Bride Ball

by Brenna Lyons

  In the silence that fell, Edward could hear someone moving on the floor above.

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “I understand there is a third young lady in the household, one by the name of Amber Oakmarch?”

  She tensed, and her light blue eyes hardened to slate gray. “There is.”

  “She has dark hair and eyes and is less...endowed than your own daughters are, Lord Elmstead tells me. About the height of your Kambry.”

  “She is.”

  Marquita’s jaw tightened, but her tongue remained leashed.

  “I should like to...examine her,” he offered delicately.

  “For what reason?” Mora’s voice was deceptively sweet; every pore oozed anger that seemed to taint the air around them.

  “I met a woman of that description at the Bride Ball, but she slipped away from me.”

  Mora laughed lightly. “It couldn’t have been Amber. She didn’t go to the ball.”

  “You’re refusing to let me see the woman then?” He added a challenge to his tone and expression, annoyed by her impertinence.

  Her face paled a shade or two, half-masked by her cosmetics. “Of course not. I only fear you’re wasting your time. Amber didn’t go to the Bride Ball.”

  “Of course, she did,” a new voice corrected sharply. “She was gone nearly all night.”

  Edward stood, turning to the stairs, taking stock of the speaker. She was elderly, white hair pulled up in a simple bun, leaning on a cane but with bright dark eyes that belied her age.

  He fished for the lady of the house’s name. “You were saying, Lady Reanne?”

  She took a pained step down the stairs, her gnarled hand gripping hard at the banister. Edward waved his guards to her, and the corporal scrambled up the stairs, offering his arm.

  Reanne took it with a smile, then started speaking as she descended. “Mora refused to escort Amber, so I asked my driver’s son, Keane, to chauffer for her.”

  Mora paled a notch more. “She had nothing to wear,” she protested. “She has no etiquette. She would have embarrassed the family.”

  Reanne reached the floor and hobbled toward them, assisted by the attentive corporal. “You are correct that Amber owns nothing appropriate to wear to a Bride Ball, but I had an outfit from my youth that was still serviceable...if somewhat behind the styles.”

  Edward’s heart stuttered in excitement. What had Cinder said?

  “My grandmother’s, but I’d rather wear it.”

  “She couldn’t have come in without an escort,” Mora insisted.

  “Her proclaimed escort was already inside.” Reanne sank into the chair Edward had vacated. She offered the corporal a smile and nod of thanks.

  “She wasn’t announced,” Mora continued.

  Reanne chuckled. “I cannot imagine how she managed that, but Amber is a resourceful one.”

  Marquita fluffed her hair, seemingly bored with the topic of conversation. “Well, I certainly didn’t see Cinder there.”

  “What did you say?” Edward asked, praying he hadn’t misheard her.

  “I said that I didn’t see her at the ball.”

  “Not that. What did you call her?” he insisted.

  “Oh, thaaat. Cinder was a pet name her father gave her when she was a child.” She screwed up her face in disgust. “Always playing in—”

  “Lady Reanne.” Edward forced his voice to remain calm. “Where is your granddaughter?”

  She smiled an all-too-knowing smile. “In her room. Reading, I would imagine. Amber is always reading, when she has a moment to. If you wish to summon her, it is the furthest room on the left, upstairs.”

  He nodded to the same guard that had helped Reanne down the stairs, marking him as gentle enough in his regard to be charged with this task. Edward itched to go himself, but that would be unseemly, until he knew for certain that she was his Cinder.

  No. That was unseemly. Though his father would try to coerce her to marriage, Edward would respect her choice in the matter.

  She had a choice, and she could choose to leave him...again. His heart ached at that. Wasn’t losing her once bad enough?

  Footsteps returned, and Edward steeled himself, he believed, for every eventuality. Darren appeared at his shoulder, offering comfort silently as she stepped onto the stairs, the guard a step behind.

