by Jeanne Hardt
Though thankful to have completed this feat, Sebastian’s nerves would not calm until he was safe once again within the walls of the castle.
As he neared the back door, movement from the castle wall caught his eye. A sentry paced along the wall walk, clutching a bow. Sebastian kept his eyes downward, but believed the man to be watching him.
“Your Highness!” the man hollered.
Sebastian’s gut knotted. He was caught. He considered running and expected an arrow to pierce him at any moment. His heart pounded.
“Out for a stroll, Your Highness?” the man bellowed again.
Sebastian had been mistaken. The man thought he was Olivia, and his cheerful tone held no threat.
Sebastian needed to acknowledge him, so as not to raise suspicion. He made certain the scarf was secure, then tilted his head and fluttered his fingers at the man.
“You’re looking well, Princess Olivia!” The guard stood directly above the entrance gate, peering downward.
It appeared he was being flirtatious.
Sebastian tipped his head, attempting to be coy, and giggled to the best of his ability. He moved as carefully as he could. If the scarf slipped, his whiskers would give him away.
“Shall I see you here tomorrow, Highness?” The man leaned his cheek into his hand and rested his elbow on the edge of the wall.
Sebastian giggled louder, gave the poor-sighted guard another flutter of fingers, and rushed inside.
“Whew . . .” Not only was he relieved to be back in the castle, his handiwork with Gerard remained in effect. The man had not moved.
Sebastian threw off the feminine garments, balled them up, then knelt once again beside him and checked his pulse. Thankfully, it beat steadily.
“Guard?” Sebastian patted his face, purposefully not saying his name as if unfamiliar.
Gerard sputtered a few times and rolled onto his back. He lifted his head and squinted at Sebastian seemingly trying to bring him into focus.
“Are you hurt?” Sebastian asked.
“Huh?”
“May I offer my help?”
“Who are you?”
Sebastian gaped at him. This was good and bad. Perhaps he had hit him a little too hard. He tried to help him to his feet, but the man would not budge.
“What happened here?”
The soft voice over Sebastian’s shoulder made everything worthwhile. He looked up into Olivia’s eyes.
More beautiful than . . .
He had to stop thinking those thoughts. After all, she had made it clear she did not want him.
He pointed at Gerard. “I found him on the floor.” He hated lying to her, but eventually he planned to tell her the truth.
She bent low and peered into the man’s face. “Gerard? Can you tell me what happened?”
He rubbed the back of his head. When he brought his hand forward, a slight amount of blood stained his fingers. The moment he saw it, his eyes rolled into his head and it dropped to the floor again. Out cold.
“Oh, my,” she said. “We must bring the healer.”
Sebastian patted Gerard’s cheeks, hoping to bring him back to consciousness. “Would it not be best to get him to his chamber, and then call for the healer? I can carry him if necessary.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
Their eyes met. Something had changed, but he could not fathom what it might be. Even so, he held onto a glimmer of hope.
She moistened her lips. “Follow me.” When she gestured down the hallway and started walking, Sebastian felt as if they had done this very thing only moments ago. Yet much had happened since that first time.
The instant her back was turned, Sebastian tucked the balled garments beneath Gerard’s tunic. Since he had to carry him, they would be safely hidden.
The quarters for the guards were in another hallway on the opposite end of the castle. Each small chamber housed two guards. They had no fineries, only necessities. A bed sat against each side wall.
Olivia indicated the one on the left, and Sebastian carefully laid Gerard upon it. As he released him, the hidden garments fell onto the floor.
Olivia pointed. “What are those?”
He had no choice but to explain, but not in the guards’ lodgings.
He scooped up the clothing and motioned her out the door. The healer would have to wait.
Once he told her what he had done, he would discover how much she cared for him. Either she would turn him over to her father, or lovingly wrap her arms around his neck.
He prayed for the latter.
“Where might we talk without interruption?” he asked.
She worked her lower lip with her teeth. “Your bedchamber.”
Highly inappropriate.
He chose not to object. “Very well.” He started to extend his arm, but she walked on without him, while glancing about in a nervous fashion. Much different from her previous behavior.
When they reached his room, she rushed inside. Once he stepped in, she pushed the door shut.
She huffed and firmly folded her arms. “What did you do?”
Her anxiety seemed to have vanished. She had obviously seen through his lie.
He stood tall. “I shot the arrow.”
Her eyes popped open wide, then the tension in her body melted away. A smile lit her face. “How did you manage?”
Not the embrace he had hoped for, but seeing her smile certainly helped. “I knocked Gerard unconscious, then I . . . I dressed as a woman.”
She slapped a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh.
He held up the skirt. “I regret I had to tear it. It was much too small.”
Her shoulders bounced, and she covered her mouth with both hands.
“Go on and laugh.” He started to chuckle. “Imagine what Jonah thought when he saw me.”
Like a soothing melody, she released the most delightful laughter he had ever heard. Better than tears by far.
“Oh . . .” He wanted to keep her laughing forever. “There is one other thing. You may have a new suitor. The guard atop the castle wall found me—that is—you, looking well. He flirted.”
