The Lady's Choice

by Bernadette Rowley

  ‘I’ll miss him, squire,’ Billy said, giving the horse a pat on the neck and getting a soft muzzle against his ear in return. Billy was one of those rare individuals who attracted animals, made them feel comfortable and unafraid, but he had been in all sorts of trouble since Vard Anton had left. Ramón shook his head. As much as Ramón hated Anton, the man had taken Billy under his wing and the lad clearly missed the enigmatic captain. Ramón vowed to look after the boy. After all, it was not easy to be torn from your mother’s side and expected to work when you were only thirteen.

  ‘Now you keep out of trouble while I’m gone, Billy,’ Ramón said, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘If there are good reports when I return, I shall commence weapons training with you. But only if you have a clean slate.’

  Billy’s eyes widened and his plain face was lit by a huge grin. ‘Right you are, squire. I’ll make a good warrior, you’ll see.’

  Ramón smiled. Billy reminded him of himself at that age: full of big ideas and mischief. However, Ramón’s domain had been the king’s castle at Wildecoast, where he had been sent at the age of twelve to begin his training as a squire. He could remember getting into trouble, too, playing pranks on the senior squires to embarrass them during visits by dignitaries. He had missed his family just as Billy did. His heart lifted at the thought that he would visit his parents on their estate while he was at Wildecoast. His younger sister, Alique, had joined the queen’s ladies-in-waiting at the time Ramón had left for Brightcastle. He looked forward to discovering how her new role had changed her.

  There was a commotion at the castle entrance and Benae and Prince Zialni appeared. The lady was dressed in a sombre green travelling dress with divided skirts, her dark hair pulled back from her face into a bun. She was pale with dark circles under her eyes and she avoided his gaze completely as she approached with her betrothed.

  ‘Ah, Squire Ramón, I see all is in readiness,’ Prince Zialni said.

  Ramón bowed low to hide the sudden flush he knew had crept over his face at Benae’s appearance. Had the events of last evening been a dream? He pushed the memories from his head for they would not help to dispel the creeping redness. He rose and met the sharp blue gaze of Prince Zialni. Was the man having second thoughts about sending his betrothed off with another man?

  ‘I am relying on you to convey Lady Benae safely to Wildecoast and back, squire.’ The prince’s voice was cold, almost threatening. ‘Do not let me down.’

  ‘I will defend the lady with my life, Your Highness.’

  ‘I trust that will not be necessary. You have an escort and I cannot foresee any danger great enough to threaten you, with eight soldiers in your party. All will be well.’

  ‘I am sure you are right, Your Highness. When we reach Wildecoast, I will send word via pigeon.’

  ‘I will not be here to receive it, but send it anyway. Give my best to my brother, the king, and tell him I will expect him at my wedding.’

  ‘Most certainly I will, Your Highness. May you have a safe journey.’

  Ramón bowed and stepped back to give the prince and Benae some privacy. They turned to each other and Prince Zialni kissed Benae on both cheeks. She gripped his hands tightly.

  ‘Are you sure this is for the best, beloved?’ she asked.

  ‘I know it is, lady. All will be well. We will be wed upon your return and we shall be as one.’

  Tears welled in Benae’s eyes. ‘I wish . . .’

  ‘What is it, lady?’ Prince Zialni said.

  The distraught note in Benae’s voice forced Ramón to look at her. There was fear in her glorious eyes but who was she scared for? What did she wish?

  She swallowed hard, chewing on her bottom lip. ‘Never mind. It is best not to speak of our fears. May the Goddess protect you, Jiseve. I look forward to our union, more than you can ever know.’

