The Lost Princesses Medieval Romance Collection

by Jody Hedlund

  As before, we made our way carefully along as Edmund consulted the map at every turn. At last, when the tunnel forked into three branches, Edmund halted. “We’re here.”

  “God be praised.” I sagged against the wall, and tears stung my eyes. I lifted up gratitude for both God’s help as well as Edmund’s ability to guide us in the right direction in a labyrinth that had been designed to confuse, trap, and lead people astray.

  Edmund eyed the tunnels. “Let’s pray that beyond one of these passageways there really is another opening.”

  I whispered a silent prayer, not wanting to imagine what we’d do if we couldn’t escape through an eastern entrance. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to traverse the passageways again, especially with that creature searching for us.

  Edmund tested the three tunnels as he had when we’d entered the labyrinth and then decided to veer to the right. After lighting another torch for me, he motioned for me to stay where I was.

  “Wait here for me,” he warned.

  “If you will be safe, surely I shall be too.”

  “No, Maribel. I want you to wait this time.”

  I sighed and watched his back until he disappeared around a bend. He was only trying to protect me. But we needed to remain together.

  “Shall I come now?” I called after him.

  The echo of a crack was followed by the rumble of what sounded like an avalanche of falling rocks.

  “Edmund?”

  The rushing of stone turned into a crumbling that tapered away to silence.

  “Edmund?” I called again, then waited for several heartbeats. “Answer me, Edmund!”

  When no response came, I lurched forward, my heart thudding against my chest. As a plume of dust billowed around me, panic hastened my steps. I turned the bend and stopped at the sight that met me. Edmund lay sprawled on the path. Behind him, an enormous pile of stones blocked the tunnel. The dust still wafted around the heap, and small rocks continued to cascade down.

  I rushed to Edmund and fell to my knees. From the backside, I could see no damage. Gently, I rolled him over and ran my hands down his torso, legs, and arms, assessing for any broken bones. Other than scratches on his hands and face, I didn’t think he’d sustained any injuries. I skimmed my fingers over his head, his hair feathery-soft beneath my touch. At an egg-sized lump on his temple, I realized he’d probably been hit in the head with a falling rock.

  At the pressure of my hand against the swelling, he released a low moan but didn’t open his eyes. I only had to probe it a moment to know he’d be fine. He’d been knocked unconscious but hadn’t sustained any serious wounds and would rouse soon enough.

  I glanced at the avalanche that could have buried him alive—likely had been intended to trap and kill anyone who attempted to pass.

  Relief swelled in my throat. The emotion was so strong it pushed out a sob before I could contain it. Giving way to the rush, I threw my arms over him, buried my face into his chest, and allowed more sobs to escape. My body shook with the realization of how close I’d come to losing him. He’d almost died, and the thought of life without him made the tears flow even faster.

  “Oh, Edmund,” I whispered against him. “I cannot live without you.”

  As soon as the words were out, I knew from the core of my being they were true. Edmund was woven into the fabric of my life, so tightly and so thoroughly I couldn’t imagine going on without him.

  He was not only my best friend, he was my everything—the closest to family and safety and anything good I’d ever had.

  Beneath me, he stirred. I started to push up, but his arms slipped around me before I could move away. As though sensing how close he’d come to death, his grip was tight, pressing me to himself in an almost desperate hold.

  I clung to him in return. For a long minute, we lay that way, our chests rising and falling together, our relief mingling with each breath. When I finally released him, his arms loosened, but only a little, enough that I lifted my head and met his gaze.

  “I thought I lost you,” I whispered. Raising a hand to his face, I cupped his cheek and bent down to place a kiss upon his forehead.

  At that moment, he arched upward so his mouth collided with mine.

  I was unprepared for the connection. The heat and the pressure of his mouth stole my breath with a gasp. When his lips moved to secure mine more firmly, my heart ceased its beating, and I nearly swooned at his touch.

