Return of the Prince_Medieval Romance

by Elise de Sallier

  “I love you, too.” She swiped at her damp cheeks with the back of one hand before echoing his words from earlier in the night. “With all my heart.”

  He returned her smile, but it faded when her brow furrowed.

  “You’ve been hurt.” She looked to his arm, blinking back more tears. “You are bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing . . . just a scratch.” His heart warmed at her concern, but in this moment, he wanted—nay needed—more than her sympathy. Cupping her cheek, he drew her attention back to face, lowering his head at the same time as she went up on her toes. Their mouths met, her lips moving softly against his then more firmly as the kiss went from comforting to arousing in a swirling flash of heat and desire. Destrian groaned and deepened the kiss. Invading her mouth with his tongue, he savoured her sweet taste again and again. She arched into him, and he pulled her closer, relief and passion threatening to overwhelm him.

  “Eloise, sweetheart,” he murmured against her mouth, otherwise lost for words. He loved her more than his own life, and he wanted her more than he had imagined possible. Whatever the future held, he couldn’t do without her at his side.

  “Oh, Destrian,” she whispered.

  The obstacles they were yet to overcome faded into insignificance, as he deepened the kiss once more.

  The sound of a voice being cleared reminded him they were not alone, and Destrian reluctantly drew away from Eloise’s lips. Looking up, he saw the priest, an elderly man with a kindly face, watching them from a few yards away.

  “You arrived just in time, Your Highness,” he said with a bemused smile. “After being dragged from my bed at the point of a sword, I wasn’t sure how I was going to avoid marrying this lovely young lady to the less-than-gentlemanly character your men just felled. I could tell her consent had been coerced, but that doesn’t appear to be the case now. I do hope you are not planning on taking the swarthy fellow’s advice and making her your mistress?”

  Eloise ducked her head and would have pulled away, but Destrian held her against his side. “I love her, and I want her for my wife.”

  His words were nothing less than the truth. Glancing around at their location and then back to the priest, he came to a decision. He would be going against protocol, and there would probably be hell to pay, but if Eloise agreed, a wedding would be performed this night after all.

  Chapter 14

  Eloise’s mouth dropped open, Destrian’s declaration that he wanted her for his wife robbing her of breath. Admittedly, marriage was the natural progression for a young couple in their situation, a couple caught kissing passionately . . . in a church . . . in front of a priest. If their situation wasn’t so far from typical, she would have said their fates were sealed.

  Her cheeks aflame, Eloise sent the minister an apologetic look. Elderly but astute, he had been true to his word. Despite having a sword waved in his face, he had put on an act of infirmity, stumbling and dragging his feet in an effort to delay what had seemed the inevitable fulfilment of Rulf’s wicked plan. When he had run out of plausible excuses, and it appeared Eloise’s time was up, she had come close to despair. Fear for Ayleth’s safety had added to her concerns, but Destrian and his men had arrived in dramatic fashion, saving them all.

  A glance Ayleth’s way brought a tentative smile to Eloise’s lips. The young seamstress appeared no worse for wear, but her eyes were like saucers as she stared at the rather tall and extremely handsome crown prince of Varianda whose arm remained firmly around Eloise’s shoulders. Despite her willingness to assist Eloise in her plan to reach Destrian and beg for his help, it seemed Ayleth hadn’t truly believed her tale of having won his affection. She could hardly blame her, as it was a story more suited to a fairy-tale. Servants did not catch the eyes of princes, well, other than for a fleeting dalliance. They certainly did not become their brides.

  Rulf’s crass suggestion wasn’t very appealing, or likely to occur, as she suspected Destrian was too honourable to make her his mistress. But marriage? Despite allowing herself the indulgence of a flight of fancy back at the palace, she didn’t think it was possible. Which left . . .

