by Elise Marion
He’d tried several times to get her alone so they could talk, but one of those damned bodyguards was always nearby, watching him.
He needed to know if she had considered his offer. In truth, he now wondered if she’d been thinking about him at all. God knew he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every night he tossed and turned, unable to put her out of his mind. Now that he’d had her in the way he’d always dreamed of, he wanted more. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait, trapped in this hellish purgatory in which she left him fumbling blind. It would be better if she broke his heart altogether … at least then he would know where he stood.
She gave Primus a pleasant smile, but only offered him a slight nod before turning to say good-bye to Damien.
“You are in good hands,” Damien said, handing first Gayle and then Isabelle up into the carriage that would convey them comfortably to Barony. “Serge has chosen only the best soldiers to ride along for your protection. You should reach Barony promptly and safely. General Adams and I are preparing the remaining soldiers for the journey, and should only be a few weeks behind you. Hopefully once I arrive, you will be engaged?”
Serge did not miss that Isabelle glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
She regained her composure quickly and nodded. “I am considering my list of potential candidates quite carefully. I hope to make a decision soon.”
Serge remained as determined as ever that her chosen husband would be him. If Isabelle thought that a few weeks of ignoring him would be enough to erase what had happened, she had another thing coming. She would be completely at his mercy for the next week … more than enough time to win her over, he was certain.
There was, of course, the small matter of Primus and the bodyguards, who would be there every step of the way. Serge dismissed them from his mind with a mental shrug. A small wrinkle in his plans, but one he could work around. There would be ample opportunity for him to get Isabelle alone.
He signaled the men to surround the carriage in the formation they had practiced. Leading his horse to the front of the pack, Serge signaled the men to move out.
* * *
“You have been ignoring me.”
Isabelle could have kicked herself for being caught alone. When she turned to find Serge behind her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, she stifled a groan. They’d stopped at an inn half a day’s ride from Largess Hall for lunch. The men were all crammed into the inn’s small taproom, with several others making do outdoors. Finding herself overrun with royalty and their protection, the proprietress had rushed to fulfill their every need, ensuring they had plenty of food and drink.
After eating, she had excused herself to use the privy. On her way back, she’d nearly collided with Serge, who had obviously been waiting for her.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, folding her arms defensively across her chest.
It proved difficult not to show how his nearness affected her. Especially when being out of doors and dressed for horseback flaunted his attributes to their advantage. It had been difficult not to peer at him while he rode alongside her carriage, keeping watch for any sign of an oncoming threat. He kept a regal seat on his stallion, shoulders squared, back erect, supple thighs bunching and flexing beneath his snug riding breeches. The wind had run its fingers through his long hair, pulling a few strands loose from his queue. They now hung around his face, making her fingers itch to push them back.
Just now, his proximity made it difficult not to lean in and inhale his scent. He smelled of leather, the outdoors, and the spicy balm he applied to his face after shaving.
“Did you enjoy your meal?”
For a moment, she was taken aback by the sudden shift in their conversation. In the few seconds it took for her to regain her composure, a boyish grin crept slowly across his face. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, damn him.
“You seemed to enjoy it very much,” he continued before she could respond.
He took another step in her direction, and Isabelle realized too late that he had literally backed her into a corner. The corridor was dark and no one seemed to be near enough to hear or see them.
Trapped. He had her effectively at his mercy.
“You seemed to particularly enjoy the strawberries and cream for dessert.”
Isabelle nodded, trying to pretend they were having an everyday conversation, and that he wasn’t pressing her into the corner with seduction radiating from his eyes.
“Yes, I adore fresh strawberries, as you know.”
“Hm,” he murmured, stroking his chin. “You know, I didn’t get any. Do you think there’s any left?”
Isabelle shrugged, becoming more annoyed by the moment. “I don’t know Serge, perhaps you should go and see.”
His grin widened and he rested one hand on the wall beside her head. “I am certain the men have all had at it by now. I suppose I shall have to make do with this.”
Much too late, Isabelle realized his intent. She was helpless as he leaned in swiftly, covering her mouth with his before she could protest. In a final effort at defending herself, she lifted her hands to push against his chest. Big mistake. Tightly corded muscles met her palms as he wrapped his arms around her waist to mash her against him. He pressed her against the wall, his heart thudding wildly against her palms as he took her mouth with his.
Isabelle went limp in his arms, opening her mouth to him. They both knew resistance was futile. He had won, and the spoils of his victory were her, pliant in his arms, mouth opening to admit his tongue. He groaned into her mouth, surging his hips against her in a way that made liquid heat pool low in her pelvis.
He tore his mouth from hers, but did not seem in a hurry to step away. He leaned in until his mouth was pressed against her ear.
“Just think Isabelle, if you marry me it would always be this way between us. Our night in the garden was just a taste of what we could have. And I haven’t given up—I won’t, no matter how much you try to push me away.”
