Tales of Enchantment

by Andersen,Kai

  “We are not married!”

  “We will soon be.”

  “Will we?” It irked her that Michael had not yet popped the question. Nor had he requested a private audience with her father. He seemed to take it for granted that she would marry him.

  Maybe he was waiting for the tournament to be over before he asked.

  Pleased with that conclusion, Giselda contented herself with the thought that he wanted her. Well, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her body.

  “How about if I show you a place where we can continue?” Uncertainty and surprise flickered in Michael’s eyes, and she pressed on. “Some place where there are no prying eyes, where we wouldn’t be disturbed ...”

  He released her. She could feel the reluctance in his arms, but the thought of privacy was a great lure. His head swooped down for a swift kiss. “Lead on, my great beauty. I can’t wait until I have you in my arms again.”

  “That is --” She slanted him an impish smile. “-- if you can catch me.”

  She danced out of reach and laughed as she raced down the path. She sensed Michael’s initial surprise, and then she heard his pounding footsteps behind her. She ran past waist-tall azalea shrubs, rosebushes, and rhododendrons. The wind blew hard against her face, teasing her hair and lifting her skirts. Elation swamped her.

  Michael was attracted to her; he wanted her; he was going to make her his bride!

  She was going to be queen!

  Sheer joy rushed through her.

  Giselda laughed as she ran, giggling as Michael’s longer legs caught up with her and his arm snaked around her waist. He whirled her until she grew dizzy.

  Helpless tears slipped past her eyes. She could not seem to stop laughing. “Stop, stop!”

  He enfolded her within his arms, his forehead resting against hers. Both of them were panting. “My ... reward?”

  “A ... kiss?”

  “Not enough.”

  “What --”

  “How about your room ... tonight?”

  Excitement swirled through her. Michael had never suggested anything so improper. His advances had always been kept to stealing a kiss here and there. Never had he suggested something ... something like this, something so wild and thrilling and ... indecent. She should be shocked, and the princess in her was. The woman in her was in turn exhilarated and anxious to know The Secret.

  She had heard of many things that men do to women in bedchambers -- and sometimes not in bedchambers -- but she hadn’t really seen it, nor experienced it. She wanted to know what the fuss was all about. She wanted to know what it was that had held her stepbrother so in thrall that he had gone through all the castle maids and the women in the village. Well, that was before he married. And somehow, she didn’t think she wanted to wait until her wedding night to satisfy her curiosity, unless tonight was her wedding night . Anyway, Michael was going to be her husband soon ...

  Giselda was about to reply when something caught her ear. At first she thought it was the hard pounding of her heart. But when it came again, she was sure. It was a moan. A low, feminine moan.

  “I’ll show you things you’ve never --”

  “Shh.” She pushed against him. “I heard something. Someone may be hurt.”

  “But you haven’t answered me yet --”

  “Keep quiet.”

  Her sharp ears caught the low sounds. They seemed to be coming from the trees some feet away to the right. She noted in a distracted way that their retainers had stopped a good distance from them, presumably to give them some privacy.

  As she walked toward the grove of trees, the moans became mixed with sighs and whimpers. Increasingly perplexed, she pushed aside the branches with some trepidation as she forayed deeper into the green foliage.

  “Hello? Is anyone hurt --”

  Shock rendered her speechless. And immobile.

  Dim sunlight filtered through the dense leaves.

  The woman’s head was pressed against the tree trunk, her eyes closed and her mouth half-opened as she panted and moaned as if in pain. Her dress was pulled down from the neck, exposing her dark skin. The man’s mouth was fastened to a dark globe and made sucking motions as his hand disappeared under the woman’s skirt. Giselda watched, fascinated, as the woman splayed her hand blatantly against the front of the man’s trousers.

  Even with his back to her, Giselda knew who it was.

  Time seemed to stop. She heard nothing but harsh breathing and the hard pounding of her heart.