  Ramón spun away, making one last circuit of the carriage to check the wheels. Benae’s words struck a sharp spike of jealousy into his heart that he had no right to feel. Last night she had offered herself to him, Ramón, and now she implied she would miss her betrothed. He had been so close to giving her what she wanted. Her body, barely hidden by the nightgown . . . Ramón suppressed a groan as he tightened the traces on one of the carriage horses. And now she gazed tenderly at the prince. How could she look forward to marriage when she would bed any male who came along? Anger boiled in him and he thanked the Goddess he had been the one to step away from such betrayal last night. The carriage moved and he glanced up in time to see Benae seat herself. Their eyes met through the carriage window and Ramón’s heart flipped in his chest at the raw, pained look she flashed him. They stared at each other for a beat and the Goddess only knew how he appeared to the lady. He was the first to drag his gaze away and strode to his black gelding, giving the order to move out as soon as his buttocks hit the saddle. It was going to be a long journey.

  Benae’s head pounded in time with the rocking of the carriage as they wound their way through the thin strip of forest east of Brightcastle. She had barely slept after Ramón left her room and now she faced four days and three nights on the road with him. Surely her spirits could sink no further? A small voice told her to be glad she had not slept with him, but she could not agree. His body beneath her fingers had felt so strong, his arms around her had seemed so right. It was not so with Jiseve. Oh, he was strong in a wiry way and he was handsome and his kisses stirred her blood, but Ramón’s body moved her on some visceral level; his eyes spoke to her heart, even if he did not know it.

  Sweat broke out on her palms and she clenched her hands in her lap so that Merel would not see her distress. If only she could push Ramón’s image from her mind – but her meditation tricks deserted her and thoughts of him kept pushing back in. Since the kiss her mind had even more fodder for daydreams. Where would it all end? What must he think of her now that she had thrown herself at him? He trotted past the carriage on his horse and she groaned. When had she become a slave to her desires? True, she liked the company of men and she had had her fun with them in the past, but she had never felt this driven towards anyone. Again she wondered if it was just her raging need for fulfilment that drove her towards Ramón. If only Jiseve had made love to her each night for the past several, she might be content and her arousal might now be dimmed by a budding pregnancy.

  Benae’s eye fell upon the bed opposite her. Jiseve had commissioned a clever carpenter to modify one of the seats in the coach so that it became a comfortable bed. This was where she would sleep at night, with the men outside in tents. It was large enough that Merel could share it as well.

  ‘Merel, I did not sleep well last night. I am going to lie down and close my eyes for a time.’

  ‘Surely, my lady. A rest will do you the world of good. I will sit here quietly with my knitting.’ Merel smiled her calm smile that was like a panacea for Benae’s turbulent thoughts.

  Benae lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. Miraculously, she slept.

  Benae was woken by a peal of laughter some time later. The carriage was stationary and Merel absent. She sat up and looked out the window. They were in a clearing near the road and Merel and most of the soldiers sat around a campfire. Ramón and one of the soldiers stood guard, their backs to the fire. It must be luncheon. Benae’s stomach grumbled. She rose and rubbed her face, smoothed her hair and stood to let her skirts straighten.

  She opened the carriage door and Ramón was there, ready to hand her down. He was a miracle. How had he known she was awake? She paused as he offered his hand.

  ‘Are you well, lady?’

  She stared down into his azure eyes and her heart skipped. No wonder he haunted her dreams. But she had made her choice and was bound to Jiseve. ‘I am well.’ His hand touched hers and she swallowed down the lump that rose to her throat, her breath quickening. ‘I wish to apologise for my behaviour last night,’ she said quietly. ‘I will offer no excuses.’

  Ramón’s hand squeezed hers and she was remi
nded of their last embrace, but then his gaze hardened. ‘Forget it. I already have.’

  Benae stumbled as she stepped from the carriage and would have fallen but for his hand on hers. He had already forgotten their kisses? Had they not moved him at all? But she knew they had. She had not mistaken the longing in his eyes, the tenderness of his kiss, especially the last, lingering one. Benae frowned up at him. ‘Thank you . . . I think.’

  He glared at her. ‘I do not understand you. Why would you jeopardise your future with His Highness for a fling with me?’

  ‘I thought you had forgotten it,’ she snapped.