She shook her head, mostly to clear her thoughts before the whispered words and his breath tickling the delicate shell of her ear stole away all of her logic and reason.
“You deserve someone who will care for you,” he continued, his hands stroking her back as he nuzzled her ear. “You should marry a man who knows you. A man who knows how much you love strawberries, and that your favorite color is yellow. Someone who knows that cat fur makes you sneeze, and that nothing dazzles you more than watching the sunset. You deserve to be happy again, and to be with someone who truly understands you. When you stop fighting it long enough to realize that man is me, I’ll be waiting.”
With another swift kiss, he let her go and turned to walk away. She leaned back into the corner and pressed her fingers to her burning lips. How had she ever thought things could go back to normal between them? They would never be the same again. He’d proved that much by forcing her to confront their attraction—which only seemed to grow stronger even as she fought against it.
After regaining her composure, she returned to the dining room and went back to the table where Gayle sat waiting for her with Vernon, and took her seat.
“Is everything all right, dear?” Gayle asked, concern written on her face.
“Of course,” she replied, eyes downcast.
Thankfully, she had already eaten, otherwise the churning in her stomach would have surely caused her to lose her appetite.
Vernon gazed across the room to where Serge sat conversing with a small group of soldiers, his smile wide. He glanced back at Isabelle and shook his head, lips pursed. She avoided his knowing stare for the rest of the meal.
* * *
The first few days of the journey passed without incident. The closer they drew to Barony, the more danger they were in, but Serge kept a close eye on their surroundings. His main concern remained the three-day stretch with nary another person in sight. It would be too easy for someone to encounter their caravan out on the open pla
ins, or attack from any side. Serge had devised a rigid guard schedule, ensuring there would be constant protection around Isabelle’s tent. He decided to take the first watch himself for no other reason than to be close to her.
This would be the first night they made camp, and Serge found he actually looked forward to it. Isabelle had gone back to avoiding him as much as she could, which was easy when she rode in a carriage and he led the caravan on horseback. When they stopped to eat or rest the horses, she was forced to abide his company, something he looked forward to with a great deal of amusement.
She wanted him. That much he knew after the way she’d melted in his arms during their stolen kiss. He had caught her watching him a few times, snatching her gaze away. Serge would smile, and she would turn away, embarrassed. He knew her well enough to realize she only avoided him to keep from facing the truth. Having to choose a husband made her uneasy; the thought of picking him made it all the more nerve-wracking.
Did she not understand that he faced many of the same trepidations? Perhaps even more so due to his secret and enduring love for her all these years. But, they’d been given another chance after the horrible events that had nearly destroyed them all. Awakening from a deathlike sleep made him desperate to find some purpose in his life, something to cling to, someone to love.
He already loved someone, so all there was left was convincing her to give him a chance. Something deep inside told him everything would fall into place if he could only secure her as his wife.
“How much longer before we make camp, Your Grace?” asked Primus from his left side.
Serge’s hands tightened on the reins, and irritation pulled at the corners of his mouth. Primus had been second-guessing him at every turn, questioning the route he’d chosen, their pace, the inns he chose to stop at. He was a few more questions away from leaping off his saddle, and taking the arrogant older man down.
The grand vizier obviously found him lacking due to his injuries and perhaps even his young age. Serge had nothing to prove, and certainly did not care to make Primus comfortable with his way of doing things.
“An hour at least,” Serge snapped. “I know it is difficult for a man of your age to sit in the saddle for so long, but you chose not to ride in the carriage.”
“I only thought the princess might like a chance to stretch her legs. I was not aware that we were only an hour away from camp. I have never traveled this way between Cardenas and Barony before.”
“According to the map, there is a source of water not far from here. Judging by how close we are to the bordering mountains, I’d say an hour at most. Besides, Isabelle has been riding in a carriage all day. I daresay her legs are just fine.”
His injured leg pained him, but he wouldn’t dare let on in front of the others. To show weakness might shake their confidence in him, and there had already been far too many questions about his capabilities following his miraculous recovery.
“I am only thinking of her,” Primus continued, oblivious to the fact that Serge wanted him to shut up. “She is a delicate woman, one who is not used to the rigors of such travel.”
Was Isabelle really thinking of marrying this idiot? If Primus thought she was some sort of delicate flower, he didn’t know her at all. Serge remembered all too well the night by the road that had changed their lives forever. He recalled the grim set of her features as he’d asked her to drive a carriage to safety, something she had never done before. She’d taken the reins without batting an eyelash, and accepted his offered pistol as if she’d been wielding one her entire life.
Isabelle was the exact opposite of delicate; it was one of the things he loved most about her.
Choosing to ignore Primus, he spurred his horse a few paces ahead, pointedly ending their conversation. Damien had teased him for being jealous of a man twice his age, but Serge couldn’t help it. The grand vizier wanted Isabelle, but he would be damned if he gave her up without a fight.
