by Shay Savage
“Good,” I heard myself say. “I hate her. How could she do that to—”
Branford pulled me back against his body and gently silenced me.
“She cannot hurt you again,” he whispered into my ear. “Never, ever again, my wife.”
*****
As Branford’s child grew in my womb, he kept his promise.
He was never far enough away to not have me within his sight and was usually within just a few feet of me. He still trained his men in the field and had Michael and the other pages build a small structure next to the stables where I could sit within his view but without a draft. There was even a place where a fire could be kept banked. I was never turned away from meetings with the court, and even when Branford spoke with Father Tucker, he bade me stay inside the chapel where he could still see me while he and the Father spoke quietly near the altar.
It should have driven me insane to be so close to Branford at all times, but it did not.
This surprised me.
Sunniva chastised him for hovering around me constantly, and though Branford still respected his adoptive mother, he took his role as king quite seriously and eventually told her not to mention it again, for he was not going to change his position. Later, when Branford was speaking to Parnell and Ida, I whispered into Sunniva’s ear that she did not have to worry, for I did not mind Branford’s closeness.
He was close to me in the nights as well.
This also surprised me.
I would have thought his desire for my body would have decreased since he had already started a child inside me. At the very least, as my body changed, I would have expected him not to find me as pleasing to look upon, but he continued to insist I was more beautiful as time went by. Indeed, he did spend inordinate amounts of time touching my growing stomach, backside, and breasts.
My breasts were certainly the most pleasing to him, and he used any and every excuse to touch them. Before I was with child, Branford would sneak me away to seduce me, claiming the need for a child as the reason. Now that he did not have such a compelling reason, he would sometimes resort to whining and moaning his way underneath the bodice of my dress so he could touch and kiss my breasts.
It was maddening.
And wonderful.
I set down the blanket Sunniva had taught me to crochet, the edges finally completed. It did not look as good as the one she had made, but I was still proud of it. I stood and stretched, stepping lightly from one foot to the other. It amazed me how much my feet would stiffen up just from sitting! I glanced over at the fire and saw it had turned to coals, so I moved to the stack of wood. As I started to pick up a piece, I felt Branford’s hand on my arm.
“I will get that,” he said.
I looked up at him and smiled.
“I thought I was supposed to serve you,” I said, teasing.
His kissed my nose and placed his hand against my belly.
“You serve me in the most important way,” he said, and I felt my cheeks redden at his words.
As Branford rebuilt the fire, I folded the small blanket into the cradle gifted to us from Lord and Lady Sawyer. It rocked slightly as I bumped it with my leg and it thumped against the wall a few times before I could steady it with my hand. I reached back, trying to scoot the whole thing away from the wall a bit when I lost my balance and knocked into the table behind me. The contents of the table spilled across the floor.
“Alexandra!”
Branford rushed over to steady me, but I had not really been in danger of falling.
“I am fine,” I said to reassure him.
“Let me get that,” Branford said as I started picking things up from the floor.
“I am still capable!” I could not help the giggle that escaped me because I could not see the floor over my protruding stomach in order the reach all the fallen items.
Branford stood, grasped me by my hips and picked me up. The act was not as easy as it had been for him before my stomach was so large. He deposited me on the edge of the bed and took my face in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over my cheekbones as he smiled down at me.
“At least you are smiling today,” he said. “When you were so upset over that cup of cider last night, I was not sure what I was going to do with you.”
I blushed, for I had not known what to think either. I had simply upset Branford’s mug and had then been unable to stop crying about it. He had finally called for Sunniva to calm me, but I fell asleep before she had even arrived. I tried to reach for the items on the floor again, but Branford stopped me.
“Let me get it,” Branford said again. He pecked at my lips and then dropped down next to the bed to start bringing everything from the floor back to the table. There was my copy of the Holy Scriptures, the comb I had worn in my hair the day before, an empty mug, and the bowl made by my mother. Branford placed them all on the table except for the mug, which he carried over to the morning room so the kitchen servants could retrieve it later.
I sighed and shook my head at myself before I arranged the items on the table.
“Oh no,” I said as I picked up the bowl. There was a small piece of the carved wood missing from the bottom. I managed to get myself off the bed and felt around on the floor until I found the piece that had broken off. I turned the bowl over in my hands and held the small slender piece up to where it had obviously broken off from the rest of the bowl.
As I turned it over to see the bottom, I noticed something strange. There seemed to be a hole in the bottom of the bowl now, not just where the piece would fit back inside, but further into the base of the bowl itself. I tilted it to get a better look and confirmed there was a small opening in the bottom of the bowl itself—just big enough for me to slide two fingers inside. When I further examined the piece that had broken off, I realized it was not broken at all but had simply managed to slide out of place.
Now that I could see how it worked, I easily replaced and removed the piece many times. It was simple enough; with a little pressure in just the right spot, I effortlessly slid the movable piece over. There didn’t appear to be anything inside of this bowl, but it would certainly be a clever place to hide something from prying eyes.
