Return of the Prince_Medieval Romance

by Elise de Sallier

  “So . . .” Destrian stood, and she allowed him to draw her with him when he crossed to the large and inviting bed. “If your concerns regarding the opinions of others have been suitably dealt with, I propose we spend the intervening hours between now and the ball dealing with more important matters.”

  His dark robe hung open to his waist, his body naked beneath it as hers was beneath the silk robe that he had brushed from her shoulders, forcing her to clutch it to her breasts. The draw of his desire-darkened gaze was difficult to resist, as was the urge to abandon her robe, and her modesty, altogether, and follow him down onto the soft expanse of the mattress.

  Leaning back against the gentle tug of his hand, she offered a token protest. “We don’t have hours, Destrian. The ball begins at eight.”

  Leaning up on his elbows, he shrugged a shoulder. “We’re the guests of honour. They’ll wait.”

  “Technically, your brother and soon to be sister-in-law are the guests of honour.”

  “Didn’t you hear? It’s to be a joint announcement of their betrothal and our nuptials.”

  Eloise laughed, the sound dry rather than girlish this time. “I doubt there are too many souls in the kingdom left to be apprised of either piece of news, certainly none attending tonight’s celebration.”

  “Well, there you have it.” Destrian gave a firmer tug, and Eloise fell forward. Her plan to land heavily upon his chest as chastisement for his incorrigibility was thwarted when he rolled and took her with him. Looking up into his unrepentant gaze, the length of his long, lean and oh so lovely body pressing hers into the bed, robbed her of both breath and the will to resist.

  “There I have what?” Reaching up to stroke his freshly shaved cheek with her hand, she echoed his earlier words.

  “Tonight is a celebration, and I would dearly love to begin ours a little early . . . if that’s all right with you?”

  Her robe had fallen open, as had Destrian’s, and there was nothing standing in the way of his wish being granted except for her withholding her permission. Although wed less than a week, Eloise was confidant her husband would never hurt her, never treat her as if she was somehow less than him regardless of her gender or station. She held his heart in her safekeeping as he did hers.

  “That’s perfectly all right with me,” she whispered, as his hands and lips worked their magic.

  “Are you certain?” he asked, drawing back and capturing her gaze. “We’ve been doing rather a lot of celebrating, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable this evening.”

  Eloise’s chest rose and fell with the laughter that bubbled up from within. “Believe me, I’ll be too busy squirming at the knowledge that the entire court are sure to have been informed of our antics to notice any tenderness.”

  A crease appeared between Destrian’s eyes, and he pulled back a fraction. “If you are truly concerned, we can stop.”

  “It’s a little late for that.” She wriggled beneath him.

  “But I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. I know how much you want to please me, and you do, in ways I can’t begin to describe. I shouldn’t have insisted—”

  “Destrian, stop.” Eloise reached up with her free hand to loosen the fingers he had fisted in his hair. “I’m not truly bothered, I promise. If we are the last to arrive, I will stand proudly at your side, content in the knowledge that my husband adores me as much as I adore him . . . and that any lady who eyes me askance is probably jealous. Now make love to me, or I shall be a bundle of agitation for the rest of the night, and that wouldn’t be pleasant.”

  He hesitated for a moment longer, his gaze searching hers, then his lips slowly curved into a delicious half smile that made her as hungry for his kisses as she was to have him inside of her.

  “I wasn’t going to leave you wanting.” He lowered his head to murmur against her lips, and she took immediate advantage.

  Bestowing his mouth with hungry kisses, she savoured his taste with her tongue. “I know, but it’s better like this.” Guiding him to her entrance, she welcomed his long, slow slide into her body with an arched back and a low moan. Once he was seated fully inside her, he held still, lifting his head to peer down at her from beneath hooded lids.

  “My beautiful wife.” He cupped her cheek with one hand, the other arm holding his weight. “I just wish I could properly express how much I love you.”