  Rage filled her, a rage that demanded release.

  She screeched with all the fury that welled up inside her. “Stop. Stop it!” When the couple appeared to ignore her, she forcibly pulled Rodin away from the woman. “How dare you -- you -- you engage in such acts in front of me!” she spluttered.

  The woman opened her eyes and dropped to her knees, her whole body trembling. “Your -- Your Highness.” One hand pulled up her dress in desperate movements.

  The terror in her voice appeased some of Giselda’s fury, but Rodin’s mocking voice brought it all back.

  Green eyes taunted her. “Well, well, if it isn’t Her Royal Highness herself. Want to join in the fun?”

  “I would never demean myself,” she said in a cold voice.

  “Then why interrupt us?” His voice was silky smooth. “If you don’t mind ...”

  “How dare you talk to me like that? I said ‘no’ and I mean ‘no’!” Giselda tried to push him farther away from the kneeling woman, but he was like a stone statue glued to the ground. “I’m the princess, and I expect to be obeyed!”

  “You are seriously taxing my patience, Your Highness.” His eyes gleamed, and a feral smile graced his lips. “I’m not seducing you, so I don’t know why you’re protesting so much.” An unholy light came into his eyes. “Or perhaps that’s the reason for your protests? You want me to seduce you instead?”

  His words were like a shot of cold water to her system. Was that what she wanted? For him to seduce her? Why were Rodin’s actions affecting her so much?

  Giselda stopped pushing against him. She glared at him with dislike. “Go! Do your dirty act away from my sight!”

  Rodin brought her up sharply against him. She could feel every inch of his hard body, and there was one especially hard portion nudging the juncture of her thighs. “We’ll see what you’re calling dirty when your precious prince sticks his dick into you.”

  Giselda’s face flamed. “I’ve tolerated your insolence long enough, Rodin. Just because Frederick holds you in high regard, you think you can get away with anything. Well, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the princess of this land, and I can have you beheaded. You are only the --”

  Rodin cut her off. “I know what I am, princess. Believe me, I have never been more aware of what I am than in this moment.” He set her down slowly. “But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll mind your own business.” He pulled the other woman up. “I believe my lady and I have some unfinished business. If you will excuse us, Your Highness.” He sketched her a small bow and, scooping the woman up in his arms, strode out of the grove.

  Giselda felt like she’d wandered into the path of a fierce storm and was still trying to fight her way out. She suddenly lost all sense of direction.

  “Giselda?”

  Michael’s voice provided a much-needed lifeline. Yes, she should not forget that she was this close to being the queen of Ermont. She should not do anything to jeopardize that. No, nothing was worth the throne and the crown.

  “Giselda?”

  “Michael?”

  “Are you all right?” Familiar arms surrounded her. She rested her head against his hard chest.

  “Yes.” She drew in a deep breath. “About tonight ...”

  “Yes?”

  “I expect to see you.”

  Chapter Two

  “I’m grateful for all these, Serena.” Giselda waved a hand at the scene in front of them. “You didn’t have to do this, at least not so soon after your honey
moon.”

  Her stepbrother, Frederick, and his new bride had left immediately after the wedding for their honeymoon tour. They’d returned home after a month of bliss, and Giselda was struck with envy at seeing the radiant glow on their faces. Serena, however, had taken in the score of suitors Giselda had acquired and had thrown herself into organizing a tournament to test their skill and mettle. For the past two weeks, there had been archery contests, physical endurance tests, strategy games, general knowledge exams, and a jousting event. Giselda was pleased that Michael had so far proved himself superior in every round.

  Now, it was the final round. They were at the arena set up a few days ago to accommodate the candidates’ jousting matches. Two combatants astride their horses would charge at each other with their lances at the ready. Whoever was unseated would be out of the game. The winner would then go on to challenge the next candidate on the list.

  “It was no trouble, Giselda.” Serena smiled at her, her green eyes glowing under the late afternoon sun. “You deserve it.”

