Unexpected Circumstances - the Complete Series

by Shay Savage

  “Please…please…” I heard myself begging as Branford rocked slowly against me, allowing the tension to build up gradually and maddeningly.

  “You feel so glorious,” he whispered into my ear. “I love feeling you come apart around me. Do my fingers please you, my wife?”

  The tip of his finger circled that sensitive area right above where we connected. Branford’s hips bucked slowly against me as his finger probed and touched. His lips went back to my jaw, then captured my cries as I tilted my hips against his and felt my body shudder around him. I gripped his shoulders and pulled him to me as his movements hastened. He reached down and slipped one arm under my leg, holding it high against his shoulder as he moaned with each thrust into me. His pace quickened, and his hips met mine in quick, forceful strokes. Only a moment later, he was crying out for me as I felt his release deep inside my body.

  He kissed me again.

  “I love you,” he murmured against my lips, “so much…my wife…”

  “My husband,” I whispered back. “My king…my Branford…I love you…”

  He rolled to his side and brought me with him. With our arms wrapped around each other, I watched Branford’s face as his breathing slowed and his heart began to beat a more regular rhythm. I traced over his jaw with my fingertips, feeling the rough stubble that had grown there since morning.

  With a long, deep sigh, Branford closed his eyes and pulled my head to his chest.

  “I love you, Alexandra,” he said quietly. “I have failed you regardless but no more. I will be at your side, making sure you do not come to harm. I will not entrust my most prized possession to anyone else to guard. Never again.”

  His arms tightened around my shoulders for a moment.

  “There are times and places where I am not welcome,” I reminded him. “There are traditions…”

  “To hell with those traditions,” Branford said simply. “I will not be parted from you.”

  I thought about this for a minute.

  “What if I go to the chapel to speak with Father Tucker?”

  Branford cupped my cheeks and tilted my face to his.

  “You have something you must confess?” he asked. I could see the wry humor in his eyes.

  “Perhaps,” I said, and I smiled through my blush. “I do sometimes have…lustful thoughts.”

  “Do you now?”

  I nodded.

  “Who is in your lustful thoughts?” Branford’s hot breath danced around my ear. “For if it is anyone other than me, I will have him drawn and quartered immediately.”

  “Branford!” I cried out. “What a horrible thing to say!”

  He only shrugged.

  “It is the truth of the matter,” he said.

  “It is a good thing only one man invades my thoughts.”

  “Hmm…”—his mouth brushed over mine—“and who would that be?”

  “You,” I whispered. “Only you…ever…”

  “Good.”

  He rolled back on top of me, and his knees pushed my legs apart as he entered me again. His movements were different as was the look in his eyes as he claimed me again and again that night. There was no desperation or rush, only the two of us wrapped up in each other.

  We were protected—the army of Seacrest would join with Silverhelm and shield us from any attack. We might not be prepared to go to war, but we would be able to defend ourselves and would no longer have to bow to pressure from Hadebrand. Edgar had been shamed in front of the other nobles, and word of his part of the treachery against Silverhelm would spread quickly. He would no longer be allowed to cross our borders to make demands, threaten, or harass us.

  There was one other thought that reverberated through my head as my husband’s body entered mine over and over again, and this was the thought that caused my lips to turn up into a smile as sensations flooded my body.

  I was not barren.

  Branford’s seed filled me again, and this time I joined him in prayer.

  And that was when I knew there was still hope.

  Chapter 31—Tenderly Promise

  Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts were haunted by images of flames. My nostrils still burned with the smell of acrid smoke. My emotions were everywhere—part of me mourning the loss of one of the few people I had considered a friend while also consumed with anger over what she had denied Branford and me all this time. My anger was not even singular, for I was as angry with myself as I was with Janet.

  “What is filling your mind?” Branford asked softly. He laced his fingers through my hair as he held me against his chest.

  “How could I have been so foolish?” I replied. It was the thought that had been running through my head over and over again. “After…after she said those things, and I thought back to all the times she would make sure I drank...”

  I took a deep breath and brushed my fingers over the soft hairs that made a thin line down the center of his stomach. His skin twitched beneath my touch, and I splayed my hand out on his abdomen.

  “I thought she was just trying to take care of me, but now I see the memories in such a different light.”

  I felt Branford nod as his chin touched the top of my head.

  “I understand that feeling,” he said.

  “I believed her,” I said, “but you never trusted her.”

  Branford sighed.

  “I rarely trust anyone,” he responded. “I am not sure which method is the most advantageous.”

  He touched my forehead briefly with his lips before he went back to stroking my hair. I sighed and closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would finally come, but I could not relax. My mind was full of too many questions.

  “What will happen to King Edgar and Princess Whitney?” I asked.

  Branford stilled a moment before responding.

  “There is little I can do without openly declaring war,” Branford admitted. “They are true royals—not like Nelle or Kimberly, who are mere nobles. To kill someone from another royal family would not be looked upon favorably by other kingdoms. Even with Rylan’s protection, we could not survive another war right now.”

