Lord Winterfold eyed her for a moment before nodding. “Very well.” He gestured to the soldier standing off to the side, and the man came forward and grabbed hold of the ropes to the sled.
“My lord,” Rulf protested. “We don’t have time for this.”
Turning his back, Lord Winterfold led Eloise toward the path. “We shall ride ahead and leave a trail. The girl’s gone to a lot of trouble, and it doesn’t sound as if the prince will be able to move quickly at any rate. What were you planning on cooking him?” he asked Eloise, a smile quirking his lip.
“Griddle cakes,” she said, almost running to keep pace with his long stride. When they reached the trail, another group of soldiers waited with the horses. The baron vaulted onto his steed then reached down for Eloise’s hand.
“You can ride behind me,” he said before issuing orders to his men to split into two groups, one to accompany them and the other to follow behind with her treasure trove of split logs. It all seemed a bit incongruous to Eloise as she found herself perched on the back of the enormous black horse, like something out of an odd tale.
But not a fairy tale, she reminded herself on the ride back to the cabin. She wasn’t even going to get a kiss from her prince.
∞ ∞ ∞
Destrian couldn’t wait any longer. He struggled into his breeches and stockings and was just about to tug on his one good boot, intent on going after Eloise no matter how foolish an undertaking, when he heard the sound of riders approaching. His right hand reached for his sword at its usual place on his left hip, but then he recalled it had been lost in the fall. His knife would have to do, but he didn’t rate his chances very high in close combat and with only one leg to stand on. Hiding behind the door, he waited, his heart hammering in his chest. He would not go down without a fight, and if whoever had found him had hurt Eloise, so help him he would make them pay.
The door creaked open. The sound of muffled voices reached him, and he strained to hear what was being said.
“Shhh,” a woman’s voice scolded. “He might be sleeping.”
“Well, it’s time he was damned well awake!” a male voice boomed.
Eloise? Rulf?
Destrian wrenched open the door, and Eloise fell into his embrace. She squealed at the sight of the knife that he had instinctively brought up to her throat, and he tossed it aside.
“Thank God you’re all right.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I was worried something had happened to you.”
“Something did happen.” She looked up into his eyes, her beautiful smile wreathed with sadness. “Your men found me. They have come to take you home.”
Destrian lifted his head to see the stunned expressions on his rescuers’ faces. Stepping aside so Justin and Rulf could enter the tiny cabin, he nevertheless kept his arm securely around Eloise’s waist.
“I hope you didn’t frighten or harm her in any way,” he said, his jaw tightening at the thought. “Eloise saved my life.”
“Which wouldn’t have been at risk if you hadn’t tried to act the hero.” Rulf scowled and looked him over, taking note of the foot he held aloft. Rolling his eyes at his bodyguard’s typically acerbic tone, Destrian hobbled over to the bed with Eloise’s assistance. Once he had taken a seat, the young woman he had been ready to fight—and die for—at his side, he faced his friends.
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
“The right thing!” Rulf exploded, snapping his mouth shut when Justin put a restraining hand on his arm.
“Destrian, your father is beside himself, and as for your mother . . .” Justin shook his head.
Destrian winced, taking comfort from the way Eloise stroked his back with her hand. He had worried about his brother but hadn’t thought too much about how his disappearance would affect his parents.
“Merek is unharmed?” he asked, releasing a breath when Justin, his best friend of many years, gave a brief nod.
“But the alliance is on shaky ground. King Gorvenal wasn’t too impressed when it was pointed out that Prince Merek was next in line. He wants a sober, restraining hand on the dual kingdoms, not a womaniser who likes to party late and imbibe freely . . . his words not mine.” Justin raised a hand when Destrian would have spoken in his brother’s defence. “You have some serious reparations to make to Princess Seraphina who appeared equally unimpressed by your brother’s attempts to comfort her in her grief.”
