Return of the Prince_Medieval Romance

by Elise de Sallier

  Once her feet were on the ground, Eloise smiled at him, and his heart clenched. He was not pleased that it didn’t reach her eyes, a crease shadowing the otherwise smooth skin between her wing-like brows. He wanted to tell her she had no need to worry, but after ignoring her wishes, and practically ravishing her in the carriage, he didn’t want to add lying to the list of his sins.

  The honourable thing would have been to leave her in peace on the drive. But faced with uncertainty, never a favourite of his, the urge to claim her—again—and take comfort in her passionate caresses had overridden his typically cautious, reasoned responses. He wasn’t an impulsive man, neither led by primitive urges nor fickle emotion, not that there was anything shallow or fleeting about the feelings Eloise inspired. But she’d had a profound impact on him, one Destrian was hard pressed to find fault with when the changes came with a lightness of heart he had not fancied himself capable of experiencing.

  Destrian had smiled more in the previous few days than he could ever recall, laughed more, felt more. All because of Eloise. Everything about her appealed to him . . . her lovely face, her delightfully feminine form, her laughter—whether it be the shy giggles that made her seem younger than her eighteen years, the wry chuckles that made her seem older, or the infectious belly laugh he invariably joined in with. He could talk to her about anything, anything at all, and she listened with her whole body, her attention undivided. Her answers were neither fawning nor manipulative, her agenda only to know him and be known, which was such a refreshing change he found himself sharing things with her he had never before spoken of. He had trusted her with his feelings, admitting to his frustration with having to cover for his younger brother’s antics while being seen as the dour, responsible one. He had even shared his resentment over feeling undervalued by his father. In the light of all she had lost and all she had endured, his complaints could have seemed petty, but Eloise didn’t make him feel that way, encouraging him with her quiet understanding.

  God, how he adored her. Being in love was liberating. It had made a new man of him . . . though maybe not a wiser one. Faced with the evidence of his folly in the light of the overcast morning, muted but still brighter than the interior of the carriage, his conscience twinged. Eloise was right to have been concerned about the effect of his amorous attentions on her appearance. Her cupid lips were red and swollen from his kisses, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, and soft, brown tendrils had come loose from their constraints and curled around her face in haphazard disarray. Adorably dishevelled, she looked perfect in his eyes, but not exactly in a fit state to be presented at court. The fault was all his, and Destrian resolved to exercise a little more restraint in the future.

  “I shall take you straight to my quarters, and you can freshen up. Don’t worry about meeting my parents. I am sure all will be well,” he said, wishing he sounded more convincing.

  She nodded shakily, and he felt a well-deserved stab in his self-centred heart. Rather than calming her fears, he had spent the drive up the mountain distracting himself from the coming drama by assuaging his lust. He had promised to protect her, to keep her safe no matter what, but here he was about to lead his vulnerable, young bride into the lion’s den.

  Destrian’s father was a reasonable man, but he’d had his heart set on his heir marrying King Gorvenal’s daughter, inheriting his throne, and forging the strongest alliance possible between the two powerful kingdoms . . . a miracle considering the damage wrought by Althelos’ maniacal ambitions. It was the first thing Cedric had wanted settled after his coronation, the initial, and some would say crucial, step on the path to peace in the Three Realms. Destrian hadn’t needed Justin’s warning to know that his choosing to disobey on this particular matter—regardless of the fact it was the only time in his adult life he had ever done so—would not have gone over well with his father. While he didn’t regret his actions, still confident an alternative alliance was possible, he would have preferred to shield Eloise from the upcoming confrontation. None of this was her fault, and it galled him she was unlikely to receive the warm welcome from his family she deserved.

  “I had the driver bring us to a side entrance.” Pulling the hood of her midnight blue cloak up over her hair—to protect her from the cold and hide the hair he had tangled with his careless fingers—Destrian made sure the clasp at her neck was secure. “We can take the back way to where my suite is located, without having to go past the great hall, but we shall have to hurry. My father will have been informed of our arrival, and I expect we shall be summoned shortly.”

