by C. A. Szarek
“If I’m staying, I suppose I don’t. I was told it’s time for me to marry. And the king has chosen four suitors.”
She nodded, and looked as if she was about to say something else, but Lady Aimil Dagget, the wife of the duke’s second, Lord Tristan, took the seat next to the duchess, flashing a smile.
“Aimil, glad you joined us. I was just speaking with Elissa, who didn’t know King Nathal intended her to stay with us for a while.”
The petite dark-haired beauty frowned. Her gown was dark blue, denoting her Province of birth, Ascova, where her father was the duke. “He didn’t. Again.”
“He did.” Lady Cera offered a curt nod.
“I don’t understand,” Elissa said.
“Our king loves to make decisions for the fairer sex and leave them in the dark under the guise of protection.” A scowl marred the duchess’s pretty face.
“Oh.”
“You don’t have to worry, though.” Lady Aimil smiled. “We’ll take care of you.”
Elissa didn’t know what to say. “Why wouldn’t he tell me I’m to stay? I assumed we’d travel to the homes of my suitors.”
“They’re coming here.” Lady Cera said. “My cousin should arrive tomorrow or the next day.”
“My cousin should be here soon, as well,” Lady Aimil smiled.
“Both of you are blood kin to my suitors?” She swallowed a gulp. That could be good or bad. Did she want to know about the men before she met them? Perhaps Elissa could ask questions.
“Lakyn is actually my favorite cousin. Well, besides his sister Nyja, but don’t tell I said that.” Lady Aimil’s dark eyes twinkled.
“Avery’s my only cousin, but I adore him.”
Elissa tried not to frown. Both ladies cared a great deal for the men she’d be presented. What if she didn’t like either one?
“What’s wrong, Elissa?”
“N-n-nothing.”
“Your expression says otherwise, my lady,” Lady Aimil whispered.
“This is…”
“Overwhelming.” Lady Cera spoke the word at the same time it fell from Elissa’s mouth.
She could only nod. “I…assumed I would marry. Someday. Not like this.” She bit her bottom lip so it wouldn’t tremble.
Sympathy bled from the eyes before her. “I know,” Lady Cera said. “But it’ll be all right. My cousin Avery is shy and sweet. He’s young, but he’s a good man. If you don’t pick him, it’s fine. Just meet him.”
“My cousin Lakyn would rather breed horses than get married, but he’s funny and kind.”
“What if I don’t pick either?” The blurt was out of her mouth before she could slap her hand over it, and her cheeks seared all over again.
Lady Cera laughed. “Then you don’t. Lord Camden and Lord Audon are still on the list.”
What if I don’t want them, either? But she couldn’t ask. “Do you know them?”
“I’ve only met Lord Audon a few times. I know his father better, since he’s the lord of a holding under my uncle’s purview in Tarvis, but I’ve only heard good things about him. And yes, I know Lord Cam quite well. I like him very much.” Lady Cera winked. “He’s certainly not a hardship to gaze upon.”
Lady Aimil snorted.
“Blessed Spirit, it’s like going to market for a man,” Elissa said under her breath, but evidently not low enough. Both her companions laughed and heat threatened to consume her face.
“I think Elissa will get along just fine with us,” Lady Cera declared.
“I agree,” Lady Aimil echoed.
“I’m sorry.” Elissa chided herself for her new talent of excited utterance. Her gut churned.
“Whatever for?” The duchess’s gray eyes danced. “You can be yourself here, Elissa. I promise you that.”
A striking redhead with hair in a long plait and wearing a red-orange gown that matched her fiery locks made her way to the table.
“Ans, where’ve you been?” Lady Cera exclaimed, wearing a frown.
As the duchess said the nickname, Elissa realized the pretty woman was Sir Murdoch’s daughter, Ansley.
“Brynn was giving the nursemaid fits. She wouldn’t be comforted, so I had to go see what was wrong before she woke her brother. Brogan was fussy all day and she’d just gotten him to sleep.” She blew out a breath as she took the last open seat at the table.