  “You do—you are—at this very moment.”

  He was right. What did it matter what anyone else thought? Some jealous lips might tut-tut in disapproval, but their union was sanctified; this great love, this passion-filled future stretching before them theirs to enjoy.

  Destrian’s smile threatened to disrupt the sombre demeanour he was attempting to portray. Officially presenting his wife to the court of Varianda was a serious business. After the debacle of her initial introduction, he was determined Eloise be shown respect from this point forward, but perpetually drunk on newly-wedded bliss, he could barely contain his joy. The way she responded to his attentions was a revelation. The mere memory of their most recent encounter threatening to rekindle the desire they had only just quenched. A chuckle bubbled in his chest, one he barely managed to stifle, as he admitted to himself it was unlikely he would ever drink his fill of their combined passion. She was perfect for him in every way, although it wasn’t just her appearance that enthralled him.

  He admired her courage.

  He admired the way she had committed herself to learning everything she needed to know to fulfil her new role as quickly and effectively as possible.

  He admired her forgiving nature, and the way she had made sure her stepmother and stepsisters weren’t suffering too badly despite their having shown her so little care in the past.

  He admired her intelligence, her creativity, her determination to be an asset, both as his wife and to the kingdom as its crown princess.

  And yes, he admired her beauty, indulging himself with a slow perusal of her delightful form draped in another stunning gown, this one a rich gold, befitting her new station.

  But mostly, he just really liked how much she liked him in return.

  “Ready to face the ravening hordes?” he asked, raising her hand to his lips and enjoying the flush that rose to her cheeks.

  “Oh, I don’t think it will be that bad.” Her smile serene, Eloise looked out over the crowded ballroom from their hiding place to one side of the grand stairway. “I like your mother, and she has promised to introduce me to her friends. She has been very helpful, giving me some wise counsel regarding whom I should choose for my own ladies-in-waiting.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” Destrian’s smile broke free for a moment. He was grateful for his mother’s attempts to help Eloise feel more at home, though it was hardly surprising she had taken her new daughter-in-law so quickly to heart. His new bride was easy to love. She was also fiercely loyal, and he recalled with pride how she had stood up to the courtiers who had baulked at her insistence her best friend from the village be included on the guest list.

  Scanning the crowd below, he spotted the attractive, red-haired woman standing off to the side. She looked a little overwhelmed by her surroundings, and Destrian was sorry he had not thought to arrange an escort for the young woman who had done so much for Eloise. Then he saw Justin standing in the shadows behind her, but his relief that Ayleth had someone watching over her was tempered by apprehension. Justin had promised his intentions were honourable, declaring that if a prince could marry a serving girl then a baron could pursue a seamstress, but his words had done little to mollify Destrian’s concerns. Eloise’s heritage had helped her gain the court’s acceptance, but for someone as highly placed as the Baron Winterfold to be granted approval to wed a commoner was less assured—that was if the young widow returned his interest. She had seemed wary of him the last time they were all together, the morning Justin disrupted Destrian and Eloise’s bliss with the announcement that they were required at the palace.

  His gaze shifting to his fa
ther, Destrian damped down a latent surge of resentment. His sire’s efforts to ingratiate himself with his new daughter-in-law had not gone unnoticed, nor had the new-found respect with which he viewed his eldest son. It was time to put the past behind him, as they worked together to forge the future. It was a notion that saw Destrian straightening his spine, as his gaze shifted to those of the rapidly declining King Gorvenal. Seated on a throne, and hovered over by his personal physician, the man had insisted on rising from his sickbed to attend his daughter’s second betrothal ball. He was determined the marriage occur first thing in the morning, lest he die before the deed was ratified. The likelihood of Gorvenal surviving the journey back to his home kingdom was slim, but the aging monarch wanted to be buried on his own land. Plus, he feared an uprising if news of his demise reached his castle before his successor could take his place upon the throne, the old king’s daughter at his side.

