The Princess

by Elizabeth Elliott

  My thoughts were so muddled with lust I could barely think straight. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Something very strange was happening here.

  Faulke trailed a line of kisses along the side of my neck, and then lifted his head to look down at me. “Where did you go?”

  “I am right here,” I said, purposely misunderstanding him.

  The undisguised lust in his eyes fueled my panic. No one had ever looked at me that way.

  Faulke stood straighter, but he did not let go of me. His hands went to my hips and he held me in place as he pressed his hips against mine, not crudely, but as if he could not help himself. The proof of his desire was unmistakable. He gave a sigh that somehow sounded both frustrated and satisfied. “We are betrothed, Isabel. There is no sin in what we do.”

  “I know that.” But I still turned my head away when he tried to kiss me again.

  “Is it…” He cleared his throat as he straightened. “Are you thinking about your…about Prince Hartman?”

  Well, I hadn’t been. Now I tried to imagine Hartman in this situation. We would not be talking; of that I was certain. He came to my bedchamber at night, climbed into my bed, poked and prodded, grunted and sweated, and then left within the hour, often without saying a word. It was a horrible memory that I quickly pushed away.

  Hartman had never been driven by lust when he was in my company. The few kisses we had shared shortly before and soon after our marriage were almost as chaste as those exchanged between close relatives. Indeed, I was beginning to wonder if Hartman had viewed me as more of a sister than a wife.

  The answer no longer mattered. What mattered was that Faulke Segrave already treated me more like a wife than Hartman ever had, and we weren’t even married, at least not yet. It was hard to recall the fact that I did not want him to treat me like a wife or a lover. That I did not want him to care for me. Ach. What if I began to care for him?

  And those ridiculous thoughts proved just how much his kisses had scrambled my brains. That, along with my next question.

  “Are you thinking about your other wives?”

  He shook his head and gave a gruff laugh. “Princess, a man would be a fool to think of another woman in your presence. You occupy all of my thoughts.”

  Well. That was nice. No. No. Not nice. Thoughts led to questions. He could not learn my secrets until our marriage was unbreakable, and we still needed the blessing of a priest and the church. I frowned at my hands when I realized they still clung to his shoulders.

  “We are betrothed,” he repeated again, his gaze fastened on my mouth.

  His lips captured mine in another kiss before I could protest, but the sounds I began to make were definitely not a protest. This kiss was more demanding than the others, more dominant. One hand gripped the back of my head to hold me in place, while the other hand slid down my back and then pushed my hips against the bulge of his erection between us. His hand moved lower and he caught one of my knees, lifting my leg to the side of his hip. The position made the press of his erection even more intimate against me. I could barely breathe.

  For several long, selfish moments, I let myself think of nothing but the feelings he unleashed in me, feelings I had never experienced. The more he kissed and caressed me, the more I thought it might be all right to allow myself this new experience, to let him seduce me for a while longer.

  That thought lasted until he moved us closer to the bed and began to tug me down toward the mattress. I suddenly froze inside.

  That wave of ice was all I needed to bring me back to my senses. “Stop!”

  His arms were wrapped around me like iron bands and I pressed my forehead to his chest, afraid to say anything, but I could not stop the shivers that made me tremble like a leaf.

  His hands went to my shoulders and he set me apart from him. I could feel his gaze on me, intent, studying everything about my odd reaction. That made me even more afraid. He was so close to the secret I had kept from everyone except Hartman. I could hardly breathe.

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, puzzled.

  I shook my head, trying to get ahold of my fear. I stared at his chest for what seemed an eternity, and concentrated on slowing my panicked breaths. Finally, he released a long sigh.

  “I did not intend for this to happen,” he said, sounding more pleased than regretful. He tilted my chin up to meet his heated gaze. “The idea of being allowed into your bedchamber before our wedding did not occur to me. However, I have given plenty of thought as to what we would do here, when we were finally alone.”

  What he had in mind seemed fairly obvious. I shook my head.

  “You are a royal princess,” he muttered. “The consummation of our wedding should be preceded by a religious ceremony, a sumptuous feast, and too much wine.”

  “Aye,” I agreed, perhaps a little too eagerly, now that I sensed a reprieve.

  He moved away from me almost imperceptibly. “You deserve more than a hurried coupling while scores of soldiers debate whether they should ignore your orders and break down the doors to murder me.”

  “Aye, there is that.” Relief washed through me.

  I jumped a little when he took my hand and held it to his cheek. Without conscious intent, my fingers stroked the side of his face. His skin felt sandy, like the grains of the sugar boat. I had forgotten what a man felt like, the differences in the texture of their skin, their strength, their sheer size. My gaze went back to his mouth. I might have licked my lips.

  “We cannot do this,” he said in a tight voice. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the center of my palm, and then captured both my hands and held them at my sides. “ ’Tis not right.”