  A shudder ran through her, as Eloise considered how it would feel to pursue her original intention now she knew Destrian loved her. She had been delivered from the fate Gloria had condemned her to without a qualm, for which she would be eternally grateful. There was no doubt in her mind Destrian would help her gain her independence if she asked, but refusing him—if marriage really was his intention—would be agony. A sob caught in her throat, and she instinctively tightened her grip on his waist.

  “Give me a moment, sweetheart.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead before turning to face their audience. “Justin, are the captives secure?”

  “Bound, gagged, and well-guarded.” Lord Winterfold gestured to where the two men had been dragged outside. “They won’t be running or accidentally released. I shall escort them back to the palace and see to their imprisonment personally.”

  “Good.” Destrian nodded. “Don’t leave yet, as I’d like you to act as witness, but Rulf will need his wounds tended to. There are questions I want answered, and I don’t wish for him to expire before I return.”

  “I’ll see to it.” Lord Winterfold glanced towards Eloise. “When you say witness, are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? Because if you are, I am not sure you’ve thought it through.”

  Destrian laughed, his face breaking into a grin. “I have thought of little else since meeting this extraordinary young lady, I just didn’t believe it was possible. Now that I have been presented with the opportunity, I am not about to let it slip through my fingers.”

  While flattered, Eloise could not remain silent, and she tugged on Destrian’s arm until his gaze met hers. “Lord Winterfold is right. I don’t think marriage is possible . . . if that is to what you are referring?” she finished with a whisper, embarrassed to be making such a presumption. It wasn’t as if he had proposed.

  “Forgive me, Your Highness,” the priest interjected. “But the young lady has a point. I am not sure a marriage between the two of you would be strictly legal.”

  “Why?” Destrian faced him. “Eloise’s guardian gave permission for her to marry in exchange for payment and without a thought to her stepdaughter’s wishes or wellbeing, so I hardly think her opinion counts a great deal. Eloise is not a child, and consent isn’t an issue.”

  “I meant in terms of your royal duties.” The elderly minister shrugged, the action incongruous considering his hastily donned tunic was askew. “I’ve no problem marrying the two of you, but won’t you need your father’s approval to receive official recognition?”

  Eloise’s heart sank, though it was no less than she had expected.

  “If our marriage has been sanctified by a priest, that is good enough for me.” Destrian’s chin jutted stubbornly. “My father has my support in all other regards. If he chooses to punish me for marrying the woman of my choice, then so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time I have been cast out of home and country.”

  “Destrian, no!” Eloise’s cry was echoed by Lord Winterfold, the man’s expression bleak.

  “You would leave Merek as heir? Your father isn’t a young man, Destrian. He might not be on his deathbed like King Gorvenal, but he won’t live forever. Your brother isn’t half the man you are.”

  “I think you’re underestimating Merek, but that would be up to my father. I have made my decision and it is final, that is . . .” he turned to Eloise, his features softening, “. . . if you want to marry me. I’m not sure what kind of future we shall have. It could contain anything from some degree of disgrace to ruling a kingdom one day. While I know you will cope admirably with whatever comes our way, are you willing to take the risk?”

  Her heart clamoured for her to say yes, loud and clear, while her conscience berated her for even considering the possibility. Torn, Eloise’s mouth opened and closed several times.

  “Don’t leave,” Destrian directed the pri
est then led her towards the back of the chapel. Facing her, he joined their hands, the tenderness in his expression weakening her already feeble resolve.

  “I love you, Eloise. I realise that is not normally a consideration when choosing a spouse, especially for one of my station. But now that I have found you, I won’t… no, I refuse to live a lie and take another lady as my bride. I must warn you, if you reject me, I will follow you like the heartsick fool I am, begging if need be, until you take pity and say yes.”

  Eloise laughed, an edge of hysteria to her voice. “But, Destrian. What if you are not banished? I shall be a princess.”

  “My princess.” He raised her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “And one day, though hopefully not for some time, my queen.”

