How to Seduce a Queen: A Medieval Romance Novel

by Stella Marie Alden

  Damn all the devils to hell. Horse frothing, face fuming, Sir Ferguson dismounted. He glared thunderbolts as he regarded Nicholas’s shirtless body and her guilty face.

  He stepped between them and scolded Fay, “You should not ride so far ahead alone. Again, I find myself searching everywhere. This needs to stop.”

  Oblivious to the depth of his ire, she waved him aside. “You were too slow.”

  “When you’re married to me, you will obey.” His hand clenched his sword, looking as if he would cleave someone in two.

  Nicholas gritted his teeth and managed to hold his tongue, but Ferguson was not done doling out punishments. He punched an iron fist into his stomach. Doubling over with pain, Nicholas sucked in the ether.

  “God’s blood, mon! Have ye no respect for the lady? Get dressed.” Ferguson pulled back his fist, ready to deliver another blow.

  Fay wedged herself between them. “Leave him be. He’s just a humble priest. What’s wrong with you?”

  He stalled at the door and sneered. “See if you can talk some sense into her, priest. I know you were in town. Explain how she needs a protector, not some priest married to Christ.”

  That much was true, Nicholas conceded.

  When he stomped off in a huff, she turned. “Out with it. What did you see?”

  How much should he tell her? He turned up a hoof from Ferguson’s charger and cursed under his breath. “This animal needs new shoes.”

  Her face skewed and hands shot to her hips. “Surely I’m not responsible for that, as well. Tell me. Now.”

  Her haughtiness brought the worst of him to the surface. A bit too roughly, he grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her back to his chest. Her hair smelled of sea salt and wild grasses. He moaned and fondled her soft, full, breast. “Would you like me to show you what you are responsible for? What you do to me?”

  Her eyes widened and she whispered, “Sean will return and kill you, or worse.”

  Letting her go, he found his wits, and ducked his head through his robe. “The village priest intends to burn you, lass.”

  “I will send that devil straight to his God.” The former queen of Man grabbed her bow and quiver, and stomped toward her mount while Loki yipped at her heels.

  When she tried to lift her saddle, Nicholas grabbed her upper arm. “Calm yourself. I’ve convinced him to wait.”

  She elbowed his tender gut, aggravating where Ferguson had just bruised him. “For what? Another coming of the so-called Christ?”

  “Och, no. For you to have a rebirth of faith. Proclaim it for him and for all to hear.” Angry, he turned her so they faced off, eye to eye.

  “I will do no such thing. I hate lies.” She narrowed her gaze and stuck out a pouty lower lip.

  He couldn’t imagine being so God-almighty arrogant about everything. As a bastard of Bruce, he’d been born from a lie. He would no doubt die from a lie.

  He shook her shoulders, the muscles of his aching belly still throbbing. “God’s Blood, m’lady. You must halt this behavior or fry. Your skin will bubble, your eyes’ll pop out of their holes, and you’ll scream for mercy, but there’ll be none to save you. And it will not end there. You’ll go straight to hell where the fires burn forever.”

  “I don’t believe any of that falderal. Let go of me.” She glowered and struggled until he let go, then stomped out of the stable cave.

  Following her up and around the outer walls, Nicholas stewed while she muttered a mix of Scot and Manx curses. She ducked under a low arch to enter the long hall by way of the outside ovens.

  When she squealed, he figured she was angry at yet some other nonsense. Instead, he was shocked as she hugged the new cook, apparently all else forgotten.

  “Haddr? You’ve returned?” A giant smile covered her face, making him wish he could put one there.

  “I would’ve come sooner, but the road’s been closed.” The village girl spat and made a familiar curse in the air.

  Then Eaton poked his head out from the oven, and winked at the lass. “Can you send in the youngest brat? We could use some more firewood.” Covering his nose, he threw Nicholas a bar of soap. “For the grace of God, leave us, mon, and bathe.”

  “Fine. The lady and I still have a conversation to finish.” He put a strong hand to Fay’s back that said he would not be dissuaded then walked them to the well-house in the middle of the plaza. Once there, he lowered a bucket into the deep hole.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, sat on a nearby bench, and sniffed. “I have naught more to say to you.”

