by Brenna Lyons
She nodded, seemingly miserable at the asking.
I have a right to know.
But had he forfeited that right? Only she could say, and this was the wrong time to ask it. He wanted to growl at the way his hands had been tied and his choices taken from him.
“I will have my guards see you home. I have to attend to...to the rest.”
“I understand.”
There was one more thing he had to know. “What is your name?”
She stared at him, a fresh tear dropping from her golden lashes to cheeks that were starting to redden in response to the salt tears. Matthew resigned himself to the fact that she might not want to answer him, that he might have to learn her name from someone else.
“Sira,” she whispered. “Sirana Firloch.”
Chapter Four
Alana woke to wisps of sensation she didn’t recognize. Something soft was trailing over the tip of one nipple.
“Benjamin,” she whispered, holding to the sweet dreams of moments before.
“Open your eyes,” he requested. “I want to see them as I love you.”
It wasn’t a dream.
Alana opened her eyes to the sight of Benjamin leaning over her, stroking the petals of a red rose over her breasts. Startling memories of him teaching her all manner of sexual positions and practices made her head spin.
“How many times did we?” she managed. And what was the strange taste in her mouth?
Benjamin chuckled darkly, moving the rose to the sensitive bud between her legs. “Not enough.”
She moaned, rising against the flower.
“Do you like it?” he teased.
“I prefer yellow roses, but...” She gasped at the stroke against her nether lips.
Benjamin tossed the rose away and turned her beneath him. “But?”
“Any touch you grant me is paradise.”
“Slowly,” he breathed. His lips parted hers, and his tongue offered lazy promises that made her spinning head more acute.
Alana explored his body, committing him to memory, reveling in his attention to pleasing her. When his cock eased in, she whimpered, sore and sensitized to intimate pleasures.
“Slowly,” he promised.
She nodded, holding to him while he produced sparks of bodily paradise within her.
The corridor door burst in, and Alana startled. Before the first soldier cleared the sitting room and made it to the bedroom, Benjamin had a sheet pulled to their hips.
“How dare you—” he started to rant.
“Are you well, Highness?” a captain asked.
“What? Of course, I am. Now, if you don’t mind—”
“I’m afraid we can’t, Highness,” a major intervened. “If your...companion would be so obliging as to dress and accompany us, we will—”
“Are you mad?” Benjamin thundered.
Alana sank closer to him, wondering the same thing.
“Your brother was drugged, Highness. Illegal use of a powerful aphrodisiac. The conspirators claim the attempt was made on you, as well. That being the case—”
“No,” Alana breathed. “Oh no.” Goddess Mother, please tell me he wasn’t drugged.
* * * *
The horror in Alana’s expression told Benjamin all he needed to know. She knew nothing about the plot. She’d had no part in it. Not that he had reason to doubt it, of course. Alana was the last person he’d suspect of such machinations.
“We’ll have to question the lady,” the major stated.
Her eyes went wide and wild. “I didn’t,” she attested. “By the Goddess, I swear I—”
“I don’t believe the accusations,” Benjamin assured her.
She took a calming breath and buried her face in his shoulder, trembling hard. The reaction made him want to tear the major limb from limb.
As if speeding toward his own demise, the man spoke again. “Believe it or not, I must insist on a doctor for you, Highness. If there is no sign of the drug, I can forgo on questioning the lady.”
“I tell you, I haven’t been drugged,” he roared. Were they deaf?
“The sex show last evening was quite out of the ordinary for you,” the major offered delicately.
A retort died in his chest. It was completely out of character for Alana...completely unexpected for any virgin.
Benjamin shifted his weight and guided her head back to meet her frightened eyes. “I believe you,” he whispered.
Alana shook her head. “I didn’t, Benjamin. I would never—”
“I believe you.”
Tears dotted her lashes. She nodded.
“What are the symptoms Matthew reported?” he asked calmly. Benjamin held her gaze, watching her expressive eyes for a sign he hoped he wouldn’t see.
The major started listing them. “Urgency for the act, confusion, a feeling of being overheated in a comfortable room—”
Alana’s mouth opened, then shut, and she swallowed hard, her breathing going ragged.
“—a metallic taste in the mouth, indicating Gorus or Rallex—”
She went a sickly shade of pale, and she swallowed again, looking as if she had to faint or vomit.
“—nausea—”
“Enough,” Benjamin commanded. He smoothed Alana’s hair, smiling weakly.
It was Mora. He didn’t question it. Visions of Alana downing the wine meant for him taunted him. He’d sensed danger then. He’d known something was wrong, but he hadn’t seen the signs of it.
My poor Alana...poisoned in my place.
Memories of the insistent woman who’d tried to speak to him followed. She meant to tell me, and I didn’t let her. What did the delay do? Did it harm Alana?
“Highness?” the major asked. “Prince Benjamin?”
“Send a doctor for Lady Alana. Send my doctor, my father’s personal physician.” She would have the best.
They didn’t move.
“Now! And leave us to dress.”
They retreated, closing the door between the two rooms.
Alana blinked, and a dislodged tear dotted her cheek. “It was real,” she pleaded. “It was real.”