  At the same instant, our lips melded, one of his hands slid to the base of my neck, turning my head just slightly so that our mouths fused again in another dip of warmth.

  I’d never experienced anything so pleasurable before, and my heart swelled with a cascade of feelings I couldn’t name. All I could think about was Edmund, how much I liked being in his arms, and how I never wanted the kiss to end.

  But with a moan, he broke away. “I’m sorry, Maribel,” he said between gasps. “I beg your forgiveness—”

  I cut him off by bending down and brushing my lips over his again. The moment I did, he captured my mouth in another kiss, one full of the same passion, as if it could somehow save us.

  Once more Edmund ended the kiss, this time abruptly. He sat up, scrambled away from me, and quickly stood, grabbing the wall to keep from toppling over.

  “Careful. You injured your head.” I was surprised by how breathless I sounded. I pushed to my feet and realized I was wobbly too. My legs were weak and my body strangely weightless.

  He leaned his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes. His profile was anguished, his lips pressed together, his brows knit. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, what those kisses meant, but I did know Edmund was more important to me than anything else. I didn’t want him to hurt, didn’t want him to suffer in any way.

  Tentatively, I touched his back. His muscles rippled beneath my hand, and I was suddenly aware of the powerful build of his body in a way I hadn’t been before. I was surprised and even slightly disappointed when he pulled away.

  “Does your head hurt?” I asked, lifting the flap on my medical bag. “My Saint-John’s wort tonic will help ease the discomfort.”

  He didn’t respond for a moment and seemed to be waging an internal war.

  I pulled out the tiny vial and uncorked it. “Here. Take a few drops.”

  “No, Maribel,” he said in a strangled voice. “My head is fine. But my conscience isn’t. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  At the mention of our passion, I twisted at the vial with a strange sense of embarrassment. Our kisses had seemed a natural outlet for the emotions of the moment—relief, gratefulness, and even deep concern for one another. But had we been wrong to engage in the kisses?

  Edmund apparently believed so. Had I been incorrect to assume he had feelings for me? That his kiss had been the signal of his affection? “Do you not care about me, then?”

  His eyes met mine, tortured and yet filled with warmth that soothed my worries. “I care about you more than you know.” His voice was low and raw, and his words sent tingles through my body, making me long to draw close to him again. “I fear, however, that kissing you will only coerce you into feelings you’re not ready to freely give in return.”

  Coerce me? “I do freely give you my feelings,” I said, not exactly sure what I was giving him except I knew I couldn’t live without him. That was clear.

  “Then you’re ready to forsake your plans to become a nun?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Why would I . . .” Stumbling to a pause, I stared at him, starting to make sense of his reasoning. As a postulant on the verge of becoming a nun, I’d soon pledge myself to Christ as His bride, and in doing so, vow to remain celibate and refrain from the pleasures of the flesh. I’d need to live in purity of thought and body. Engaging with Edmund in any physical pleasure—including kissing—was inappropriate, perhaps even scandalous.

  Even though I wasn’t yet a nun and hadn’t taken my vows, he was right. I couldn’t offer him my affection,
not when it wasn’t mine to freely give.

  He was studying my face, gauging my understanding of our situation. “I know how long you’ve waited and how eagerly you’ve anticipated becoming a nun. And I would not turn you from that. If you give it up, you must choose to do so of your own will and desire.”

  Was he telling me if I became a nun I’d lose him? That it wasn’t possible for me to hold onto both my aspirations and him? While somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d known eventually things would have to change between us, I’d resisted the prospect and had clung to the hope he’d always be there at the convent with me, always available, always nearby.

  However, such an attitude was selfish on my part. Someday, he’d want to settle down, get married, and have a family. Perhaps Colette had been correct in her assessment of me, maybe even prophetic. I shall love you like Maribel never can. I promise to make you happy.

  Another woman, like Colette, could give Edmund the love he wanted and deserved. Another woman could spend her life making him happy. But God had called me to spend my life in service to Him. I’d always believed so. And I couldn’t let the passion of a few stolen kisses change the course of my plans and dreams.