  Her new stepsister-in-law was so kind, it was sometimes sickening. But Giselda couldn’t deny the warmth she felt for her or that familial relations had improved since Serena entered their lives. At times, she caught herself worrying over Serena’s excessive kindness, afraid that some unscrupulous person might take advantage of it. Then she’d realize she need not worry, for Frederick was so besotted with his wife he hardly let her out of his sight.

  “Thanks anyway.”

  The cheering throng drew their gaze to the last pair of combatants facing each other across the field. Their horses were pawing the ground, eager to charge. Here and there, brightly colored paper flags and banners waved among the stands of spectators. The huge number of people contributed to the festive air, as they followed with religious devotion the performance of each suitor vying for the hand of their princess in marriage.

  “Cool, refreshing lemonade for you, sweet.” Frederick handed an ice-cold glass to Serena as he sat down. He indicated the other glass in his hand. “Want one, Giselda?”

  She sniffed. “I’ll have my own personal slave to serve me pretty soon.”

  Serena grinned.

  Frederick laughed. “Let your brother have that privilege for now, then.”

  Giselda plucked the glass out of his hand. “Thanks.” She tipped the glass to her lips and drank.

  “He’s sure to win, you know.” Frederick inclined his head toward the center of the arena where the jousting had begun.

  “Of course he is.”

  “I mean Rodin.”

  Giselda refused to think of the incident yesterday. “What do you mean? He’s not one of the candidates --”

  “I bet that the person battling Prince Michael there right now is Rodin,” Serena interjected dryly.

  Giselda’s horrified eyes flew to her brother. “Oh, no! Why would he do that?”

  “Not out of any high regard for you, so don’t worry.” Frederick shot her a look she couldn’t decipher. “But because I asked him to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to give my sister to the man who is worthy of her.”

  “Thank you, Frederick.” Giselda barely managed to say through gritted teeth, her eyes on the scene in front of her. One of the candidates teetered on top of his horse as the opposing lance glanced his ribs. She sucked in a breath. “He is going to lose!”

  “You don’t have much faith in your suitor, do you?” Frederick mocked.

  “But Rodin is --” Giselda stopped as she realized what she’d been about to say. The best. Rodin’s the best.

  She had seen him many times before as he sparred with his men on the training field. As the chief of the security guarding the royal family, Rodin had to be the best in his chosen profession. In the whole kingdom of Mithirien, he was the best tracker and top weapons expert. For a big man, he could move with lightning speed. No one was faster than he, except maybe for Frederick, who was leaner.

  “Rodin has orders to lose. I wouldn’t want your favored suitor to be embarrassed.” Frederick stared at her for so long that she began to fidget in her seat.

  “What?”

  “Are you sure Prince Michael is your choice?”

  “Well, I was only seen kissing him for most of the past two weeks.” Giselda pretended to think and looked up at the blue sky. “So, aside from that, I guess everybody has a fair chance.”

  “It’s not too late to change your mind, Giselda. You might find a better man someday.”

  “Don’t be silly, Frederick. Michael is the one for me, I just know. He loves me, he --”

  “How do you know?”

  “He’s told me at least once every day for the past few weeks. Remember I met him at your wedding? He said ...” Giselda stared intently at the field, not really hearing the roar of the cheering crowd as the combatants faced off again. “He said he was instantly smitten with my beauty, and his heart will never waver.”

  “How poetic.”

  “Just because you don’t have the same inclination doesn’t give you the right to laugh at those who do.” Giselda felt insulted on Michael’s behalf.

  “Frederick, Giselda’s right.”

  Thank the gods for her sister-in-law.

  “All right, I’m sorry.” Frederick held up his hands in surrender. “Just remember --”

  “Oh, look,” Giselda cut in, not wanting to listen anymore. Ever since he’d married, Frederick had gotten stuffy and annoying and boring. “Rodin’s fallen to the ground,” she shouted over the triumphant applause and cheers of the crowd. “I’m going to congratulate the winner.”