  If he had not reneged, it would have been Destrian, not his brother, about to shoulder the mantle of rulership, but he harboured no regrets. A life spent with Eloise at his side was worth any prize, including that of a kingdom. He would inherit his own in good time, not that he was in any hurry. With a potential spy ring to uncover, peace to secure, and Varianda needing to be set to rights, his hands were full enough.

  Looking to his brother, Destrian felt a surge of misgiving churn his gut. Merek had never been one to embrace responsibility, and soon he would be entrusted with the running of a kingdom. His infatuation with Seraphina had seen him make all sorts of promises, but Destrian doubted anyone could thaw the princess’s heart.

  “Stop worrying.” Eloise reached up on her toes and murmured close to his ear, “Everything is going to be fine.”

  “I thought that was supposed to be my line.” Destrian lowered his head, only just managing to resist the urge to nuzzle the delicate ear exposed by her elaborate coif.

  “Yes, but you worry about espionage and alliances that could help to bring peace but might end in disaster.” Her words, though spoken in a light-hearted tone, let him know she understood exactly where his thoughts had been. “Whereas my worries are about forgetting dance steps or the names of the people to whom I have just been introduced.” She arched a teasing brow. “Far more important matters, I a sure you’ll agree?”

  “Definitely,” he said with surprising sincerity. “Because anything pertaining to you is the most important thing in my world.”

  Eloise’s eyes, already sparkling with the reflected light of the chandeliers that had been lit for the occasion, took on an added sheen. “As you are the most important thing in mine.”

  “Come.” Giving up on his earlier attempt at austerity, Destrian’s grin broke free as he signalled the waiting courtier that they were ready. “Let’s get these introductions over with, so the musicians can begin to play. I want to dance with my beautiful bride.”

  “You’re not worried about me forgetting the steps?”

  “If you do, I shall cover for you, and if you forget a name, I will whisper it in your ear.”

  Eloise released an exaggerated sigh. “You shall be saving my life.”

  His expression sobering, Destrian leaned down to brush a tender kiss over her lips. “Merely returning the favour, my love.” He formally offered her his arm. “A debt I shall gladly continue to repay for the rest of our days.”

  The End

  Dear Readers,

  This story started life as a Twilight fanfiction that I wrote purely for fun. Truth be told, I write all my stories for fun, but this one was in response to repeated viewings of Ever After, the ‘Cinderella’ movie starring Drew Barrymore. As is often the case in my writing, I found myself exploring some challenging themes regarding the roles that constrained people in the past when it came to both gender and class. I also enjoyed writing about a truly loving couple who had the courage to express their affection for one another during a time when the church’s role in an individual’s life was shockingly intrusive and controlling.

  It has been a few years since I wrote this tale, but I find I am not done with this world just yet, so I am intending to write two more stories in this series: Rise of a Queen, which will tell Seraphina and Merek’s story, and To Rescue a Baron, which will tell Ayleth’s and Justin’s tale. I hope you join me when I return with these new tales from The Three Kingdoms in the, hopefully, not too distant future.

  Thank you for reading, and if you are so inclined to leave a review on Amazon.com, it would be greatly appreciated. If you would like to get in touch, I can be reached at elisedesallier@gmail.com, or come join my reader group on Facebook at Elise de Sallier’s Stories.

  Warmest regards,

  Elise

  PS: I wrote an epilogue for this story for one of my fanfiction reader friends who wanted to see a glimpse of Eloise and Destrian’s married life. It is a tad superfluous to the story, contains yet another love scene (very popular with my fanfiction readers) but it does give a few hints as to what may be in store in the coming tales. If you are so inclined, it starts on the next page.

  Epilogue

  Striding down the hallway, Destrian resisted the urge to break into a run. He had slung his precious wife over his shoulders like she was a sack of potatoes, and while she didn’t seem overly offended by his actions, the last thing he wanted to do was cause her harm.