  As though reading my thoughts, Edmund’s eyes filled with sadness. Before I could say anything, he nodded. “I respect your choice and shall do my best to honor it henceforth. I’m only sorry I didn’t do so today.”

  “You are an honorable man.” I took his hand in mine, but he immediately pulled away.

  “If I am to honor you,” he said, his voice almost a growl, “then it is best we refrain from any sort of physical contact.”

  At the implication of his words, heat rose into my cheeks. Did my touch affect him? “I am sorry. I did not know . . .”

  He sighed. “Let us speak of it no more, Maribel.”

  For a moment, I contemplated all that had happened between us, struggling to make sense of our relationship and where it would go from here. From the severity of Edmund’s expression, I guessed he was doing the same.

  Although I knew I should feel more remorse for our kisses and the intimacy we’d shared, I couldn’t conjure up the proper guilt. It niggled at me, but the memory of the pleasure and sweetness of the time in his arms was something I’d never forget.

  I finally smiled up at my friend, the friend who was definitely no longer a boy and most certainly was every inch a man. “I want you to know that though the moment can never be repeated, I do not regret sharing a kiss with you this once.”

  As the words left my lips, I felt my cheeks flush at my brazenness. Yet certainly Edmund was used to my directness by now. He’d expect nothing less.

  He gave me the ghost of a smile in return. “I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

  Hearing him repeat my words, I sensed how insignificant, even insulting, they sounded. “What I meant to say is that I enjoyed kissing you immensely.”

  My gaze was drawn to his lips, and I couldn’t keep myself from admiring their firmness. How had I never noticed before how handsome his mouth was? Yes, I’d always acknowledged the fact Edmund was a fair and noble-looking man. But I’d never paid close attention to his features, perhaps had simply taken them for granted.

  He drew in a deep breath. “Maribel.”

  I tore my attention from his lips and met his gaze. “Yes?”

  “You are not making this easy on me.”

  “What easy?”

  “My pledge not to kiss you again.” His focus shifted to my lips, and sparks leaped to life in his eyes. In an instant, those sparks flew between us. A flame lit low in my belly. And I had the urge to close the distance and wrap my arms around him.

  Perhaps this wouldn’t be easy for me either. Perhaps we’d made a mistake in awakening these feelings between us. Perhaps we should have left them dormant. I didn’t even truly understand the feelings. Whatever they were, whatever was happening, I needed to ignore it and put it behind me.

  I could do that, couldn’t I? I looked away from him to the massive pile of rocks blocking the tunnel. With a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders. I had to, for both our sakes.

  Chapter

  14

  Edmund

  By the time we cleared the rubble from the path, climbed the steep slope toward the surface, and chipped away at the seal, I wasn’t sure I’d have any strength to lift the heavy stone that lay over the eastern opening of the labyrinth. Maribel had insisted on treating my wounds again, reapplying the healing ointment. Even so, they pained me more than I wanted her to know.

  It also pained me to work so near to her. In the tight space, we were shoulder to shoulder. Her labored breathing brushed my cheek, and her presence filled my senses.

  With both of us heaving against the stone, we finally shifted it enough that I could use a lever to pry it the rest of the way, just as I’d done when we’d entered the labyrinth. As we climbed out the narrow crack, cold darkness met us. Our torchlight revealed we were in a low cave that was more of a cleft in the rocks than a true cavern. We could kneel, but our heads brushed against the crusty ceiling.

  We extinguished our light quickly so we wouldn’t draw attention from any of Theobald’s guards who might be in the vicinity, and I vetoed a fire in spite of the frigidness though I doubted our enemy would see the glimmer. From the distance we’d traveled underground to the east, my guess was that we were over a league from the western entrance where hopefully Theobald was still waiting for his guards to reappear from the labyrinth.

