Taking his large and surprisingly warm hand in hers, Eloise slid the ring Lord Winterfold had given her onto the fourth finger of Destrian’s left hand. It caught on his knuckle, and he had to help her force it over, his smile breaking free while her cheeks flushed.
“There you go,” he murmured, the warmth of his gaze easing her chagrin.
“Thank you,” she whispered before repeating his declaration—words she scarcely believed were real—in a slightly louder voice, “With this ring, I thee wed.”
The priest then instructed them to kneel before the altar and prayed a blessing on their future life together. After echoing his amen, Destrian stood and helped Eloise to her feet, his hand gripping hers. She squeezed his in return, and they exchanged smiles.
“So that’s it?” he asked, turning to face the priest. “We are wed?”
“You certainly are, Your Highness. I could make an announcement, but since the church is otherwise empty . . .” He spread his hands. “Have you given a thought to where you shall spend your first night as husband and wife?”
Destrian put his arm around Eloise’s shoulder and pulled her close. “The local inn, I suppose, though I am not thrilled about taking my bride to the same location where her abductors were staying.”
Eloise shuddered, sharing his sentiment. She had been dreading the return to the rowdy inn where they had collected Mr Festerly before driving farther up the hill to the church.
“We could return to the palace.” She looked up to Destrian, who shook his head.
“Not yet. Not until . . .” Colour appeared on his cheeks, and she ducked her head when she caught his meaning. If the marriage wasn’t consummated, his father might be able to have it annulled. A huff of breath escaped Eloise’s mouth, as she considered the enormity of what they had done. Refusing to go along with her stepmother’s plans and making an escape had taken all her courage. Defying a king was a little more than she had bargained for.
“It will be all right,” Destrian murmured, stroking her arm with his hand. “We’ll find somewhere, your little cabin if necessary, but I would rather we not return to the palace for a few days until my father’s temper has had a chance to cool.”
“You can’t ride out to the cabin in the middle of the night.” Lord Winterfold stepped forward. “It’s pitch black in the forest, and regardless, it’s not safe from Carac’s marauders.”
Before Eloise could say that it was all right, they could stay at the inn, the Father interjected.
“It is not fancy, but you’re welcome to use the guest cottage at the rear of the manse. My housekeeper could supply your meals, and you need have no fear of her gossiping about your stay, as she knows how to keep a matter quiet. I’d make sure you were left in peace until you are ready to face your shared future,” he added with a wry smile. “How does that sound?”
“Wonderful.” Destrian’s smile returned, but Eloise’s was a little slower in appearing. She had run the gamut of emotions this night and was finding it difficult to keep up.
She had escaped her bonds, worn not one, but two glorious gowns, danced at a palace ball, been kissed by a prince, confronted by a princess, rejected by one king, and was responsible for the collapse of another. She had been abducted at knife point, saved from marrying a dreadful man only to be rescued, kissed once more, and then wed to the man of her dreams, a crown prince who she sincerely hoped would not be forced to abdicate his position because of her. Now she was about to spend the remainder of the night with her new husband, consummating their unlikely union in a priest’s cottage. Was it any wonder her head was in a spin?
Despite assuring Destrian she wasn’t prone to swooning, Eloise’s knees weakened at the same time as he was forced to release her to shake Lord Winterfold’s hand. Fearing she might fall, Eloise spread her arms only to be embraced by Ayleth.
“Just breathe,” her friend murmured, “and promise you won’t forget me.”
“Never!” Eloise followed her friend’s advice and took a few steadying breaths, relieved to find her bearings. Seeing tears in Ayleth’s eyes, she addressed her firmly. “Whatever happens, you are my dearest friend, and I promise that will never change. I cannot thank you enough for helping me.”
“It was my pleasure.” Ayleth beamed before adding in a louder voice, “But why didn’t you tell me the prince was so handsome? I might have made a play for him myself!”
