Serena moved beside him, her gloved hand barely brushing against his. She smelled like spring and the rain she’d danced in last night. Though he tried not to stare at the outline of her gown, the buttons drew his eye to the swell of her breasts. He saw the faint moisture upon her skin from their walk, and he had a sudden vision of unfastening her buttons, running his hands over her flesh.
The sudden desire caught him like a fist, and he drew a slight step away.
‘What caused the disagreement?’ she asked.
The fact that I’m a bastard. And that the queen was right all those years when she claimed I wasn’t her son.
‘Nothing within my control,’ was all he could tell her. ‘Suffice it to say, I’m not the favoured son right now.’
He’d been too young to understand what had happened; only that the queen had gone mad, claiming that he was a changeling prince. She’d hated the very sight of him and he couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever shown him any affection. Once, when he was six, he’d drawn a card for her, laboriously printing the letters to wish her a happy birthday. When he’d presented it to her, she’d torn it up and cast the pieces into the fire.
And when he’d met his real mother a fortnight ago, a strange kaleidoscope of memories and tangled visions had resurfaced. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t, but the king’s mistress made the queen look like a saint.
‘Do you believe a marriage to me will bring you back into your father’s good graces? Is that the reason for your haste?’
He didn’t miss the tension in her tone, but he admitted the truth. ‘Nothing will change the king’s opinion of me. Whether I marry you or not.’
Serena’s shoulders relaxed a little, and she knelt down, pouring him a cup of wine. When she handed it to him, she offered, ‘You’re the king’s only son. That matters a great deal.’
No, I’m not. I’m a bastard that no one wanted.
Karl drained his cup and sat down beside her. ‘He doesn’t matter to me any more.’
‘Then what does?’ She knelt down beside him, her green eyes concerned.
He reached out and untied the ribbon tied beneath her chin. His hands framed her face for a moment as he took off the bonnet and cast it aside. ‘I think you know the answer to that.’
Serena didn’t move, but she felt the warmth of his bare hands against her skin. He hadn’t worn gloves, and the sudden intimacy made her heart race. Karl traced her jawline with his fingers, but though he stared at her, he didn’t kiss her.
He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and she wondered what the bristle would feel like against her cheeks. Would it be rough? Or would it be soft?
His breath warmed her face, and she stared at his firm mouth, wondering if he would kiss her again. The last kiss had shaken her, sending her world off-balance.
This is part of his game, her mind warned. Now that he’d discovered that the hardships of poverty didn’t bother her, he would try another tack.
‘You’re not going to seduce me,’ she said firmly, lifting her chin. She couldn’t allow herself to weaken, just because he made her pulse quicken. Her fingers trembled as she retied the ribbon of her bonnet.
‘I’m not?’ There was a lazy air to his voice, as if he intended a full assault upon her virtue.
Serena sat and reached for a sugar biscuit, pretending as though he hadn’t spoken. ‘No.’
‘What do you suppose ordinary men and women do, when they’re alone?’ he murmured. ‘Especially betrothed couples.’ He leaned forward, his hands resting on either side of her. Though he didn’t touch her, his physical presence made her nervous.
‘Play cards?’ she guessed before his mouth moved in to claim hers. Serena could hardly do more than catch a breath, before he laid siege to her defences. She tasted the sweetness of wine on his tongue, and tiny shudders of breathlessness slid beneath her skin.
A slight smile tilted the edge of his mouth as he stared down at her. His hazel eyes were dark with need, and a thousand second thoughts crossed her mind. The pause was giving her the chance to push him away.
‘Is that what you want to do?’ he ventured. ‘Play cards?’ His hand moved down to the hem of her skirt. Every inch of her seemed to be on fire, her blood coursing through her veins with an intensity that couldn’t be stopped. She couldn’t seem to summon up a clear thought, not when he was touching her.
When his hand moved to her ankle, he sent her a chiding look. ‘You’re not wearing stockings.’