  The body was right. The lush curves filled her dress as they had the costume. Her dark hair was drawn back in a tight braid. She was jittery and pale, even her full lips pink instead of the red he remembered. If only he could see her eyes, he might be sure.

  As if she heard his internal musing, Amber looked around and spied him. She stopped short, her eyes widening and flicking back and forth between him and Darren.

  Edward groaned inwardly at that. With the masks between them, she had no more clue which man was the one who’d mounted her than Marquita and Kambry had.

  Amber’s eyes locked solidly on Edward, making him question that belief. Did she know? Was it a lucky guess?

  She swallowed hard, backed off a step, and collided with the corporal behind her. The guard’s hands clamped down on her shoulders, and Amber gasped.

  Edward tensed, preparing to move. The guards knew better than this; they knew Amber wasn’t to be harmed.

  Darren addressed the situation before Edward could. “Gently. And...she looks faint, don’t you think? Lady Mora, could you bring a glass of water for her?”

  It wasn’t really a question, and though she scowled at being relegated to servant, Mora sauntered off to comply with the order given.

  The corporal guided Amber down the stairs, bringing her to Edward. Her eyes never left his, even while Darren was speaking, and her expression was unreadable.

  “Cinder,” Edward greeted her.

  She winced and then nodded. There was no bow, no greeting in return, making Edward wonder what she thought was going on.

  “Do you know who I am?” he asked. Did she realize he was the man she’d been intimate with? Or...was it simply the presence of “the prince” in the house that unnerved her?

  She darkened, shooting a sidelong look toward her family, a sure sign that she knew precisely who he was. Still, there was no greeting for him. Her eyes met his again, and her head swiveled slowly back and forth in a negative response.

  She lied? Edward couldn’t believe she had the nerve to lie about it. Did she feel nothing for him?

  He reached out and grasped the square neckline of her dress, easing it aside. The corporal moved his hand from that shoulder to her arm, freeing the material to slide away.

  Amber didn’t fight him. She didn’t protest the move, though she trembled lightly.

  The incriminating love bite appeared from behind the fabric, the purple and green of healing tissue not quite picking up the crimson of the skin around it, standing out in stark contrast.

  Edward ran his fingertips over it, raising a brow in challenge of her claim not to know him. He put out his other hand, and her bustier settled in it, courtesy of one of the other guards.

  Darren chuckled darkly. “Perhaps she should try it on for size, cousin,” he suggested.

  Amber folded her arms over her chest, pulling at the corporal’s hold to accomplish it, obviously terrified by the idea that he might demand such a spectacle of her. “Please don’t, Christopher. I don’t know your family name. I swear it.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, working that comment through. “That was why you said you didn’t know—”

  She nodded, shooting a nervous look at the guards.

  Edward motioned the corporal to release her, his head spinning. “Dear Goddess...” She had no clue who he was, even now. That much was clear.

  Darren laughed as heartily as he had when he’d learned Edward had her virginity. “You used Christopher with her, and she used Cinder with you? It’s no wonder you’re both confused.”

  “We need to talk,” Edward informed her. How could she not know who he was now? How could anyone mis
take it?

  “You lied?” she whispered, easing her dress back into place as if feeling exposed. “Your name isn’t Christopher?”

  A hoot of cruel laughter escaped Marquita’s red-painted lips. She stifled it at a sharp look from Edward; he turned back to Amber, noting her misery in confusion.

  Mora pushed a mug of water at her stepdaughter, clearing her throat when Amber didn’t immediately take it.

  Edward grasped the mug and waved her away, then scooped up Amber’s hand and placed the mug in it. He hesitated. “It’s as much my name as Cinder is yours. It is my second name, and my family used it when I was a child.” While his grandfather was king...and also an Edward, it simplified matters to do so.

  She nodded grimly. “Do you prefer it?” Amber was blunt. She’d always been honest and straight-forward.

  “I do, but my family no longer uses it.”

  She nodded, taking a sip from the mug of water. “What do they use?” Her voice was reed thin.

