The Lady's Choice

by Bernadette Rowley

  His jaw tensed and Benae knew he wished her anywhere but here in the intimacy of his suite. But he stepped aside and allowed her to pass. She swept by him, lapping up the scent of the citrus cologne he preferred. She seated herself at the small table in front of the fireplace and patted the other chair.

  ‘Please sit and let me see your face.’

  He frowned but moved forward and perched on the edge of the chair beside her. She ran her eyes over his features, not only the cut and swelling below his left eye but his broad forehead, high cheekbones and sensuous mouth. She reached to caress his bruised skin and he flinched. Her eyes met his. A wild urge swept through her but she kept her voice level. ‘That is nasty. Shall I heal it for you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My dark secret, Ramón. I am a healer.’ Though sometimes my skill deserts me, as it did with my parents.

  His eyes widened. ‘Do you speak of witchcraft?’

  ‘I will not harm you,’ she said. What was he afraid of?

  Ramón snorted. ‘It was not my safety I was concerned for. You must have heard of the prince’s aversion to all things magical? Breathe a word of any association with the dark arts and your betrothal will be but a memory. You would be lucky to escape with your life.’

  Benae gasped. ‘I had decided the rumours must be false.’

  Ramón shook his head. ‘I tell you, they are not. He once ordered a witch burned at the stake.’

  ‘Then I must be careful,’ she said, ‘but I want to heal you.’

  She held his gaze and the room and castle fell away until all that existed was their connection. And there was a connection. She felt it and so did Ramón, if his gasp was anything to go by. He did things to her, moved her in a way no one ever had. He called to something deep within, not only sexual . . . Oh, she could not explain it, just knew it could not be ignored, that it had to be nurtured. It felt like . . . it was like the connection she had with Flaire.

  Her shock must have shown in her eyes, for Ramón grasped her hand. ‘Lady, what is amiss?’

  The spell broken by his touch, Benae breathed again. ‘Nothing is wrong.’ What could this man be to her? What part of him touched the deepest fibres within her, striking a chord, calling to her? She shook her head. She was past these feelings, ready to settle down and do her duty for her people, for Jiseve. She must ignore these impulses, they were not becoming for a betrothed lady. The words of Princess Avalin echoed in her mind. Harlot, harlot, harlot. Benae had not suspected the rumours of her behaviour had spread so far. Jiseve had dismissed Avalin’s words as envy but the truth was she had enjoyed herself with men of all walks, common and noble. And . . . would . . . not . . . apologise.

  Oh bother, she did not know whether to be angry or mortified at Avalin’s words. She looked up at Ramón. There was puzzlement and discomfort in his eyes.

  Benae stood and the squire’s eyes widened. He sat back a little in his chair and she seized his head before he could slip out of reach. ‘Close your eyes.’

  Ramón frowned.

  ‘Please,’ she said.

  His eyes slid closed and Benae cupped her right hand over his injury while she rubbed her left palm backwards and forwards across the knuckles of the hand below. This could not be too complete a healing or Jiseve might ask questions; just a suppression of the swelling, helping Ramón’s body to remove some of the bruising and take the pain away. This she did, her mind weaving spirit and water in a complex net that she cast through her palm and into the soft flesh of his cheek.

  He gasped as the weave hit; his eyes flickered open.

  ‘Hush, be at ease,’ she said.

  He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face then strode to the gilt-edged mirror nearby. ‘Your words were truth. The bruising is mostly gone, the pain vanished.’

  ‘It is the least I could do after you incurred the injury on my behalf. Who do you think Avalin would truly have liked to hit with that goblet?’

  He turned back to her, fear and distrust in his gaze. It hurt her to see them there. These people of Thorius truly did fear what they could not understand.

  ‘What are you?’ he said.

  Benae flinched as though he had struck her. She drew her shoulders back and met his gaze. ‘I am a healer.’

  ‘That explains nothing. What you did was surely witchcraft. It is forbidden here.’

