by Barb Hendee
“Everyone, please. Get off your horses and kneel down. Don’t touch the hilts of your swords for any reason.” With obvious regret, she looked to me. “You too, my lady. Get down and kneel. Please. Can’t you see the state he’s in?”
This plea startled Reynaud, but the group of riders was almost upon us, and the man in front had increased his lead.
“Everyone down!” Reynaud ordered. “On one knee!”
The men obeyed instantly. A moment later, Reynaud was at my side, reaching up. I was attempting to understand this chain of events. Even a woman of my status would curtsey to a king, but the thought of having to grovel on the ground was unthinkable. Still, my instincts told me to follow Ashton’s plea, and I let Reynaud lift me off my horse.
Then I knelt, but I kept my head up, watching.
Ashton stood well in front of us, on her feet, waiting. The king jerked the reins of his frothing horse, and as it skidded, he jumped to the ground before it had fully stopped. I took in the sight of him. No one had warned me he was handsome, well formed and muscular. His hair was thick and dark brown and hung in waves just past his collar.
His body was in motion the instant his feet hit the ground. He ran to Ashton and scooped her up in his arms, gripping her so tightly to his chest I feared he might hurt her. His dark eyes were wild as he began striding back to his horse. There was nothing she could have done to stop him, but I saw her whispering rapidly in his ear. I assumed she was confirming our messenger’s story, telling him my identity and explaining that my guards had saved her. I expected him to stop and turn and come back to both greet and thank me. He did neither.
Instead, he lifted her to the front of his saddle and jumped up behind her, gripping her again as if his life depended on it. She was still whispering quick words. Her hands were on his chest, and she appeared to be trying to get him to stop. I saw her mouth the word “please” several times.
The rest of his retinue reached us.
King Rowan glanced our way once, but at Reynaud and not at me.
He spoke to the royal guard in the lead. “Micah, manage that,” he ordered.
Then, he kicked his frothing horse again and galloped back toward the city, holding the reins in one hand and Ashton with the other.
I was stunned.
I was humiliated.
Captain Reynaud’s face showed fury.
I’d ridden five days, and this was the greeting from my future husband?
Quickly, I stood up, and Reynaud stood beside me
The leader of Rowan’s guards appeared both mortified and dumbstruck at the same time. Dismounting swiftly, he strode toward me. He was perhaps thirty years old and one of the tallest men I’d ever seen. He wore a close-trimmed beard, and his blond hair hung down his back. There was a sheathed sword on his left hip.
I was angry and wanted to punish someone, anyone, for the initial greeting I’d received here.
But as he came before me, he dropped to one knee. “My lady, Olivia.”
His tone was so filled with apology that my anger faded. He seemed to know exactly who I was and was already treating me as his queen.
“I’m Captain Micah Caron,” he continued, with his eyes downcast. “Commander of the royal guard.”
This surprised me. He was not overly young to have achieved the rank of captain, but he was young to be named as commander of the royal guard. Normally, such honors were awarded to seasoned soldiers in their late forties or early fifties.
I found myself unable to speak. King Rowan’s nearly unhinged behavior had left me at a loss.
“The king has been overwrought with worry,” Captain Caron rushed on. “But he welcomes your arrival, as do we all. The dowager queen has been preparing. A fine private room awaits you, and tonight, a banquet will be hosted in your honor. The Council of Nobles has gathered to express their joy.” He looked up to Reynaud. “Bunks and hot meals have been readied for your men.”
Beside me, Reynaud’s taut body began to relax. He cared for his men and would appreciate Captain Caron seeing to their comfort. Now that I was safely delivered, they could begin the journey back tomorrow.
“May I escort you to the castle, my lady?” Caron asked.
Still somewhat at a loss, I nodded once—as regally as I could.
He stood up and towered over me. The effect was the opposite of when Ashton had stood beside me. His expression was still apologetic but protective at the same time. I felt small…almost delicate. Something about his physical presence unnerved me, and yet I couldn’t help being grateful for how swiftly he’d altered the situation.
Motioning toward my horse with one hand, he said, “My lady?”
I let him hand me up into the saddle, and then I looked to the castle.
My new home.
Chapter Three
That evening, after a few hours of rest, I woke alone in my private room, in one of the west towers of the large, drafty castle. Though not luxurious, the accommodations met my needs and expectations. It boasted its own fireplace. Tapestries depicting rose gardens graced the walls. I had a large four-poster bed with a thick down comforter. There was a wardrobe and a cherrywood dressing table with a mirror and matching chair positioned against the east wall.
All of my trunks had been delivered.
As I rose to dress, though, a problem presented itself. Most women of my class employed a lady’s maid. However, my father had forbidden this practice. He’d taught us all how to listen, how to spy, and how to gather information, but he saw a danger in letting anyone get too close to a family member, and was against the idea of another woman in our rooms, seemingly invisible, listening to us talk.
As a result, my sisters and I had sometimes been forced to lace each other up. I managed to get around this as often as possible by ordering gowns that laced up the front. For formal occasions, I could call on one of our serving women.
