by Shay Savage
“I always seem to be begging your forgiveness for my haste,” he said quietly.
“There is no reason,” I told him. I reached around to the back of his neck and then up through his hair. I held his head against my shoulder.
“I could not bear it any longer,” Branford whispered into my ear, “and I am going to make sure I never have to endure that again!”
I smiled and turned my head to kiss the top of his. Branford rose up on his elbow and looked into my face.
“I do not believe that is completely within your control,” I told him.
“I will take you every night,” Branford said. His tone was determined, and his words definitely not to be questioned. “At least once in the day as well.”
“You have done that anyway,” I said to him. I smashed my lips together, trying not to smile too broadly, for I knew he was quite serious.
“More often, then,” he said with raised brows—daring me to contradict his plan. He used his fingers to trace from my shoulder, across my collarbones, and over my breast. He cupped it for a moment before running his hand over my stomach and then back up my arm. He brushed his fingers over my lips and up the edge of my jaw. He ran the tip of one finger down my nose. It seemed as though he was exploring each and every part of me to make sure he had not forgotten anything while we were apart.
I placed my hand against his chest, feeling the strong and steady beat under my palm. Like Branford, I also wanted to remember how he felt in my hands, and I traced every lined muscle on his chest and stomach while he drew circles around my breasts with his fingertip and kissed a trail across my shoulder. He leaned across me, his mouth sucking at one of my nipples while his fingers tickled across my side. I squirmed against the feeling, and his hand gripped my hip as he sat up and looked me in the eyes. He pulled sharply with his hand, pushing our hips firmly together.
“Any time I want,” Branford said with a scowl.
I tilted my head to the side, raising my eyebrows just a little as I looked at him. I could have sworn his lower lip was protruding like a child’s whose toy had been taken away.
“My wife,” Branford said. Moving swiftly, he leaned over me and quickly nipped at my lips with his. His gaze darted away from mine, and for a moment, I thought I could detect a slight blush under his tanned cheeks. He looked back at me with his half smile and dancing eyes. I thought he would speak, but instead, he closed his eyes briefly before looking at me again, his head shaking back and forth subtly.
The combination of his strength, his gentleness, and his obvious need for me was overwhelming.
I brushed over the edge of his bearded jaw with my fingers. I could not wait for it to be morning again so I could shave him properly and see the gratitude in his eyes when he ran his fingers over his smooth face. I could not wait to give him his tea or prepare his breakfast. I could not wait to hold his arm as we walked through the gardens, and I could not wait until tomorrow night when he would bring me back here and overtake me with his flesh—both inside and out.
My stomach seemed to roll over inside of me, and for a moment, I could not even breathe. I felt my heart pounding in my chest as his eyes continued to stare down at me. I felt the warmth of his gaze covering my body. I felt safe and secure in his strength and in knowing I belonged to him and that he was mine. I wanted nothing more than to spend my days doing whatever I could to make him happy and content in his life and to spend my nights filled by him—giving myself to him whenever he needed me.
And that moment was when I knew I loved him.
Chapter 4—Dutifully Sacrifice
The grass in the field flicked against my legs as Branford led me to a low wooden building I had seen before only from our bedroom window. My fingers were around his right arm, and wrapped around his left wrist was a thin leather cord. At the end of the cord was Amarra, walking smoothly next to Branford with her eyes turned up to his. She matched his pace perfectly and kept her focus on my husband as if waiting for his command.
We entered the field near the edge of the woods, and Branford whistled long and loud. Within only a few moments, four large, reddish-brown dogs were barreling toward us. I took a step closer to my husband, pushing my side against his. I felt his lips touch the top of my head but only briefly. As the dogs neared¸ he dropped down close to Amarra and slowly removed the leather strap from around her neck.
“Will she not run away?” I asked.
“Not if she understands this is her pack and that she will be cared for here,” Branford replied. “She will have no reason to go anywhere else.”
I watched the other four dogs as they came near the bitch. I giggled at their apparently normal greetings of sniffing and licking. They walked around each other, and Amarra spun around in a circle as well, paying most attention to the largest of the four male dogs.
“Argo is the oldest and largest,” Branford said as he pointed to the one I had been watching. His coat was darker red than the others, and when he shook his head, his flopping ears turned inside out, giving him a comic appearance. “The others look to him when I am not here. Next is Atlas, who could probably be the leader of the pack if he could be bothered, but he is usually too busy chasing noises in the woods. The two smaller ones are Helo and Major.”
Argo was intent on making the other pack members keep their distance from Amarra, their new member. He only positioned himself between her and the other dogs at first but then became more aggressive. He growled a little as the others came closer and even snapped at one of the younger dogs, which made me jump.
“He just wants to make sure the others know she belongs to him,” Branford informed me.
“Does he have to be so…so…cruel about it?”
“Cruel?” Branford chuckled. He moved closer behind me, and his hands brushed lightly over my arms.
