by Donna Grant
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Copyright ©2008 by Donna Grant
First published in 2008, 2008
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
The Royal Chronicles
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
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Prince of Passion
ISBN # 978-1-906590-51-2
©Copyright Donna Grant 2008
Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright February 2008
Edited by Michele Paulin
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks.
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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2008 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.
The Royal Chronicles
PRINCE OF PASSION
Donna Grant
[Back to Table of Contents]
Dedication
For Steve.
My everything.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter One
Winter, 1270
Foothills of the Ben Nevis Mountains
Like the wings of a raven, night swept the land, drenching the small Scottish village in darkness. Keiran Sinclair welcomed the dark for it matched the growing weariness inside him.
He sighed heavily and leaned upon the small wooden table before the hearth. The inn was small, but clean, and though he should be out searching for his mate, exhaustion and the cold had driven him indoors. He liked the small village because it was near the pass that would lead him home.
Home.
The fire warmed the chill that had settled into his bones from the frigid temperatures that had fallen two days ago. He missed the warmth of Drahcir. He missed the gentle, loving smiles of his mother and the way his father asked his opinion as heir to the throne. But most of all, he missed his three brothers.
As eldest, he'd left Drahcir first. He had expected to be the first to return. Yet he was destined to be the last.
Keiran rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye sending red flashes behind his lid. His eyes felt as if sand was imbedded in them from all the sleepless nights, and his body was weary down to his soul.
For so long, he'd search for his mate moving from town to town, and even from time to time with the help of the Fae. When Aimery had sent him to his youngest brother, Sorin, with a warning, it had taken everything Keiran had inside him to walk away from his brother.
Seeing Sorin had been wonderful. But parting had cut Keiran deeper than any blade.
All he could hope for was that Sorin had made it back to Drahcir with his mate.
Keiran snorted as he lifted a mug of ale for a long drink, letting the liquid burn a trail down his throat. It was the damned curse that sent the brothers from the safety of their magical kingdom to search for their mates, a curse from a spoiled, selfish Fae princess who had been toyed with by one of his ancestors.
His hand clenched around the mug. If only Keiran could find his ancestor and strangle him before he could damage the entire Sinclair line.
Each brother had left Drahcir on their twenty-first year. They each had until the fifth moon of the Harvest year to return with their mates. Since time moved slower in Drahcir than anywhere else, the time was different in Scotland when they stepped out of their gates.
If only finding their mates was easy, but the task was complicated by the Tnargs, vicious beasts with one task in mind—kill the Sinclair mates. When Keiran's ancestors had managed to locate their mates and elude the Tnarg, the Fae princess had stepped in and moved future mates throughout time in her attempt to destroy the Sinclairs.
Fortunately, there was Aimery, a Fae commander and friend to Drahcir. It was Aimery who had helped three of the Sinclair brothers, but there was nothing he could do for Keiran.
Keiran tossed back the rest of the ale and slammed the mug on the table. Anger and frustration threatened to drown him. He turned to gaze into the fire and blew out a shaky breath.
I've failed. I've failed everyone—Drahcir but more importantly my family.
His family and all of Drahcir would cease to exist if he didn't return with his mate in time, and it looked like that was exactly what would happen. All because he hadn't been able to find his mate.
The fifth moon of the Harvest year was in days. How could he locate his mate and convince her to leave her world and her family behind to travel to a magical kingdom in such a short time?
It was impossible, which is just what the princess had wanted.
As heir to Drahcir, it had never entered Keiran's mind that he would fail. For over four years, he had been searching for the woman that would match him completely, the woman he would be bound to for eternity. Surely he should have found her by now.
"Would you like another?"
The melodic, soft voice reached him through his musings. He blinked and turned from the fire to find a woman beside him. Her hair was the colour of honey streaked with gold. Ringlets had come loose from her thick braid and framed her face.
He wondered what her hair would look like falling around her and if it would feel as smooth and soft as it appeared.
"My lord?” she asked.
Keiran cocked his head to the side as he gazed into her unusual gray eyes. There was something almost familiar about the girl, as if he should know her.
Finally he nodded. “Aye. I'd like another."
The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile before she turned on her heel and moved to the bar. Keiran watched the way her hips swayed as she walked and felt himself respond to her curves. She walked with the grace of a queen and the command of a general, a heady mix for a man that had been without for too long.
