Alecia’s eyes widened at his nudity, her heartbeat exploding into a gallop in time with his own.
“Love me,” she whispered.
He knelt and kissed her neck, her shoulders and her breasts until she strained against him, begging for release. Then his hand slid beneath her buttocks and he entered her, slowly, gently, until all of him was consumed in her warmth. Alecia tensed at the pressure but then moved against him, meeting him thrust for thrust until she groaned and stiffened around him, sparking his release, his seed exploding inside her.
Afterwards as they lay entwined, Vard marvelled at the depth of his feelings. Alecia was part of him, and right at that moment he wanted to stay joined with her for eternity. “I love you,” he said.
“And I you,” she said. “I would stay like this forever but I fear the world will eventually intrude.”
“And what then?”
“I will not go back.” Alecia smoothed his forehead with her fingers.
“You can’t abandon your people.”
“We will help them together and find a Defender to teach you.”
Vard gazed down at his princess, her face lit with the smile that made her irresistible. “In this moment, I really believe we can achieve all that.”
“We can, Vard. You will see.”
Vard smiled. With this woman by his side, anything was possible.
Thank you for reading Princess Avenger. If you enjoyed it could you please leave a review at your favourite ebook retailer. Thanks so much!
Regards
Bernadette Rowley
Acknowledgements
To Louise Cusack for her inspiration and advice over the last nine years.
To Sophia James for mentoring me through the early editing of Princess Avenger.
To Tracey O’Hara for her assistance during the most recent edits of Princess Avenger.
To MG for being there to bounce ideas off.
To my husband, Michael, and my sons for their unending love and support and for sharing in the disappointments and triumphs of a writing life.
About the Author
Bernadette Rowley is an author of fantasy romance who grew up on rural properties on the Sunshine Coast, Queensland, Australia. Her teenage years were spent training her beloved horses, reading the fantasy stories of Tolkien, Brooks and Eddings and dreaming of becoming a vet.
She graduated as a vet in 1987 and now works part time, allowing her five days a week for her passion- writing. Bernadette lives in Townsville with her husband of 27 years, their sons and Slippers the cat. Her other interests are reading (fantasy and romance), singing (a capella), cricket and music.
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The Lady’s Choice- coming in June 2015
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The Lady’s Choice
Chapter 1
Benae smiled to herself as her maid fussed with the tiara that adorned her dark hair. Finally something in my life is going to plan. In moments, she would descend the grand central staircase to meet her host, Prince Jiseve Zialni, next in line to the throne of Thorius, Lord and Master of Brightcastle. If her scheme worked, she need not be all alone in the world. Being solely responsible for the five hundred citizens on her estate wore her down. Despite being surrounded by people, with her parents and brother gone, hers was a solitary existence.
She shook her head and dragged her thoughts back to the present. Now was not the time to be dwelling on difficulties. Her project was well in hand. Tonight at dinner, she would shine in comparison to the princesses. She did not deceive herself that it would be simple to win the hand of the prince. The other contenders had arrived some time ago while Benae had been delayed by the myriad problems that accompanied the running of her estate. Now she was in residence and determined to make it impossible for Prince Jiseve Zialni to resist her. Benae met Merel’s eyes in the mirror.
“You are lovelier than I’ve ever seen you before, my lady,” Merel said. “That emerald silk makes you look a princess. His Highness won’t be able to take his eyes from you.”
“You are kind to say so.”
“Everyone agrees you’re the greatest beauty in all the land. Now that I’ve travelled outside Tylevia, I think they must be right. I’ve seen no other to rival you.”
“It is said that the prince is rather vain so I am hoping he prizes beauty over royalty,” Benae said, spraying jasmine perfume on her neck and wrists. “I have no title or fortune to offer as the other ladies have, but I can give him what he desperately seeks and that is a son.” She smiled at Merel. “I must go. Do not wait up for me.”
Merel bobbed a curtsey and withdrew. Benae checked her reflection one last time, sending a silent plea to the Goddess to watch over her that evening. She gathered her skirts and was preparing to leave the chamber when a commotion drew her to the window.
Below, in the castle forecourt, two men argued. She recognized the lieutenant who had welcomed her on her arrival earlier. Vorasava was tall, thin and dark with tilted eyes in a rakish face, but it was the other man who held her attention. He was immaculately turned out, his dark-blue tunic snug across shoulders and hips, his cream breeches accentuating the powerful muscles of his backside and thighs. Long blond hair was tied at his nape and he had an air of calm control. As he stabbed his hand towards the stables, the blond god’s blue, blue eyes found Benae’s and her heart stuttered. Oh my! Whatever he had been saying was lost, for the lieutenant also turned her way. Vorasava snapped a comment and strode off through the front gates.
The blond man broke eye contact and headed towards the castle entry. It was only then that Benae noticed the sword at his hip and the cat-like grace with which he walked. He was soon gone from view but it took Benae’s heart much longer to cease its pounding. There was something about the man that resonated with her, drew her, compelled her. He was about her age or perhaps a little younger and he obviously held a position of importance. She could not wait to make his acquaintance. This visit might be more than just a chance to claim the prince as husband. Perhaps there was other fun to be had, but for now, it was time to meet Prince Zialni and her rivals. Time to see the competition.