  He sighed. “Edward.”

  Amber closed her eyes and laid a hand to her forehead. “The...uh...the prince...Edward?”

  Darren snorted in amusement. “Is there another Edward in the four quarters? It is a royal name.”

  She shook her head, seemingly more upset than she’d been moments earlier. “Then I wish you well, Your Highness.” Amber turned from him, running blindly into the guard at her back.

  “Amber!” Lady Reanne called out the rebuke, no doubt as shocked as Edward was himself by her reaction.

  The corporal held her by the wrists, murmuring an order for Amber to be still, ignoring the water splashing against his jacket, courtesy of her weakly-executed bid for freedom.

  “I believe the two of you need to speak in private,” Reanne suggested, regaining her composure.

  Amber’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and she stopped pulling at the corporal’s hold. “I will show him to the guest parlor,” she agreed. “Or to yours?” There was a hopeful note in her voice.

  “The guest master,” her grandmother corrected.

  Her head swung toward the old woman, wild-eyed, her body stiffening. “Nana,” she gasped. “You can’t be—”

  “You can show Prince Edward to the room or be dragged there by his bodyguard. The choice, ultimately, is your own.”

  “It’s unseemly,” Amber protested.

  “So is a Bride Ball, but you managed that well enough.”

  Amber darkened. “If you insist,” she countered hotly.

  “I do insist.”

  Edward smiled in spite of himself. It was obvious that the two butted heads often, but Reanne had succeeded in getting Amber’s agreement. He wondered if she’d gotten her granddaughter’s agreement to attend the Bride Ball in a similar fashion.

  At Edward’s nod, the corporal released her wrists and took a step back, clearing the way for her. Amber pushed the mug into his hands, leaving the guard to fumble it as she stalked around him, creating even more of a mess of his uniform.

  Edward bit back a bark of laughter, smirking at the guards’ incompetence in the face of one determined woman. So, this is how she escaped them. He didn’t question it.

  Amber marched around the guard and down the corridor beneath the stairs, her back ramrod straight, never more than two steps ahead of Edward. She led the way to the second door on the right.

  There was no play at welcome. She swung the door wide, strode through, and left Edward to close it for himself or not, as he chose.

  Closing it was the foregone conclusion. They needed privacy, and though he’d prefer somewhere more private, this would have to do.

  Chapter Seven

  She didn’t look at him. Amber stood at the far side of the room, her back to him with her arms crossed over her chest, fairly vibrating in anger that Edward was at a loss to comprehend.

  “Do you prefer Cinder or Amber?” he asked, as a means of breaking the tension.

  It didn’t work. “Since only those who don’t look down on me call me Amber, I suppose Cinder is appropriate.”

  That stung. “You think I look down on you?” What had he said or done to give her that impression? Edward seized on the only thing that came immediately to mind. “If this is about letting the corporal restrain you—”

  “My thanks for that,” she offered in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “After all, striking you is treason.”

  Blow number two. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. That was unusual for him, but this conversation had stolen his center of balance. What had he done to deserve this cold reception? For that matter, why had she run from him, in the first place? He opened his mouth to ask it, but she spoke first.

  “We both know why you’re here, so—”

  “Somehow, I doubt that,” he grumbled.

  Amber went rigid. The silence stretched between them. Finally, she sighed. “Say it, then.”

  “I thought you understood my purpose at the Bride Ball.”

  “A wife or nothing,” she quoted back, but she did so without softening. Considering her background, why would that offend her?

  “Yes. Is that so unpal—”

  “And obviously, you’ve found what you want.”

  Her venom at that stunned him. What did I do to make her hate me so much? Or...does she hate all nobles and sees me as no different? No, that made no sense. There would have been no question at the Bride Ball that he wasn’t lowborn. “I thought I had.” How had he misjudged her this badly? I don’t know that I have...yet.

  Her back jerked, as if she held back a sob. “Then go collect it,” she snapped.

  “I’m trying to.”