But there was something in her heart shaped face that told Keiran he had seen the girl before. But where? He had ventured near this village when he'd left Drahcir, but not once had he stopped at the inn.
He looked more closely at the girl, noting the way her honey coloured brows ge
ntly arched over her large eyes that tilted upward every so slightly at the corner. Her cheek bones were high, her stubborn chin telling him she was from good breeding. His gaze lowered to her mouth, marvelling at the full, dusky lips that begged for attention.
She was of average height and had an easy smile, as though the world hadn't yet beaten her down. Her soft curves in all the right places made Keiran take notice. Her skin was the colour of cream, glowing warm in the firelight as she approached.
"Here you go,” she said and set down the mug.
Keiran flipped her a coin, amazed as she caught it deftly in her hand. “What's your name?"She refused to meet his gaze. “My name?"
He hadn't missed the way her brows had furrowed before she questioned him. “Aye. Your name?"
"Gwyn, my lord."
He liked the sound of it. “Well, Gwyn, why aren't you at home tending to your husband?"
A slow smile spread over her lips as she briefly met his gaze. “Because I have no husband, my lord."
He was more than surprised, to say the least. Gwyn was a very comely girl, the kind most men would marry in a heartbeat. Keiran glanced around the nearly deserted dining area. “I find that difficult to believe."
"Not so difficult actually,” she said and turned her gray eyes to him. “I won't settle for just any man."
Something inside Keiran roared to life at her words. He sat up and held her gaze. It had been a long while since he had eased his body with a woman, and he was certainly up for the challenge.
"And what kind of man is that?” he asked.
She lifted one slim shoulder in a shrug. “One who loves me and doesn't want me simply to birth his children so he'll have someone to tend the fields with him."
Keiran chuckled. It had been so long since he'd felt like laughing. “I gather that's a problem around here?"
"More than you could imagine."
He sat forward in his chair, intrigued. “Sit with me,” he said and scooted out the chair opposite him with his foot.
Her gray eyes twinkled. She glanced at the chair and licked her lips. “I cannot."
There was something about her accent that wasn't quite right. He could hear the Scottish brogue, but he didn't think it came naturally to her.
"Sure you can,” he said. “There are few of us left, and if someone needs you, they can give you a shout. Sit with me. Please."
She twisted her white apron in her hands and glanced around the room before she sat.
Keiran leaned his forearms on the table. “Where are you from?"
"A village near here."
His gaze narrowed. The more he spoke with her, the more he thought he knew her. Impossible. “You've only lived here?"
"I've moved around,” she confessed.
"Often?"
She leaned back and raised one brow at him. “Why the interest in where I've lived?"
"Because I would swear I've seen you before."
She sighed and blew out a breath. “That's because, Prince Keiran, you have. In Drahcir on the day you left. I was the girl by the gates,” she said before she rose and walked off.
Keiran felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach by a horse. His mind reeled with her revelation. There were some people of Drahcir who left the magical kingdom, but once they walked through the gates, they could never return again.
He turned his head to watch her as she wiped down the bar and carried a tray of dirty mugs into a back room. He remembered vividly the day he'd left his beloved Drahcir to seek his mate. Since it was the entire kingdom at risk, everyone turned out when a prince departed to fulfil the curse.
The blue stoned streets of Drahcir had been lined with his people throwing flowers at his feet and chanting his name, all the while wishing him success.
He had stopped at the gates and turned to bid his family one last farewell. Just before he had left, he had spotted a girl staring at him. She hadn't smiled, nor had she cheered. But her gray eyes had held him immobile as she watched him.
By the gods!
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Chapter Two
Gwyn wanted to kick something she was so riled. Over four years she'd waited for Keiran, holding onto the prediction Aimery had given her—a prediction that had made her leave Drahcir.
Aimery had made her pledge not to tell anyone, not even her family, why she left the magical kingdom. Her family hadn't understood and had tried everything but tying her to the bed to make her to stay. Leaving Drahcir had been the hardest thing she'd ever done.
It wasn't until a month ago when Aimery had suddenly shown himself that she knew she hadn't taken his word for naught. But what he'd told her had left her with ice in her veins.
The Tnarg had found her.
For a month, she hadn't ventured from the inn. If she did, it was in daylight with several people around her, and she never strayed from the village. The Tnarg might be vicious, but it wasn't brave enough to barrel through a village and chance being hunted by the men.
Still, every night, she would lay awake wondering if it would get through the shutters she'd reinforced with iron.