  The idea should have been terrifying, but sensation sparked along her nerves at his touch, clouding her thoughts and rekindling the passion his kisses had ignited. “You think your father will eventually approve?”

  “He would be mad not to, for there is no finer lady to be found in this or any other kingdom.”

  The sincerity in his tone battered the remnants of Eloise’s defences. She wanted what he was offering . . . love, passion, a life shared with the man she had thought could only ever be hers in her dreams. But dare she risk it?

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Destrian added, determination evident in his emerald gaze. “Please, Eloise. I know it is asking a great deal, as I cannot say for certain what the future will hold. You don’t know me very well, and I’ll admit I can be a morose fellow at times.”

  Eloise wavered, wanting nothing more than to be the one to put a smile on his face and ease the load when responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. But fulfilling the roles that might be required of her was daunting.

  “I have little knowledge of court etiquette or politics,” she said uncertainly. “I was a child when my papa died, and I have been a servant ever since. I fear I shall let you down.”

  “Not possible,” he said with conviction. “You are brave, strong, and compassionate, having endured trials that would have crushed many men. We might have only spent a day and a night together, Eloise, but it is more time than most men of my station get to share with their prospective spouses. I look forward to getting to know you better, your strengths, your weaknesses, and every little nuance of your personality. I just hope my own quirks don’t drive you to distraction.” He released one of her hands to run his fingers through his hair. “I am not charming like Merek. I have never been one to make the ladies laugh with my wit nor swoon with my passing. I certainly wasn’t able to win over Seraphina, not that I tried very hard. I was too distracted, thinking of you,” he admitted before his wry smile faded. “But if I’m mistaken, if I am wrong in assuming you feel as I do. . .”

  The insecurity in his tone silenced Eloise’s fears. She had not long said the words, but it seemed her prince needed to hear them again. “I love you, Destrian. I am not much of one for swooning, but I can assure you I was sufficiently charmed during our stay in the forest.”

  “You were?” His expression lightened, reminding her of a small boy receiving unexpected praise. “I wasn’t sure, as I caused you a lot of inconvenience.”

  “Well, now that you mention it . . .” Eloise tapped a finger against her chin, unable to resist a little teasing “. . . you weren’t the easiest of patients or house guests. But you did empty the chamber pot while I was out chopping wood, and you wrapped your blanket around me when the fire ran down. That shows character, especially since I don’t imagine princes are required to perform chores or share with others. In fact, I suspect they are quite spoiled.”

  “Spoiled?”

  His brows rose, and she reached up to murmur close to his ear. “Whatever your failings, I am confident your kisses will more than make up for them.”

  “Does this mean you will marry me?”

  The hope that appeared in Destrian’s eyes warmed Eloise’s heart. “Yes, Destrian. If you are certain it is me you want, I will gladly marry you.”

  The words had barely left her lips when he wrapped his arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her in the air. Swinging her in a circle, he kissed her into insensibility once more.

  “All right. That’s enough of that, you two. We are on consecrated ground, you know.” The priest’s gruff voice broke through the sensual haze that had enveloped them, and Destrian lowered her to the ground.

  “She said yes!” His grin matched the triumphant tone of his words, and Eloise giggled. You would have thought she was the prize, not him.

  “I don’t think that was ever in doubt, Your Highness,” the priest muttered dryly. “But it is getting late, and my old bones could do with a few more hours sleep before dawn. Shall we?” He gestured towards the front of the church where Ayleth and Lord Winterfold were waiting.

  “If I had known you would be marrying a prince tonight, I would have made sure you were wearing a grander gown,” Ayleth said, stepping forward and giving Eloise a hug. “Or you could have remained in the one you wore to the ball.”

  “This one is perfect.” Eloise looked down at her blue and purple velvet gown with its detailed embroidery and flowing sleeves. A more modest affair than the ball gown, it was far more suitable for the occasion.