But my finest gown, the one I wished to wear tonight, laced up the back and would require assistance. Perhaps I could choose another? No. The one I had in mind suited me too well, and I needed to look my best.
The problem resolved itself with a soft knock on the door.
“Come,” I called.
A middle-aged woman stepped inside. She wore a gray wool dress with her hair pinned up rather severely. Bowing her head, she said, “My lady. The princess informed me that you are traveling without a maid. I came to see if I could be of assistance.”
I knew full well that my lack of a maid would appear odd in these early days, and I’d soon need to employ one here. It would be expected.
“Are you maid to the princess?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, my lady. I am Kamilla. May I assist you?”
Though I showed no emotion, her offer was welcome. “Please.” I pointed to the largest of the trunks. “My gown for tonight is in there. It is the one on top.”
It was emerald-green velvet with a scooped neckline and long, slender sleeves. The skirt was split, and I’d brought a white satin underskirt to wear beneath it. Kamilla got me dressed and laced me in tightly, nodding her approval at the effect of the green over the stark white.
I looked at my hair in the mirror. “Up or down?” I asked, throwing all decorum to the wind. She lived here, and she dressed Ashton. I wanted her opinion.
Kamilla studied me dispassionately. “Down, I think. You have lovely hair and should show your tresses. But sit and let me do something with the front. Do you have a clip, perhaps in silver?”
“Yes, in that box.”
Without question, I sat and allowed her to brush out my hair. She took the front, pulled it back over my forehead, and pushed the top forward slightly to soften the effect. Then she pinned it. The effect was simple and elegant.
I stood up. I looked well. This was not vanity. I could see that I looked well. My burnished red hair shone, and th
e dress brought out the color of my slanted green eyes.
Once more, Kamilla nodded her approval. “It’s good that you stand so straight. You’re tall, and there’s nothing for it, so you are wise to use it instead of slouching.”
Her somewhat impertinent opinion was unexpected, but I couldn’t help finding her words gratifying. No one had ever looked at me and approved of my height before.
Then the next problem presented itself. “I have no idea where to find the great hall.”
“I’ll escort you, my lady.”
* * * *
Kamilla took me far enough that I could see the entry chamber before the great hall, but she did not exit the corridor. Instead, she faded back into the shadows.
I stepped alone into the vast circular entry chamber. There were entrances to other corridors along the walls, leading in all directions, but an open archway to the great hall dominated one side.
Drawing myself up, I walked through the archway to find the great hall already filled with people, milling about drinking from goblets. A large hearth stood in the center of one wall, and even in early summer it was burning, as the coastal nights could be chilly. I wondered what winters would be like here. Five long tables with chairs lined three of the walls, but it was customary for guests to drink and visit before dinner was served.
I was not alone for long.
“My dear,” said a familiar voice.
Baron Augustine, an old friend of my father and a frequent visitor to my family’s keep, approached me though the crowd. He was portly, with a white beard, and dressed in a burgundy tunic with gold thread. He was on the council of twelve nobles and therefore one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.
Our government was set up as a balance between the council and the reigning monarch. Council seats were for life, and an empty seat could only be filled by a majority vote from the sitting council. Most council members held one or more secondary government offices as well—for which they were paid generous stipends. Lord Sauvage served as minister of foreign affairs. Lord Cloutier, the oldest member, served as minister of finance.
Baron Augustine had studied the law in his youth. He was the keeper of our laws and bylaws. Striding directly to me, he leaned in to kiss my cheek.
“My dear,” he repeated. “I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you. The dowager’s announcement of your agreement, of your impending betrothal, has brought such joy to the council. She couldn’t have chosen better, and you do us honor by traveling on such short notice.”
Of course, he was flattering me. Any woman with an ounce of sense would have agreed to the arrangement, jumped onto a horse, and ridden five days if the crown had been offered to her, but…at the same time, his voice was warm and genuine. He’d always behaved like a loving uncle, and he was glad to see me. My own father would not have kissed my face or bothered with such kind words.
Even more, just like Ashton, like Captain Caron, he already viewed me as the new queen. My brother, George, had not been wrong. I would have the support of the council.
“I’ve not met the dowager,” I said quietly. “Will you play escort and introduce me?”
“It would be my honor.” He offered his arm. “She has been so eager for your arrival.”
We made our way through the throngs of guests toward the hearth. I spotted the dowager queen, Genève, before Baron Augustine even pointed her out. She had the same shade of dark hair and eyes as her son. In her late forties, she was still striking, wearing a gown of gold silk and holding a goblet without drinking as she spoke to the wives of Lords Paquet and Sauvage—two other men on the council.
When she saw me coming, she went still, taking in everything about me. Perhaps she too could see who I was without being introduced.
Baron Augustine stopped and bowed to her. “My queen, allow me to present the lady Olivia Géroux.”
Though she was the dowager queen, in gatherings like this, it was polite to address her by her former title. Her eyes scanned my face, my hair, my form, and gown. She smiled, but it did not reach her cold eyes. Then she handed off her goblet and grasped my hands. “My dear. You are most welcome. In his letters, your father spoke highly of you, and I can see he did not exaggerate.”
