by Andersen,Kai
She threw the bone she’d been gnawing on into the fire with such force that it bounced and landed a few feet away. “Michael was never meant to succeed! Why, he could be lost, wandering the countryside, foolishly thinking he could really find this bloody bird when it was all nothing but a figment of some farmer’s imagination, who spun a tale to lull his son to sleep!”
“There’s no evidence to prove that it doesn’t exist.” Rodin’s voice was mild and calm compared to hers, but then, he didn’t have a fiancé wandering about in unfamiliar territory.
“And there’s no evidence to prove that it does!” Giselda stood up in agitation. “I can’t take all this inaction. I’m going to go find him now!”
“In the dark?”
She ignored the thread of laughter in his voice and answered with all the bravado she could command. “Yes!”
“Don’t be foolish, Princess. Sit down. Sit!” The authority infused into that one word had Giselda plopping herself unceremoniously onto the log she had just vacated. He looked at her so intently that her heart pounded. “Listen to me. You cannot find him in this darkness, so don’t even try. You would only get lost, and then I would have two royal -- censored word for the lady’s ears -- to find. I’ve been roaming this area nearly all my life, so your best bet for finding your prince would be to stay with me.” He emphasized the last three words.
“As to the bird, you should trust the wise ones. More than that, you should trust your father. Gods, the man loves you like his own flesh-and-blood daughter. He would not deliberately set up your lover to die. Why, he probably had someone plant a fake yellow bird in Lundren so your lover would have something to bring back.” Rodin paused and grimaced, as if wondering how he could have said what he just had. “He just wants to test his daughter’s future husband, to see if he is really worthy of her. So trust him if you doubt everything else.”
Giselda managed a shaky laugh at the end of his passionate speech. “You appear to understand my father better than I do.”
He was back to staring at the fire. “I had the privilege of escorting him on several trips outside of Mithirien. He’s a good man and a wonderful king. He is also a loving father. He could not speak well enough of you and Frederick, although I found it hard at times to reconcile the sweet daughter with the bratty sister who pestered Frederick and stalked us every turn.” A slight smile hovered around his lips as he glanced at her once before turning his gaze back to the fire as if mesmerized by the dancing flames. “The king never forsook any opportunity to tell me how his life has been enriched by your presence.”
A lump came into her throat. “I’m afraid I fall short of the high regard he has for me.” She felt like weeping. “Thank you for telling me all this, Rodin.” She sucked in a deep breath. “You’re right; he is a good father. One of the best. Now I’m more determined than ever to find Michael. I have to bring him back, safe and sound.”
“We will.” She wondered at the streak of pain that flashed in his eyes before he stood up. “Where’s Randalin, Princess? That is, if she was the one you rode.”
“I’ll go get her.”
“No, you stay put. I’ll do it.”
He disappeared in the direction she pointed. A moment later, he came back with her mare in tow. He stopped in front of her. “You’ve finished your dinner, right?” At her nod, he handed her the reins. “Rub her down and tie her together with my horse. You’ll find the things in my saddlebag.”
Giselda led the horse off to the side without complaint. Getting the things from his bag, she began the process of preparing her mare for the night. As she moved from one side of Randalin to the other, she saw Rodin looking broodingly into the fire. He was still at it when she had finished the preparations and tied the reins to the branch beside his horse. She was about to go and sit beside him when she felt the urgent call of nature.
She slipped into the trees and walked farther into the concealing greenery before she stopped beside a tree trunk. Squatting down, she proceeded to relieve herself. She felt immensely lighter after she was done, remembering that the last time had been when Rodin stopped for lunch. As she walked back to camp, she found herself wondering for the nth time if they would be able to find Michael -- No, there was no wondering about it. They had to find him. They would find him! She would not accept anything less.
Anyway, she was with Rodin. Rodin, who had always succeeded in his missions. Whatever luck the gods had bestowed on him was sure to rub off on her and her needs, wasn’t it? She should learn to be more optimistic, more --
A low, menacing growl stopped her in her tracks.
Chapter Ten
The hairs at the back of her neck stood up. The sound came from behind. Her heart thundered in fright. Were there wolves in this part of the country? Or bears, lions, tigers? Oh, why hadn’t she bothered to read about things like that before going to her father with that crazy request? Or going against her father and sneaking off on her own?
She turned around slowly, stopping when another growl sounded. Oh, gods, what was she going to do? She didn’t have her sword with her -- what was she thinking? She didn’t even own a sword! Where was Rodin when she needed him?
Something rustled to her right and came into her line of vision. She was suddenly staring at a dark shape with neon-green eyes -- malevolent, hungry, ferocious. It bared its long yellow teeth in a menacing grin. Several low growls sounded from its throat. She backed away, fright lending mobility to her feet. The eyes danced, coming nearer and nearer ...
“Princess?” A voice called sharply. “Princess, where are you?”
She whimpered, but stifled the sound. She didn’t want to make any loud noise for fear of inciting attack, but at the same time, she wanted to let Rodin know where she was and her present predicament. Would Rodin be able to take on this wild beast? What if he couldn’t, and she died, or he died, or they both died?