“Grief?” Destrian’s brows rose. “She has only met me the once, and if I recall, seemed far more taken with Merek. Though what the hell was he doing cosying up to my future betrothed?”
“You would have to ask him that.” Justin looked pointedly to the arm Destrian had wrapped around Eloise. “Do keep in mind that a lot can happen in a day and people sometimes act out of character when under duress.”
Destrian snorted. “What, exactly, would be ‘out of character’ with my brother seeking to charm a beautiful woman? Though I would have thought he’d at least wait until my death was confirmed to make his move. Did he seem at all distressed by my disappearance?”
Justin shrugged. “He was the only one not panicking or crying up a storm, well him and Seraphina, as he said he would have known if you had come to serious harm. I’m not sure what her excuse is, other than that I don’t think she is overly impressed by either of the Variandan princes. But when it comes to acting out of character, I was referring to you.” He folded his arms and looked to Eloise again. “I’d advise against going into too much detail about your sojourn in the forest upon your return.”
With a blush staining her cheeks, Eloise stood and crossed to the fire or what was left of it. The temperature in the cabin hadn’t dropped too far since the flames died out, but it plummeted at Justin’s words. Destrian had been so looking forward to Eloise’s return, the fire’s rekindling, a cooked breakfast, and then snuggling up with her in bed while they waited for the room to warm. He hung his head. How he wanted that kiss—and more—but he had been jerked back to reality like a daydreamer receiving a painful blow to the head.
“Damnation! If Gorvenal hears about this, we shall be skewered to the walls.” Rulf started to pace, only managing two steps before having to turn back.
“There’s nothing to hear,” Destrian interjected before his volatile minder could continue, in no mood for a haranguing. “Eloise came to my rescue when I had been knocked senseless, helped me get away before Carac’s men could return to finish the job, and kindly offered me shelter during yesterday’s storm. That is all.”
Rulf harrumphed, and Justin raised a brow, but Destrian’s attention was focused on Eloise. He hated that her shoulders were hunched, her gaze studiously averted from his as she prepared some sort of batter in a large bowl.
“I intend to make sure she is rewarded for her hospitality,” he added, wanting to reassure her that he’d not forgotten his promise.
“Pay for her silence you mean,” Rulf muttered on his way out the door, returning with an armful of firewood. After dumping it in the wood box he turned to Destrian. “I shall wait outside with the men and make sure they set up a secure perimeter. I doubt we’ll face a head-on assault, as we’re too many in number, but I wouldn’t put it past Carac’s men to try picking us off one by one from the trees.”
Eloise flinched, her startled gaze seeking out Destrian’s.
“It is all right,” he said, hobbling over to kneel beside her. “I won’t let anything happen to you, but you will need to come with us when we go. It is not safe here anymore.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t.” She graced him with a tremulous smile before turning her attention back to tending the fire. “Breakfast won’t be long,” she added. “You should go back to the bed and raise your foot while you can, as I doubt the journey will be easy for you. Lord Winterfold, can take the chair.”
Destrian did as she suggested, but he wasn’t interested in engaging in conversation with his friend. He would be thrown back into the milieu of politi
cs and responsibility soon enough. For now, he just wanted to watch Eloise, the way her hair hung in a mahogany wave down her back, the way her lithe form moved nimbly from fire to table and back again, the way her capable hands prepared a veritable mountain of griddle cakes, evidence of her generosity and a degree of consideration for others he found difficult to countenance. He especially didn’t want to miss a single shy glance she sent his way. Treasuring each one, he wondered how in the name of the three kingdoms he was going to survive their parting.
The meal of warm griddle cakes and hot tea was delicious, Eloise surprising Destrian with a jar of honey she willingly shared, but the atmosphere was strained. While she cleared away the dishes and packed up her meagre belongings, he donned his non-mangled boot, ruing the fact he would have to renege on his offer to gift her the pair.