  Eloise looked to where their driver was manhandling the trunk containing her new clothes from the back of the carriage. “Will there be time for me to bathe and change into a fresh gown?”

  “We shall make time.” Destrian issued orders to some waiting servants. Then linking their arms, he escorted Eloise along the wide but winding corridors that led to the tower where his suite of rooms was located. When they arrived, he attempted to show he was capable of greater gallantry than he had recently displayed, standing back when a footman opened the door. “This way, my lady wife.” Bowing, he gestured for her to precede him, almost running into her back when Eloise came to a sudden halt not many steps inside the room.

  “This is where you live?” She turned in a slow circle, her eyes wide in her heart-shaped face.

  “Where we shall both live.” He shrugged and looked around, puzzled by her reaction. The main salon was circular and of a goodly size. Velvet drapes hung at the recessed windows, tapestries lined the stone walls, and plush, hand-woven rugs covered the slate floors. The furnishings were all dark, polished timber, the decorations jewel coloured and trimmed with gold brocade. He had only been in residence a few weeks, but it was no more or less than what he was accustomed to.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Like it?” She stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “It’s . . . it’s . . .”

  “Nice?” he supplied, feeling foolish. He had forgotten where she had been dwelling when they met, in a ramshackle cabin with the meanest of facilities. As for her home-life, she had not only been put to work as a servant but banished to a small room in the basement after her father’s death, a virtual cell where she had been kept locked in at night. She hadn’t hidden her enthusiasm for the priest’s humble cottage, remarking how lovely it was several times during their stay. He had thought it quite modest, not that he had cared. His only concern was that they were able to be alone to enjoy each other freely. But in comparison, their current surroundings were the height of luxury.

  “I thought you had visited the castle with your father when you were a girl?”

  “Only the once, and I was very young.” Eloise walked slowly around the room, her gaze flitting from the artwork on the walls, to the ornately carved fireplace, the adjoining parlour, impressive desk, and the doors that led into the dressing rooms, before resting on the embroidered cushions sitting atop the enormous four poster bed.

  “You were here for the ball the other night.”

  “Yes, but I was so focused on not being denounced, then on seeing you again, and finally on your declaration, I hardly took notice of anything else.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Please, don’t get me wrong . . . this is lovely, just a little overwhelming. My father’s house in the village is substantial, and when he was alive, I had my own bedroom and servants to attend me. But that was a long time ago.” She gestured around her. “And nowhere near as grand as this.”

  Destrian closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I could find us more humble accommodation if you would prefer, a cottage maybe?”

  “Don’t tempt me.” Eloise laid her head against his chest, and he sighed at the rightness of having her in his arms. He felt complete. At home in a way that had nothing to do with location. He would happily live in the cabin in the forest, if she was there to share it with him . . . though he would probably have it repaired and enlarged, with a proper
privy closet built, as well as quarters for servants and the necessary guards.

  A knock at the door saw Eloise springing backwards.

  “There is nought to fear.” He drew her against him, as the footmen bearing the trunk entered. Others followed, carrying the pails of steaming water Destrian had asked to be fetched. Several maids appeared and curtsied, and he instructed them to prepare a bath for his wife then stay to assist her.

  “Take your time,” he said before pressing a soft, hopefully reassuring, kiss to her lips. Despite their clearly curious audience, he allowed himself the indulgence of lingering. Nuzzling her mouth with gentle caresses, he tilted his head so as to capture every angle of her mouth. When her hands clutched at his chest, he lightly suckling her top lip before transferring his attention to the lower. His tongue brushed over her plump bottom lip, and she opened her mouth on a gasp. The temptation to take advantage was almost overwhelming, but he was determined not to get carried away again. To be a good husband, he needed to think of what was best for Eloise, of her needs . . . even if right now, with the way her body had arched into his, he could be forgiven for thinking if he cleared the room and carried her to the bed, she would not object.