Ayleth’s smile—and the way she kept sending furtive glances Lord Winterfold’s way—assured Eloise her friend’s words were spoken in jest. But she couldn’t help feeling a little proprietorial, relieved when Destrian reclaimed his hold on her and squeezing his waist in return.
“I would say he’s well and truly taken,” Lord Winterfold said before lowering his voice. “But he’s not the only gentleman in the vicinity if you are inclined to play.”
Ayleth blushed, and Destrian’s brow creased in warning. “Justin, you are to escort Madam Norton home safely. Is that understood?”
“Of course.” The baron spread his hands. “What safer place is there for a lady but upon my arm?”
Destrian harrumphed, and Lord Winterfold widened his eyes, his expression all innocence. Eloise might have been a little more convinced if she hadn’t seen the wicked gleam return to his gaze when he glanced Ayleth’s way.
“Will you be all right?” she asked her friend while they donned their cloaks, the hour late, and the priest hurrying them along.
“Perfectly,” Ayleth said, raising her chin. “I know Lord Winterfold’s sort, unable to resist the urge to flirt no matter the circumstance. But don’t worry. I doubt he is seriously interested in the likes of me.”
“Oh, I would say he is interested,” Eloise murmured. “It’s his intentions that concern me.”
A flash of bleakness appeared in Ayleth’s eyes, quickly hidden by her wide smile. “You let me worry about those. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
“As long as you’re sure,” Eloise said, looking from her friend to the baron.
“Very.” Ayleth kissed Eloise’s cheek then whispered close to her ear, “Enjoy yourself, and don’t let your fears for the future spoil this special time. I have a feeling everything is going to turn out just fine.”
Eloise hoped so, and after waving goodbye from the front of the stone chapel, she turned to her new husband.
“Ready?” he asked, as the priest walked ahead with a lantern to guide them to the place where they would spend their wedding night.
“Most definitely.” Eloise took the arm he proffered, finding her smile once more.
Chapter 15
The clouds parted, a ray of moonlight illuminating their destination . . . a thatch-roof cottage fronted by a rambling flower garden, its colours muted by the silvery light.
“How lovely,” Eloise murmured while they waited for the priest to unlock the door.
“Lovely, indeed.” Destrian kissed her gloved fingers, his gaze fixed upon her face. There was no mistaking his meaning, the compliment intended for his bride rather than the picturesque scene, and she swayed towards him.
Not even an hour had passed since her heart had raced with fear that Destrian wouldn’t arrive in time to save her. Now it was desire that caused the blood to pound in Eloise’s veins. Well, and maybe a small amount of fear. She’d had little time to prepare for what was about to occur, the light burning in Destrian’s eyes warning her he would not procrastinate. But before her imagination could run wild, fuelled by the fearsome tales she had overheard in her years working as a maid, she re-summoned her courage. She was the same girl who had survived countless forays into the forest, alone and unprotected. The same girl who had risked her life to rescue a strange man felled by enemy soldiers.
She could do this.
It was Destrian, after all, the stranger who had turned out to be a prince in every sense of the word, though it was to the man, not the monarch, she had been drawn. Her feelings had budded within moments of their meeting, blossoming
during the hours they had spent together. She had been ready to give herself to him after the very first night, despite knowing such an act on her part was fraught with danger. Wanting to experience a lover’s touch before being forced to submit to a husband’s careless demands, she had been dismayed when Lord Winterfold’s arrival robbed her of the chance to enact her plan.
At least she had been granted one of her wishes, a parting kiss, one Eloise had relived over and over. She had regretted that they’d not had the opportunity to take things further but was sorry no longer. Events had conspired in her favour to such a degree that not even in her most vivid dreams could she have conjured such an ending to their tale. Tonight, she would give herself to Destrian as his wife and, Lord willing, they would never be parted again.