  As it was well into the night, we curled up in the far corner of the cleft, away from the wind, and fell into an exhausted slumber.

  I’d planned to sleep lightly and stay alert to danger, but when I next opened my eyes, the early gray of dawn greeted me. I held myself motionless and attempted to discern what—if anything—had awoken me.

  I shifted but found my arms wound snuggly around Maribel and realized she was curled into my torso. With her back against the rock and her front shielded by my body, I hoped she’d kept warmer than I had.

  Even as I regained wakefulness, I was keenly aware of her nearness. And my mind began to relive our kisses from yesterday—not one, but two. I’d floated near the brink of heaven with each of them, especially when she’d initiated the contact.

  After so many months—even years—of loving her and wishing for her to return the affection, part of me was ecstatic she finally felt something for me besides friendship and brotherly consideration. It was most definitely something more. There was no other way to explain what had happened or the heat that kept flaring between us.

  While I was relieved she finally knew the truth about how I felt, at the same time a knot in my stomach twisted hard with the realization our feelings didn’t matter. Nothing could ever come of them. Not when she cherished the prospect of taking her vows and becoming a nun.

  I could admit that, in the heat of the moment, I’d considered making her forget about her plans. She was eager and inquisitive enough that with more kissing and tender wooing, I might have been able to win her heart and make her forsake her goals. In the short term, I’d gain the woman I loved. But at what expense? Eventually, she might regret her decision, wonder what she’d given up, and perhaps even resent me.

  Though it had been hard to tear myself from her, I’d done the right thing. I loved her too much to cause her misery. No matter what the future held, I’d never stop loving her. And I’d never leave her. Perhaps I’d take the role of her personal guard now that Wade was gone. I’d live close to her, protect her, and die for her if need be, whether that was in Norland, Mercia, or the ends of the earth.

  She stirred within my embrace. Wrapped together in my cloak, her face was burrowed against my chest. Although she’d plaited her hair in the dark last night to bring a semblance of order to it, the silky strands had come loose again and tantalized my chin and cheek.

  My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten properly in days. At the same moment, several pebbles dropped from the led
ge above.

  The drowsiness of my short night fell away, and I tuned in to the human footfalls and boot scuffs coming from overhead, likely surrounding our hiding place.

  I tensed and inwardly berated myself for not sleeping more wakefully as Wade had attempted to train me to do. Even if my shoulder throbbed and my leg still ached, I had no excuse for putting us in danger, especially not after working so diligently to make our way through the labyrinth.

  How had we been discovered? Had someone spotted our torch when we’d come up out of the maze? I glanced to my side to the stone I’d already slid back in place over the labyrinth. I’d wanted to make sure that if any of Ethelwulf’s soldiers found the eastern entrance, we’d hear them attempting to open it and could make a getaway before they discovered us.

  I hadn’t counted on them finding us so soon from the outside. But perhaps Theobald had hawks scouting the hills.

  Could I remove the stone from the labyrinth entrance quietly enough that we could retreat into the depths? I pictured the dark, confusing tunnels, the deadly traps, and the ravenous dragon-like creature we’d escaped only by God’s grace. Even after Maribel had removed the sliver and had tended the wound, all the creature had wanted to do was eat. While it had temporarily allowed us to flee unharmed, hunger would drive it to seek us out if we returned to its hunting grounds.

  Slowly, I reached for my sword. Which was worse? To face Theobald and his soldiers? Or to chance meeting the dragon again?

  Maribel released a contented sigh that would have constricted my chest if not for the danger of our predicament. She tilted back her head just enough to see my face. As she peered at me sleepily from beneath long lashes, her eyes dropped straight to my mouth and filled with hazy desire.

  I enjoyed kissing you immensely. Her words from last night rang in my head along with the awareness that she was thinking of our kisses just as I had moments ago. I could count on Maribel to say exactly what she thought. She wasn’t capable of being coy or playacting. She lived out her feelings without holding back.