Benjamin nodded, wiping away the tear. “The drug may have loosened your sensibilities, but I have no doubt it was real, Alana. You are still my wife, if you wish to be.”
“I do.”
He laid a kiss on her lips. “We need to dress. Once we know you’re well...”
“Yes?”
“I intend to continue where we were interrupted...if you feel up to it.”
* * * *
Benjamin tried to focus on Doctor Ivyvine’s words, but Alana kept drawing his attention away.
She was dressed in her skirt and one of his shirts, the sleeves rolled to her elbows. He’d insisted that she meet the inquiry in his bed, a stack of pillows behind her and a light quilt drawn to her waist. The one time she’d tried to rise, she’d been struck by nausea. It was an aftereffect of the poison, he’d been told.
“Highness,” the doctor demanded his attention.
He abandoned the sight of a young journeyman healer hovering over Alana, asking her questions to better gauge her condition, and forced his focus back to his father’s personal physician. “There’s no question that Mora drugged her, then?”
“I can’t say who, but your testimony is consistent to it. It wasn’t a full dose, but enough to cloud her mind and bury inhibitions,” he confirmed. “Had you taken the cup instead...perhaps half a dose for your weight, I’d estimate. It would have been enough to make you more open to the suggestion...more than open to it, if you’d imbibed enough alcohol in addition to it.”
“I had,” he added, to be certain it made its way into the doctor’s report. “Is she still...clouded now?” At what point had it been Alana coming to him so avidly and not the drug pushing her to him?
“I can’t imagine she would be. Gorus berry processes out of the system in a matter of hours, unless one is overdosed on it, and Lady Alana was not, thank the Goddess.”
<
br /> Benjamin’s heart eased in relief. She was naturally so responsive then; that was good to know.
He motioned to Alana. “But the nausea persists? Was there some damage done?” And how will I forgive myself, if there was? If my inattention and the delay caused it?
“It’s still a mild poison. Not enough to cause permanent damage,” he hastened to add at the first sign of Benjamin tensing. “It will persist for a day...two at the outside.” Ivyvine sighed. “Your brother will be feeling its effects for a week, I’m sure. The younger Wheatstand says he’s drowning in the poison, even now, weakened as it is by time.”
And drowning in guilt, misplaced as it is.
The guards had brought word of the latest fiasco to Benjamin, since he’d been unwilling to leave Alana’s side to seek information on his own. Goddess, how much of the poison did they give Matthew to cause him to attack a woman?
He promised himself to speak to Matthew when Alana was settled. His brother likely needed someone to verbally beat sense into him again.
Alana’s protest drew his head out of contemplation of his brother’s soft heart and back to the bed. He strode for her, noting crimson patches in her pale cheeks.
“How dare you,” she choked out. “How dare you insinuate—”
Ivyvine’s journeyman made placating motions. “I must ask in such cases, Lady Alana. Nothing more, I assure you.”
Benjamin stopped over them. “Ask what?”
Alana’s voice wavered in anger. “He insinuated I’d taken others. He—”
“No such thing,” the young man offered patiently. “I—”
“Phrased it badly,” Ivyvine cut him off. “Apologize for your tactless handling, please, Roger.”
The journeyman tipped his head to her. “My apologies, Lady Alana. I only meant to ensure no one had...taken advantage.”
Benjamin ground his teeth at the thought of it. “She was virginal our first time and hasn’t left my sight since. There is no possibility.”
Ivyvine smiled, no doubt postulating the king’s pleasure at having such news delivered to him. “Well, then. We needn’t trouble Lady Alana with tests to confirm it.” He motioned to the sitting room. “If you would, Highness?”
Benjamin drew her hand up and kissed the palm. “I will be close. Call if you need me.”
* * * *
Alana’s heart leapt at the assurance. She watched him stride into the sitting room: confident, proud, beautiful...
“Lady Alana?” the damned journeyman called to her.
She turned her gaze on him with a sigh. “Yes?”
Roger studied a pen and notebook and not her. Though his attention unnerved her, his avoidance was worse.
“When is your fertile window, mi’lady?”
“What?” Why would he ask such a thing?
He met her gaze, seemingly pained. “Do you know your cycle?” he rephrased the question.
“My courses, but... I’m no lady of means, Journeyman Roger.”
She didn’t know his family name to address him correctly; he might be an Ivyvine and might not.
For that matter, he was addressing her incorrectly. Benjamin had called her “Lady Alana,” but she was lowborn and not a lady, by birth. I suppose the future wife of a prince has to have a title of some sort.
Alana forced her mind back to the subject at hand. “I’ve had no testing to determine the rest. Nor am I taking drugs that would enhance or time it to...needs.”
“When did your last courses begin?”
“Mun the ninth...or perhaps the eleventh.”
“You’re certain?”
“If I was certain, I would produce an exact date. I know it was before mid-month. Is that precise enough?”
His expression said it wasn’t. Roger motioned to one of the techs, and a syringe settled in his hand. Alana looked at it in apprehension.
“What are you doing?” He’d already tested the level of Gorus in her system. Why would he need more blood?