Tonight, he would be on the first watch, close enough to her tent that he could slip inside unnoticed. Thinking of stealing a few kisses, Serge relaxed in the saddle and began to whistle, his thoughts becoming decidedly less morose.
* * *
Isabelle dipped her hands into the cool water of the stream, grateful to be out of the carriage after a long day of riding. They were only a few more days from Barony, and she would be ecstatic when they finally reached their destination. For the first three days there had been nothing but dirt, rocks, and the occasional tree to look at through the carriage window. Today, the bordering mountains between Cardenas and Barony finally came into view, signaling the halfway mark of their journey; their majestic, snow-capped peaks offering a more picturesque view. She splashed some cold water on her face and then turned back toward camp, which stood only a few feet away through a line of trees.
As she made her way up the embankment, she spied Primus coming toward her.
“I trust the journey has not been overly hard on you, my lady,” he said.
Isabelle smiled. “I found myself a bit restless trapped inside the carriage all day. Do you think it would be all right for me ride a bit tomorrow?”
He frowned, his thumb and forefinger tracing over his neat mustache. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Princess. We could encounter danger at any moment, and I believe His Grace would agree that it will be much safer for you inside the carriage.”
Isabelle understood the sense in it even if she didn’t like it.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Primus glanced pointedly at the bodyguard who stood watch a few feet away. “A few moments alone, my lady?”
She turned to her guard and waved him off. “I’ll be perfectly safe here with Lord Burnham, Francis.”
The guard seemed content to leave her alone with the grand vizier, a far cry from the watchful way he and the others acted whenever Serge came near. Vernon must have told them all about what had happened at the Valons’ ball.
Once he was gone, Primus turned back toward her with a smile. “I had hoped we could discuss the subject of husband hunting while we have a moment alone. Have you given any more thought to your possible candidates?”
“I can assure you, I’ve been considering the matter very carefully. I hope to have made a decision by the time we reach Barony.”
“If I may be so bold, I’d like to offer a suggestion,” he said, edging a bit closer to her.
“It certainly couldn’t hurt.”
“Me,” he blurted, as if trying to get the word out before he changed his mind.
Isabelle felt as if the ground had fallen out from under her. The shock of it made no sense, considering she’d already put him on her list of prospective husbands. But he didn’t know that. They had never discussed the possibility of him becoming Barony’s next king.
He held a hand up to silence her before she could respond. “Allow me to plead my case before you say no.”
She forced a smile, despite the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Primus proposing to her. It was odd, when she’d thought to be the one to approach him if she decided he was to be the one.
“I wasn’t going to say no,” she assured him. “Please, continue.”
“I hope you know how much I admire you,” he continued, taking one of her hands in both of his. “I find you to be beautiful, intelligent, and kind. Your courage through of all this has been an inspiration to me.”
She nodded, which only encouraged him to continue. His thumb drew slow circles against her skin, and he edged closer with every word.
“I know I could make you happy, my lady, and I know that I could rule Barony well.”
“I have no doubt of that,” she replied, finding her voice. “You have been doing so all these years.”
“Please do not think this is an attempt on my behalf to gain the crown. I really feel that we could be good together, Isabelle,” he said, using her given name for the first time. “I care for you very mu
ch, and in time I hope you could come to care for me, too.”
Before she knew what was happening, he tugged her hand until she stood in his arms and kissed her. Rather than fight him, she allowed it to happen and attempted to participate. If she was going to consider him for marriage, she might as well determine whether or not she could feel attraction toward him.
The kiss was nice enough. His lips were soft and gentle, and while she had been worried his mustache would tickle her, it did not. His hands rested on her shoulders, and his mouth opened only a little. He seemed to wish to keep things respectable, and while she wanted to admire him for it she could only register disappointment.
When it ended, Isabelle felt fine. Indifferent. She couldn’t help but compare it to another kiss she’d experienced recently, and hated herself for it.
“Primus,” she began, “I am very flattered, but I—”
“What the devil is going on here?”
She turned in his arms to find Serge standing a few feet away, hands balled into fists at his sides, his expression murderous.
“The princess and I were having a private conversation,” Primus retorted, keeping a possessive hold on her.
“I did not hear very much talking,” Serge countered, stepping closer.
“I hardly see how it is any of your concern.”
Isabelle glanced back and forth between the two of them, certain she’d been all but forgotten in this little drama.
“As Isabelle’s brother-in-law, I would have to argue that it is my concern. Your advances are inappropriate considering she is to choose a husband soon. Have you no care for her reputation?”
“How dare you insinuate that I would sully my lady’s character?”
Isabelle, who by now had grown quite annoyed at having been accosted by both these men in the last few days, then having to watch them fight over her like two aggressive stags, growled in irritation. She pushed away from Primus and moved to stand between them.