  Letting her down gently, he trailed kisses across to her ear, loving the softness of her cheek, and the warmth to be found in the crook of her neck. Inhaling, he drew her scent deep into his lungs, the sweet, enticing aroma a temptation he found hard to resist. A breathy sigh escaped her lips, and he lifted his head to meet her dazed expression.

  “I know you want me relaxed when we meet your parents, Destrian, but you need to stop if I am to have my wits about me.”

  “My kisses cause them to scatter?” He sounded pleased, and she swatted his arm.

  “You know they do . . . and more,” she added on a whisper. “Now, leave me in peace so I can prepare.”

  Relieved to see the light had returned to her eyes, he bowed over her hand. “Certainly, my love. I shall send word to my father that we shall present ourselves in an hour.”

  Eloise’s smile faltered, but before he could say more, she turned aside. “Then I have no time to waste.”

  He watched her approach the waiting maids who had prepared her bath behind a screen in the adjoining ladies’ solar, one hand absently rubbing his chest. The last time he had stood in this exact spot, he had been preparing for an unwelcome betrothal. Barely three days hence, he had returned with a wife he loved and who loved him in return. It was difficult to countenance having Eloise in his life and sharing his abode . . . like something from a dream. Now, if he could just keep matters from devolving into a nightmare.

  Exhaling a deep breath, Destrian turned and strode towards his dressing room. He wouldn’t have minded a soak in a tub of steaming hot water himself, but he made do with a quick but thorough wash before seating himself so his valet, Tyler, could give him a much-needed shave. If circumstances were different, he would have left it. Eloise had said she was quite partial to his scruff and wouldn’t be at all opposed to him growing a beard, but now wasn’t the time to be looking anything less than presentable. He would have liked to question Justin on their arrival, but his friend had gone to see how things faired. Before his valet could slather the suds on his face, Destrian asked him what he knew.

  “The court’s in an uproar, Your Highness.” The older man, who had been with him since he was a boy, shook his head. “The word is ye’ve gone and wed the lass. Is it true?”

  Destrian stiffened. “Yes. Eloise is my wife, and I shall not have her disrespected.”

  “No disrespect intended, my lord.” Tyler scraped the blade down Destrian’s cheek. “Just a tad unexpected, is all. Though I can’t say I blame ye. She has a bonny look about her, and she seems taken with ye. More so than the ice princess, for all her fancy bloodlines.”

  The name was one Destrian had used himself, but he felt a pang upon hearing it. He might find Seraphina’s aloofness off-putting, but that didn’t mean she deserved his treatment of her. During their last, hurried, conversation, she had assured him his rejection had not affected her personally but had come as a relief—hardly flattering but better than discovering he had broken the poor woman’s heart. Still, he doubted being jilted on the brink of one’s betrothal was ideal. It had to have been humiliating. Having had time to reflect, she might feel justifiably angry that he had left her to face the consequences of his actions, and her father’s formidable ire, alone.

  “How is the princess?” he asked, bracing himself for the news.

  “Hard to say, as she keeps her feelings close to her chest, but no weeping and wailing, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Tyler raised a bushy brow, and Destrian breathed a sigh. His relief was short lived, replaced by a twisting sensation in his gut when his valet continued. “Can’t say the same for her father. The physician had to dose him with a sedating tonic for the first two days after the ball, as every time he roused, he worked himself into another fit of apoplexy. He’s only awake now ’cos his missus, I mean Queen Deidre, said there was to be no more discussion on the matter until ye were found. Seemed quiet as a mouse, that one, but she’s got a roar on her when she gets worked up. Interesting family. Think ye’ve saved yerself some grief not getting entangled.”

  Destrian doubted his father would see it that way.

  “King Gorvenal and Princess Seraphina haven’t reached an agreement?”