As Benae turned from shutting her chamber door, she almost ran into a tall, fair-haired woman in an exquisite pale-green gown. The woman’s grey eyes held no warmth but Benae smiled anyway. “Hello.”
“You must be Lady Benae Branasar,” the woman said, unblinking.
Benae couldn’t help the tension that entered her shoulders. Talk about a welcoming committee. “That’s right…and you are?”
“Well, Princess Avalin of Tylevia, of course.”
Benae made a small curtsey as befit her rank. “I am pleased to meet you, Princess Avalin. You must call me Benae. Have you been in Brightcastle long?” Benae took in the frown lines that were already etched into Avalin’s face despite the fact that she looked to be similar in age, a mere twenty-six years old. Her straight, almost-white hair was pulled into a severe bun, held by a silver tiara studded with pale-green gems. Avalin’s face was too long to be pretty and the picture she presented was, all in all, one lacking color.
“It is two weeks since I arrived. The prince and I have spent many moments together and I have become quite fond of him. This is a magical place and Jiseve is truly a wonderful man. He needs a woman who will bring a cool and practical head to the union.”
“He is of fiery temperament then?” Benae asked, a ripple of interest coursing through her. Fiery she could appreciate. She had hoped and prayed the prince would not be a cold fish of a man.
“Oh yes, he has a temper at
times.” Avalin turned to walk along the hall to the staircase and Benae had to hurry to match the stride of the taller woman.
“Has he lost his temper with you?” Benae said.
“No, but I stick to safe topics,” Avalin said, looking down her nose at Benae.
“Such as?”
“He loves to talk about his family and he is very proud of this marvelous castle.” Avalin looked Benae up and down. “I suppose you and he would have horses in common.”
Benae smiled, thinking of her stallion, Flaire, and she sent the horse a message of love. In answer, a picture of them galloping over a grassy meadow appeared in her head. How can he be bored already when we have been here a mere few hours? She realized Avalin was waiting for her outside a gilded door inlaid with quartz.
“Are you well, Lady Benae?”
“Of course, sorry.”
A page opened the door and Avalin swept through ahead of Benae who stopped to thank the boy. She crossed the threshold of the room and paused. All the princesses were in attendance. The two women she had not met moved towards her.
A plain young woman with red locks and pale-blue eyes was the first to speak. “I am the Princess Lella of Brevisten, Lady Benae,” she said, giggling. “Might I say you have the most glorious green eyes? I so wish I had your coloring.” She sighed and stepped aside so that Benae could meet the last princess.
“And I’m Marey of Issian,” the blonde girl with rich, brown eyes said. She could not have been more than eighteen years old. Benae wondered at her parents sending their daughter to be a candidate in an arranged marriage with someone old enough to be her father.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Princess Lella and Princess Marey.” Benae bobbed a brief curtsey. These two girls would be no competition for her in the prince’s affection, though if he wanted an heir, it paid to select a young woman.
Benae cast her gaze around the room. It was a small parlor with crackling fireplaces at each end and wall hangings depicting horses, dogs and huntsmen. The floor rugs were woven in rose and pale blue. It appeared that a woman’s hand had decorated. “What a lovely chamber,” she murmured.
“Yes, decorated by Prince Zialni’s daughter Alecia, I believe,” Avalin said. “Not to my taste. I’d pull those ghastly hangings down and raise portraits and paintings instead. Surely there must be local artists whose work would be polished enough to grace these walls?”
“You have been here some time, Princess Avalin,” Benae said, “what do you know of Princess Alecia and her disappearance?”
“I think you should really ask Prince Zialni about his daughter, Lady Benae,” Avalin said, the intensity of her gaze sending a warning tingle down Benae’s spine. “I do so hate gossip.”
“Well, I don’t,” Princess Lella said. “I heard from the servants that Alecia and her father had a falling out. He chose some old lord as her fiancé and she couldn’t bear the thought of it. Then about a month ago, the prince had Alecia locked up in this very castle and no one knows why. Fancy a father locking up his grown daughter. It is unheard of.”
The thought of Prince Zialni incarcerating his daughter rang an alarm within Benae. It did not seem possible and yet Lella was convinced. “What of the kidnapping?”
“Oh, yes, Lady Benae,” Lella continued, her blue eyes wide, “the official word is that Alecia was abducted by her protector, Captain Vard Anton, but my sources say she went willingly and that it was more of a rescue than an abduction.”
“That indeed is an intriguing and disturbing tale,” Benae said, beginning to wonder about the true state of affairs in Brightcastle.
“If you believe the gossip,” Avalin said. “I have not seen or heard a word that convinces me our host is anything but a loving father. His dealings with the common folk, however, are said to be harsh. Mind you, it is my experience that the peasants will always complain about their betters. It is their nature.”
“Indeed, Princess Avalin,” a deep, masculine voice said from the door.
Benae turned to see a strikingly handsome man in his middle years. He had dark wavy hair, a sensuous mouth and thick eyelashes framing sharp, blue eyes. He walked towards her with the grace of a swordsman and reached for her hand.