  He didn’t normally behave in such an aggressive manner, preferring to be gentle with Eloise, tender and considerate of her needs. His way with her raised eyebrows, some of the men continuing to question whether he was strong enough to one day rule the nation in his father’s stead. Merek might have leapfrogged him into a kingly role, one Destrian had gladly passed up, but that didn’t mean he was weak, and he no longer doubted his capabilities. For that he had Eloise to thank, her love and unconditional support doing more for his confidence than any number of wins in the jousting arena. The battle would soon be upon them, and woe to the fool who underestimated Destrian’s resolve when it came to his protecting the woman he loved and the people he was responsible for.

  Rulf was a prime example, his one-time mentor now rotting in a prison cell, ruing the day he had thought to manipulate Cedric’s eldest son and thereby gain control of the throne. The betrayal had been painful, his own father’s lack of trust even more so, but it had brought about a strengthening of Destrian’s character, one reinforced by his wife’s belief in him. He’d also learned a vital lesson . . . bombast did not equal bravery, and thoughtful consideration of a problem was not akin to cowardice. Of course, there were times when action trumped deliberation, when the time for pondering the pros and cons was past.

  Like now.

  The privilege of seeing his wife naked was one he would forever hold sacred. But the sight of her dressed in boy’s breeches, leaping and lunging as she had followed his directives and defended herself against his attack, had stirred something primitive in Destrian . . . an almost savage and decidedly lusty reaction to their mock duel. He had sought to show her the impossibility of her request, its needlessness. No harm would befall her with him as her protector. He may have proved his point, but she had reminded him, once again, not to underestimate her . . . arousing his passions to painful heights in the process.

  Whether dressed as a lowly servant, as a princess wearing the finest gown, or as a nimble young squire, it made no difference. She was glorious, and he desired her like no other. But despite his haste to bury himself in her sweet body as quickly as possible, his feelings for her were stronger than mere craving, deeper than lust, more powerful than any fleeting attraction.

  He loved her.

  He loved her company, loved her sweet, giving nature.

  He also admired her strength, was in awe of her courage, and respected her intelligence. Not that she didn’t rouse his ire occasionally, just as he did hers. But that was part and parcel of learning to live together in harmony as man and wife. He was the head of their household, and she was supposed to obey him in all things, but after all she had
suffered, subjugating her held little appeal. Fortunately, there was no need, as a willingness on his part to compromise—as evidenced by his taking the unheard-of step of agreeing to tutor her in self-defence—wrought far more beneficial results. He had dreamed of finding a helpmate and had been rewarded with both friend and lover.

  And he intended to love her quite thoroughly the minute they reached the privacy of their bedchamber.

  As soon as the heavy, carved door slammed shut behind them, courtesy of his heeled boot, Destrian lifted Eloise down from his shoulder. Rather than let her body slide all the way to the floor, he pressed her back up against the door.

  “In a hurry?” she asked, wrapping her legs around his waist and crossing her ankles behind him.

  “You have no idea.” He sucked at the bared flesh of her shoulder while cupping her bottom and grinding against her. Her eager hands pulled his tunic from the waistband of his breeches, a hiss escaping his lips when her cool fingers reached his heated flesh. Nimbly, she released the ties and button that would allow his hardened member to spring free. But when he would have slid up her skirts to access the honeyed treasure beneath, he was stymied by a pair of boy’s breeches and knee length boots!

  “God in heaven,” he muttered, releasing her so that her feet touched the floor. Desperate in his desire, he tugged at her trousers, pulling them down to bear her curved hips, rounded buttocks, and smooth thighs. Trying to help him, her equally frantic hands kept getting in the way, so that he had to gently bat them aside. She acquiesced with a huff and focussed her attention on kissing whatever patches of his bared flesh she could reach with her clever lips. Distracted and increasingly short of breath, he continued with his task. But tragically, when he tried to wrench the pants legs past her boots, they refused to budge, becoming caught around her ankles.