Unexpected Circumstances - the Complete Series

by Shay Savage

  “As am I,” I agreed. “How are you faring?”

  “Well,” Hadley said with a nod. “Though I’m not sure exactly what Princess Whitney has in mind. She seems to be hinting at the possibility of marrying me to someone though I know not who it could be. I am well past marrying age though, and I’m worried who it may be. At least I have never been given to a man, so I hope it will be someone of good station.”

  “Would you welcome this?” I asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Hadley said. “The idea of leaving her employ and being bound to a man is not distasteful. However, there are some men who are distasteful themselves. As long as he is not cruel, even if I am a second wife, at least I will have a chance at a family.”

  “Indeed.” I had to agree with my friend. “I was lucky that Branford chose me though I was not so sure at first. If it does happen, I hope you will be with a man who is as kind to you as Branford is to me.”

  “If you had told me that after I first met him, I would not have believed you!” Hadley giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. I smiled in return.

  “He has his moments,” I replied.

  “Recently?” Hadley’s voice quieted, and I knew of which she spoke.

  “In the past few days, actually,” I admitted. I held nothing back from her. “It is another month I am not with child, and he is understandably concerned.”

  “But you…I mean…you are with him…”

  “He takes me often, yes,” I said with a sigh and a smile. “It is not for lack of effort on his part, of that you may be certain.”

  “Then it must only be a matter of time,” my friend said with conviction. She sounded so sure of her words, and I only wished I could feel as certain as she.

  I did not.

  A messenger appeared in the garden, informing us that we were required again in the grand hall. I thought this odd, for the court had already gone about its own business, and the messenger seemed quite sure our presence was needed, not just mine but Hadley’s as well. We looked at each other questioningly, but we were each as bewildered as the other. In case we should not get another chance, Hadley and I embraced once again, said our quick goodbyes, and returned swiftly.

  Within the hall, Branford sat next to Camden. As I entered, King Edgar and Princess Whitney stood and began to walk toward Hadley and me. Whitney’s eyes, narrowed in a cruel smirk, found mine and then looked abruptly away.

  “A word, Hadley,” King Edgar said as I continued on my way to my husband’s side, and Hadley stopped to speak to her king.

  As I approached, Branford’s gaze met mine, but he quickly looked back toward Camden, his expression furious. King Camden did not raise his gaze to me but kept his eyes trained on Branford.

  “I said I did not wish her to be summoned,” Branford said with a growl under his breath.

  “It must be done, Branford,” Camden said quietly with a shake of his head.

  “Then I will do it in my own way!” Branford stood abruptly, his eyes still glaring at his adoptive father. He huffed out a breath through his nose, closed the distance between us, and grabbed for my hand. He took a step toward the main doors, where King Edgar still stood with the princess and Hadley, then turned quickly and led me out the small door behind the thrones.

  He practically dragged me up the narrow back staircase and threw open the door to the hallway. Once we were in our own rooms, he shut the door with a crash and turned to me. I cried out in surprise as he lifted me into his arms and wrapped them tightly around me.

  “I never, ever want to hurt you.” He moaned his words against my neck. “Never…I love you…cherish you…you are my world…”

  “Branford…what are you talking about?”

  “Please…my wife…my Alexandra…I need you…”

  “Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

  It was his way. When he was distressed or angered, he took my body and entered me like a zealot comes to a temple. There he would worship his troubled thoughts away until he could again think clearly and with the best interests of his people at the forefront of his mind.

  This was my sacrifice to Silverhelm.

  And what sweet sacrifice it was.

  He thrust his hands under my skirts, and he pushed them up and around to the back of my legs. He pulled at my undergarments, discarding them quickly before his hands captured my bare flesh instead. I started untying the laces of my bodice though I doubted I would have the chance to take it off.

  With his mouth pressed tightly to mine, he lifted me from the floor, turned, and pushed my back against the door to the hallway.

  “Branford…someone will hear…”

  “Let them listen,” he responded. “Let them hear what I do to you.”

  He reached for his trousers, and they fell quickly to the floor. I felt the tip of him at my entrance and gasped. A moment later, he was inside of me, and my head dropped back against the wooden door as he began the measured movements of his hips. My body hit the door with each thrust, creating a knocking sound that I was sure echoed through the hallways as my mouth turned up into a wry grin.

  Yes, people of Silverhelm. In case you were wondering, this is what your prince does to me.

  He tore at the remainder of my clothing as he continued his relentless pounding. He finished the laces I had started to untie and pulled the whole dress up and over my head without breaking his rhythm. In turn, I released the ties of his shirt and ran my hands up his chest and down his arms after the garment was tossed to the floor.

  Branford pulled out of me, pushed away the clothing that still clung to us, and tossed my naked body over his shoulder. I squealed as I felt his large, warm hand squeeze my buttocks before he walked us to our bed and tossed me onto the center of it. He crawled up my body like a wild, hungry animal—with blazing eyes and panting breaths.

  Branford’s gaze stayed locked with mine as he rose up on his knees, bringing my legs with him. He entered me again, slowly pushing and pulling but with increased intensity. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at me—desperate, needy, longing—that made me realize something was very wrong. I had no chance to think about it.