“And what did you do?”
Instead of telling her, he repeated the obnoxious giggle and fluttered his fingers.
“I am doomed,” she muttered, then burst into another fit of laughter.
He happily joined her.
Once they had composed themselves, he explained in detail how he had managed to reach the wall. She listened without interruption, blinking her beautiful brown eyes, which never once shifted from his.
“I feel wretched for injuring Gerard,” he went on. “Can you forgive me?”
“I am grateful you did not kill him. And, I admit, your trickery impresses me. I doubt the Lady Margaret knows she has such an admirer. Hopefully, he will not recall what transpired.”
“Perhaps you can relay his interest to the lady, and his recollection may prove to be beneficial to them both.”
“As long as he does not remember how he came to acquire the knot on his head.”
That would be simple to explain. He would simply tell him he tripped and fell, anxious to rendezvous with the lady, and Sebastian helped revive him. A feasible story.
Olivia’s expression turned somber. “Why did you not leave? You were free to return across the bridge. After all, you said I would never see you again.”
“Aside from the danger in crossing, I did not want to go.” He boldly touched her cheek. “Though what you said tore me apart, I prayed your words had been uttered in despair. I wanted to believe that somehow I still held your heart.” He pulled his hand away. “That is . . . after I was angry and wanted to put my fist through the door.”
“Angry? At me?”
“Yes, but mostly at myself. I thought I was irresistible, which, of course, was arrogant and wrong. I should have been more sensitive to your recent betrayal.”
She moved closer, and warmth covered him from head to toe.
She placed h
er hands on the sides of his face and peered deeply into his eyes. “I was once told the eyes are the windows to the soul.” She kept her lids opened wide, and his blood boiled. “Yours is glorious. Warm. Giving. Pure. And your heart is golden. I beg forgiveness for my confusion. When I thought I would never see you again, my life felt pointless.”
“Do I continue to be a means to freedom, or are you speaking words of love?”
“I long to be free.” She kept her eyes on his, all the while stroking his beard. He shivered from the sensual sensation. “Yet . . .” She breathed much harder. “I wish even more for your love in return, for my heart tells me I do indeed love you.”
Her affirmation was all he needed.
He took hold of her hands and lowered them to his waist, then wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. She gasped, but conformed willingly to his body. And when she tilted her head back, he readily accepted the invitation.
He had thought about kissing her from the first time he had seen her through the spyglass, and that had been from a great distance. Her full red lips were so close, their rapid breaths mingled.
He moved slowly, wanting to savor every second. His lips rested against hers, barely touching. With one hand, he cradled the back of her head, then covered her mouth with his own.
A light moan arose from somewhere deep within her. The sound increased his desire, and he intensified the kiss. Their mouths moved together, like a silent vow. He ached for more. The way her lips responded to his and the simple sounds she made, caused him to wonder how much greater her entire body would move and how much stronger those sounds would become.
Jonah should have never shared his tales. It would have been much easier not knowing the extent of pleasure that was possible with a woman. The thoughts streaming through Sebastian’s mind had to be set aside.
He broke their kiss, but kept her in his arms. “I love you, Olivia,” he whispered, then kissed the top of her head.
“And I, you.” Her lips brushed his neck, and he let out his own guttural groan. She weakened him.
She raised her face again and blinked slowly, begging for more with unspoken words.
“We mustn’t,” he said. “I cannot by law until marriage.”
She traced his lips with a single finger. “So, what are we to do? I assume you do not wish to marry here? Away from your family?”
He caressed her cheek. “It might be necessary. It may be the only way to . . .” He knew what he wanted to say, but kept it to himself. “To . . . appease your father.”
She coyly grinned. “And finish what we started. I have remained a maid waiting for genuine love. In your presence, desire consumes me. Waiting will be far more difficult.”
Love had him overcome, and he simply nodded.
Someone rapped on his door. “Prince Sebastian?”
He quickly released Olivia, whose eyes had drawn wide.
Though untimely, Sebastian needed the unpleasant interruption to douse the fire in his loins.
“Daisy,” Olivia earnestly whispered. “She must not find me here with you.”
“Is she one to spread rumors?” He jiggled his brows.
“She is but ten. She would not know what to tell people. Still, she has enough sense to know I do not belong here.”
“Ten? My sister, Delana, is ten. Why have a servant so young?”
“Prince Sebastian?” Daisy knocked again. “I brought fresh water.”
“One moment,” he said. “I am dressing.” He grabbed the skirt. “Shall I put this on and confuse her further?”
“You would not dare,” Olivia whispered, possibly a bit louder than she should have. She smacked him playfully on the chest. “I pray she did not hear us. And I shall have you know, I did not select her. Mother brought her into my service.”
“I see. Nevertheless, you had best hide. Why not in the wardrobe? You can return this to its proper place.” He handed her the skirt. “I will take the water from her, then send her away.”
Olivia flashed him a reprimanding look, but it instantly turned to a grin.
As he watched her step into the wardrobe, he came to the realization he had become a committed man. And if they indeed married before he returned to Basilia, he had to face the possibility his parents would not accept Olivia, a woman without pure, royal blood.