“Oh…teeth coming in?”
“Aye. I got her fed and down, though. My father spoiling her is more the reason, I think. He held her most of the afternoon. When I hollered at him, he complained about me taking his grandchildren from him when he never gets to see them.”
The duchess’ grin was full of mischief. “Just wait. He’ll be threatening to retire to Greenwald.”
“Oh, Blessed Spirit, you hush. Leargan’d be in a tizzy.”
The ladies laughed.
Elissa couldn’t imagine any man in a tizzy, not to mention the captain of the Aldern guard. She’d known the knight when he’d still lived in Terraquist. Sir Leargan was strong and handsome. Before coming to Greenwald, he’d never been far from King Nathal’s side. He was a king’s favorite, not unlike Mistress Ansley’s father, his own captain.
“Ans, have you met Lady Elissa, the queen’s cousin? She’s going to be staying with us for a while.”
Sir Murdoch’s daughter turned her attention to Elissa, her smile widening. “No, not officially, though my da speaks highly of you.”
“He does?” she squeaked, and she chided herself.
Mistress Ansley nodded, her teal eyes kind. “Aye. Welcome to Greenwald. I hope you like it here.”
Elissa took a breath. “I do very much already. I am enjoying myself tonight.”
“I’m glad,” Lady Cera said. The duchess reached over to squeeze Elissa’s hand.
The ladies continued their chatter; she could tell they were great friends. They laughed and teased, discussing everything from horses and their wolf bondmates—evidently Lady Cera’s wolf and Lady Aimil’s had had a litter of cubs some months ago—to husbands and babies. They spoke about duties and trips to market, and plans for the upcoming fortnight. Of the feast attendees, the ladies speculated on whose gown was the finest, which man looked the most handsome—their husbands, of course, were the most perfect in their eyes.
They included Elissa in every facet of conversation. It was normal, yet different in a way that she’d never experienced before. Warmth and gratefulness washed over her. These ladies could be real friends to her, closer than even her roommate Dara. She wanted that.
Lady Aimil giggled at something Lady Cera said, and both looked around the great hall. Elissa’s gaze followed theirs. The atmosphere was light; happiness and laughter enveloping the vast space.
The bards went right into another love ballad, and more couples drifted to the dancing space, swaying to the music and holding each other close, the king and queen included.
Elissa watched the rulers for a moment. They conversed as they danced, but her cousin’s face was lit up for her husband—not unlike the newlyweds dancing near them—despite being married longer than she’d been alive. She couldn’t help but envy that kind of devotion.
Could she expect it from one of her suitors?
Movement caught her eye and she glanced to her left. Her stomach somersaulted when she noticed who was approaching their table.
“My ladies.” Sir Alasdair bowed deeply.
Her three companions greeted him warmly.
Elissa had to swallow for some reason. She wanted to fidget, but made herself remain still.
“How are you this fine evening, Alas?” the duchess asked.
“I’m well. Thank you for asking.” He winked and even though it wasn’t directed at her, Elissa felt telltale heat burn her cheeks.
Lady Cera laughed.
“I’ve come to steal Lady Elissa away, if she’ll have me.”
Elissa squirmed.
“Why of course. We’re just chatting,” Lady Cera said.
&nbs
p; When Sir Alasdair turned his attention to her, Elissa’s heart darted from canter to full gallop. “Would you care for a dance with me, my lady?”
“Aye.” She was relieved the word came out steadily, because nerves had taken over her body. Elissa returned his warm smile and placed her hand in his outstretched one.
A bolt of energy shot up her arm and she almost jumped. She studied his face, but if the knight had felt anything, his expression betrayed nothing.
What was that?
She was torn between moving away and the desire to shift even closer to him. Her legs wobbled, and Elissa blamed it on all the dancing she’d already done, especially the last one. The lively tune that’d required more jumps and turns than not.