  With my ankles in his hands, he brought his arms behind his back, wrapping my legs at his hips. I held on to him as he moved forward, filling me as he reached up above me and grasped the headboard of the bed.

  “Hold on tightly to me,” Branford said in a low whisper. “Tell me if it is too much for you.”

  I could only nod in response as his arms tensed, and he gripped the top of the bed with his fingers. Using the wooden frame for support, he began thrusting into me—slow and hard.

  I cried out as he pulled back and entered me roughly. I reached for his body, and my hands splayed out on his chest as I tried to keep up with his movements.

  “Is it too much?” he whispered as he kissed my temple.

  “No,” I shook my head. “Please…more…”

  “As you wish,” he murmured, and the speed of his hips increased.

  Over and over again, he thrust hard and deep into me, pulling at the headboard with each thrust, using the leverage he gained to nearly lift me off the bed. I tightened my legs around his waist and lifted my hips up to meet him stroke for stroke. I grasped the hair at the back of his neck as I looked up to his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth partially open as his body strained to thrust into me harder and deeper. The muscles of his arms worked to hold tightly to the top of the bed as he twisted, plunged, and moved inside of me.

  He was glorious….magnificent…inhuman in his beauty.

  My body rippled, shuddered, clamped down, and let go as I cried out for my husband. I felt his muscles stiffen as he released into me, and instead of his usual, murmured prayers, he arched his head back and screamed to the heavens. With the release of his grip on the headboard, his body dropped over mine, and I felt the slickness of the sweat on his chest cover my skin. He nestled between my neck and shoulder, running his nose along the vessel in my
throat, his kisses following the trail.

  “You are mine,” he whispered softly against my neck. “You are all I have ever wanted, my wife…my perfection. You are what made me a man.”

  “Yours,” I moaned back to him, still somewhat incoherent. “Always.”

  “I am yours, too,” he told me. “No matter what, Alexandra—I belong to you.”

  “We belong to each other,” I said.

  “I love you so, so much, Alexandra.”

  “I love you, Branford. More than anything.”

  He tightened his arms around me, nearly crushing my chest into his. His labored breathing continued for some time, and his body remained tense even long after his release. He rolled to his back, still holding me tightly so that I rolled with him. His eyes were clenched shut, and when I reached up to touch his face, his expression was pained.

  “Branford? What is it?”

  He looked at me for a long moment, then cupped his hands around my face and kissed me thoroughly. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding me to him as his lips molded against mine again and again.

  I knew when my husband was agitated, and I knew when he was deflecting. He was obviously upset about something and trying to distract both of us with his skilled hands and tongue.

  “Branford, please,” I said as I broke away from his kiss. “Tell me what is upsetting you!”

  He pushed himself away from me and out of our bed. He reached for his robe and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders to ward off the chill. His steps took him near the fire, where he added another log, leaned against the mantle, and tried to calm himself.

  I had no idea what had made him so obviously angry, but he spent several minutes composing himself before he turned to me again. Even then, he did not speak right away. He went from looking at the fire, to Amarra, to the window, and then made the cycle again but did not seem able to bring his eyes to me.

  It was concerning, to say the least.

  “I have…news to tell you,” Branford said in a low voice. He kicked at a wayward piece of bark, propelling it toward the fire. He stepped to one side, touched Amarra’s head, and then turned to the window.

  It was his way of continuing the deflection from whatever subject was on his mind or the overthinking of the same. I was not sure which. Whatever he and Camden had spoken of in the grand hall must have been troubling. Could King Edgar be asking for additional concessions? We had given him nearly all we could spare.

  “What news?” I asked when he did not immediately elaborate. I sat up, pulling the sheets around my chest to ward off the chilled air.

  “Hadley is going to move to Silverhelm,” Branford said so quietly I could hardly hear him.

  “She is coming here?” I asked for clarification, but I could not hide my excitement. I loved my home here and Branford’s family dearly, but I had known Hadley all my life, and we understood one another. “To live? In Silverhelm?”

  “Yes.” Again, I could barely hear him.

  “This is wonderful!” I exclaimed as I beamed at him, but when I looked closer, my excitement diminished, for Branford had gone quite pale. I stood and grabbed my own garment for warmth before walking slowly to my again silent husband.

  I felt strangely hesitant and somewhat frightened. These were feelings that were almost completely unfamiliar to me now. I did not understand why such news would be of concern to my husband. Surely he did not think Hadley would be a spy from Hadebrand—he had also learned to appreciate and accept her during her visits to Silverhelm. He had mentioned several times that he wished Hadley would replace Janet in her duties and that he had enjoyed the few times they had spoken together.

  I reached out for him as I instinctively tried to make contact with his skin to comfort him though I did not know the reason he needed such reassurance.

  “Branford? What is it?”

  He took a step backward and away from me, and the pain in his eyes tore at my heart. He gripped his hands into fists, and the muscles of his arms strained against the pressure he exerted over them. He looked at me first then turned his head away and closed his eyes.