Was there relief in her voice? I thought so. I could feel strength emanating from her, and perhaps she could sense it in me.
Cold eyes or not, she was my most powerful ally here.
“Olivia,” said a soft voice from my right.
Turning, I saw Princess Ashton coming toward us. The sight of her took my breath away. She was almost ethereal in a gown of peach silk that made her pale skin glow. Her silky black hair was styled in a fashion similar to mine, flowing down her back with the front held by a silver clip.
She smiled openly. “Oh, how beautiful you look. You are by far the loveliest girl in the hall. I’m sorry Rowan rode off so quickly today. I wasn’t even able to thank you properly.”
The most unsettling thing about her was that she meant every word, and I was uncertain how to respond to someone like her. She appeared to lack any and all ability at skilled wordplay. She said what she thought, and she was a gentle creature.
Normally, I would despise such a woman, as she was clearly weak-natured. But again…she wouldn’t be in my life for long. I suspected several betrothals were likely in the works, hence Prince Amandine’s attempt at abduction.
“You look well,” I said. “Are you recovered?”
“Yes, thank you. I rested this afternoon, and I feel safe here with my brother.”
Her eyes moved partway across the hall, and I breathed in quickly to see Rowan in the crowd, speaking with Lords Paquet and Sauvage. He was every inch as handsome as he’d been that afternoon, wearing the same sleeveless tunic that showed the defined muscles in his arms. Waves of dark hair curled behind his ears. His face was clean-shaven, and his cheekbones were high.
Standing on tiptoes, Ashton kissed the side of the dowager’s face. “Good evening, Mother.”
“Are you certain you are recovered, my dear? This whole affair has given us such a fright.”
“I feel well, Mother,” Ashton answered, “and I didn’t want to miss Lady Olivia’s welcoming dinner. She’s been so kind. She and her men saved me.”
Genève smiled at me again, but if anything, her eyes were even colder. “Yes, I was informed.”
“Have you managed to learn who these captors served and how they escaped the castle gates with the princess?” I asked.
“No. But my son will learn the truth.”
Again, we all looked to Rowan. He suddenly glanced around, as if missing something, and turned his head toward our small group.
Crooking his arm, he barked, “Ashton.”
Ashton started slightly, as if she’d done something wrong. “Excuse me.” Hurrying over, she took his arm with both hands, and he turned back to his conversation without acknowledging my existence.
Baron Augustine and the wives of Lord Paquet and Sauvage froze at this clear slight against me, but Genève never lost her serene smile. Gazing upon her children with what appeared to be affection, she sighed. “It has been a most trying time for the king. He was overwrought at the abduction of his sister, and I fear it may take him longer to recover than her.”
His pointed attempts to ignore my existence could hardly be accounted to worry over the potential loss of a sister. There was more going on here. I simply didn’t know what yet.
But I nodded sympathetically. “Of course. I’ve not yet spoken with the king, so I have little idea of his state of mind.”
Everyone waited for Genève’s next words. Again, her smile never faded. “That will be remedied soon, my dear. You are seated next to him at dinner.”
This brought relief. I would finally learn more about my future husband.
* * * *
Unfortunately, dinner
proved an equally humiliating affair.
Baron Augustine was seated on my left, with the king to my right. Lord Moreau, another member of the council, sat to the king’s right, and the two them remained engaged in steady conversation for the first three courses. Several times, Lord Moreau leaned around Rowan to speak to me, attempting to pull me into the discussion, but though Rowan never offered an impolite word to me, he also refused to acknowledge my existence. How was I to win a man so determined to pretend I was not there?
By the time dessert was served, we’d still not exchanged a word.
“Have you questioned the two guards who were on duty at the castle gate yesterday?” Lord Moreau asked him.
Rowan nodded. “Yes, and so has Micah. They both swear no one got by them with the princess…that they searched every wagon. They are loyal men, and I know them well. Perhaps the princess was mistaken about being taken past the guards. She told me a bag had been placed over her head before she was hidden in the back of the wagon, so she saw nothing.”
“Then how did these captors get her off the castle grounds?”
Rowan’s face darkened, and he looked down the table past Moreau. Ashton was seated several people away, on the far side of Genève. “I don’t know. But I will find out.”
“My king,” Baron Augustine said, pulling Rowan’s attention. “I hear your vineyards are producing a fine crop this year. Lady Olivia’s father also grows a variety of grapes.”
“Does he?” the king answered without looking at me, and then attempted to turn away again.
“I hear you do better with purple grapes here along the coast,” I put in, speaking directly to the king. “We tend to grow vines of white in the south.”
This was hardly a riveting topic, but I was determined to make him at least acknowledge me. He did not. He did not acknowledge I’d spoken, and went back to his conversation with Lord Moreau.
Everyone was seated and finishing the last of their strawberry tarts with cream when movement in the north archway caught my eye. Several musicians came into the hall and began setting up to play.