  She ran off before anyone could stop her. She made her way down to the ground, where a sweat-drenched, helmetless Prince Michael swept her into his arms and planted a solid kiss on her lips to the delight of the multitude, evidenced by the even louder applause and wild calls and whistles. If Michael smelled a little, er, funny, she didn’t pay it any attention. After all, he’d gone through so much for her.

  Chapter Three

  Michael pulled her into the deserted gazebo. “Come here, my delectable bride.”

  “Am I your bride?” Excitement rushed through her. Finally, she was done with watching from the sidelines.

  He sat on the bench and tumbled her into his arms. “Aren’t you?” His husky voice sent shivers down her spine.

  Giselda noted his dark good looks in the early evening twilight, and she couldn’t believe that he was hers, all hers. “A girl likes to be asked.” She cast her eyes down demurely and fiddled with a button on his coat.

  “I won you fair and square.”

  “A girl still likes to be asked.”

  He got down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, yes!” She threw her arms around his neck and fused her lips with his.

  He slanted his lips, moving over hers with a hunger and passion that she had always sensed burning just beneath the surface. It was a good thing her husband-to-be was fond of her body. It would certainly make it easier to ask for all the things her little heart desired -- a large clothing allowance, for instance. She would also have the top designer in the kingdom plan her wedding trousseau. Her wedding gown would be decorated with lots of little diamonds, instead of the usual sequins, and --

  “I thought I heard someone over here.”

  Giselda’s eyes popped open, and she pushed at Michael’s hands, which were somehow beneath her skirt. “Stop. Someone’s here!”

  “Wha--”

  She slapped his hand, which continued to caress her thigh. “Stop it! Someone’s coming!”

  Michael assumed an injured look as he rose to sit beside her on the bench. “I thought we were betrothed.”

  “It has yet to be formalized,” Giselda reminded him as she straightened her hair and clothing.

  “So I can’t touch you before the union is formal?”

  “I seem to recall having your hands all over me for the past two weeks,” she shot back tartly, trying to qu
ell her displeasure at seeing his surprising likeness to a little boy being denied his favorite candy.

  “That’s because you’re so beautiful.” His leering glance dispelled the sullen pout. “Here, feel this.” He took her hand and curled it around his cock. “See how you affect me?”

  Surprise kept Giselda’s hand where it was, curved around his hardening member. Frissons of heat shot through her, reviving her waning excitement. She remembered another cock nudging against her, and moisture pooled in her pussy.

  “This seems to be a bad time. Maybe I should come back again a little later.”

  Giselda jerked her hand away from that fascinating pulsing thing, belatedly remembering that she had heard voices. She encountered Rodin’s glittering green eyes and shivered at the cold anger she saw reflected there.

  “No need.” She stood up in a huff, displaying her princessly imperiousness. “We were just leaving.”

  She swept out of the gazebo, her head held high. She hoped Michael was following.

  * * * * *

  “Where are we going?” Giselda skipped beside Michael as they climbed the gentle slope of the hill. The verdant grass served as a thick carpet to cushion their feet from the hard ground. Far in the distance, the dense leaves of the trees gave color to an otherwise blue and sunny sky. The slight breeze didn’t do much to alleviate the heat. She was glad she had pinned her long hair into a fat bun on top of her head.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Ooooh, I like surprises.” Giselda smiled, turning her face up to the sun. “You know what I love, Michael?”

  “What?”

  His voice seemed distracted, but she didn’t care. Serena had said that engaged couples must get to know one another, since they were going to spend a lifetime together.

  “I love riding Randalin. Have you seen her? She’s the most beautiful mare in Mithirien. She may look dainty and delicate, but she has the worst temper I have ever seen. She threw every trainer who tried to break her, but the moment I touched her, it was love at first sight for us both. She allowed me to get on her back when she would not --”