  The bucket banged the sides of the well as he cranked fiercely. The image of the wooden platform with iron chains burned under his eyelids. “What about your funeral pyre? Will you let the priest rebuild it?”

  “He would not dare.” She patted her bow, still slung over her shoulder.

  Damn the woman. So sure of herself. “And how do you think the church shall react to murder of one of its own?”

  “What does it matter?” She scooted her arse up onto the well wall and watched him bathe with cat-like eyes. “I will not recant. God does not exist.”

  Trying to ignore her, Nicholas set down the pail and did his best to wash limbs and face. It’d been years since he’d had to bathe in a well-house. And never with a woman watching. “Can’t you just say so, for the sake of your life?”

  “I’m the daughter of a king. I do not lie.” That lower lip went out again but this time she bit it back.

  “Hmph. There’s no honor in burning to death.” He closed his eyes and scrubbed his chest. Last summer she lay naked on his pallet, and now she was holier-than-thou about falsehoods. She would drive him daft. When she didn’t respond promptly, he glanced up. One giant tear rolled down her face. Christ’s wounds, I’ve hurt her again.

  “There, there, all is not lost, lass.” He stepped back, splashed a full bucket of icy water over his head, and shook like Loki. At least the cold set his aching cock back to a humble stance.

  Smiling sadly at his antics, she said, “I’m afraid even a miracle could not convince me of the existence of a caring God.”

  He chucked her chin and gazed into her green eyes. It would be so easy to kiss that look away. “Give me a fortnight to prove He exists.”

  “You would try to redeem me?” The centers of her eyes stared black with want.

  “Aye.” He would brave all the fires of hell, if need be, to save her.

  Chapter 10

  Why does that monk distract me so? Across the tables of the dark hall, he sat with the rest of his kindred. Without hair, Fay should’ve found him less appealing. Instead, it made her want to caress his soft beard, move hands behind his neck, down his back, and touch the forbidden parts of his body.

  Aunt Aggie caught her staring, raised her eyebrows, and smiled. “He’s verra handsome, is he not? Much more so than his half-brother in Scarborough.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” Fay’s cheeks heated, she speared a piece of mutton, then washed it down with bitter ale. Was she so transparent?

  Chuckling, her aunt chewed the edge of her trencher. “I once heard of a priest who left his orders. He escaped to another land, changed his name, and married.”

  “A grave sin, was it not?” Fay pretended to be uninterested.

  “I suppose, if you believe in such things, which you do not.” Aggie smirked.

  Like iron to a lodestone, Fay glanced up from her stew, and was trapped by the monk’s smile. He raised a brown cup in her direction, and winked. Damnation, he made her lady’s lips weep.

  She slumped into her bench and whispered to her aunt, “I ask you, is that monk-like behavior?”

  “What, dear?” Oh, she was good at this game.

  Fay scowled. “The way he smiles is infuriating. Not at all holy. Sometimes I think he must be Nicholas de Bruce of Scarborough. Don’t you wonder? Haven’t you noticed how his beard comes in red?”

  Aggie shrugged and shouted above the din, “His form is fine to look
upon, though.”

  The room went silent for a moment before the orphans broke into fits of hysterics. God’s Blood, her aunt grew deafer by the moment. Sean fumed while the rest of the knights focused on their meal, no doubt hiding their smirks.

  Time to put a stop to this falderal. She glared at each and every one of them. “If you’re all finished laughing at my poor aunt, you may wash your dishes and set up the pallets.”

  She dared not look up until the monks departed out the front door along with her knights. After all her boys were settled, she stopped in the kitchen where Haddr put the last of the dishes away.

  Fay cleared her throat and said quietly, “I’ve missed you so.”

  “And I you.” Her friend held out her arms and gave her a warm hug.

  “I’m so sorry you were forced to work in the tavern. Who would make up such ugly rumors?”

  Haddr smiled sadly and adjusted the cloth tied about her hair. “You should go. We’re in the same room without chaperone. Even now, your small court may be questioning what goes on in here.”