  ‘Report me to the prince then,’ she said, angered that he could not be grateful for her efforts. She stepped closer and stroked her knuckles gently down the side of his injured face. The stubble on his chin was rough against her skin. She stepped even closer until she could feel his minty breath on her face. She could have this man, if she chose; her body yearned for his, hummed with a riveting, dark intensity whenever Ramón was near. The squire might object at first, might hold out against her efforts for days, even weeks, but eventually he would succumb.

  Benae’s eyes dropped to his lips. Oh to kiss that mouth, to feel its sensuality against her, everywhere: on her skin, in her hair, touching her secret places. Just the thought made her wet . . .

  Ramón grasped her by the shoulders and gently held her away from him. ‘Please return to your chambers before someone suspects you of infidelity.’

  Benae blinked at him. His hands on her, even in such a benign way, were a revelation. She felt their heat through the thin fabric of her gown. Her body responded, muscles tightening deep down in her abdomen. It had been too long.

  ‘Lady.’

  Now Ramón sounded distressed, even angry. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and the spell was broken.

  ‘You are right; I will go.’ She gazed at the face that had been battered and bruised moments before. Only a small cut remained. ‘I am sorry.’ That made no sense; sorry for what? For his injury? For healing him? For touching him?

  Benae turned and left the room, returning to her chamber without a backward glance. She had a lot of sorting out to do.

  Ramón let out a slow breath as Benae closed the door. She was so unexpected. And the magic! He did not care what she said, it was magic and the prince could not discover her secret. Benae did not know the danger she was in. How could she marry the prince and hide such a talent? One thing was sure: Prince Zialni would never accept it.

  Her touch invoked unwelcome feelings. He itched to take her in his arms, longed to kiss that delectable mouth, but how could Benae fit into his life? The answer was that she couldn’t. Alecia was his future, if he could find her and if Prince Zialni agreed to the union. He must cling to Alecia’s memory. Already he had thoughts of another, but the princess need never know. And besides, hadn’t she run away with Anton? She could hardly criticise him for a few wanton thoughts about the dark-haired beauty her father was to marry.

  His face was almost healed. Perhaps he could get some decent sleep tonight. Perhaps he could get his feelings for Benae straight in his head. No! He would not even think of her. He would do his job, look after her to the best of his abilities and stay away from compromising situations. He could at least do that. Couldn’t he?

  Benae woke, disquiet spearing her gut as sleep left her. But why should she feel anxious on waking? All was well. She had won the hand of the heir to the throne of the kingdom and together they would ensure prosperity for all. Her people would be saved from the cruel fate of starvation that had hung over their heads for the past year and might even be saved from the dark elven invasion that threatened. Yes, all was well.

  Then what did she fear? Ramón’s face danced in her memory and instantly she knew. A slow burn began deep in her abdomen at the memory of his hands on her. The way he made her feel was new to her. The desire wasn’t, of course, but the connection . . . His heart spoke to hers but what did it say? She had time to test her feelings. The marriage was weeks away and Ramón was in charge of her care. It would be easy to see if the reaction he invoked in her was true or just fleeting desire.

  She rose and dressed for riding in snug breeches and an emerald-g
reen satin shirt, then pulled her hair into a twist. She slung her ermine-trimmed, dark green cloak around her shoulders and left the room without a sound. The castle was quiet as was the forecourt. Billy, the boy on duty, squawked with surprise when she appeared at Flaire’s stable door and Benae smiled at him. Flaire poked his head over the stable door and Benae rested her forehead against his nose as they breathed each other’s exhalations. The stallion’s mind held a flutter of thoughts: fresh oats, pungent hay, green meadows under cerulean skies and the thunder of flying hooves. He was happy here. Such a simple creature and Benae suddenly wished life were that simple for her.

  ‘Billy, I wish to go for a ride,’ she said. ‘Have you seen the squire?’

  ‘It will only take a moment to fetch him, my lady. If you don’t mind my saying, ma’am, Flaire’s just had breakfast so he’ll need an easy ride, at least for the first leg.’