  I wondered if he was trying to convince me, or himself. Whatever he saw in my face made him sigh, a restless sound that shuddered toward the end of it. He was trying hard to do what he thought was right. He was an honorable man. The voice of reason said to step away from his embrace, and that voice was getting louder. I made my hands slide away from him. My own sigh was none too steady when I took a step backward.

  “You should not have taken me from the feast.”

  “Aye, ’twas a mistake. But this was not.” He walked to the door, pushed it open, and then turned toward me again. “My soldiers will be growing anxious. We should return to the great hall.”

  “That would be best,” I agreed. I wanted to sit down and think about everything that had just happened. My whole body hummed with frustration, and yet we were already addressing each other as polite strangers rather than almost lovers. The magnets had turned again and we were back to pushing each other away. I motioned toward the door. “I suppose you will want to get settled into your new quarters.”

  He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end he simply stepped aside to let me pass into the solar. We walked straight to the doors that led to the hallway. This time he stood in front of the doors when he opened them, protecting me again, I surmised. A moment later, I was glad of his precaution.

  As soon as he opened the door, a body fell into the solar and landed at his feet.

  “What in God’s name is going on here?” Faulke demanded.

  The man on the floor wasn’t dead, judging by his grunt of pain. His clothing marked him a Segrave man. Indeed, a line of soldiers in black tunics stood with their backs to us, swords drawn. Richard appeared between two of the Segrave men and pushed his way into the solar.

  “The Rheinbaden soldiers intended to break open the doors,” Richard accused, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the hallway. “Their captain led the effort. Stephen shoved Sir Gerhardt aside and got stuck for his trouble. The wound is not serious, but the—”

  “Gerhardt!” I called out. There was some sort of commotion on the other side of the wall of Segrave men. I turned to Faulke. “Tell your men to let my captain pass.”

&n
bsp; “Let him through,” Faulke ordered without hesitation.

  The Segrave men slowly backed into the solar, their swords held before them, and then they stood where Richard directed, behind Faulke. The wounded man got a hand up and managed to stand, his face tight with pain. My Rheinbaden soldiers advanced just as slowly, their swords drawn as well, all pointed toward the Segraves. They took up a line on my side of the room behind Gerhardt, whose expression betrayed none of his feelings. The English soldiers stayed in the hallway, although Sir Crispin and Sir Walter now stood in the doorway, also armed with swords, their gazes darting between the Segrave soldiers and the Rheinbaden soldiers. Every soldier I could see bristled with weapons and suspicion.

  Gerhardt bowed low to me, a sure sign that he had done something I would not like.

  “Tell me what happened,” I demanded in German.

  Gerhardt straightened from his bow, and then he looked me square in the eye, another sign that he was about to tell me something I did not want to hear. “I became concerned some time ago when we heard nothing from within the solar. We knocked on the door, but there was no response.”

  I could imagine his reaction to that situation. “So you decided to break down the doors?”

  Gerhardt shook his head. “There is enough of a space between the doors that I could slip a misericord between the gap to work the bar free. A man came at me from behind. My blade was in his shoulder before I realized he did not have a weapon drawn against me. It would seem the fool thought he could simply push me away from my post.”

  I eyed the misericord that was sheathed on Gerhardt’s sword belt. The blade was so thin that it probably didn’t do much damage, but I was surprised the wounded soldier wasn’t making more of a fuss.

  “I told everyone that I wished to have a private conversation with my betrothed,” I reminded him. “Everyone should have heeded my words and returned to their duties.”

  “You are my duty,” he said, as if I should know as much…which I did. “This man is not your husband, yet he dragged you from the great hall and then locked you in the solar. Would you have me abandon my post under those circumstances?”

  I could not find fault in his actions. Gerhardt had acted in my best interests. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding. One that could still turn deadly, if someone said a wrong word.

  “No, you were right to remain,” I admitted. “But Lord Faulke is my betrothed. We must all tread carefully where he is concerned.”

  Gerhardt scowled.

  “Did the Segrave men provoke you in any other way?” I asked.

  “They did nothing else threatening,” he said, “although they made lewd comments when there was no response to my initial knocks.”

  Which no doubt fanned the flames of Gerhardt’s anger over his inability to control the situation. I pressed my lips together, lips still swollen from Faulke’s kisses. I could well imagine the sorts of speculation going on among all of the men, but Faulke’s soldiers knew him best. They would know if he made a habit of seducing ladies when he was alone with them. If they knew just how easily Faulke had seduced me, I would likely be the talk of the barracks…and still might be.

  Just then Faulke turned his hand over and curled his fingers, motioning me toward him. I moved a few steps forward without thinking, and then he closed the distance between us before I quite knew what had happened.

  Faulke leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Present a united front.”

  The feel of his lips as they brushed against my skin and the intimacy of his breath in my ear sent a wave of shivers through my body. My thoughts were muddled even more when I felt his hand come to rest on my waist, and I struggled to keep myself from leaning into him.

  “Stephen’s injury was the result of an accident,” Faulke said to all of the men, and then his gaze came to rest on Gerhardt. “An accident that will not be repeated.”