  “I agree. She looks perfect.” Destrian smiled at Eloise then bowed in Ayleth’s direction. “Madam Norton, may I introduce myself? I am Destrian, and you have my undying gratitude for helping Eloise. Your quick thinking in leaving a note with your nurse made all the difference in my reaching her in time.”

  “Don’t forget about me.” Lord Winterfold stepped forward. “I was part of the rescue, too, you know, subduing that big brute and making sure Lady Eloise’s friend came to no harm.” He bowed low over Ayleth’s hand, and her cheeks bloomed with colour. “Lord Justin Winterfold, Baron of Karonley, at your service. Is there a mister Norton we need be concerned about, one who might fret over your absence?”

  “No, there is no one. Just my daughter, Mary. I am a . . . a . . . widow.” Ayleth stumbled a little over the last breathlessly spoken word, and Eloise was forced to stifle a giggle. It was a relief to know the handsome baron hadn’t turned out to be in league with Destrian’s betrayers, though she imagined it would be some time before she heard the full story. For now, Lord Winterfold was busy charming her friend, quite effectively it seemed from Ayleth’s dazed expression. As long as his intentions were honourable, Eloise could think of nothing better than her best friend and Destrian’s forming an alliance. It was an idea she would have thought ludicrous mere hours earlier, but if a servant could marry a prince, why not a seamstress and a baron?

  Eloise had rarely allowed herself the indulgence of daydreaming about her wedding, fearing the reality would be a bleak affair. The most she had hoped for was to marry a man who might be kind to her, even just a little. Never in her wildest imaginings had she pictured herself being wed in the middle of the night to a man she loved with all her heart and who loved her in return.

  “Shall we proceed?” the priest asked, and the two couples faced the altar. “The banns haven’t been posted, but I am assuming neither of you are already wed, carry any dread disease, or are being coerced?”

  “No, Father,” Destrian and Eloise said in unison.

  “Very well. This part is supposed to occur at the church door, not before the altar, but I think allowances can be made.” The priest’s smile appeared genuine, but Eloise was too nervous to return it. Destrian didn’t seem to share her trepidation, his smile barely contained despite the solemnity of the occasion.

  Turning to Destrian, the priest began. “Prince Destrian, Crown Prince of Varianda, wilt though have this woman to thy wedded wife? Wilt thy love her, honour her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife? Forsaking all others on account of her, wilt thy keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  “I will.” Destrian’s voice rang
true, and the priest turned to Eloise before asking her the same questions.

  “I will,” she answered, relieved not to croak the words, though her hands shook.

  Next came the vows, and Eloise’s nerves settled a little when she was able to face Destrian, first to hear him speak his and then to speak hers.

  “I, Eloise Christine Sommerville,” she repeated after the priest. “Take thee, Destrian Alexander William, Crown Prince of Varianda, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the holy church will ordain it: And thereto I plight thee my troth.”

  “Do you have rings or some other gift to exchange that I can bless?” the father asked.

  “I . . . I don’t have anything.” Eloise frowned, her heart stuttering at the unexpected obstacle.

  “Here. You can use this.” Lord Winterfold removed a gold and jewel encrusted ring from his finger and gave it to Eloise. “It was given me by the King for service to the Crown.”

  “Are you sure?” Destrian asked, and his friend clapped him on the arm.

  “It’s for a good cause, and don’t worry. I’m sure I shall find a way for you to repay me.”

  “I am sure you will,” Destrian muttered while wresting a ring from his little finger. “This will be too big for Eloise, but I can have it resized later. Will that be all right?” he asked the priest who nodded and took both rings. After praying over them he handed them back, and Destrian reached for Eloise’s hand. While Rulf had briskly ordered her to remove her cape, she had kept her gloves on, the church unheated and the night air cool.

  “Should I take them off?” she asked, embarrassed about displaying her work worn hands.

  “No, that’s all right.” The priest nodded at Destrian who gently clasped her left hand and slipped the ring on the fourth finger.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” he declared, his eyes sparkling with a barely suppressed smile.