  “But I have things I must discuss or I shall burst, and they’re not for men’s ears or even Aunt Aggie’s. For the first time, I have felt … something for a man. I’m not broken.”

  Haddr jumped up and down. “Truly? Which one? Is it Sir Ferguson?”

  “Sadly, not him. It would make my life easier. It’s the monk.”

  Her brilliant smile dropped to a pout. “Oh. I was hoping for a romp with that one myself.”

  “Brother Nicodemus?” A pang of jealousy hit her gut.

  Haddr touched her arm. “Oh nay, nay. The jolly one. The one who pinches my arse and steals kisses.”

  Relieved, Fay brushed the crumbs off the serving tray and folded table linens. “Don’t you find that a mite strange? That monks lust?”

  “Not at all. The priest in the village? He’s one of the most immoral men about. He’s bartered forgiveness in exchange for sex.”

  Fay’s stomach turned at the thought. “Och. I shall run that awful man off the island.”

  Haddr reached for a broom. “Well, mayhap eventually, but not tonight. Tell me more about these feelings.”

  “I cannot stop thinking of kisses. And more.” Fay leaned back against a tabletop. She pictured herself in front of a warm fire, atop a pile of furs, soft lips locked with his in passion.

  Haddr danced with her broom partner. “I’m so happy for you!”

  “Stop, stop. Tell me. What am I to do?” She bit her lower lip and glanced toward the arch that led to the hall. Some of the men had returned and were talking in low voices to the boys.

  Haddr grinned and kissed her straw lover. “Does he return your affection?”

  “Of course not. He’s a monk.” Fay grabbed the broom and shook one finger at it, like an ill-mannered boy.

  Loki bounded in, wagged his tail, and barked once. Haddr kissed him on the nose and spoke in doggy-nonsense, “Tell me, does he gaze into your eyes and his voice grow low? Hmmm?”

  “Aye.” Pieces of straw and crumbs flew as Fay rigorously swept the black stone floor.

  Laughing, Haddr shooed Loki out the back door when she’d had enough.

  “Does he lean in? Does he touch you when he leads you? Does he try to find excuses to get you alone?”

  When Fay followed Haddr outside, the oven’s heat hit her face. “Aye, aye, and aye.”

  “You must be very careful to not get pregnant by him.” She removed the ladle from the kettle, placed a heavy iron cover over the steaming broth, and set it by the fire.

  Fay stopped her sweeping. She had not thought of it. “Thor’s balls. I could not. Could I?”

  “When a man gets his snake near your den, ’tis hard to close the door. Do you understand?”

  “Not really.”

  “Mother Frigga. Then don’t spend time alone with him.” Haddr stepped back into the kitchen.

  Fay followed. “He’s promised to help me find my faith. I can’t do that alone.”

  “You’ve got all those bastard orphans. Keep one with you at all times.”

  She shot her a gaze of warning, pulled her pallet from under the shelving, and pounded the straw mattress.

  “You should’ve seen him stand up to that priest today. The old fart almost pissed himself.”

  “I wish I had been there.” Fay sat next to her friend, sighed, and pictured her monk as Lancelot in King Arthur’s court.

  “I’ve never seen the likes. I bet Saint George was like that when he met the dragon.”

  Fay giggled. “There are no dragons.”

  “Of course. Because George slew the last.” Haddr’s eyes sparkled.

  “Enough. We’ve a long day tomorrow. I’ve missed you so.” She hugged her friend tightly and kissed her on the cheek. At that moment, the man of their discussions walked into the kitchen, catching their embrace.

  His brows furrowed as if in pain and the smile dropped off his face. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Forgive me. I had one more cup to put away. I didn’t mean to interrupt your, uh, conversation.”

  For the love of Christ. He would believe the rumors, with all of the rest?

  Haddr began to speak, but Fay could not stop herself. She kissed Haddr solidly on the lips. “Goodnight, my love.”

  She gave the monk a perfected glower, and stormed out of the kitchen toward her chambers. That man was a thistle on her behind. It would be best for her to remember that, for soon she’d be sharing her chambers with a knight chosen by the king.