  Ramón drew a sharp breath and looked away. When he looked back at her, his eyes were troubled, uncertain. ‘One of us has to act with propriety. You are a betrothed woman and you behave like—’ He bit the words off, as if not trusting himself.

  ‘Say it,’ she hissed. ‘I act like a village whore.’

  Ramón’s eyes widened. ‘They were not the words I sought.’

  ‘No matter,’ Benae said. ‘You don’t approve of me but you will have to accept me as I am.’

  ‘I do not have to accept anything. You are in my care. It is not for me to judge you.’

  ‘And yet you do.’ She wrenched her hand from his and stalked away to the fire.

  Luncheon taken, they resumed their journey and were soon through the forest and into the rich farmlands that had helped make Brightcastle principality wealthy. Farm wives waved from their homesteads and Benae was heartened to witness such normality after her days at court. She relaxed against the well-stuffed cushions of the coach and allowed the familiar scenes to soothe her troubled mind. Scents of chicken yards and baking floated to her on the breeze. It was warm for early winter and she hoped the weather would hold until she returned to Brightcastle. She did not relish the thought of travelling through snow.

  Merel sat quietly beside her, knitting a new shawl, and Benae amused herself with thoughts of her wedding, making notes in her diary as ideas occurred to her. Jiseve had said she could plan the festivities, and the budget he had given her would have kept her small estate running for the better part of half a year. She shifted uncomfortably at the thought of such waste. Her betrothed had said that it was expected of her, almost required that she present an image of wealth and abundance. After long months of struggling to feed her people, Benae could not quite believe she did not have to pinch every penny. More importantly, Jiseve had immediately sent funds to tide her estate over until its finances could be settled properly. So much depended on her future husband and she hated that he put himself at risk by travelling north. She was beginning to see that he would do as he saw fit and all she could do was to trust and pray that he stayed safe. She had relinquished her freedom to enter into this betrothal and she did not regret it. She did not and she would not.

  A deep sigh slipped from her lips as the memory of a certain broad-shouldered, golden-haired squire intruded. He was persistent, she had to say that, or at least his place in her musings seemed set. Usually she was not this scatterbrained but lately she could not seem to keep her mind where it needed to be. Benae switched to thoughts of Flaire. At least now he was getting the exercise he so desperately craved and she could ride him if she became bored. It would keep her mind off Ramón, unless he rode directly in front of her, in which case she would think of nothing else.

  The carriage slowed and Benae looked up from her jottings, almost upsetting the ink bottle balanced on her diary. Surprisingly, the sun had almost dropped below the horizon and they were pulling into another small clearing on the side of the road.

  Ramón had set up the camp so that the carriage was in the centre of the five tents, the horses tethered nearby, except for Flaire, whom Benae insisted should be tethered to the carriage. She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in his heady horse scent. Joyful equine thoughts flooded his mind. He was happy to be moving again, muscles tired after a day’s trotting behind the carriage. He pulled against her arms and she released him. Instantly he put his head down to graze on the grass beside the road. It was not lush, but would seem so to Flaire after days in a stable. Oh, to find joy in such simple things. Benae almost wished she could swap places.

  One of the soldiers had prepared a humble but tasty meal over the fire with Merel’s help and Benae sat upon a large log and balanced her plate on her lap. She did not mind a modest life. It would be hard to get used to the trappings of wealth and royalty but she could adapt, with Jiseve’s help.

  Ramón sat beside her and she frowned. What did he want?

  ‘My lady, two of us will keep watch during the night. The risk of ambush is small but still there is no point in being careless.’

  ‘Jiseve seemed unconcerned.’

  ‘I am sure His Highness is right but I will still set the watch.’ He took a spoonful of venison stew and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Mm . . . this isn’t bad. Who would have thought Seve had it in him to create this tasty meal? Perhaps he has missed his calling.’