‘They—they got wet.’
She shivered, closing her eyes when his hand moved beneath her petticoats, up her bare leg.
Stop him, her conscience ordered. You don’t want this.
But he was touching her with reverence, as if he couldn’t believe she was allowing it. She couldn’t believe she was allowing it. His mouth returned to hers, and the kiss was softer, coaxing a surrender. She held on to his face, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer.
Above the knee, his palm caressed her, and suddenly she grew moist between her legs. She imagined his fingers stroking her with the same gentleness, and heat blossomed inside her as she craved the forbidden touch. When his tongue entered her mouth, she kissed him back, swept away by the tide of shocking sensation. She was drowning, caught up in him.
He doesn’t love you. He only wants to wed you because you’re a princess.
Karl moved his hand from beneath her petticoats, and when he held her ribs, she had the sudden image of her father’s fist striking her. Over and over, the searing pain causing her to cry out.
She broke away from the fürst, ordering him, ‘Stop. Please.’
Heated tears filled her eyes, as she imagined the way her father would chastise her for such behaviour. She’d behaved like a wanton, ignoring every rule that would protect her virtue.
‘I want to go back,’ she said, not looking at him. She sat up and drew her knees up, burying her face in her skirt to hide her feelings.
‘Go, then.’ His voice was flat, and she heard the anger within it. ‘I’ll join you in a few moments.’
She rose to her feet, her body still heated, her breasts tight against her gown. It was hard to catch her breath, though it had nothing to do with exertion … and everything to do with forbidden desires.
Her steps carried her back to the forest’s edge until she realised she’d forgotten the basket. Though she should return for it, she was afraid of coming too close to the fürst. His body was tight with tension, and no doubt he would bring it for her.
She began running down the hill, and whether she was fleeing from the prince or from her own fears, she didn’t know. The ruined abbey lay just ahead, and the trees blurred as she held on to her skirts.
Her knees buckled with a blast of pain, and she hit the ground hard. Breathless, she tried to get up, only to see a man holding a staff that he’d used to trip her. He grabbed her by the arm, a dark smile upon his face.
‘You shouldn’t run through the forest alone, Princess. Don’t you know there are wolves that prey upon the weak?’
A hard blow struck her skull, and darkness enveloped her.
Karl watched Serena leave, and he resisted the urge to slam his fist into the stone altar. He’d pushed her too soon, once again. But once he’d tasted her mouth, she’d become an irresistible temptation. He’d let her bewitch him, even knowing that it was unwise to touch her.
She didn’t want to wed him; she wanted her freedom. And the only recourse he had left was to convince her that there could be more between them than a political union. He’d meant only to kiss her. But when her hand had come to rest upon his face, he’d been undone by her innocence. No one had ever touched him with affection or paid him any heed. He’d wanted her fingers to be everywhere upon his skin.
You’re unworthy of her, his conscience reminded him. Nothing but a bastard trying to take advantage of an innocent girl and her kingdom.
And so, he’d let her go. He’d needed a few moments to gather
up his wits and calm the raging lust. In the distance, the twisting sea echoed his confused thoughts, battering the shore.
Karl picked up the basket and walked down the path. He looked for a glimpse of the princess, but there was no sign of her. No doubt she’d hastened back to the abbey, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. He couldn’t blame her for that.
But when he reached the ruins, she wasn’t there. Not in the hall and not in the kitchen.
‘Princess!’ he called out. No answer.
His concern grew tighter when he could no longer find her. Had she run away from him? Didn’t she know of the danger upon the island? The only reason they were safe at Durin’s fortress was because no one knew they were there.
He left the ruins and studied the path. There were footprints in the rain-softened earth, but heavier than Serena’s. A cold fear broke through him when he measured the size of the foot and saw that it was only slightly smaller than his own.