  Benae smiled. The boy showed laudable concern for a horse that had only been in his care for a few days. Flaire was in good hands. ‘I will be sure to go easy on him, Billy. Thank you for the warning.’

  Billy flushed and raced away to find Ramón. Benae leant against the stable door and watched Flaire nose around in his feed bowl, trying to get the last grains from the corners. Footsteps sounded on the stone floor and she turned, ready to greet Ramón, but Lieutenant Vorasava appeared instead.

  ‘You wished to go riding, my lady?’

  The lieutenant’s dark hair and eyes matched his olive complexion. He was fit and tall, with slim hips and broad shoulders and a commanding air that said he would go far; that Brightcastle was only a stepping-stone. Benae allowed her gaze to wander over him. Oh, she did love to contemplate pretty men and here was one of the prettiest. But where was Ramón?

  ‘Lady Branasar?’ he said, a touch of impatience in his tone.

  ‘I did not want to trouble you, lieutenant. I sent for the squire.’

  ‘This I know, my lady. I was with Zorba when the boy appeared. The squire is attending to an urgent matter and asked that I accompany you on your ride. I trust that meets with your approval.’ He smirked at her as if assured that she would accept his company.

  Benae raised her right brow. She felt like turning him down but Flaire had read her intent in their mind link and he would be sad if he did not get his ride. She could not disappoint him.

  ‘Yes, lieutenant, that will be fine. I will wait at the front of the stables.’ She stalked out of the building and perched on some bales of straw in the sun. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the golden globe that her people had once revered. Not surprising that primitive people had worshipped such celestial might. It felt so good on her skin, the warmth, the life . . . Benae opened her eyes in time to see Ramón hurry across the forecourt towards the entry gate. He lifted his hand to her in greeting then stuck his head down and continued on his way.

  Goddess, what a sight! Benae seated on a bale of straw, her glorious face uplifted, the early morning sun glinting off her lustrous hair and thick dark lashes, her breasts pushing against the emerald satin of her blouse. Ramón grew hard just remembering it. Damn, what was happening to him? He deliberately formed a picture of Alecia in his mind – her long fair hair, generous breasts, elegant legs as he had often seen them in breeches, tiny waist, impish smile, the feel of her lips against his and her curves under his hands. Ah, yes! That was better! He had to keep traitorous thoughts about Benae where they belonged: safely locked away where he could control them. Ramón smiled. Benae could manipulate him as much as she liked but he was eminently capable of staying one step ahead of her. He put the alluring lady out of his head and hurried on into the town.

  Chapter 6

  Benae sipped her morning cup of tea in the hope that it would dampen her frustration. A whole week had passed since Ramón had sent Vorasava in his stead and still she had not succeeded in spending time with the elusive squire. From her position at the dining room window, she could see the corner of the weapons practice yard; she could just see Ramón as he fought back the assault of five men with practice swords. How did he hope to defeat five men on his own? The man was infuriating and if she could just corner him on his own for a moment, she would tell him in no uncertain terms how ridiculous she thought he was!

  She knew why he did it. Her husband-to-be had finally noticed Ramón’s prowess two days ago and he was to be sent on an expedition to find Princess Alecia. But instead of reducing the need for him to practise, he seemed to be training even harder. Where he had fought four men, now he fought five. Where he had partaken in two sessions a day, he now could be found in the practice yard three times a day. And the running! When Ramón wasn’t practising at weapons, he was either heading off on, or returning from, a run in the forest. Really, it was no wonder she hadn’t been able to converse with him!

  The past week had dragged and left her feeling like a caged beast. She was used to physical exercise and Ramón had managed to worm his way out of another three rides with her, saying she must ask Jiseve instead. But Jiseve had not the time for long trips to the upper meadow. He had wooed his bride and now there was no time for frivolity. She supposed he might have put many things to the side during his search for a bride.

  Her betrothal ceremony had come and gone. At the feast afterwards, no matter how hard she tried, she could not conceive of a way to get Ramón on his own long enough to have a conversation. The rest of her week had been taken up with planning her wedding, which would take place in a matter of weeks. It seemed that, after waiting more than four years, Jiseve Zialni was impatient to start life with his new bride.