“Would you give us a moment?” he asked Justin, gesturing with a jerk of his chin towards the door.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” His friend had taken the hint from Destrian, speaking only of inconsequential matters and mostly remaining silent. But at the glare from his prince, he realised he had crossed a line with his comment. “Very well, I’m going.” He raised his hands and backed towards the door when Destrian half rose from his seat, his hands fisting of their own accord.
Facing Eloise head on, Destrian waited for her to meet his gaze. “I apologise for their insinuations. I shall make sure nothing is said that could harm your reputation.”
“Oh, well, that’s neither here nor there.” Eloise ducked her head. “I am just a servant, though it would probably be better if my guardian wasn’t informed of . . .” She flapped her hands before gripping them together.
Closing the distance between them, Destrian gently prised them apart and linked their fingers together. “I haven’t forgotten my promise, Eloise. It might take me a while to arrange, but I shall make sure you are taken care of. I won’t . . . forget you.”
“Nor I you,” she whispered, her lovely brown eyes filled with something he suspected might be longing. If her expression in any way reflected his own desires, then regret over their imminent separation and hunger for what might have been was but a small part of what she was feeling. Groaning, he pulled her towards him. She came willingly, resting her head against his chest while he encircled her with his arms.
“Eloise,” he murmured her name, finding it impossible to imagine a time when it would no longer hover on his lips. She lifted her head, and he gazed down into her eyes, knowing they would haunt his dreams.
“Is it wrong of me to want you to keep your other promise also?” she asked, and he tilted his head to the side. “To kiss me?” she added, mouthing the words on the faintest breath of sound.
Destrian didn’t need to be asked twice. Lowering his head, he captured her lips, the pink cupid bows that had gifted him with the sweetest of smiles. They were soft, so soft, and silken. He wanted to savour, to cherish, to worship them with delicate caresses and gentle, teasing touches, but Eloise had other ideas. Her arms came up around his neck, and her fingers wove their way through his hair, as she pressed her mouth to his. Another groan reverberated in his chest, his restraint giving way to passion. He answered her unspoken request for more, tasting, seeking, and devouring her mouth with his lips. At the same time, his hands mapped and memorised her supple body.
Threatened with the loss of his balance, he rested his injured foot on the ground and was forced to stifle a wince. Eloise went to pull away, but Destrian was having none of it. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he manoeuvred them backward the short distance to the bed and then sat down on the edge, pulling her onto his lap.
She squeezed him tight, wriggling in his lap as she strove to get closer. He pulled her against him, but it could never be close enough.
Their mouths moved together as one, her soft whimpers firing the desire in his loins. When he traced her lips with his tongue, she opened to him, her reaction to his invasion of her mouth tentative but welcoming. Her taste, peppermint and honey and something indefinable, something uniquely Eloise, overwhelmed his senses. As he stroked the recesses of her mouth, she responded in kind, hesitantly at first then more confidently. The combination of their shared breaths, entwined tongues, and the feel of her in his arms threatened to bring him undone.
Destrian was certain this was Eloise’s first kiss, evidenced more in the sheer wonder of her responses than her inexperience. It might as well have been his first kiss, for all the ones that had come before paled into insignificance in comparison.
He never . . . ever . . . wanted it to end.
A noise from outside dragged Destrian back to the present, and he forced himself to gentle the kiss.
“Eloise, Eloise,” he chanted her name against her lips, his words a prayer, a dedication, a plea. Was there no way for them to be together?
“Oh, how I wish . . .” she echoed his thoughts, breaking away to look into his eyes. Releasing her grip on his shoulders, her hands came around to cup his face.
“You are so dear to me,” she whispered, “and I only want your happiness.”
Destrian shook his head, mirroring her actions and gently placing his hands either side of her face. “But how can I be happy without you?”