I put the bowl back with the piece returned to its proper spot on the table. As it sat there, one could see no indication it was anything other than the carved bowl it had always been, but now that I knew its secret, I could see the base was much thicker than the sides.
“Did you see this?” Branford said as he walked back from the morning room to the side of the bed. “Sunniva left it last night after you had already fallen asleep.”
Branford dropped a sack on the bed and untied the bindings. Inside there were several articles of clothing for an infant.
“Apparently, these were once worn by me,” Branford said with a crooked smile.
I ran my hand up his arm.
“I do not think that is possible.” I snickered. “You were never so tiny!”
“I am sure you are right,” he replied with a laugh. “I think Sunniva will like seeing our son in this clothing.”
“It may not at all be appropriate for a girl-child,” I said as I glanced at him sideways. Branford still insisted the child would be a boy, but I had my doubts. I reminded him often, just to make sure he would not be too shocked if the first child was not as he foresaw.
“Hmm…” Branford hummed and looked through the tiny shirts and breeches, handing them to me one at a time. They were all so small, and I could not quite fathom how to care for someone so very tiny. In my head, I saw the child with bright green eyes, wearing the little silk nightgown of red Branford placed in my hands.
The material slid through my fingers as I thought about what the child would look like as I held it to my breast, Branford’s ever-watchful eye looking over my shoulder at us. He would kiss the side of my neck and place his hand on the babe’s head…
“Alexandra? Are you still with me?”
I glanced up at Branford’s smiling face a
nd felt my own face redden.
“I am sorry,” I said quietly. “I was lost in my thoughts.”
“What were you thinking about that made you smile so?” Branford asked as he sat beside me and pushed my hair over my shoulder.
“Our child,” I said. I looked down at my stomach and placed my hand on top of the bulge. Branford wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest.
“Seeing you like this,” he said quietly, “is all I really want in life. Just to see you smile—to be this happy. It is all I want for you. Boy or girl…”
His mouth turned up into a blinding smile.
“It matters not. Just seeing you like this…it is everything to me.”
*****
I gasped and cried out as Branford moved slowly against me, his chest pressed closely to my back as he gently took me from behind. I reached back to his hip, holding him against me as we both lay on our sides. He wrapped his hand around my bulging middle, and his lips kissed trails over my shoulder as he took his time bringing about his climax. He held my body tight against his as he moaned out my name against my neck.
With closed eyes, I lay in my husband’s embrace as I listened to his heavy breaths slowly begin to diminish. The child in my belly kicked underneath Branford’s hand, and my husband gently rubbed the spot.
“He is tired of sleeping,” Branford said.
“It is time for us to rise,” I informed my husband.
“I already have.” He laughed at his own jest. “Twice this morning.”
“I thought you would no longer wish to indulge in such behavior in the morning,” I replied. “Our child should be born within the month. Are you not wasting your seed on me?”
“Never a waste with you.” Branford’s hair brushed over my back as he shook his head. I felt his hand creep around my neck and he turned my head to face him. “Is it uncomfortable for you?”
“No,” I whispered as I felt my cheeks heat with my blush. “Not when we lie like this. When I am on my back, though, your child has a habit of kicking my ribs.”
“He is strong,” Branford said with a smile and then returned to his favorite subject. “As long as you do not complain, I will continue to want you all the time. Besides, I do not want to become unskilled. Once you give birth to my son, we will have to start working on a daughter.”
He moved his hand from my stomach to my breast—heavy and full as it also awaited the birth of our child.
“You must tell me if you wish me to stop,” Branford said, reminding me as his thumb brushed my nipple. It was so sensitive, even the smallest of touches made me shiver. “I can see how much harder it is for you to move around, and you know if you do not spell something out to me, I am not going to notice it on my own.”
“I will,” I promised.
“Good.” Branford kissed the edge of my jaw and then up into my hair. I giggled as his rough cheek tickled the back of my neck, but eventually I had to push him away so we could dress. We were to visit Sawyer on this day and needed to leave before the morning hour grew too late. Branford himself had to go to choose a dozen warhorses for his new cavalry recruits, which meant that I had to accompany him since I was still never outside of his presence.
Both Branford and Michael had to assist me into the carriage when we were finally ready to leave. I could barely successfully climb the narrow steps when I was not heavy with child, and now it was nearly impossible. Once I was settled into my seat, and Branford was reassured I was comfortable enough for him to stop fussing over me, our accompaniment of guards surrounded the carriage, and we were off.
Though Edgar and Hadebrand had been strangely silent since the wretched tea was revealed by Nelle, Branford had never become complacent when it came to my protection. He was even more adamant as my belly grew. True to his word, I had barely been out of his sight since that day, and I could have counted on one hand the times I was not at his side. I had learned much about the kingdoms during that time, probably much more than Branford had planned on sharing with me.