He tracked the prints down the hill, and only at the end did he see Samuel lying unconscious where he’d been struck down. Blood trickled across the man’s temple, and Karl raced to the man’s side, trying to rouse him.
Samuel blinked, groaning as he clutched his head. ‘He took her, Your Highness. Tried to stop them—but there were half-a-dozen men.’
Karl let out a curse, blaming himself for leaving Serena alone. He’d known it wasn’t safe, and yet, he’d given her a few minutes to herself. That was all his enemy had needed.
But he was going to get her back.
‘Who are you?’ Serena whispered, clutching her head. There was a rough bandage against it, and the wetness told her that it had been bleeding. Her vision was blurred as she fought to grasp consciousness.
She saw a man whom she guessed to be in his early forties. His face was thin, and a brown beard obscured his features. She’d never seen him before but wondered if he’d been among the men who had attacked the other night.
‘To you, Princess, I’m a nobody.’ He sat at a table and poured a drink into a wooden cup. Her eyes took in her surroundings, as she tried to discern where she was and how long she’d been here.
She was in a dwelling smaller than her bedchamber, with only a mattress, a fireplace and a single table and chair. Her hands were bound behind her back, as were her feet. In the corner stood a taller man, whose face was dirt-streaked, along with his hands. Possibly a farmer.
Serena struggled to remember how they’d brought her here, but after the blow the bearded man had struck to her face, she couldn’t remember much of anything.
A sinking ball of dread formed inside her stomach, but she forced her words to remain calm. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘You’re going home, Princess. Someone wants you there badly enough to pay for your safe return. They’re waiting for you across the water.’
Terror clenched inside her. ‘Who is waiting?’
The man’s smile widened as if he’d confirmed her identity. ‘He paid each of us fifty marks to bring you. I’d give you over to the devil himself for that.’
Likely it was Freiherr Albert von Meinhardt. The baron would stop at nothing to bring her back, for he craved the king’s favour. She couldn’t stop the unsettled feelings that swelled up inside, drowning out any hope she might have had.
She lowered her head, closing her eyes. Though she wanted to believe that Fürst Karl might come after her, there was little he could do now. Her days of freedom were at an end.
Hours passed, and there was still no sign of the prince. Serena pressed back the fear, telling herself that Karl would come eventually. He had to, if he expected her to marry him. She bit her lip, trying to silence the chattering of her teeth. She was unbearably cold, now that the weather had shifted once more.
Outside, she could hear the rhythm of the violent waves surging against the sand. Rain slashed through the roof, pouring down on all of them. The storm had returned, transforming into a raging tempest that made it unsafe for a crossing. The men had changed their plans, intending to leave at dawn. Though it had granted her a brief reprieve, she didn’t know if the prince could find her in time.
What if they succeeded in bringing her back to the mainland? The paralysing fear swept over her, numbing her mind. She wasn’t ready to face her father again. Not so soon.
She studied her surroundings. A fisherman called Jürgen was their leader, and though he’d ordered the other men not to touch her, she saw them eyeing her with interest. Thank heaven, she still had her cloak, and she kept it firmly around her body, hiding every inch from view.
There was only one entrance within the wooden dwelling, and it was heavily guarded. It was late at night now, and though exhaustion threatened to claim her, Serena forced her eyes to remain open.
She might have to rescue herself. It was a reality she didn’t want to face, but what other choice did she have?
In the darkness, she could hardly see anything, but she knew the men were armed with guns and knives. Her ropes were too tight to untie, and she fumbled against them, hoping to somehow loosen the knots.
After an hour of trying, her wrists were numb and raw. She was near to tears, and though several men had fallen asleep, it was impossible to steal a knife without waking them. With her bound feet, she couldn’t walk or hop, either. When she was first taken captive, they’d stolen her shoes from her, keeping her feet bare to prevent an escape.
Trussed like a Christmas goose, she thought. Wasn’t that just lovely? Her anger and frustration grew stronger as time dragged onwards. How could the prince have just left her? Had he changed his mind and decided to find another bride after all?