“The Lady Benae Branasar, I presume,” he said, his voice like warm honey. “I am Jiseve Zialni and I am delighted that you would visit me in my humble home.” He raised her hand for a kiss.
Benae smiled and curtseyed, dipping low and in no hurry to rise. Let him believe he was all that mattered in that moment. “Your Highness, you honor me by inviting me to your court.”
“It is I who am honored, lady,” Jiseve Zialni said. Warm his voice might be but his smile was wintry, his features cloaked in sadness; understandable when his daughter had been kidnapped. Having lost his wife to consumption some time past, the prince was all alone in the world. Would Benae be the one to return sunny days to this battered man?
The prince turned and pulled on a rope beside the door. A bell echoed in the halls of the castle and in moments the blond god Benae had seen earlier slipped through the door into the chamber.
“Lady Benae, I want you to meet Squire Ramón. He will be in charge of your care while you are here.”
The squire had changed attire in the short time since she had first seen him. His breeches and tunic were midnight blue and he wore a ruffled white shirt. His shoulders and arms strained at the fabric that encased them, as if he had recently come into his size. His golden hair glowed like none she had ever seen and was tied back from his clean-shaven face, but his deep blue eyes were what drew her attention; they showed the heart of this man and Benae suspected that heart was pure gold.
He bowed over her hand and rose, his sweet citrus cologne swirling around her.
“Ramón Zorba at your service, Lady Benae,” the squire said, his polished tones sliding down her spine. “I trust you had a pleasant journey.”
Benae gazed at his mouth as he spoke and imagined those lips on her skin. A sigh escaped her lips and she became aware that silence had fallen. All eyes were upon her. What had he asked her?
“Yes, squire, a very pleasant journey indeed.” Benae turned to the prince who wore a frown. If she did not take care, she would spoil her chances with Jiseve before her bid began. She gave herself a mental shake. You are here to win Jiseve’s hand, not make eyes at his squire. Remember your people. Their future depends on you.
Benae gazed up into the shadowy eyes of the prince. “I know I will enjoy my stay here.”
Jiseve smiled. “I will ensure that you do, lady.” He looped his arm through hers. “Now let us adjourn to the dining room. Squire, see to the other ladies.”
Jiseve guided Benae out the door and down a wood-paneled passage. The princesses and the squire followed.
“I hear you are an excellent horsewoman,” the prince said. “Your mount is a fine creature; such a perfect dappled grey.”
Benae just managed to control her gasp of surprise. Just how much did this man already know of her? Not too much she hoped. It was wise to keep some mystery. “Yes indeed. I love to ride and Flaire is one of the deepest joys of my life. I trained him, you see.”
Jiseve smiled. “I will show you my horses tomorrow, lady--”
His words were interrupted by a ripping sound and Benae felt her skirt snag at the back. She gasped and swung around in time to see Princess Avalin’s slippered foot resting on the delicate emerald lace bordering her gown. The skirt pulled away, exposing her underskirt.
“Oh dear, Lady Benae,” Avalin gasped. “I am so sorry about your dress.” She stepped back and Benae gathered the sagging fabric, trying to hold it in place. Anger replaced shock as Benae realized her competitor for the prince’s hand had trod on her skirt with just this outcome in mind. So this is how it is to be! Her impression was confirmed when Avalin’s lips curved in a tiny smile that was gone as soon as it appeared.
“You must go to your room and change, Lady Benae,” Avalin said, stepping past Be
nae and grasping the Jiseve’s hand. “We will wait for you in the dining room.”
The prince, who had been silent, frowned as Avalin took over. “Yes, lady, it will take only moments to change. I will save you a seat next to mine.” His voice purred with a subtle appeal that was not lost on Avalin, whose mouth twisted in a grimace. Benae was sure Avalin would take full advantage of her absence to woo Jiseve, but the Tylevian princess had already had two weeks with Jiseve. If he was not convinced of her suitability yet, then he never would be. I still have a chance to win this race.
Jiseve was stunningly handsome and vital for an older man. It would not be such a bad thing for her to devote her life to him, even if she could not love him. There were things more important than love. Benae tried not to think of what her sainted father would think of an arranged union. She had to believe he would at least understand her need to secure the estate, both financially and from the threat of the dark elves.
The prince turned to Ramón. “Show my guest to her chambers, squire, so she can change and then escort her back to the dining room.”
Jiseve’s words brought Benae’s gaze to Ramón. A muscle tightened along the squire’s jaw. Seemingly the handsome squire was not best pleased to be escorting Benae to her room and that annoyed Benae all over again. Since when did a handsome man not seek her company? Since never! Benae determined that the delectable Ramón Zorba would not be the first.
Ramón walked in silence beside the beautiful, dark-haired woman who was the latest of the candidates for his master’s arranged marriage. Has she no shame? For a moment, Lady Branasar’s sparkling, emerald eyes and commanding demeanor had spoken of a different type of woman to the three princesses who had arrived before her. But she was just like the rest. Willing to prostitute herself for the sake of money. Where was love? Where was the sanctity of a union between two souls who spoke to each other?
Princess Avenger - Brightcastle Saga Book 1 Page 20
