Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03

by The Promise Keeper

  So it was with a feeling of heady relief when she saw the challenge in his eyes and realized he meant to test her claim that she was no longer a child, but a woman worthy of his consideration as such. Elena sighed again, her lips curving in a dreamy smile as she remembered the sensation of Michel’s lips crushing hers. She grinned, recalling how she was forced to disguise her shock when his tongue slid along her bottom lip seeking entrance to her mouth. Her lips had parted on a breathless gasp, and then his tongue swept inside to engage hers. After that her recollections weren’t so clear. She could only recall the avalanche of feelings that swamped her when Michel pulled her closer against him, and then filled his large hand with the softness of her breast. Even now her breath caught in her throat at the way his thumb teased her erect nipple until she thought she could no longer stand on her own and realized it was only his strong arm around her keeping her upright.

  She’d felt his male hardness nestled against the soft flesh of her belly and understood what it signified. Elena’s lips curved in a satisfied, reminiscent smile because even in her innocence she understood Prince Michel was not thinking of her as a child when he held her close against his hardness. His breathing had grown harsh and uneven as his lips trailed across the delicate skin of her throat.

  Dreams of what her future would hold if she became his wife and the intimacies they would share replaced her terror of what she once believed her future would hold. All of a sudden the future appeared bright and full of promise. She supposed she should give her maker his due. Hadn’t she prayed for God to send her a knight to rescue her from Baron Raulf’s evil clutches?

  Smiling, she sent up a heartfelt prayer to her heavenly father, and then suddenly recalling her desire for a few moments privacy to pray for her uncle’s eternal soul, she hung her head in contrite shame and offered a fervent petition for her uncle’s gentle spirit.

  After but a few moments of quiet prayer and reflection, however, her thoughts were back to swirling around inside her head in a chaotic manner and she was unable to concentrate further on her petitions. Her lips curled upward in a foolish smile and her hands drew playful designs in the sandy earth where she rested near the stream. Her fingers brushed across something hard and sharp, and distracted from her pleasant daydreams, she let her gaze drop downward to see what her busy hands had unearthed. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight greeting her, and her lips formed an astonished, “Oh!”

  The familiar stone was caked with mud and sand, and the silver clasp that kept it tethered to the thin silver chain around its owner’s neck was no longer polished and shining, but she reluctantly acknowledged what she had uncovered. The gem no longer glowed blue in the early morning light as it did when it rested against Michel’s flesh, but there was little doubt in Elena’s mind she’d found the treasure he so frantically pursued against the current after he lost it while bathing that morning. For a brief, guilt-inducing moment Elena considered leaving the stone where she found it. Given their recent exchange, she was reluctant to remind Michel of the lady who had likely made a gift to him of the strange jewel.

  Recalling his stricken expression at its loss, Elena knew it would not be right for her to deprive him of a keepsake Michel so obviously valued. So with studied reluctance, she carefully dug the stone out from its resting place and lifted it onto her lap so she could examine the odd amulet more closely. It wasn’t the work of a particularly skilled artisan, she thought, eyeing its sharp edges and uneven lines. Even as she lifted it from her lap to examine it more closely, the gem slipped from her grasp and rolled down the bank towards the stream.

  Gasping in surprise, Elena stretched out her arm and closed her fist around the stone just as it would have fallen back into the rushing water. Silently rebuking herself for her carelessness, she scooted herself back several feet away from the river’s edge with the jeweled stone clasped firmly in her closed fist, only belatedly becoming aware of a burning sensation in her hand, as if the treasure she held resented her interference in its course. Muttering beneath her breath she quickly dropped the stone into her lap and shook her hand to ease the stinging pain.

  Her brows drawn together in confusion she examined the palm of her hand that held the stone. There were red marks on her skin mirroring the shape of the stone. Confused by the evidence she could not make sense of, she carefully used her skirts to cradle Michel’s lost treasure while she crawled back to the stream to dunk her hand in the cold water to ease her discomfort.

  When she pulled her hand back out of the stream she was relieved to find the pain had left her but the odd imprint remained. More careful now, she scooted back away from the edge, wrapped the stone in a handful of her skirt and stowed it in her pocket, only to have it slide through a previously undiscovered hole, fall to the ground and bounce along, seemingly of its own accord, back in the direction of the stream.

  Astonishment froze her steps for a brief moment before she set off in pursuit of what she now concluded must be a magic stone. No wonder Michel was so devastated by its loss. She managed to catch up with the fleeing treasure before it was once more lost beneath the rushing current, but not before she slid from the slippery bank and fell head first into the icy water. Muttering over her own clumsiness and the stone’s seeming intent to escape her grasp; she once more wrapped the recalcitrant treasure in a length of her skirt and awkwardly climbed out of the stream. She wasn’t taking any chances on stowing it away again, so shivering with cold, and using her free hand to drag the wet tail of her long hair away from her face, she set off along the trail in the direction of the camp.

  While she squished along in her wet, borrowed boots, she prayed fervently there would be no one around to witness her embarrassment when she returned to camp. Of course, her prayers went unanswered. The two guards Michel assigned to watch over her, upon hearing her surprised scream at finding herself in the icy water were already hurrying along the path to her rescue. Seeing her bedraggled and obviously unharmed condition, one of the men did his best to suppress his amused grin while at the same time removing his dry cloak and offering it to her.