You’re overreacting, her mind warned. He’ll come.
And get himself captured in the attempt? Not likely. Fürst Karl was not an impulsive man, and likely he’d gone for help. Which was perfectly logical, except that in her foolish mind, she wanted him to charge in, seize control and take her away.
The longer the night dragged on, the more she began to worry that it wouldn’t happen. Karl had only two men to help him. How could he possibly do anything against these odds?
He couldn’t. She sobered at the conclusion. And here she sat, enduring her captivity instead of using her head to try and escape. Not once had she called out for help, nor even made the attempt to leave. She’d let herself become their victim, without fighting back.
Just as she’d never fought back against her father. Because she was too afraid.
She’d suffered his wrath, obeying him and doing everything in her power to please him. Even when he’d broken her ribs, she’d done nothing to stop him.
A sudden surge of frustration and rage welled up within her. Why? She didn’t deserve any of the wounds inflicted upon her. She’d done nothing wrong, not in all these years.
Blind obedience had given her nothing but bruises to show for it. And now, she had fallen back into her habit of hiding in the shadows.
You can’t keep hiding, a voice inside her warned. Her escape from the palace had been the first shaky step, but it wasn’t enough. She’d been waiting for someone else to take the lead, to make the decisions.
Not any more.
In the darkness, she stood up, with hands and feet bound. No one moved, nor did the sleeping guards notice her. She couldn’t walk very well, but after her efforts to loosen the ropes, there was just enough slack to allow her the smallest fraction of steps. Slowly, with a numb, shuffling movement, she managed to make her way a few feet across the room.
A hand caught her, jerking her backwards until she fell hard upon the ground. ‘Don’t.’
She didn’t recognise which man had spoken, but his words alerted the others. Within seconds, she was forced to the back of the enclosure, fully surrounded.
A bleakness settled over her, and she wondered why she’d bothered to fight back when there were six of them. What chance did she have of gaining her freedom against so many?
Better to try and fail, than not to try at
all, her mind advised. And then another idea took root, sinking into her consciousness with possibilities. She waited a few moments, then stood up, deliberately tripping over one of the guards. Her bound hands bumped against his waist.
‘Can you not sit still, woman?’ he demanded, shoving her back against the hut. ‘You’ll not get free, no matter what you try.’
Serena hid her face, showing no response. After he let go, she moved her legs forward, using the hem of her gown to conceal the knife she’d unsheathed from his belt.
She remained motionless for a long time, until he turned his attention elsewhere. Though she risked cutting herself with the blade, she didn’t care. She would free herself from the ropes and find a way out. Somehow.
One of the guards came near and crouched down behind her. ‘Give me the blade,’ he warned. Her hands froze behind her, and she dropped the knife, trying to hide it. ‘You’re doing a poor job of cutting the ropes,’ came the whisper at her ear. ‘Allow me.’
It was Karl.
A rush of emotions clattered through her mind. Had he been here all along, disguised among the men? How had he done it without being discovered? In the darkness, she couldn’t see his face, but she felt the blade cutting through her ropes; first her wrists, then her ankles.
His mouth returned to her ear. ‘Keep your hands and feet behind you for now. When you see the signal, I’ll grab you and take you to the entrance. We’ll make our escape then.’
Before she could ask what signal he meant, he predicted her question and whispered, ‘You’ll know.’
Though he’d freed her hands, she felt the tingling of blood flowing back through her skin. It hurt worse than she’d thought it would.
The prince remained behind her, and she felt his hands upon her ankles. At first, she winced at the sensation of him touching her bruises. A moment later, he left his hands in place, letting them warm her feet. She held herself motionless, not at all certain she should allow it. But his hands felt good, the barest touch sending heat through her cold skin. The futile wish, that he could take her into his arms and warm her body with his own, crossed her wayward mind.
The Accidental Prince Page 13