He prayed they would see the sense of their union and not disavow her. Otherwise, Frederick could still be crowned King.
Chapter 24
Sebastian laid a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Thank you for bringing the water, Daisy. I am pleased to have finally met you.”
Her cheeks glowed crimson. She looked into his face and her mouth moved as if she wanted to speak, but she merely curtsied, then flew from the room.
Smiling, Sebastian shut the door. Having five sisters, he understood female behavior better than most men. A child of her age should not be put in such a position, though he believed Daisy had enjoyed bringing him water, in her young girlish way.
He lightly rapped on the wardrobe. “She has gone.”
Olivia stepped out, fanning herself with her hand. “It was stifling in there.”
“Your cheeks are as red as Daisy’s.” He leaned close to her. “I fear the sweet girl is fond of me.”
Olivia playfully jutted her chin. “You should be glad someone in our realm cares for you.”
He took hold of her hands and rubbed them with his thumbs. “All I ask is that it is you.” Her wonderful lips tantalized him, and he didn’t hesitate kissing her.
She tasted as sweet as honey.
Damn.
He had placed himself in the same precarious position he had escaped because of Daisy’s interruption. He wanted nothing more than to lift Olivia into his arms so he could throw her onto the bed—himself along with her.
He forced himself to back away. “Forgive me.”
She whimpered. “For kissing me or for stopping?”
“Maybe a bit of both.” He breathed heavily. The multitude of feelings rushing through his body were utterly foreign, but he wanted more of them. In masses.
She stepped close and gingerly laid a hand on his chest. He shuddered beneath her touch.
“I forgive you.” She stood on the tips of her toes and placed the softest of kisses on his mouth. “It grows late. I must see to Gerard, then go to my own bedchamber before I am discovered here.”
“Oh, yes. I nearly forgot the poor man, and I should be ashamed of myself. I fear you have an effect on me which causes me to lose my senses.”
She grew bolder and walked her fingers up his chest, then brushed them through his beard. “That is no way for a future high king to behave.” Her sensual voice weakened his knees. “Perhaps I am not good for you.”
“No. You are too good, and that is the real problem.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Be on your way, before I do something I shall regret.”
“Very well. I will go, but it pains me to do so.”
Their eyes locked.
A wedding could not come fast enough.
* * *
Tearing herself away from Sebastian was the hardest thing Olivia had ever done.
Her body tingled all the way to the tips of her toes. Donovan had never brought out such feelings. Love coursed through her veins like thick, luscious cream. She could not remove the smile from her face, and did not care to. It would suit her well to remain this happy for the rest of her life.
When she arrived at the guards’ quarters, she found Gerard’s bed empty. Small specks of blood dotted his pillow.
“Your Highness?”
She turned to Alwin. “I came to see Gerard, expecting him to be abed. Have you seen him?”
The man smiled. “Yes. He sought me out and begged forgiveness for leaving his post. He said he tripped and fell, and you and Prince Sebastian aided him. Because he claimed to be well, I allowed him to return to his assigned place. He feared he would be removed from the guard.”
“I doubt Father would
dismiss someone so loyal.” She stood fully upright. “Thank you for the information. It pleases me to know he has recovered.”
Alwin bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”
She dipped her head, then hurried to her room. Though curious how much Gerard remembered about his encounter with Sebastian, Alwin gave no indication there was more to the story. Even with all that had transpired, she fully trusted both Gerard and Alwin. They had proven their loyalty time and again.
She donned a cool nightgown and lay in bed. This hour of night always appealed to her. When she closed her eyes, wonderful sounds surrounded her, coming from outside the open window. Pleasant chirps from crickets, the distant cries from owls, and far-off wolves.
Wolves?
She clutched her chest and sat upright. The howling had come from Black Wood. A pack of wolves could easily take down a man. What if Jonah had been overcome?
“Ugh . . .” Every pleasant thought fled her mind, replaced by worry. It not only made her mentally exhausted, but also ill at her stomach.
No.
She refused to believe Jonah had been ravaged by wolves. Sebastian had told her Jonah was a capable swordsman, as well as an able archer. Certainly, he was well on his way to Basilia.
What would it be like to travel freely? She hoped her love for the idea of freedom was not greater than what she carried for the man at the end of the corridor. Was it wrong to desire both?
She touched her cheek, then ran her fingers across her lips. Pleasant thoughts rushed in and heated her body. Her desire for Sebastian overwhelmed her.
If Donovan had felt these kinds of needs for her, no wonder he wanted to rush their marriage. Yet he had bedded other women and had already experienced intimate pleasure. Loveless pleasure. He obviously cared only for personal gratification.
Intimacy driven by love would surely prompt even greater satisfaction.
She squirmed beneath her bedding. These thoughts had to be dismissed, or she might find herself creeping down the hallway to his room.
Perhaps it had been wrong of her to suggest they marry in Padrida. She had taken advantage of his passion by suggesting such a thing. The wedding of a future high king should be celebrated by all of his people, not carried out in the confines of a far-off land.