Aimery had been positive the Tnarg would arrive any day, and she knew the beast was nearby, waiting for her. The fact Keiran now sat before the fire was proof of it.
She had longed for Keiran to come for her, to claim her as his mate, but now ... now she worried they'd never get past the Tnarg to save their people.
Gwyn glanced at Keiran. He sat hunched over the table, hair so dark it was nearly black hung to his shoulder. His hazel eyes held so much sorrow and self-doubt that she longed to tell him what she was.
But she couldn't. Aimery had forbidden it. He had taken a chance sharing the information with her.
Keiran's face didn't hold the youthful exuberance it once had. In its place was a man hardened by this new world and his responsibilities, but it only seemed to make him more mysterious, more handsome, if that were possible.
Even before Aimery had told her of her destiny, Keiran had caught her eye. As heir to the throne, every female from child to crone, wanted him. The fact he was more handsome than sin only made things worse.
She shook her head slowly and walked to the back room where dishes awaited her. When she reached for the bucket she was sure she had filled just an hour ago, she found it empty.
The dishes couldn't wait. She had to have them cleaned before morning and the arrival of her employer, because if he let her go, she had nowhere to live.
Gwyn picked up the bucket and opened the back door. The music of crickets filled the cold, clear night. The moon was only a sliver in the night sky and the stars glistened from above. It looked to be a beautiful setting, but she knew what lurked in the shadows.
She glanced into the night, straining her ears to hear any sound of a Tnarg. Other than the crickets and an owl in the distance, there was nothing. She lifted her foot to step outside when hands grabbed her by her shoulders and spun her around to land against the wall.
Gwyn looked into Keiran's troubled hazel eyes. His face was inches from her, his legs braced on either side of hers. The heat from his body made her breath catch in her throat.
"What are you doing here?” he asked in a strangled voice. “Why did you leave Drahcir?"
She opened her mouth to answer him but glanced outside and swore she saw something move in the shadows. Before she could lean over to look, Keiran slammed shut the door.
"I need an answer,” he prodded her.
"And I can't give you one.” She wanted to tell him, but a vow was a vow, something she took very seriously. Especially to a Fae.
Keiran leaned closer to her, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “Why did you leave?"
His voice was as frigid as the temperatures. Since few ever left their kingdom, he would not stop until he had an answer.
Beneath her hands, arms of steel held her immobile.
"It was my destiny,” she finally admitted.
His gaze searched her before he cl
osed his eyes. “You're lying."
"Nay. I am not."
His eyes flew open, flashing in anger. “You left the magic and beauty of Drahcir for this?” he hissed. “You expect me to believe that."
"I left because it was my destiny. We all have things we must do that we'd rather not. Yours was to fulfil an ancient curse. Mine was to leave Drahcir."
He released her and paced away. His body was stiff, and dark circles lined his eyes. Gwyn stepped towards him and put out a hand to still him.
"Please, your highness. I have a chamber you can use. You need to rest."
He snorted. “Rest? Gwyn, if I do not find my mate, all of Drahcir will vanish."
"I know,” she answered softly.
"And do not call me ‘your highness'. I'm just Keiran here.” He ran a hand down his face and leaned against a wall. “By the gods, I've never been so exhausted."
She took a step near him. “Come. You need rest."
Somehow, he allowed her to take his hand and pull him from the room. Once in the main room, she dropped his hand, but he continued to follow her. She would give him her chamber. It wasn't large, but it was safely tucked between others, so it would be difficult for the Tnarg to get to him without alerting them it had arrived.
Though every man, woman and child of Drahcir knew of the Tnargs, only the royal family and their mates had ever encountered one. Stories of how the beasts would try to kill the mates were legendary, but worse were the stories of the Tnargs turning on the Sinclair family if the mates couldn't be killed.
Gwyn refused to allow Keiran to die so near his home.
He climbed the stairs slowly, and when she stopped inside her chamber, he halted beside her.
"'Tis your chamber?"
"There are no other empty rooms,” she lied. “You need to rest."
One side of his mouth tilted in a smile. “Will you be joining me?"
Gwyn's stomach flipped before falling to her feet. She couldn't meet his eyes, not when she knew the future already. “Rest, Keiran."
She moved to step away when his arm stopped her. His hazel eyes trapped hers as he leaned towards her, swarming her with his heat and his scent of pine, snow ... and power.