  I set my jaw and tried my best to concentrate on what he was saying. Thoughts skipped through my head too fast to catch, and most involved recollections of Faulke’s most recent kisses.

  “We are of three houses, three lands, and more than three languages,” Faulke said. “If we are to exist together in peace, we must learn more about each other, our customs and ways, as well as our languages. Sirs Richard, Gerhardt, and Crispin will devise a plan to integrate their men into each other’s companies, and then present the plan to the princess and me for approval.” He then turned to me. “Do you agree with this course of action, Isabel?”

  It was one of the few times he had used my given name, and I suspected it was not an accident. He was announcing that we were already on intimate terms, already united. I would be foolish to argue with him, especially since Faulke’s plan was brilliant. I should have thought of it myself.

  I gave him a demure smile. “ ’Tis as if you read my mind, Faulke.”

  That ignited more than a few whispers among the men. We stood united, and they knew it. I took a moment to savor the feeling.

  Hartman had rarely agreed with me on anything, and we constantly bickered and quarreled. How odd to have Faulke purposely take my side. It was an utterly foreign concept to me, but I immediately saw its advantages. I just did not expect the accompanying emotions.

  If Faulke reached down at that moment to hold my hand, I would let him. I wanted to lay my head on his shoulder and smile up at him. Ach, if this kept up, the man would turn me into a simpering maid in no time. There were valid reasons to let him take the lead in this matter, but I could still stand on my own two feet.

  “Return to the feast,” I ordered the men. “There is still food and ale aplenty. Enjoy what is left of this day. Gerhardt, send for Bruna to tend Faulke’s injured soldier. You will stay here, in the event that Bruna needs someone to translate her words to Stephen.”

  It was a demeaning duty for Gerhardt, but one he’d earned. He was lucky his carelessness had not started an all-out battle.

  The English soldiers began to file away, but the Segraves and my men remained where they were, still tensed for action as they faced each other across the room. I leaned up to whisper in Faulke’s ear.

  “My men will not leave me here with so many of your soldiers.”

  He gave an imperceptible nod, and then said, “Richard, stay with Stephen and Gerhardt.” He turned toward his men and gestured toward the door. “The rest of you, return to the feast, as the princess ordered.”

  There it was again, that warm feeling that fogged my senses, simply because he had supported me in front of his men and mine.

  “Have Stephen taken to our barracks when his wounds are tended,” Faulke told Richard when the last soldier left the solar.

  “Aye, my lord.” Richard held a wad of fabric against the injured man’s shoulder, but he spared a glance toward Gerhardt. It was not a friendly expression.

  I simply gave Gerhardt a pointed look, and he responded with a short nod. He knew what I expected of him.

  “I would like another word with you in private,” Faulke said as he nodded toward the door that led to my bedchamber.

  I could not help but hesitate. A word in private is what caused all of this trouble in the first place. On the other hand, surely it would cause no more. At my nod, he led me to the window seat in my bedchamber, although this time I chose to remain standing. He closed the door and I waited for him to say something, but he remained quiet, his gaze fixed upon the floor, his expression thoughtful.

  “Who officiated Chiavari’s wedding?”

  “Bishop Winchelsey,” I answered, wondering why he cared.

  He blinked once. “The Bishop of Canterbury?”

  “Aye.”

  “And the wedding mass took place in Ashland’s chapel?” Faulke asked.

  This time I hesitated. There was a purpose to his questions, one I would probably not like. “Aye.”

  He
mulled that over for a time. “Chiavari’s betrothal to Avalene was made official on the same day as ours. There is no reason we cannot be wed on the morrow, or the day after, at the very latest.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  My horrified tone made him frown. He spread his hands in a gesture that conveyed curiosity rather than anger. “The longer we wait to unite our houses, the more excuses these soldiers will find to fight among themselves, and the harder it will be to protect you.”

  “I don’t see how our marriage will change anything among our soldiers.”

  “Your own captain drew his weapon against one of my men,” he said with a sound of exasperation. “What would your reaction be if Richard had skewered one of your soldiers?”

  “If Richard had attacked one of my men, I doubt that Richard would still be alive,” I said honestly. “Gerhardt rarely hesitates when he encounters a threat, which is the whole reason your man was injured.” I looked up at him with dawning awareness. “Do you want Gerhardt punished for his actions?”

  “I would have shown him the back of my hand at the very least,” Faulke confirmed. “A captain should not act with so little thought to consequences. But he is not my man, at least, not until we wed.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He tilted his head a little and studied my face. “I will expect Gerhardt to swear his fealty to me on our wedding day, as my men will swear their fealty to you. The English knights and their soldiers are sworn to your father. However, your men and mine will unite under one banner.”

  “You must be jesting.” The words were out of my mouth before I could consider them.

  Faulke shook his head. “Our soldiers and servants are separate now, but they cannot remain that way.”

  “Why not?” Did he intend to take my people away from me? Isolate me among servants and soldiers who spoke only Welsh gibberish? My hands curled into fists at my sides. I would not allow it.