“He snaps at the others before they even get close,” I said.
“Does he?”
“Sometimes.”
“He will likely do it again,” Branford surmised. “He can be quite jealous.”
Branford tightened his grip on my shoulders as he leaned close and whispered in my ear. I was instantly reminded of the first time he took me to meet Romero and our conversation in the stables. There he had also pulled me back against his chest and spoke gently into my ear—like he was now.
“Sometimes he is afraid he may lose her,” he said, his voice so soft I could only barely hear him. He circled my waist with his arm. “When he thinks of what his life would be without her now, he can be irrational.”
“She…she would never look to another,” I replied as I turned my cheek to touch his. “This is her home now, and she wants only him.”
“She hardly knows him.”
“She has learned much in a short time,” I told him. I turned my head further so I could see his eyes, his heavy brows pulled down over them. I reached up to touch his smooth cheek. “She knows him quite well.”
“Do I still frighten you?” he asked, dropping the pretense.
“No,” I answered him. “I know you would not hurt me.”
“Alexandra,” he murmured as he pulled me closer to his body. “You have been…truly…I cannot…”
He sighed and took a slight step back, separating us enough for him to turn me to face him. He cupped the side of my face as he stared into my eyes.
“Alexandra, I—”
Behind us, the sound of someone clearing his throat halted Branford’s words. Branford sighed, seeming more exasperated than angry as he turned around. Both Dunstan and Colin were there, their heads bowed slightly. Colin fidgeted from one foot to the other.
“My apologies, sire,” Dunstan said with a nod. “There is a matter that…needs your attention.”
Branford narrowed his eyes at the young man, and for a moment, they seemed to be having an unspoken conversation.
“Of course,” he finally answered. “Alexandra, forgive me. Colin will take you back to our rooms.”
I looked from Bran
ford to Dunstan and tried not to show too much concern as I nodded, and Colin—the young man who guarded me when Dunstan was otherwise occupied—led me back to the castle. Janet greeted me and asked if I was ready for a meal, but I had no appetite. Dunstan’s sudden appearance had me on edge, and I didn’t know what to think of it.
Branford never liked it when we were interrupted, yet he had not been at all angry with Dunstan when he approached us. His uncharacteristic acceptance of the intrusion was too out of character for my moody husband. It worried me, but I could not think of anything Dunstan would have had to say that was so urgent.
A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts, and I quickly went through the archway into the morning room to open it. My eyes went wide when I opened the door to find King Camden standing on the other side.
As far as I knew, he had not come to our rooms since Branford had brought me from Hadebrand. I had no idea what might have prompted his visit now. In my shock, I simply stood with my hand on the door and stared at him until he cleared his throat and raised his brows at me.
“Alexandra,” he said, “are you quite all right?”
“Yes, my king,” I replied automatically. Then I realized I was still standing there gawking at him. “Oh! My king! I am sorry! Please, come in.”
“Thank you.”
“Branford is not here,” I told him. “He stayed behind with his dogs…”
King Camden walked into the room and just looked at me, a wry grin on his face. I realized how silly I sounded and felt my cheeks flush. I closed the door softly.
“May I fix you some tea?” I finally asked.
“No, thank you, Alexandra,” King Camden said. “I really just came to speak with you.”
Speak with me? What would the king wish to discuss with me? I felt my chest tighten in panic.
“Of course, my king,” I said softly.
“Alexandra,” King Camden said with a slight shake of his head, “we are behind closed doors, and you are married to my adopted son. You may refer to me as Camden.”
I was not sure if I could, but I still nodded to him.
“In fact, it is about Branford I wished to speak,” he said.
“About Branford?” I echoed.
“Yes,” he said, and his mouth turned up into a wide grin. I had not noticed the resemblance between the king and my husband before, but their smiles were definitely the same. “And about what you have done to him.”
My breath hitched in my throat, and I felt panic tighten my limbs. What had I done to Branford that would cause the king of all of Silverhelm to come to our rooms? Was it about Janet and bringing her back here? Was it about Branford touching me during the time of isolation?
“My king?” I whispered, for they were the only words I could form.
“It is not a bad thing, Alexandra,” King Camden said softly. “Quite the contrary, in fact.”
“What have I done to Branford?” I asked, truly confused now.
“I have never seen him so taken with another human being,” Camden said softly. “His horse, yes, and even his dogs, but never a person—never a woman. He has not allowed himself to feel for anyone in so long…”
The king’s voice trailed off, and I was not sure if I should respond to him or if I should keep quiet.
“And you care for him too, do you not?”
His bright blue eyes were so intense as he looked at me, for a moment, I could not respond.
“Yes, my king.” I took a deep breath and corrected myself. “Camden.”
He laughed through his nose, another trait I likened to Branford, and just as quickly as his nephew often did, his mood changed and his eyes darkened.
“He is haunted by his past,” Camden said. “Do you realize this?”
“Yes, my king.”
“He takes his anger out on my people.”