  Amber turned on him, seemingly shocked beyond words, looking faint again.

  She shouldn’t be shocked. She shouldn’t be confused. What did I do wrong? “Amber—”

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  “Who else would I be here to—”

  Her face hardened into a mask of anger that left no doubt she felt him guilty of some affront against her. Her eyes flashed in fury. “As if I’d want the likes of you.”

  Blow number three sliced deep. “What? What are you—”

  She advanced a step, looking as if she’d pummel him, given the chance to. “Just how many women did you bed at the ball, Your Highness? I know of at least three.”

  Edward stared at her, dumbstruck. What in the Goddess’s holy name is she—

  Amber continued, without allowing him the chance to question her about it. “You’re no different than Lord Elmstead and the Duke of Montberry, are you?”

  “You were the only one,” he assured her. Goddess, why would she think that of me?

  She shot him a look of hurt; it wounded him to see it, to know that she believed it of him.

  “Reason it, Amber. You came to my bed and left at just before sunup.” When would he have had time to bed someone else?

  That confused her...for a moment. “I came late. It must have been earlier, then.”

  Edward tried to piece it together. Was she relying on some idle chatter, some mad— Goddess! Of course! “You mean your sisters,” he realized. She hadn’t been downstairs for the revelation that they’d slept with Darren. It was little wonder that she thought him indiscriminate and indiscreet.

  “Oh, yes,” she fumed at him. “My stepsisters are such shrinking violets that you forgot them completely.”

  “I didn’t bed them, so there was nothing to forget.”

  Her mouth moved, but whatever sounds she meant to make never emerged. Her brow creased in confusion.

  “You saw Darren,” he began gently, motioning to the corridor.

  Amber looked toward the closed door, her teeth working at her lower lip and her color returning in a rush that left her cheeks pink and appealing.

  “When I approached you at the Bride Ball, where did you think Prince Edward was?” He kept his voice low and calming, hoping she’d stop and reason it through, given the time and space to do so.

  She cleared her throat, darken
ing, her muscles relaxing slightly. “On the dais...” She paused, peeking up at him, looking sheepish. “With Marquita and Kambry.”

  “That was what I wished people to believe.”

  “Why? If you threw the Bride Ball, why hide in the crowd?”

  Edward managed a grim smile. “Because, I wasn’t searching for a wife like Marquita or Kambry. I didn’t want someone selling herself, as they were. I’m sure they’re skilled enough, but would there ever be honest enjoyment between us?”

  Amber darkened to scarlet. “Oh, I believe they enjoy sex well enough...and their partners are rumored to be satisfied.” Blunt, as always.

  “If that’s what they want,” he conceded. “Darren was taken enough that he’s made an offer.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t reply.

  Edward’s nerves jumped in unease at her silence. “Do you understand now?” he asked.

  She shook her head slowly, solemnly.

  He chanced a few steps toward her, heartened when she didn’t back away. “What don’t you understand?”

  “I’m... Nana said men like teaching a virgin, but is someone who’s inexperienced to the point of ineptitude really ap—”

  “You think you’re inept?” Goddess, if she was any better, he’d never have been able to hold off for her.

  Her gaze slid away, and she shrugged.

  Edward eased his hands around her waist drawing Amber to his body.

  Her breathing hitched. “You know who I am. You don’t have to...” She jerked her head to the right.

  He looked that direction, coming to the realization that she meant the bustier, now pressed to her hip, a moment later. Edward tossed it away, then settled the hand to her lower back.

  “Chr...Edw...” Her eyes pleaded with him, at a loss, now that she knew who he really was.

  “Christopher.” He’d always preferred the pet name, and it might help Amber relax, if she thought of him as Christopher and not Prince Edward.

  She nodded, taking a calming breath.

  “I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

  Her eyes slid shut, and she swayed toward him, her lips parted slightly. Edward teased her with caresses of his lips and tongue, letting his eyes drift closed as his cock surged up.