  Elena muttered her less than gracious gratitude for his consideration, then expressed a second, more heartfelt thanks when she enfolded her shivering form in its warmth. Fortunately her guards didn’t compound her embarrassment by asking her what had happened or pestering her with questions about whether or not she was all right. As if sensing her discomfort at her own clumsiness they thankfully escorted her in silence so she could wallow in it in peace.

  She was thankful Michel was not around to witness her return to camp. She did not doubt he would have enjoyed the sight of the ridiculous spectacle she made in her muddy, damp gown and tangled, wet hair, trailed by two guards who she suspected were grinning like fools behind her back. After their passionate exchange she did not wish to give him any reason to revert to thinking of her as a troublesome child in need of constant looking after. At the entrance to her tent she returned the soldier’s damp cloak to him and avoided meeting his amused expression as she once more expressed her gratitude for coming to her rescue.

  Once inside, she immediately stripped out of her wet gown and set about drying herself the best she could. It soon became apparent the only way she was going to get the mud out of her hair was to brave the icy stream. Since she had no intention of making a return trip to the source of her embarrassment before the following day, she contented herself with washing the mud away from her skin and face with a cloth and the pitcher of fresh water Michel’s squire kept her supplied with.

  She hid in her tent for the remainder of the day, feeling ridiculous and not a little bit sorry for herself, which only contributed to her feelings of shame and stupidity when she remembered her uncle’s passing just hours earlier. Pitiful tears stung her eyes and she sank to the ground in the middle of her tent with her arms wrapped around her legs, wishing more than ever for the company of another woman to share her complaints and her sorrow with.

  She hadn’t mo
ved from her place in the center of the tent when an hour later, Michel’s squire called out to her from outside the closed opening of the tent, seeking entrance. She brushed the traces of self-pitying tears from her eyes, and swiftly gaining her feet, granted him permission to enter.

  When he did so, it was with a wide smile on his face that puzzled her. The prince’s squire had never been particularly friendly towards her and he had made it clear without being insolent he resented having to see to her needs and considered the duty beneath him. His smile widening at her confusion, he stepped aside from the entrance. Holding the cloth back he motioned for the two men trailing him to enter.

  Elena gasped with stunned pleasure at the sight of the copper tub the men carried between them and then burst into astonished sobs at the trail of soldiers following their comrades, each carrying a bucket of steaming water to fill the tub with. She was too overcome to properly thank them for their consideration. Where in the world had the tub come from? Surely an army did not travel with such conveniences.

  “With Prince Michel’s compliments,” the young squire informed her with a gallant bow, then seeing she was beyond a reasonable response, turned to follow the grinning soldiers from the tent with a wide smile curving his own lips.

  Elena was too delighted with the prospect of a real bath to regret too much the realization that Michel must have witnessed her humiliation after all. As she stripped out of her clothes for a second time in the middle of the day, she decided a little embarrassment was not too high a price to pay for the precious gift she’d been given. She let out a little moan of pleasure when she stepped into the steaming water and then dipped her head beneath it to scrub her hair free of the dried mud from the stream and luxuriated in the warm water until it grew as cold as the surrounding air.

  Chapter Eight

  Michel had been deep in conversation with Amele and the messenger who just returned from the city with information about the king’s funeral arrangements when he spotted Elena emerging from the shadow of the trees and hurry in the direction of her tent. His lips curved at the realization she somehow managed to fall into the stream and was doing her best to pretend she hadn’t. The two soldiers trailing her were obviously vastly amused by her condition and Michel found his own lips curving in response. It was hard to reconcile her bedraggled state with the passionate woman he’d held in his embrace not so many minutes earlier.

  Shaking his head, he recognized Elena had a disconcerting habit of shifting back and forth between the child he vowed to her uncle he would protect and the desirable, beautiful woman who was only just beginning to emerge from the innocence of childhood. He was a bit disgusted with himself when he was forced to acknowledge he was drawn to her on both levels. Watching her return, he was surprised when her eyes didn’t scan the camp in search of him as was her usual habit.

  Perhaps she was embarrassed by the intimacies they shared. If a few kisses were all it took to relieve him of her clinging presence, he decided he should have availed himself of the strategy sooner and saved himself the inconvenience of waking up before dawn for an unpleasant appointment with the icy stream.

  As he watched her pass through the opening of her tent, he hoped it was embarrassment only and not fear that kept her from his side. He would not wish to be equated in her mind with Baron Raulf. After all, young, innocent maids were wont to dramatize every little thing and turn them around in their silly heads until they became the victims of fire-breathing dragons or randy knights who took advantage of their innocence to steal a few kisses.

  “So we are agreed, Prince Michel?”

  At the sound of his name, Michel drew his attention away from the source of his annoying distraction and back to the matter at hand. “Agreed on what?”

  Michel was aware of Amele’s quickly suppressed smile at his inattention, but his old friend refrained from commenting on it and simply repeated the conclusions they reached while his focus was occupied elsewhere.