“You don’t have to do this. I promised we would find him together. Now stop playing and come out.” A hint of exasperation had entered his voice.
She continued backing toward the camp, one foot shuffling backward after another, keeping her gaze trained on the monstrous eyes. Her heart in her throat, she willed herself to go slowly and not to make any sudden movements, despite the urge to flee, to run as far as she could.
Then three things happened almost simultaneously.
“Giselda!”
Rodin’s roar precipitated more ominous growls as the eyes moved faster in her direction. She screamed, and continued screaming as she turned and ran toward the camp, stumbling and falling in her haste, heedless now of whatever consequences might follow, her one thought to reach the camp where Rodin was, where safety was.
She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, past the shadowy trees, past the low branches, past the dense leaves that slapped against her face, her goal the bright point of light that grew nearer and brighter with each forward step.
“Monster!” She shrieked. Her lungs felt like they were about to burst. “Behind me!”
Rodin rushed past her, his sword at the ready. One glimpse of his grim face displayed his utter seriousness. He had transformed into a fearsome warrior, whose one stroke could kill.
Giselda continued running, gasping and stumbling, until she reached the camp and huddled close to the fire. She panted with short, shallow breaths, her eyes trained in the direction of the fight, where the leaves rustled violently and harsh sounds of pain and fighting emerged, but she couldn’t see anything. Her heart clenched in fear, this time for Rodin.
He had to be all right. He had to.
Then silence, absolute silence in a place where, moments ago, birds trilled and crickets sang. Even the horses were quiet and still. The only sound was that of the fire crackling in front of her. Fear tasted acrid and dry. She stuffed a fist into her mouth as she gave a little sob, terrified, certain that something bad had befallen Rodin.
The bush that she’d come through moments before suddenly rustled, much like
it had when that monstrous thing was stalking her. Eyes wide with terror, she was certain death would come for her in seconds, but she didn’t close her eyes, choosing to stare him in the face until he choked the life from her.
When a familiar figure stepped out, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She could only stare for long moments, her eyes tracing each limb and appendage until finally meeting the green blaze of his eyes. Giving a wordless cry of relief, she ran across the clearing and threw herself into his arms, heedless of the blood covering him.
His sword thudded to the ground beside them. She welcomed the tight clasp of his arms around her, the snug feel of his unyielding body against hers, the thundering echo of life in his heart. She leaned into his embrace, her own arms hugging him close.
He was alive!
She was alive!
He kissed her fiercely, his own relief at their safety pouring into the kiss. He plundered her mouth, tasting her moist depths. She responded just as intensely, their kiss an affirmation of life. Tears poured down her cheeks as the emotions overwhelmed her. His lips left hers and traced the path of her tears, placing a soft kiss on each eyelid. “Don’t cry, Princess,” he said hoarsely. “You’re safe now. We’re safe.”
“We’re safe,” she echoed, smiling at him through eyes still misty with tears.
His eyes were yearning and intense as they roved over her face, and his hand was gentle as he caressed her cheek, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. He set her down on her feet, and then he shook her, hard.
“What do you mean by going beyond the camp?” He roared. “Don’t you know that that’s one thing you should not do? At least, not without telling anybody?”
His unreasonable fury fired her anger. “I wanted to relieve myself!” she shouted back.
“You could have let me know!”
“You were thinking! I didn’t want to disturb you!”
“Thinking --!” He bit back a curse. “Next time, feel free to disturb me when I’m thinking.”
“All right! Now stop shaking me! My teeth are about to fall out.”
Unaccountably, he smiled.
Damn, but he was so sexy when he smiled. Even Michael couldn’t hold a candle to that smile.
“Fall out.” He chuckled. “Now that’s a sight I’d love to see.”
“Maybe when it’s your teeth, but you’re not invited to a private viewing of mine.”
He laughed. “All right, Princess, we better get cleaned up for the night. We still have a long day ahead of us.”
Chapter Eleven
After they had cleaned up as best as they could with rags and water from Rodin’s canteen, Giselda stood in front of the tent, clutching the blanket Rodin had given her. She hesitated at the entrance.
“Rodin, I don’t feel good about this, I mean, about taking your tent and your bedroll and your blanket ...”
“Do you want to sleep on the grass? Under the open sky?”
She shook her head, rendered mute by the sight of his naked body emerging from inside the tent. He had a nicely muscled chest topped with light-colored curls, and it looked massive and strong and secure. She knew just how safe she’d felt when held against that chest earlier this evening. It tapered to an abdomen that was rock hard and fit, without an ounce of fat on it.
Heat simmered in her belly, and something clenched within her, in the lower portion of her body. She knew she was staring, but found it hard to look away.
He had thrown away his clothes, which were bloody from the fight, and had donned only a spare pair of trousers. He had given her his one spare shirt to use as a nightshirt. It ended well above her knees. She had thought to sleep in the clothes she’d worn during the day, but they were grimy from the day’s travel and she’d realized she didn’t really want to sleep in them.
She wrenched her mind back to the topic at hand.
“But the wind at night is strong. What if you get sick? How will we rescue Michael then?”