I looked up to Camden’s eyes again and saw the sadness inside.
“He is my only heir,” Camden said. “Sunniva and I were not able to have our own children, and there was a time I thought I would have to take more…‘drastic measures’ to obtain a suitable heir. It would have hurt Sunniva so much if I had. When Branford and Ida came to us, Sunniva took them both in as her own. Since he was already of my blood, I had my son and heir. I could not love him more if he were my true son and not my nephew, but that has not always been in the best interest of my people. I have allowed many of his transgressions, even when they were to the detriment of others, in hopes that he would somehow come to terms with his mistrust and anger before it could do true harm.”
Camden walked slowly toward the window and looked out onto the castle grounds.
“I feared his anger would put my people at undue risk, and it still may,” he said, continuing, “but for the first time, I feel there is hope for Silverhelm and its future king.”
He took a step toward me and placed his finger under my chin.
“You have given me that hope, Alexandra.”
“I have?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“In only a handful of days, you have already tempered him,” Camden said. “When he speaks of you, there is a light in his eyes I have not seen since he was a small boy—since before my brother and his wife were killed.”
My mind recounted Branford’s tale of being trapped inside the bench seat of a carriage while his parents were murdered, his mother brutalized. How could such a thing not affect a small child, even as he grew into adulthood? He could not trust others, for those closest to him had betrayed him so viciously, leaving him scarred inside his heart. But who had truly been behind it?
“Was it King Edgar?” I asked with trepidation. I knew so little of my king’s personality, and I feared my question was too forward. He did not seem affronted as he answered.
“There is no evidence,” he said and then sighed. “The four men responsible had been in my brother’s employ for many years when they turned traitorous. We do not know if they were enemies of the Sterlings from the very beginning or if they were influenced later. Branford has his suspicions, yes, but he has no direct evidence. I am more inclined to believe Edgar jumped on an opportunistic time to seize nearby lands rather than caused my brother’s death.”
Camden sighed deeply and cast his gaze out the window again.
“I have to believe that way,” he said quietly. “If I were to accuse another royal family as Branford has done, it would be seen as an act of war. I do not want to bring my people to war when I cannot be sure of the reason. Branford is a fighter—a soldier—but he has not seen true war in his young life. I have. I understand the consequences, and he does not. He has only had revenge on his mind until he brought you here as his wife.”
The king stepped close to me and reached out to take my hand in his.
“I came here to thank you for that, Alexandra,” King Camden said, “and to beg you to…to continue whatever it is you are doing that makes my son so happy.”
“Of course, my king.” I knew I was blushing, for I had a fair guess as to the reason Branford was happy in my company. I remembered Camden’s eyes when he spotted our behavior at the dinner table, and felt even more heat on my face.
“I will take my leave of you now,” Camden said. He tilted his head toward me, released my hand, and turned to walk out of the room. He paused briefly at the table just inside the door where my mother’s bowl sat on display. I had not yet decided what should be put inside of it.
“Where did you get this bowl?” he asked.
“It was given to me when I was young,” I said quietly, for he still made me quite nervous. “It was my mother’s. At least, that’s what the nuns said.”
“You are from Eagle?”
“Yes, sire.”
“What were the names of your parents?”
“Conway and Rebecca Fay, sire,” I told him. “That’s what the nuns told me, at least—I don’t really remember. So many people were dying then.”
King Camden’s fingers ran along the edge of th
e bowl.
“I remember being served the most interesting stew from this very bowl,” he said softly. I strained my ears. Had I heard him right? “She said it was one of the first ones she had made and had always been her favorite, so she would never sell it. The stew she served was a strange concoction of flavors and not exactly tasteful.”
Camden laughed softly.
“But the bowls—they were beautiful.” He nodded his head twice and then held the bowl out for me to take. “Rebecca Fay offered me a meal from this same bowl, Alexandra—I am sure of it. She must have been nearly ready to give birth to you, but she kept working because her bowls were in such high demand.”
He smiled gently at me, which was not an expression I had seen on his face before.
“Her cooking left something to be desired”—King Camden laughed, but not unkindly—“but she was extremely generous and kind. I didn’t speak to Conway for long. He returned from working in the fields just as I was leaving, but he seemed a well-mannered and gentle soul.”
He turned to look me over, his expression thoughtful.
“You must have been quite young when so many in the village fell to plague. Perhaps it was not by accident but by divine design. By the grace of God, perhaps you were spared to come to Branford when he needed one such as you by his side.”
He nodded again, then turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. I sat in the chair near the fire and contemplated his words. Did he truly believe I was here for such a purpose? To save the people of Silverhelm from their future king’s wrath? Had I not had similar thoughts myself?
I found myself smiling, thinking that if this were my role, at least I had some inkling as to what my duties would entail. Picking up the kettle, I filled it with clear water and placed it over the fire. When Branford came back from his discussion with his guard, it would be ready for him.
I would be ready for him.