  “She is coming here…” He halted his word and took another deep breath. “She is coming here as my concubine.”

  And that is when my world shattered.

  BOOK FIVE: The Concubine

  Royalty requires sacrifice.

  As King Camden’s health declines, the need for an heir becomes crucial, impossible to ignore. With no other viable choice, Alexandra must stand stoically by when Hadley comes to the court of Silverhelm as Branford’s concubine. The queen’s edict of duty echoes through Alexandra’s mind as she accepts the loathsome conditions for the sake of the kingdom. The only person more devastated by the circumstances is Branford himself.

  As Branford spurns Alexandra’s affections and King Edgar continues to press his post-war advantage, all seems lost to the young couple. Treachery still lies deep within the castle of Silverhelm, and the revelation of the traitor will come from the least likely of sources.

  Chapter 25—Nearly Destroyed

  I felt warmth, then dizziness, and then the floor of the bedroom I shared with my husband seemed to be rapidly approaching my head. The words he spoke continued to revolve inside of my head, pushing me further down into oblivion.

  “She is coming here as my concubine.”

  As I fell, the dizziness worsened, but before my head hit the floor, I felt Branford’s strong arms encircle me. Then everything went completely dark. Though my mind was in turmoil within the blackness, I could still hear his voice.

  “God…please…no…”

  I still felt Branford’s arms around me though I could not open my eyes. I felt myself lifted and held against the hard warmth of his chest.

  “Why? Why are You doing this to her? I understand if I need to be punished, but not her! Not her!”

  I felt motion—my body rocking back and forth—still encased within the security of my husband’s embrace.

  “I am sorry, my wife…my love…so, so sorry…”

  I didn’t know how long my mind rejected all that was around me—the room, the words I had just heard—everything. I had not given him what he must have. I had not given him an heir. Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I knew there would be consequences. I knew something like this was possible.

  “Do not punish her so…please, God, please!”

  When I was finally able to bring air into my lungs, I slowly opened my eyes. Branford’s arms were wrapped tightly around me as he sat in our chair and held me against his chest. He rocked slightly, cradling me like, ironically, a child. The side of my face was pressed between the palm of his hand and the spot above his heart as he held me and rocked us both.

  “Not her…not her…”

  Somehow I managed to keep my eyes open, but I was still dizzy, and my vision was blurred. I looked up at my husband’s face, his eyes cast to the ceiling as he cried out over and over again. The light from the fire was on his face, and his cheeks glistened. I reached up and touched his cheekbone, finding it wet.

  Never before had I seen my husband’s tears.

  His gaze fell to me, and his pain washed through me and merged with my own.

  “Please…Alexandra, please,” he said, begging. “It was not my wish…you must know this…”

  “She will come here…to bear your child?”

  He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and he nodded once before he opened his eyes slowly.

  “Is there no other option?” I whispered to him, and his remorse multiplied in his eyes.

  “I did not want this, Alexandra,” he cried. I felt the pressure of his fingertips against my side. “If there were any other way, I would seek it. I swear to you! I do not want this! I was given no choice!”

  I could not find breath in my lungs.

  His words rushed through me, chilling me far more than the winter winds ever could have done. My mind tried to push the words away from me—denying that they had ever b
een spoken at all.

  But they had been.

  “Has Camden demanded it?” I didn’t need to hear his reply—it would be the only way he would have acquiesced.

  “He has,” Branford said, confirming my fear.

  “What was discussed before I returned?” I asked, knowing I did not truly wish to hear this at all, but I had to know.

  Branford took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. He cupped the back of my head and pulled me against his chest. I could hear the muffled beating of his heart below my cheek.

  “The need for an heir has been discussed before,” he said, “between Camden and myself. Edgar has made his thoughts on the matter clear.”

  Branford growled out the name of the man who had turned our kingdom upside down over the last year, continually demanding more and more from us. His constant threats to bring war directly to Silverhelm if we did not comply with his wishes had put him in a position of great power over our king.

  “I should have told you,” Branford said, “but I did not want you suffering the dread I have felt since the summer—the first time Camden expressed his concerns that you had not become with child. I did not want you living with the fear of what could be demanded.”

  His grip on me tightened as he continued.

  “Edgar has brought it up on numerous occasions. He enjoys my reaction when he tells me I should have married his daughter, for in his eyes, commoners should not bear future kings. I have ignored and endured his comments, but as the months went by, he kept repeating them. He all but demanded I renounce you as my wife and take Whitney’s hand. I refused to comply. I will not do that, but Camden and the rest of the court concurred—I must have an heir. The kingdom is too unsure—too volatile after the loss of the war with Hadebrand. They need to know the line of succession is not broken. They must be able to have faith in their king…and their future king.”

  I felt his lips on top of my head, and he brushed his hand through my hair.

  “Camden is not as strong as he would like others to believe even though he cannot hide it all the time. He is not long for this world, I fear. If I take the throne without an heir, it will leave us vulnerable not only to Hadebrand but to others who side with them. They said it had to be done—that I must have a child—before next spring.”