He stilled, then turned glittering eyes to her. “Okay, then. I sleep inside the tent, and you can enjoy the stars.”
“How ungentlemanly!”
“You can’t have it both ways, Princess.”
She hesitated, perturbed by his sudden mood change. They had been so close after their escape from the monster, but now it felt as though there were an ocean between them. “I just thought ... maybe we can share the tent and the bedroll and the blanket. That way --”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He was staring at her, shocked.
“Nothing has to happen, Rodin,” she shot back, annoyed that he wasn’t accepting her goodwill readily. “After all, we would be sleeping in our clothes. I ... I just thought ...” She bit her lip. “Maybe you can hold my hand while I sleep. I ... I think I’m scared of sleeping alone after ... after ...”
His eyes softened. “Of course.” He stepped aside. “Why don’t you go in and get settled? I’ll just douse the fire a little and make sure the horses are secure.”
“Thank you for being so understanding.”
“Glad to help, Princess.”
She frowned after him, not liking the sarcastic tone in his voice. Then she remembered that there were things she had not discussed with him yet. Maybe later, before they slept. Or tomorrow.
She was lying on her back on the right side of the bedroll, modestly covered with the blanket, when he entered the tent. For a moment, he just stood there at the entrance, staring at her. At least, she thought he was staring at her; it was dark, and she couldn’t really tell.
“Rodin, you’re, uh, you’re on the left.”
“Right.”
He lay down beside her, his movements quiet and economical as he laid his sword on the ground beside him. He was a strange presence beside her, big and warm and ... strange. She had always slept alone in her big bed at the castle, ever since she had gotten over her fear of the vastness of her room. But now, with low howling sounds shattering the quiet of the night at intervals, she couldn’t help but creep closer to Rodin, shifting in her designated side of the bedroll as she tried to have some human contact to reassure herself that she was not alone.
“Rodin?”
Her voice was timid and soft, but Rodin immediately answered. “Yes?”
“Can you hold my hand? I ... I’m scared.”
His big, warm hand immediately engulfed hers. “Don’t let those sounds bother you. They might sound near, but they’re really far away from here.”
“Okay. I’ll ... I’ll try to sleep now.”
“You do that.”
His voice was strained, and she supposed he must be tired after traveling for most of the day and then battling that monster. She would have to ask him what it had been; it helped to know the enemy, to know if they abounded in this part of the country, so that they would be better prepared for it the next time. Yes, she would have to ask ...
* * * * *
Consciousness filtered through her brain, making her aware of how warm and comfortable and safe she was, how she didn’t want to move from this position if it were possible. Her back was spooned against a warm, solid, male body. Rodin’s, she was sure. Lately, she couldn’t seem to do anything but dream of Rodin. Right now, her head was bent forward because he was nuzzling his face against her hair, breathing in her scent. One of his hands was curved around her waist, idly stroking her through the shirt. One of his legs had insinuated itself between both of hers. In fact, her pussy was now resting against his thigh, which moved sometimes and thus rubbed against her.
She sighed in bliss. The hand at her midriff moved up, cupping her breast and kneading the soft mound. His thumb brushed over the nipple, sensitizing the bud until it tightened and peaked.
She gasped and arched into his hand, her bottom coming to rest against his hard length.
His hand stilled, and the atmosphere changed around them.
He had awakened.
It was not a dream.
She had always been rudely awaken
ed from previous dreams of Rodin. She now found that reality was no better.
Rodin rolled away from her. Standing stiffly beside the makeshift bed, he wouldn’t meet her eyes as he said, “Forgive me, Your Highness. It won’t happen again.”
Giselda sat up and stared helplessly at the flap of the tent through which he had disappeared. No matter how much she wanted the crown, no matter how much she wanted to be queen, there was one thing she could no longer deny. She wanted Rodin, too, if the lust running through her was any indication. How was she going to reconcile both desires?
Chapter Twelve
Rodin drove the pace like the devil was after him.
Giselda tried to keep up with him, but though her stamina was good and her horse one of the best in Mithirien, she was no match for Rodin’s vigor and unflagging energy. After their lunch rest at midday, she didn’t even try.
She set Randalin to walk at an easy pace, her eyes on the cloud of dust kicked up by Rodin’s horse as it moved farther and farther into the distance. She was sure Rodin would turn back once he noticed he was missing a princess; he was that conscientious. True enough, he came storming back, a fierce warrior on his warhorse, promising vengeance on his foe.
Giselda’s breath quickened at the magnificent sight; he was all male beauty and strength. She could never forget how he’d made her feel in the garden with just his hands and his mouth. She ached with need and longing to feel the same pleasure and satisfaction coursing through her veins once again.
When he was about to draw level with her, she quickly schooled her face into an expressionless mask, the one Serena’s little sister called “the princess face.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Good, he was angry. She had had enough of the blank face he’d seemed intent on presenting to her from the moment he had awakened to find her in his arms.
“Following after you, what else?”
“Do you think you could pick up the pace a little?” His horse pranced nervously beside her, as affected by his cold tone as she was. “I would have thought that you would be in a hurry to find your prince.”