  “I do not understand,” I said. “If Edgar was behind this…this plot to keep us childless, can he not be punished?”

  “If we could prove his involvement, it would be possible.” Branford rolled over to his side, taking me with him. He propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down at my face as his fingers stroked my cheek. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Still, it would be very difficult. If there was direct proof—something much more tangible than a lesser noble’s claim—then I would not only have the justification to demand punishment but likely the backing of the other royal families. Nelle’s confession was enough information to secure Seacrest and Rylan’s uncle, King Liam, in an alliance with Silverhelm but not enough to demand compensation.”

  “Compensation?” I repeated, confused.

  “Interfering with a royal bloodline is certainly an offense,” Branford informed me, “and would require Edgar to compensate Silverhelm if the allegations could be proven.”

  “Compensate how?”

  “Typically soldiers, grain, or gold,” Branford replied. “He would never offer soldiers, of course, and his gold does not really interest me. I must admit I would take the grain if it were offered. There are still so many refugees going hungry in the outer regions. In the eyes of the royals, that would make up for his part in Janet’s actions.”

  “But if what Lady Suzette said was correct, and the tea was…was killing our…”

  Unable to say it aloud, my words failed, and Branford wrapped his arms around my back. I buried my face in the space between his shoulder and neck and tried to breathe regularly as Branford rocked me slightly in his arms.

  “I know, my wife,” he said softly. He tried to soothe me as I gathered myself together.

  “Can he not be punished for that?” I finally asked as I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand.

  “Are you asking if I ca
n have him executed for what he has done?” Branford’s tone turned harsh.

  I felt my shoulders tense, and the burning behind my eyes began again. I thought again of the children we might have had…those that may have even started growing inside of me only to be destroyed before they had a chance at life. I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

  “Yes,” I replied softly, surprised I could even speak.

  “Not for that, no,” Branford replied. “Only the direct murder of another royal could call for such a measure, and there would have to be undeniable proof. If there was no need for that, I would have killed him years ago.”

  “Because you believe he was behind your parents’ murders.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you have no proof.”

  “None.”

  “What if you did?”

  Branford paused for a moment, and his gaze held a faraway look.

  “That would change everything,” he finally said softly. “If I could show the other royal families what he was capable of doing, they would all stand behind the massacre that would ensue.”

  His gaze met mine.

  “But as it is, I have only the belief in my heart. They will never support any action without the proof. If I were to move against him directly and personally, even in light of Janet’s actions, they would not stand for it, and the armies of some of the other kingdoms would side with Hadebrand.”

  “They did not help him before,” I said. Branford’s information about the military and how they formed alliances was much more forthcoming than it normally was, and I tried to take advantage of the situation.

  “No,” Branford said, “but I do believe he hired many mercenaries—those who are only loyal to coin, not to a kingdom—to fight his battle for him. It is the only way he could have gathered so many soldiers so quickly. Our previous war was considered nothing more than a border dispute, but any attack on a royal family is seen as an affront to all royals. If I were to attack now, he would garner more support from the surrounding kingdoms.”

  I thought about this, and I supposed it made some sense. How else would the royals avoid constant bloodshed between royal families if they did not protect each other even when they were not allies? With such a rule, they would keep their own people and lands safe as long as there was no evidence of treachery. It stopped them from fighting amongst themselves and discouraged any secretive foul play. If all royal families would side with the offended family, who would dare go against a neighbor?

  No wonder they killed their servants without a second thought. They used us to quell their thirst for bloodshed against each other.

  I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was no longer a servant but the Queen of Silverhelm. My people would not be treated this way—not as long as I had any say in what happened.

  And how often was that?

  I found it strange that as a queen, I had little more true authority than I had before King Camden’s passing. All authority resided with Branford, and my crown was really no more than a larger version of the ring around my finger. I had freedoms, yes, but when it came down to making a decision, all eyes turned to my husband.

  In the beginning, I would not have known what to say, regardless of someone asking my opinion, but the situation was different now. I had seen the amount of luxury provided for those with my status and had made sure some of that was designated for our people. Branford seemed indifferent to these actions though he did defend them when his advisor complained about the refugees loitering at the castle gates all the time. I knew all too well that if Branford forbid me from doing something, I would have to obey—queen or not. Just as Branford had to obey Camden’s decree to take Hadley as his concubine, I would have to obey any command from my husband.

  Branford had never spoken directly of his involvement with Hadley. I knew more of what transpired from Hadley than from my husband. With everything that had happened this day, I supposed we would be releasing her from service.

  “Branford?” I whispered against his shoulder.

  “Hmm?” his sleepy voice replied.

  “What will become of Hadley now?”

  I felt his body stiffen next to me. There was a long moment of silence before he responded with a low, almost raspy voice.

  “What do you want to become of her?” I could feel the tips of his fingers tense against the skin of my back.