  Despite the fact that Jiseve had been too busy to go riding, her prince had been very sweet to her. He had announced a journey to the king’s seat at Wildecoast, where she would be fitted for a wedding gown sewn by none other than the royal dressmaker. He brought her something every day, whether a bouquet of flowers or a trinket from his master jeweller. Her engagement ring was stupendous – white gold with rose quartz from the very walls of the castle. Since Benae had been told that magic had been used in the construction of the quartz walls of Brightcastle, surely this was a sign that Jiseve was not so averse to mystic arts as Ramón asserted?

  Ramón danced into view with only one opponent following. My, he looked good! Each day his muscles became more defined, his clothes pulled even tighter in certain distracting regions. One of those places was across that magnificent backside. Benae fantasised about those buttocks beneath her hands, in fact she fantasised about all of Ramón beneath her hands.

  ‘He fights well.’

  Benae spun at the quiet words of her betrothed. ‘Jiseve, I had almost given up hope of your company.’

  Jiseve stared at her for a long moment and for only the second time in their relationship, Benae felt his disapproval. ‘He has come a long way in the past month or so. The only greater motivator than love is revenge, and the squire has both.’

  ‘Do you speak of your decision to send the squire in search of the princess?’

  ‘It is all he has hoped for since she vanished, and I see that he is finally worthy of the duty. This last week he has been especially focused. I worry what he might do if I don’t grant his wish.’

  ‘You depend on him,’ Benae said, hoping she might gain an insight into her husband-to-be.

  ‘More and more I do. He has grown so much since he arrived in Brightcastle not even four months ago. I hardly recognise him. Sometimes it is so with adversity, but more often it defeats a man. He loves my daughter and seeing him now, sometimes I wish . . .’

  Benae yearned to finish the sentence for him but after their conversation the first evening, she did not dare. Instead she grasped his forearm and looked up into his eyes. It was difficult to lose those you loved. ‘When does he leave?’

  ‘Three days. In the meantime, we have a wedding to organise. Come,’ Jiseve said, ‘let us break our fast together and then you can tell me of our big day.’

  Benae turned her back on the squire and his f
ighters, ready to bask in the security her future husband offered.

  Benae and Jiseve had just completed breakfast when Lieutenant Vorasava stuck his head through the door to the dining room. Jiseve bid him enter, and Benae was again struck by the lieutenant’s arrogant presence. He was a man on his way up but why had Jiseve not promoted him to the rank of captain after the departure of Vard Anton?

  ‘Your Highness, I am sorry to interrupt,’ Vorasava said, ‘but I have word from the north. It involves the dark elves.’

  Jiseve stood, his eyes meeting Benae’s. ‘I will see you at lunch, my dear.’

  ‘I am anxious to know this news, beloved,’ Benae said. ‘My estates—’

  ‘Do not fear. I am now the master of your estates and I will keep your people safe.’ He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘Until luncheon, my dear. I may have more information then.’ He released her hand and left the dining room.

  Benae’s fist hit the table hard enough to make the cutlery jingle. She was not some little woman to be pushed aside when troubles raised their heads. She was an estate owner. Those lands held people she was responsible for. Those very same elves had taken her brother from her. Lunch was too far away to wait for information. She swept from the room in search of the one person who might be able to tell her if the sporadic sorties the elves had mounted against her lands had progressed to an invasion.

  Ramón’s muscles ached more than they ever had in his life. He had beaten the five warriors but at what cost? If he could make it to his room, he would sleep for two days. He thrust his practice sword back in the rack and leant on the wooden structure, sucking deep breaths into his lungs.

  ‘Squire Ramón, I need to speak with you.’

  Ramón suppressed the instinctive groan those words brought. Not now, please not when I am close to exhaustion. He turned to the speaker and bowed, using the movement to disguise the instant reaction his body had to the stunning woman before him. ‘Lady Benae.’