  With no torches, she shivered as she felt her way up the stairs in complete blackness. Once inside her room, she opened the shutters and breathed easier, bathing in blue moonlight.

  Far below, the hateful monk stormed out of the keep, crossed the square, and down the stairs. Shortly thereafter, he reappeared at the lowest level. The drawbridge went down and he crossed it with long strides. Loki followed with tail wagging. After he traversed the field, he took the path down to the sea’s edge.

  Bloody wounds of Christ. The water’s pull there was unpredictable. As a stranger, he might drown.

  After arguing with herself for the longest of time, she decided, as queen, it was right for her to check on his wellbeing. She tiptoed down the stairs. Thankfully, none on pallets in the hall gave her notice. In the kitchen, Haddr snored softly near the ovens.

  Fay slid aside a piece of stone, climbed through the hole, and down the ladder. In the cool tunnel, she lit a lamp and descended. Once she reached the seafloor, she padded her bare feet across the sand and searched the waves with racing heart. Where was he? Had he already drowned?

  When Loki barked, she almost shouted to him, but stopped short when her completely naked monk exited the sea. Water dripped from his magnificent chest, glistening in the moonlight. His arms and legs were firm and fine. What drew her attention, however, was the large appendage between his legs.

  He cursed when he saw her and ran back into the surf. Meanwhile the dog barked, running back and forth along the ocean’s edge.

  She dared breathe again when he withdrew with his back to her, shook like Loki, and put on his brown robe.

  Suddenly, the dog yelped as it stuck its nose where it didn’t belong. Chuckling, the monk squatted and kicked away a sea crab. He was rewarded with licks so grateful that he fell upon his arse. Giggling at their antics, she moved closer.

  When a shell snapped underfoot, he glanced up, and growled, “What’re you doing here?”

  She hobbled over sharp shells to stand eye to eye. He had no right to be angry with her. It should be the other way around. He was the one who believed the lies. She’d seen it in his eyes. “The tides here are unpredictable. I wanted to warn you.”

  “Now that you see that I’m not drowned, you can go. I need to pray.” He frowned, and reminded her of Scarborough, how his half-brother had dismissed her so similarly. Tonight it would not be so easy.

  “Here?” She wandered about so as to see his face, all the whil
e Loki’s tail thumped her calves.

  “Aye, here. While I swim. Alone. Go back to your forbidden love. I will say naught about it, if that’s why you’ve followed.” His words were clipped with anger and his face stormy as the sea.

  She touched his arm. “Listen to me. Haddr is my friend. I don’t sleep with her. At least not in the manner you suggest.”

  “I know what I saw. Such friendships are forbidden by God.” His usually light eyes reflected the dark ocean.

  What an arse. “Then I have a verra fine reason not to believe in Him, don’t I?”

  He turned without warning, grabbed both of her shoulders, and stared a hole into the depths of her soul. “Do you love her, lass?”

  “Did I not just say so? She’s my dearest friend.” Fay struggled, but could not flee his iron grip. The man was insufferable. “Let me go.”

  He shook her lightly and held her gaze. “But more? More lass?”

  “You would nay believe me, no matter what I confess.” She closed her eyes so as he could not see the hurt.

  He sighed and released her. “Mayhap not. Go back up the way you came. When you’re safely in your room, put the lamp in your window. I shall not attempt to return until then. Monk or no, ’tis unseemly to be alone with you.”

  “Why so? That is, if you believe I’m not attracted to men, it should not matter.” Surely he could see his flawed logic.

  “Because others—”

  “Believe the same as you.” She took one step and breathed him in.

  More fiercely than ever before, the longing returned. This time, in addition to wetness between her legs, her breasts felt heavy and her mouth dried. She licked her lips and her pelvis tilted up in wanting.

  His eyes grew dark, and even with his monk’s covering, the bulge under his belt became prominent. His mouth moved close but not touching. He was waiting for her.

  Hardly able to stand, she breached the small distance, and pressed her lips onto his surprisingly soft ones, tasting of sea salt. He growled, closed his strong arms around her back until her breasts flattened against his chest. An eternity could have passed as they shared lustful kisses. Nothing else mattered.