“Just a bit of blood, mi’lady,” he offered in a soothing voice.
“I can see that. I am asking why you need it.”
“It is procedure. I must confirm your cycle. In cases of illegal use of an aphrodisiac, it is considered primary evidence.”
“To prove motive, but I didn’t drug Benjamin to win a child.”
His jaw tightened in some strong emotion, but he kept it reined otherwise. “Or to prove hardship inflicted. Please, allow me to draw the blood.” The fact that he was asking proved he couldn’t do so without her permission.
Carrying Benjamin’s babe would be no hardship. As his wife, it would be expected that she do so, and she wanted to.
Still, it was procedure, and Benjamin was intent on seeing those responsible punished...all of the guilty, including Mora. She offered her arm. “You may.”
The draw was quick, and he left her side, whispering instructions to the techs that would analyze the sample. Alana had never realized such tests could be processed out of the office or lab, but royals seemed to have whatever they wished or needed.
She let her eyes drift shut, riding the edges of sleep, whispers and the whirring of machinery lulling her away.
“Lady Alana?”
She forced her eyes open, biting back her frustration. It had been a long night of revelry and exploration, followed by a morning of medical tests and endless questions. Could no one allow her a moment of rest? “Yes?”
He didn’t approach the edge of the mattress this time. In fact, Roger fidgeted, looking as if he’d rather face a firing squad than her.
“Yes?” she repeated, her voice more subdued.
“The tests show... You are at the close of your fertile window, mi’lady.”
Her heart stuttered at the news. Then there was a chance she’d carry from it. Would Benjamin be happy at the news? It was so soon. He probably wasn’t ready for this. Alana wasn’t certain she was ready for it.
A horrifying thought followed. She’d been poisoned. Would the poison harm a child just forming? She stuttered out that question, barely breathing.
“No. No, the babe would be fine, if one...”
She collapsed against the pillows, sending thanks to the Goddess for it.
“I have to offer, Lady Alana. Please, understand that this is the law.”
“What is?” she squeaked out, her calm ripped away that quickly. Oh, this is sure to be unpalatable.
“Carrying a child produced under influence of an illegal aphrodisiac is classified as an undue hardship.” He hesitated, letting that much sink in.
It’s not. Not if it’s Benjamin’s child. And it would be. There was no question of it.
He cleared his throat. “The law demands, upon proof that you may carry from this...crime—which the cycle indicates, of course—that I offer you early terminating measures.”
“No,” she gasped. Her hands went to her womb, covering it, protecting the child that might be.
Roger nodded. “If you carry and find it a hardship, you may choose termination at any point up to—”
“No!” How could he even suggest it, when she’d made it clear she wanted no part of it? “Get out.”
“Alana?” Benjamin’s voice crossed the distance between them.
“Lady Al—”
“Get out. Now.” Her heart pounded, and bile rose in her throat. At the sight of his hand approaching, she batted it away. “Don’t touch me.” This butcher was endorsing the unthinkable to her, offering to kill what she’d always wanted, a family...with Benjamin. She didn’t want him in the same room with her, let alone touching her.
Benjamin appeared between them, pushing the journeyman away from her bedside. “What did you do?” he shouted.
“It’s the law, Highness,” Roger protested.
“The law needs changed,” she breathed. It didn’t. It was good that women were offered such choices, but women who’d refused them shouldn’t be subjected to further pressure and reminders.
Benjamin�
�s inquiry was preempted by a curse from the doctor.
“I’m sorry. Roger is young...learning. Roger, leave us, please.”
Alana relaxed at the sight of the journeyman’s retreating back.
“You have my most abject apologies, Lady Alana,” Ivyvine continued. “In service to Their Majesties... He’s never had to make this offer before.”
“Do you share his sentiments?” she breathed.
“I am old and experienced enough to temper the laws with compassion, mi’lady. If you have refused and mean to refuse in the future, I see no reason to trouble you with hurtful reminders.”
“Apology gratefully accepted.”
Benjamin turned and sank down beside her, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Do you feel up to telling me?” he asked.
“He offered—” The words stuck in her throat, and her stomach lurched at the thought of it. “Doctor Ivyvine, if you could... I can’t bear to think it, let alone say it.”
Benjamin raised her hand to his cheek, warming her silently.
Ivyvine cleared his throat. “When there is a chance a woman will carry, in a case of illegal use of an aphrodisiac—”
“Terminating measures,” Benjamin finished for him. He guided her hand to his lips. “If you’re about through, Doctor.”
“Of course, Highness. Just follow the instructions I’ve given you, and contact me, if there is any negative change.”
He nodded.
Ivyvine executed a formal bow to them and headed for the corridor. The techs followed silently, their rolling machines in tow. The door closed, and the silence beat at her.
“Are you angry?” she managed.
That seemed to drag him out of deep thought. “Angry? At what, precisely? So many things have happened to draw emotions out.”
“That I refused? It’s so soon, and you might not want...” She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m relieved that you refused.”
“Are you?”
He smiled widely, then placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Ecstatic that you did.” There was the promise of something sinfully decadent in that voice.
She pushed toward him, laying a trail of kisses up his throat and jaw.