Something of her thoughts must have revealed themselves in her gaze, for Destrian’s nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath. Tugging her closer, his gaze fell to her mouth. With her lips tingling in anticipation of his kiss, she lifted up on her toes, both of them startling when their escort cleared his throat.
“This way, Your Highnesses.” The priest gestured for them to precede him into the darkened interior of the cabin, bowing slightly as they passed.
“Oh, Father, really. I am sure that’s not necessary.” Eloise flapped her hands in dismay. “Well, certainly not on my behalf. I suppose you have to bow to Destrian, but not for me.”
“Actually, it is required that all inhabitants of Varianda bow to both myself and my wife,” Destrian said. “But I agree, Father, that it is not necessary. You have done us a great service this night, and we are forever in your debt.”
“Enough to revisit the church where you were wed and attend mass on occasion?” The priest smiled. “I suspect your presence would inspire a resurgence of religious feeling in the local populace, which dwindled regrettably under Althelos’ reign. If I am not mistaken, this young lady is a resident of this village—or she was—but I have not seen her in attendance for many a year.”
Eloise ducked her head, shame engulfing her like a cold, clammy fog. “I am sorry, Father, but my stepmother wouldn’t allow me to accompany her to church. I don’t think she wanted Papa’s friends and associates to know about her treatment of me after his death. Later, she said I didn’t deserve to attend mass or make my confession, as my lack of submission rendered me hell bound and not worthy of saving. I did try to honour her wishes . . .”
Destrian swore, nothing too pithy but not appropriate language for in front of a man of the cloth.
“Sorry, Father,” he said, his less than contrite expression illuminated by the lantern the priest placed on a small table inside the door of the cottage.
“You are forgiven, especially since you merely expressed a sentiment I share.” Turning towards Eloise, the priest raised her chin with a gentle hand. “Child, I can assure you that you are far from hell bound and, I do believe, are seeing the evidence of God’s care for you this very night. It might have felt like your heavenly father abandoned you during the years of your suffering, but there is a purpose in your pain. Even after a short acquaintance, I see adversity has forged humility, compassion, and strength into your character . . . admirable traits for one destined to rule. You have done well resisting the temptation to give in to bitterness.”
Eloise’s response was non-committal. She wasn’t sure she deserved the praise, considering the many times she had wished her stepmother and sisters to perdition. She could only imagine their reactions to discovering her altered circumstance, and in all honesty, relished the idea of their being humbled for a change. The thought was neither holy nor regal, and she would have to admit to it in confession, she supposed. But it was hard to feel guilty about her less-than-forgiving attitude after her stepmother had delivered her into a monster like Mr Festerly’s care. Suppressing a shudder, Eloise preferred to focus on the here and now.
Looking around the dimly lit cottage, she was taken by how similar the layout and furnishings were to her rustic cabin . . . though much nicer, of course. A fireplace was positioned in the middle of one wall, kindling neatly stacked in the grate waiting to be ignited. A kitchen area and small dining table filled one corner, but by far the most dominant presence was the large, timber frame bed that seemed to take up half the room. It captured her attention which then shifted to Destrian, who appeared similarly entranced by the place where they would spend the night . . . together. His gaze sought hers before skittering away at the same time as she looked down at the floor.
This shyness between them was new but not all that surprising. Despite sharing two passionate kisses this evening, they had not spent time in one another’s company for over three weeks. Destrian was right. They didn’t know each other very well, though how many husbands and wives ever did before they were wed? He was also right in saying they were blessed to have shared as much time alone together as they had, but it was hardly a conventional courtship. Not that one would have helped, as they would have been strictly chaperoned, not even allowed to touch.
Eloise liked Destrian’s kisses. She liked them a great deal. Soon, they would be intimate with one another in a way that went far beyond kissing, something she looked forward to, she did, but that didn’t prevent a faint stirring of fear in her belly.
What if Destrian found her inadequate? A wife could be set aside for not satisfying her husband, or so she had been warned by Gloria.