  “We should not need her services any longer,” I said quietly, baffled. He seemed so hesitant with an answer I would have thought obvious. Did he wish to keep her as his concubine?

  “No,” Branford said softly, “we do not need her.”

  He pushed away from me and sat up, placing his head in his hands as he bent over his knees. I looked at him, confused and concerned by his reaction. Did he wish to keep her with us in case I was unable to bear a child regardless of Janet’s treachery? Was there some other reason he wanted her here?

  “We never needed her!” Branford yelled suddenly, and I jumped as I stifled a small cry. “I did not have to do any of it! It was completely needless, and I never had to touch her at all…”

  I brought myself up onto my knees and placed my hands on Branford’s shoulders, feeling relieved he did not want to keep Hadley as his concubine and at the same time, concerned at his outburst. He lifted his head to look at me, and I could see the slight shine from wetness at the corner of his eyes. He quickly looked away from me again, placing his forehead on his knees and wrapping his arms around his head.

  “It was all for nothing,” he whispered. “I hurt you for nothing.”

  “You did not know, Branford,” I said softly as I tried to keep my own tears in check. “None of us did.”

  I felt his muscles tense under my fingers.

  “Could she have known?” Branford turned to me, and his eyes were dark and terrifying. “Did she know what I was doing was for naught? She came from Hadebrand, Alexandra. If she knew…if she lay there while I…knowing all along…”

  His words were frightening, for I knew what he was saying and the implication that went along with it. If he believed Hadley to be involved, her fate would be the same as my handmaid’s.

  “Branford,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft and calm, “I also came from Hadebrand.”

  His gaze locked with mine, and for the briefest of moments, I regretted my words. Reminding him at this moment of where I grew up was likely not the wisest of words to come from my mouth. I held my breath, waiting for his reaction and feeling—for the first time in many months—somewhat afraid of my husband’s temper.

  Slowly, his gaze dropped back to his hands resting over his legs, and his eyes closed. I felt his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths. When his eyes opened again, he turned where he sat and placed his hands on my hips.

  “I hate what I did,” Branford said, his eyes closed tightly as he touched his forehead to mine, “and to discover now how pointless it had been. To know it was not necessary…it makes me…makes me want…”

  I slid my fingers up the tense muscles of his arm, over his shoulder and jaw until I cupped his face with my hands.

  “It is behind us now,” I told him. “We have another chance. I may still bear your child.”

  “You will,” he said with conviction as his mouth covered mine suddenly. His words became muffled against my lips as he angled me backwards against the mattress. “You will have my child…no one else. No one…ever…I swear…”

  “But what if I cannot—”

  “Hush,” he said, and his mouth covered mine again.

  “But we do not know—” Again he cut off my words with his mouth. His tongue touched my lips for a moment before he moved slowly to my chin and up my jaw.

  “I will never, never touch another woman,” Branford whispered with hot breath into my ear. “I would die before I ever let that happen again. It almost killed me, knowing what I was doing to you…”

  “I know, my Branford,” I replied.

  “I hated it…ha
ted what I was doing…hated myself for not knowing what else to do…”

  “Hush,” I whispered, repeating the word he had used with me many times before. My lips trailed over his neck. “No more. It is only us now…”

  “How can you not hate me?” He wrapped his arms tightly around me, and his body stilled completely atop mine. “After so many mistakes and so many failures, how can you still trust me to provide for you and keep you safe? How can you even believe the words that emanate from my mouth?”

  Our eyes met, and I could see the sorrow darkening the green of his irises.

  “I love you, Branford,” I reminded him. “When I fell in love with you, I knew you were not a perfect man. I would not stop loving you for making mistakes, especially those you believed were right at the time. I only want you with me—loving me. I do not expect perfection.”

  “I am very far from perfect.” Branford agreed with a nod. “Yet somehow I have been delivered you, so at some point I must have done something to please God.”

  His lips brushed softly across my mine, and I felt his smile.

  “After all, he did send me one of his angels.”

  Heat rose to my face, and Branford quickly kissed each of my cheeks. His fingers trailed down my side until they reached my hip. Using it for leverage, he slowly entered me with a single thrust, then continued gradually, pulling nearly all the way out before burying himself in me again and again. In this way, he slowly brought me over the edge before I felt the warmth of his climax inside of me.

  He collapsed on top of me, and I relished the feel of his weight against my body. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, holding him tightly to me as his hot breath coated my body.

  “I will not let you down again.” Branford breathed against that spot of skin on my neck to which he was so often drawn. “I will be at your side, protecting you, always. Edgar would have to kill me before I would allow any harm to come to you again.”

  *****

  In the weeks that followed, Branford kept his word. We were never far from each other, and if we were more than a few feet apart, it was when Branford trained with his army, or I was required in the Women’s Room. Against my wishes, he brought a farm woman in from the borders of Silverhelm to prepare and test my food and drink before it was offered to me. Though I argued against it, both Sunniva and Branford were adamant—my safety was more important, and the woman’s family would be well compensated for her loyalty.