  Benae did not know what she could say to this so she remained silent. The meal was excellent, though. She finished in unseemly haste and stood up, placing her plate beside the fire. ‘Thank you Seve, Merel. Squire, I bid you goodnight.’ With that, she walked to the carriage, kissed Flaire on the muzzle and climbed into the conveyance.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, Benae woke at dawn, refreshed despite sharing her bed with Merel. The two women drew the blinds on the carriage, removed their nightgowns and sponged away the dust of the road. They donned their travel dresses, which Merel had aired the night before, and breakfasted with the soldiers around the fire. Ramón was quiet, dark smudges beneath his eyes. He would have taken his turn on watch. That was the kind of man Ramón was: one who took his responsibilities seriously, not leaving matters to chance.

  Benae sighed, her gaze on the squire, even though she had not caught his eye yet this morning. Ramón was such a rock. He would make a wonderful husband. The image of a little blond-haired son and a pretty dark-haired daughter popped into her mind and she pushed the picture aside. That life was not for her. She was given to another and the princess had ensnared Ramón’s heart. They were two people on different paths. She could not afford to indulge in foolish fancies. Life was about duty; love had to come second to that. She would have a good life with Jiseve.

  Breakfast over, they broke camp and were soon on the road. Benae’s gaze found Ramón whenever he was near but it appeared he had put her out of his head. He was all business, trotting up and down the line, his horse on the move continuously, his eye scanning the countryside. Benae longed for a smile from him but remonstrated with herself for the thought. She would not have admired him so if he did not take his task seriously, if he did not value her safety and that of all in the convoy.

  But she watched him, noticed the small details such as how he placed a reassuring hand on his horse’s shoulder; the fact that he didn’t wear spurs; his gentle words for Alec, the youngest soldier who accompanied them, hardly a man at all. Ramón had a respect for people that one did not often find in the nobility. Ramón truly cared for all under his protection. Benae found herself wanting to find Princess Alecia and give her a piece of her mind. This Vard Anton must have been some man for the princess to spurn Ramón’s attentions in favour of the disgraced army captain.

  Ramón trotted past again and a bolt of pure desire stabbed through her. His hips rose and fell in time with his horse’s movements and she imagined herself beneath him, the sweat on his skin glistening in the flickering light of candles, her body meeting his—. She snapped her eyes shut to block Ramón’s form from her thoughts but it was no good. He was in her mind, in her heart; it felt as if he had wormed his way into her very soul. And Ramón? His heart was constrained by duty and loyalty, and what he felt for her could not compete with that. That thought blew away her desire as a gust of chill wind hurls autumn leaves across flagstones. She picked up her quill and turned her attention to the wedding plans.


  Nearing midday, the convoy spied a farmstead and pulled in at the gate. The horses needed a drink and it was still some miles to the next stream. Benae watched as Ramón spoke to the farmer and then approached the carriage.

  He poked his head through the door. ‘We have been invited in for luncheon, lady,’ he said. ‘The men will eat in the yard. I will escort you and Merel to the homestead.’ His voice was brisk and business-like but his hand lingered on hers as he helped her down. Benae stomped on her fluttering heart savagely. Honestly! She really must get her feelings in hand.

  ‘I will welcome a meal indoors, squire, and the company of others,’ she said, as Ramón guided her through the gate and towards the homestead. Merel followed at a discreet distance behind.

  Ramón frowned. ‘We have been on the road but a day and a half, lady, and what is amiss with your current companions?’

  ‘What companions? You, squire, have been avoiding me. I had not thought you a sulky child but I find I have to revise my opinions.’

  ‘There is much to do.’ His voice dropped so that only she could hear. ‘I am too busy to sit with you and pander to your every need. That is why Merel is here.’

  Benae gasped and stepped closer to Ramón. ‘I cannot put what happened out of my mind and I do not think you can either,’ she whispered. ‘You are so distant. It breaks my heart.’

  ‘Can you not see this is wrong, Benae?’ The torment in Ramón’s eyes ensnared her, as did his use of her name. ‘You want it all but you made a choice when you became betrothed to the prince. You are his. No matter how I feel, nothing can change that.’