  “About her taking the throne when he passes rather than it going to whomever she weds? Not likely,” Tyler muttered. “I don’t think King Gorvenal thinks much of women, which I’m guessing is why he’s such a miserable bugger, since he never had no sons. Though, from what I’ve seen, his daughter could pin most men to the wall with just a look. If she could just thaw a little, I think she’d make a helluva queen in her own right . . . but I don’t think she’ll get the chance.”

  Neither did Destrian, his thoughts racing to find a solution to the dilemma he had created. If Seraphina and he had wed, he would have supported her. They might even have worked well together, politically at least. It was what he had hoped would occur if she had been allowed to remain unwed. It was a pity he didn’t have a twin, one who had been attracted to Seraphina and her to him. But he only had the one brother, and Merek was hardly ruler material . . . or husband, for that matter.

  There were other princes she could marry, of course, even a few royal dukes. But the local aristocrats, the ones who had stayed, had been too enmeshed with Althelos to be trusted. The ones from neighbouring provinces had their own agendas, ones that didn’t necessarily include bringing peace to the region or addressing the injustices that had flourished under the previous sovereign’s reign. Destrian and his father could only do so much if they had to keep battling Carac’s forces alone . . . that’s if Cedric still wanted his son’s help.

  Eloise cast a sideways glance at Destrian as he escorted her down one of the grand, curving staircases on their way to the throne room. He was dressed in a black tunic, pants, and cloak, trimmed with gold rather than silver. With his hair slicked back and face newly shaved, he looked devastatingly handsome—at least, in Eloise’s eyes. She still couldn’t believe he had been so often overlooked in favour of his more flamboyant brother. He also seemed somewhat remote, his jaw tightly clenched. She didn’t blame him, her stomach being in much the same condition, but his silence was troubling.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked, an inane question considering the circumstances, but the words once spoken could not be withdrawn. She didn’t want to add to his burden, or seem needy, but in truth she was terrified.

  Pausing mid stride, he changed direction and drew her into a shadowed alcove.

  “Everything will be fine,” he murmured, his fierce expression softening. “Have I told you how beautiful you look? That gown is stunning on you, as is the way you have done your hair with the braids and that fancy jewelled, netting capturing your bun.”

  Eloise huffed a breath. “I wasn’t looking for more compliments, De
strian, though I am glad you approve of my appearance.”

  The midnight blue over-dress and long, sweeping sleeves contrasted with the cobalt blue taffeta central panel and underskirt of her gown. One of Ayleth’s latest creations, it was equally as impressive as the stunning, bronze and gold affair Eloise had worn to the ball, but of a more modest design, something she deemed better suited for the occasion. The maids who had assisted her with her bath had been only too happy to help Eloise with her hair, their efforts rewarded by Destrian’s slack-jawed reaction when she had gone to meet him. He had stammered his praise, the colour that appeared in his freshly shaven cheeks, and the glances he kept sending her way, assuring her of his sincerity . . . and making his subsequent withdrawal all the more marked.

  “You are obviously worried. I thought you said the alliance could still be secured, so it wouldn’t matter that you didn’t marry the princess . . .” A shadow darkened Destrian’s eyes, and Eloise’s heart fell. “Oh no. What have we done?”

  “Nothing we need be ashamed of, and nothing I shall ever regret.” He gripped her shoulders, his touch light but his tone fierce. “We fell in love, Eloise, and that is all that matters.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he silenced her with a kiss that was almost bruising in its intensity. His mouth crushed to hers, his tongue sweeping inside, as he pulled her against his chest. When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathing hard.

  “Whatever happens, Eloise, we shall both face and survive it together.”

  “Together.” She hugged him hard for a moment, then threaded her arm through his so they could resume their journey. She had been worried before, but now her heart hammered in her chest. He must have heard something to shake his confidence, something he wasn’t telling her. If their actions had cost Varianda the chance to form an alliance that could put an end to the border wars, the entire nation would pay the price.