Sir Leland had gone into hiding once he discovered that his heritage would only protect him so far. Branford and I made regular treks to Seacrest to discuss the relationship between Seacrest and Silverhelm with King Liam and to talk about the further protection Sir Rylan offered with his troops along our borders. Branford still hoped to catch sight of Sir Leland so he could execute his own justice over him.
I had to admit to myself that Sir Leland’s part in the plot against us was not as great as Janet’s or Branford’s cousins, but I would not turn away if Branford were to cut him down. After feeling that sense of satisfaction at seeing Lady Kimberly’s head displayed on the castle wall, I had to admit I was a far more bloodthirsty queen than I ever would have imagined.
Branford worried my new attitude would change me for the worse, but I did not think so. I still made my rounds to the refugees who came to our castle gates, and I still cared for Branford as best I could as his child—his son, he still insisted—wore my body down.
After an hour, I found myself tired out just from sitting and was mildly annoyed with Branford for waking me early with his lustful desires when we had such a long day ahead of us. It was too warm in the carriage as well, and though I fanned myself continuously, there was to be no relief from the heat of near-summer.
“Why don’t you try to rest?” Branford said.
“Do you not think I would rest if I could?” I snapped at him before I realized the words were forming on my tongue. “You are the reason I am so tired in the first place!”
“Alexandra!” Branford stared at me in shock. “Whatever is wrong with you?”
I tensed, realizing what I had just said to my husband and king and the way in which I said it.
“Branford…I…” I let my voice trail off, unsure what I could even say. I half expected him to cuff me for such insolence though he had never done such a thing. I glanced up and saw him looking at me sideways, his expression one of both anger and confusion. Our child chose that moment to kick out at my already bruised ribs and cause me to wince.
Branford moved slightly closer to me and tentatively ran his hand over my stomach.
“Shh, little one,” he said quietly. “It is all right.”
One of the babe’s feet pushed again at my stomach, this time against Branford’s hand. I watched my husband’s half-grin as he rubbed his thumb over the spot where the child had kicked.
“So strong,” Branford said. He looked back up at my face and followed the movement of his hand with his eyes. He caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger and then turned me toward him, his voice still soft. “You must be so tired of carrying him. I know he has made it hard for you to sleep, and the heat of the day is uncomfortable for you.”
“I am so sorry, my king,” I whispered, but he hushed me with his lips.
“As soon as we reach Sawyer Castle, I will make sure you are taken to the lower levels, where it is cooler. You will be more comfortable there and may even be able to nap while I gather the horses.”
I could only nod in response, glad Branford seemed to understand my reaction better than I did myself. It occurred to me that he had spoken with Sunniva only a fortnight ago when I had been unable to stop crying after dropping that cup of cider.
Though it was too warm for such closeness, I lay my head on Branford’s shoulder as he fanned my face. At least I could close my eyes for a time though I was not able to doze. The road was simply too rocky, and the carriage bumped along too much. I wondered if we could possibly put some of the refugees to work smoothing out the road between Silverhelm and Sawyer and was about to mention it to Branford when the carriage came to an abrupt stop.
Branford lay his hand against my cheek as he encouraged to me to sit up so he could check on the trouble outside. As he moved toward the carriage door, two of the guards rode up to the side of the carriage, and Branford peered out at them.
“My king—the road is blocked.”
“By whom?”
Branford asked. “We are in Silverhelm. No one should block the road from me!”
“I do not know, my king, but there are many soldiers…”
“Soldiers?” Branford whispered low as his eyes darted over to glance first at my eyes and then at my belly.
And that was when I knew we were in danger.
Chapter 4—Violently Captured
The look in Branford’s eyes hardened, and I knew in my heart it was only to hide his own terror. His hands clenched into fists for a moment before he placed one on the hilt of his sword and the other on the handle of the door.
“Do not leave this carriage.”
I could only nod, understanding immediately that there was to be no arguing with Branford on this matter. I could see him glancing at the bench underneath where we sat, and the thoughts that plagued his mind were evident to me. I yearned to reach out and offer him comfort, but there was no time. I would have even tried to stuff myself inside the bench if it would have lessened his worry, but there was no possible way for an adult to fit inside, let alone one who carried a child inside of her.
His gaze met mine once more, and he seemed to want to say something else but turned away from me instead. Branford exited the carriage, and I did not miss that he drew his sword as the door closed behind him, shielding my view. I shifted myself close to the door. I could still hear though the sounds were somewhat muffled.
“They have no markings,” one of the guards said.
“Mercenaries,” replied another voice. “Many of them.”
“Turn!” I heard Branford order. “We must head back!”
“It is too late, sire!”
“Draw your weapons!”
Within seconds, I heard the first clash of steel-on-steel. I covered my mouth with my hands though I was sure any scream I uttered would not have been heard over the noise right outside the carriage door. At first I moved to the far side of the carriage and away from the door, but then I moved closer as I tried to make sense out of the yelling and noise I could hear outside. It did not work—there were too many voices yelling, combined with the sound of panicked horses and swords. My teeth were practically puncturing my lip, and I did not know what I should do.