  “King Barnabas will lie in state so the citizens of the city will have an opportunity to pay their respects. You mentioned Lady Elena wished to bid her uncle a final farewell,” Amele reminded him of their earlier exchange before Elena’s appearance drew his attention away from their conversation.

  “Yes. I believe it’s time for us to make our presence felt,” Michel remarked. At Amele’s speculative look, Michel added with a grin, “In the most peaceful and respectful manner, of course. What better way to accomplish both objectives than by accompanying Lady Elena on her visit to the castle to pay her respects, and at the same time bidding my own farewell to my friend, Barnabas?”

  “You intend to escort Lady Elena personally?” Amele asked.

  “Yes. I am now her legal guardian. She is my responsibility,” Michel reminded him.

  Baron Gallagher interjected, “Are you in a position to prove your guardianship over Lady Elena?”

  “If necessary,” Michel acknowledged, “but I would prefer to delay such a display until after the king has been laid to rest.”

  The older man’s lips curved in a satisfied smirk. “The king appointed you guardian over his niece?”

  At Michel’s confirming nod, amused laughter erupted from between the other man’s grinning lips. “Please, my prince, you must promise me I may be present when you reveal this news to Raulf.”

  Michel nodded, “Then you had better accompany us into the city. I am not certain how much control we will be able to exercise over the timing of events once it becomes clear I have no intention of allowing Elena to remain in the city after she pays her respects to her uncle.”

  The other man bowed his appreciation. “It will be my very great pleasure to accompany you, my prince.”

  The following morning as they prepared to leave on their errand to the city, a keen sense of anticipation hovered over the camp. It was accompanied by a sense of genuine relief that the long days and nights spent in anticipation of the order to take the city were coming to a close. The fact that their long deferment in the mountains might come to an abrupt end that very morning was on every soldier’s mind. The commanders were on full alert and had the men under their command ready to invade Calei at the first sign of a threat to their cause.

  Not everyone was in agreement that the future king should enter the city as a member of such a small company. What if one of their enemies discovered Michel’s true identity? The other contenders to the throne were not so foolish as to think they could challenge for the people’s affections over the potential return of a true heir to the throne. In such an event, seeing the new king riding in such a small and seemingly ill-defended party might provide a source of temptation too tempting for them to refuse. Michel was aware Amele shared in their doubts, but when Michel made his wishes known, his counselor merely nodded his acceptance and made the necessary preparations.

  Elena rode between Michel and Amele. Gabriel, as the captain of the king’s guard, was already at the castle standing watch over the now defenseless body of his dead king. In addition to Baron Timothy, three other noblemen along with their retainers accompanied them. In all, they were a group of twelve who approached the honor guards at the city gates. From where he rode at her side, Michel looked down upon his silent companion.

  “Are you certain you wish to do this?”

  Elena raised an uncertain glance to his. Her eyes appeared huge and hesitant, in her pale face, but her response, when it came, reflected her determination to see her decision through. “Yes. My Uncle Barnabas is the only father I can remember. I will not let them keep me away.”

  Michel nodded, and reminded her sternly, “If things become complicated, you are to go with Gabriel. He will secret you away from the castle and see to your safety.”

  Her intent gaze probed his, and for a moment Michel thought she might protest his order, and then apparently thinking better of her inclination to do so, she nodded her reluctant agreement. A moment later she reached out her hand to clasp his arm and leaned closer towards him, asking so
ftly in a voice only he could hear, “You promise you will not leave me behind?”

  “I promise,” he assured her solemnly and reached up to squeeze her hand where it rested on his arm. Reassured, Elena reclaimed her hand and left him to his thoughts.

  Michel wasn’t sure what to expect in the way of a reception from the guards manning the gates to his grandfather’s kingdom. He was reminded of his predecessor’s fanciful prediction that once Michel passed through them his heart would forever belong to Calei. Michel could still summon a smile for the dying king’s whimsy but it was with a sense of a man facing his destiny that he pulled on Arden’s reins at the challenge issued by the head of the guard manning the gates.

  “My lords. Lady Elena. Welcome to our fair city. I am certain you have heard of our near grief. A period of mourning has been called so that our citizens might have the opportunity to pay their respects to King Barnabas’ memory. No weapons are allowed to pass these gates while the king’s body lies in state.”

  It had been agreed among them that Timothy would speak for their company as he was well-known in the city and was not considered one of the many contenders for the now vacant throne. “We are unarmed, my friend. As you can see we escort Lady Elena so she may pay her respects to her uncle’s memory.”

  “You may pass,” the guard announced with all due formality given the solemn occasion.

  Michel looked around with expectant curiosity as they passed through the gates. If there was surprise at their appearance it was directed in Elena’s direction not his. No doubt the guards and the citizens they passed were startled to find Elena outside of the city gates at the time of her uncle’s passing. He could feel her tension escalating beside him with each step they drew closer to the huge keep that dominated the skyline. She gripped her mount’s reins as if they were a life-line. In an instinctive protective gesture, Michel moved Arden closer to her side, silently assuring her that she would not be forced to face the beast alone. He nodded reassuringly when she raised her pale face to his.