if I build up the fire we shall run out of wood before morning.” Eloise placed the bucket next to his foot and began to fuss over him once more.
Flinching, he lowered his foot into the icy water. “I can do this. You go get yourself warm,” he said, relieved when she obeyed him and huddled down by the fire. “Did you get wet? Do you need the towel?”
Return of the Prince_Medieval Romance Page 4