“You will submit without question and perform whatever act is asked of you, no matter how vile. If he tells you to like it, then you will like it. If he wants you afraid, then you will show fear. Pain will be difficult to disguise if that is his preference, but most men enjoy seeing—and hearing—the effects of their handiwork. I’ll not take you back if you fail to please your husband, is that understood?”
The specifics might have been vague, but Eloise had understood the message clearly. No wonder she had been terrified.
Glancing towards Destrian, a wave of gratitude rolled over her. He would never hurt her, not intentionally or for his pleasure. Unlike Mr Festerly, or any other man her stepmother might have chosen for her, Eloise so wanted to please Destrian. But she had no experience, not that a bride was supposed to have any experience. In fact, if she was found to be less than virginal, a husband was obligated to set her aside or, at the very least, punish her severely.
Eloise’s hands clenched. A woman couldn’t win. She was damned if she knew what to do and at risk of disappointing her husband if she didn’t.
Stealing another quick glance at Destrian, his shy smile and flushed cheeks eased her indignation. Of course, he would never put her aside. He was a good man, honourable, caring, not to mention that he had come racing to her rescue, fought to see her freed—receiving an injury she had all but forgotten about in the process—and then insisted they wed in defiance of his father’s wishes. Even if he had not said the words, she would have suspected he loved her, an incredulous notion but one proven by his actions. A man who felt as strongly for a woman as Destrian did for her would be patient with his bride and understanding of her fears. If only the process didn’t sound so daunting, possibly demeaning, and downright improbable.
“There’s a small bathing room through that door.” The priest interrupted Eloise’s frantic musings, and she took a deep breath. “My housekeeper will bring you breakfast, but I’ll ask her not to disturb you too early,” he continued while kneeling to light the fire with a spark from the flint stone. Once it was ablaze, he stood and lit a second lantern he retrieved from a shelf. “There’s wine on the table, glasses in the cupboard, and a bowl of fruit and some walnuts in their shells if you’re hungry. Unless you would like me to bring over a light meal before I retire?”
“No, that’s not necessary,” Destrian said, and Eloise nodded her agreement.
“You have been very kind, Father, and we don’t want to cause you any more trouble,” she said. “I didn’t get the chance earlier, but I wanted to thank you for delaying things as long as you did.
If it wasn’t for you this night could have ended, well, tragically for me.”
“Me, too.” Destrian placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her against his side.
“I am happy to have been of service and relieved to have ended up officiating at a union welcomed by both parties.” The priest smiled and took one last look around the room. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. The manse is just up the lane. There are extra blankets in that chest by the wall along with some old but clean nightshirts you can make use of.” Collecting his lantern, he crossed to the door. “Sleep well,” he said in parting, and Eloise ducked her head.
After the events of the very long day, she should be tired, but with her nerves stretched like strings on a lyre, sleep was the last thing on her mind. From the hungry gleam that appeared in his eyes as soon as they were alone, Destrian’s thoughts were similarly exercised. He turned her to face him, and she stumbled backwards, her hand rising to clutch at the closure on her cloak.
“Eloise?” Releasing her, he cocked his head to the side. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I mean, of course not. What could be wrong? I just . . . need to remove my cloak.” She undid the ties and laid the red velvet cloak on a chair by the wall as if that had been her intention all along. Offering him a tentative smile, she hugged herself around the middle. The room was yet to thaw, but while she would like to blame her shaking on the cold, it was apprehension at work. “Would you like to use the bathing room to change, or shall I go first? I shall just fetch the nightshirts, plus I shall need to see to your arm.”
She took a step towards the chest the priest had mentioned, but Destrian stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“Eloise?” He waited until she met his gaze. “You’re not afraid, are you?
“I am trying not to be.” Her lower lip quivered, and his puzzlement was replaced by a tender look.
“My sweet, please know I would never do anything to harm you. I only want your happiness.”
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