Eloise had no answer for him, her soft, sad gaze dropping to his mouth. His heart felt like a lead weight in his chest, but Destrian didn’t hesitate to grant her unspoken request. This kiss, their last kiss, was sweeter than the first. Infusing his touch with tenderness, he brushed his lips across hers first one way then the other. Eloise followed his lead, their lips clinging and caressing, until eyes closed, breath coming in soft pants, they drew apart and rested their foreheads together.
“Your Highness? It’s time we got moving,” he heard Justin call through the door.
Destrian stifled a curse. Reality beckoned, unwelcome but unavoidable. The time for day dreaming was over.
Chapter 8
Lord Winterfold took hold of Eloise’s elbow and directed her towards his horse.
“Eloise rides with me.” Destrian grabbed her other arm and tugged her towards him, leaving her feeling like the rope in a tug of war.
The baron frowned and gestured towards the waiting soldiers. “But the men—”
“Will keep their mouths shut if they know what’s good for them,” Destrian snapped.
The height to which Lord Winterfold and Rulf’s brows ascended made it obvious Destrian’s terse response was uncharacteristic. Eloise wasn’t surprised. She knew he wouldn’t be the sort to bully his subordinates, although the set of his jaw made it clear he wasn’t about to back down.
“Very well.” Lord Winterfold released Eloise and took a step back, looking none too pleased.
“There’s no need,” she said in a small voice. Every minute longer she spent with Destrian would be a gift, but they would also prolong the agony of their separation. “I can make my own way home.”
“You will do no such thing.” Destrian hefted her bag over his shoulder and linked their hands. “Carac’s men are sure to know we are here, and I shall not risk them coming for you after we’ve gone.”
Eloise shuddered at the thought and let Destrian lead her to his horse, or more accurately, let him lean on her while he hobbled across the yard. He needed help mounting, but once astride, he caught hold of her hand and pulled her up to sit behind him. With her arms wrapped around his waist, she took note of the looks the other riders sent their way.
“Destrian, I don’t think this is wise,” she said close to his ear.
His chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath, one he slowly released before twisting to face her. “You are probably right. I promised I would protect your reputation and here I am putting it at risk. I just couldn’t bear seeing you ride behind another man, not even Justin, and he is my best friend. I fear there would have been bloodshed.”
His crooked smile came nowhere near his eyes, and Eloise’s heart clenched.
“I am not worried about my repu
tation. If you let me go before we reach the villages, no one will even know I was involved in your rescue.” At least, she hoped that was the case. Gloria’s reaction if she discovered her stepdaughter had been consorting with a prince would not be mild. “I am concerned my involvement in your rescue could be misinterpreted. If something untoward was reported to King Gorvenal or his daughter, it could jeopardise the alliance.”
Destrian stared at her for a long moment, taking no notice when the other riders began to move out. “How can you care about politics when it comes at the expense of our being together?”
“Together?” His words inspired hope and anguish in the same breath, and Eloise’s grip upon him tightened. “I am little more than a servant, Destrian, and you are heir to a kingdom. How could we be together? Besides, it is more than mere politics. This endless tyranny must be brought to an end.”
His green eyes darkened until they matched the colour of the winter shrouded trees overhead. “You are right . . . again.” He turned to face forward, and they rode out to take their place in the middle of the column of soldiers. With everyone on high alert, few words were spoken on the journey. But Destrian’s free hand, the one not holding the reins, never ceased from stroking her fingers where she held his waist. With her thighs hugging his hips and her breasts pressed against his back, Eloise savoured his nearness, wishing she never had to let him go. Tired from her morning’s labours, she let her eyes drift shut and rested her cheek against his back. Between the rocking of the horse and the dappled light flickering over her closed lids, it would have been easy to allow herself to be lulled into a dreamlike state . . . but Eloise resisted.
“This is where I should depart,” she said when they left the forest canopy behind, the road that led to Hallewell veering off to the right. “Do you have the jar of unguent I gave you?”
“Yes, it is in my bag,” Destrian said over his shoulder.
Return of the Prince_Medieval Romance Page 7