And perhaps two goblets of wine. Aye, that must be it.
Elissa rarely imbibed, and the sweet wine had tasted more like juice. She’d likely lost her head.
She ignored the voice that reminded her that she’d followed conversation with the ladies with no fear of lucidity.
“Are you well, lass—my lady?”
“Aye.” Elissa widened her smile, but when her gaze collided with his, her heart stuttered all over again.
So handsome.
His dark hair was loose now, not tacked down as it had been for the wedding, and the thick locks played at his shoulders, their rich brown hue catching the light of the magic orbs in the great hall. His eyes were so blue. Stubble graced his jaw. It was light, new, as if he always went clean-shaven.
She caught herself imagining what it would feel like beneath her fingertips and banished the thought. Elissa would never reach for him like that. It was inappropriate—and much too intimate.
He led her to the dance floor and she couldn’t help but stare at the way he moved. He was tall, probably eight or nine inches more than her five-foot-six, yet he moved with grace. Sir Alasdair smiled again when they found an open spot, and reached for her hand. He held it high in one of his, as the dance required, and it took all she was made of not to jump when he settled his other hand at her waist.
Sir Alasdair had shed the decorative chest plate he’d worn for the ceremony. His navy doublet looked soft and a part of her wanted to touch his chest to see if it was so.
Elissa settled her free hand on his shoulder. He was solid and warm, the heat seeping into her palm through the fabric.
Awkwardness made her eyes dart around the dancing area. They were one of the few couples not holding each other close.
Her belly fluttered and she didn’t know whether to feel grateful or jealous.
She easily followed the dance, letting Sir Alasdair lead; he never missed a step. He was elegant in his movements, but the more they danced, the more Elissa wished she was against his chest.
His attire hinted at thick muscle. His shoulders were broad and she could see defined biceps even through the wide sleeves of his ivory under tunic.
Her eyes couldn’t help but trail down. The knight’s waist was tapered, and even that was…attractive.
I’m attracted to him.
Elissa jolted in his hold.
“Lass—my lady. Are you well?”
She met his eyes, scolding herself for studying his body in the first place—and forced a smile instead of giving in to her urge to swallow hard. “Aye. I’m enjoying our dance.” True, but she wanted to move closer to him. Elissa didn’t.
“I’m glad. You’re a fine dancer.”
“Thank you. As are you.”
Sir Alasdair whirled her around. “Well, I have to be. To impress the lasses, you know.” He winked.
Elissa giggled, she couldn’t help it. “I can see why my cousin thinks you charming.”
His chuckle was deep, endearing. “Aye. Airs I’ve to keep up. Especially if the queen thinks so.”
She couldn’t stop smiling. Or staring into his sapphire eyes.
The music melted into another song, this one livelier, requiring faster steps. People clapped with the beat and Elissa looked around the dancing space. Most couples, including the king and queen, didn’t leave the floor, they just adapted to the change in song.
“Lass, shall we leave or dance once more?”
“Dance,” Elissa said.
The knight gripped her waist, lifting and swinging her around without missing a step. She laughed with delight, and tried not to focus on the fact Sir Alasdair was touching her body. Elissa kept up with him and the music, having the most fun she’d had all evening. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed his large hands were all over her—appropriately, of course.
She laughed, he chuckled, and they moved with the other couples.
Elissa mourned when the music faded and the knight’s hands fell away.
“Shall we get something to drink, my lady? You’re flushed.”
“I am?” Her hands flew to her cheeks.
The smile curving his lips was soft, and he offered a nod by way of answer. Sir Alasdair lifted his arm and her face burned even more, but she tucked her hand into his elbow.
He returned her to the table where the ladies were still sitting after they’d both gotten a drink from a passing servant.
She found herself mourning all over again when his captain called his name. The knight had been about to take a seat beside her.
“Alas, may I have a word?” Sir Leargan asked.
“Aye, of course.” Sir Alasdair glanced at her. “Thank you for the dancing, my lady. I enjoyed myself.”
Elissa didn’t find it hard to smile. “I did as well. Thank you for asking me.”
The captain went to his wife’s side and planted a chaste kiss on her mouth. He whispered something that made Mistress Ansley smile.
She found herself staring as the two men weaved their way to the entrance of the great hall, and disappeared from sight.
Chapter Seven
“You want me to what?”
The wedding feast was in full swing, yet his commander had asked to see him in private, in Lord Aldern’s personal leger room.
It’s just as well.
Alasdair had needed to be pulled away from Lady Elissa. His captain had rescued him, as the king had that morning.
His captain arched a dark eyebrow and Alasdair slid to the edge of the chair across from the duke’s desk. “Guard Lady Elissa Durroc.” His longtime friend obviously didn’t like repeating himself.
Alasdair stared, trying to gather his words, but his thoughts were dominated by a flaxen-haired pixie.
He shouldn’t have danced with her. Especially the second song, which consisted of picking her up, swinging her around, holding her close. Touching her…everywhere.
It wasn’t how he wanted to touch her, really, but still. Alasdair now knew what she felt like. Her slim waist, the small of her back, the curve of her hips.
Stop. Now.
Forbidden.
Even more so now that his captain had assigned her to him. As a duty.
Before he’d sucked down some ale and gathered the bollocks to approach her, his evening had consisted of him perched at the personal guard’s table, watching Lady Elissa as if she was prey to his predator.
No matter what Alasdair tried, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the lass. She laughed and danced, her face lighting up as she socialized with the ladies of Greenwald.
She was beauty personified, her long pale hair swaying with every graceful movement, either walking across the hall, or on the dance floor for a lively tune.
He hadn’t been able to remain in his seat and not ask her to dance. Alasdair had needed to bask in some of the glow she was giving off. Her joy made him smile. Made him…want.
Want what? Her?
Aye.
The only thing he regretted was the forbidden part of the situation. Oh, the suitors part was considerably undesirable as well.
It matters not.
Too bad repetition of the idea wasn’t doing shite for his want.
“She knows not why she’s really here. Lucan has assured the duke and the king he can
place a magical damper, if you will, on her powers without her knowledge. She can still use her magic as always, but it will make it so anyone seeking that kind of magic won’t be able to sense her,” Leargan continued.
“To protect her.”
“Aye. Her suitors will arrive soon, starting with Lady Cera’s cousin and the rest within the next two sevendays. Just act as her escort. Keep her safe, keep your eyes peeled, and use your sword if necessary.”
“Escort?”
“Chaperone the visits as well, actually.”
“Me?”
“Alas, is something wrong?”
“Nay. Just trying to take all this in.”
One corner of Leargan’s mouth shot up. “I’m not exactly used to you questioning my orders.”
He straightened his back and met his captain’s dark eyes. “I apologize, Captain. I’m not trying to question you, nor my duty. Only trying to fathom why me.”
“Because I trust you.”
“To be chaperone to a lady?” He would’ve laughed if he didn’t think Leargan would be offended.
“Aye. Your sword is only matched by myself, and perhaps Lord Aldern.”
Alasdair smirked. All the men of the guard had skills with a sword that not many could best. But his captain and the duke loved to spar. Who won their matches tended to shift back and forth, and involved a lot of teasing on both sides.
He’d presented them a small gold sword mounted on a plaque and they passed it back and forth, making a grand jest of who maintained custody and for how long. All the men bet well in advance as to who would remain the master.
Alasdair had been filling his purse with his brothers’ and the castle men-at-arms’ coin for months. The prize was the best idea he’d ever come up with. Especially since it’d been well received by his captain and the duke.
“Besides, she won’t tempt you, considering she’s a noble lady.” Leargan said with a tease and a wink.
Wrong. You have no idea.
His heart thundered and he swallowed hard. His temples throbbed. Alasdair couldn’t exactly blurt how wrong his captain was this time.