by Betina Krahn
Saxxe Rouen had gradually peeled away her “princess” shell, and for a brief but memorable time . . . two days and nights in the wilderness . . . she had been a woman. “Thera,” not “Princess.” She had gone barefoot and cooked food for herself, had a mud fight in a stream, and discovered the merits of shared body heat on a cool night. She had explored the depths of her own pride and will, and experienced life without the protection—or interference—of her royal status. But, most important, she had learned what it was to want a man . . . to share her bed and herself with one.
That thought brought her up short.
In all her railing against the uselessness of husbands and the hatefulness of marriage, she had never considered that she could possibly want a man as mate or companion. And now that she wanted one with all her heart . . . it was the wrong one! Not a sober and godly man of noble birth, not a man of fine education and courtly manner, not someone who could be an example for the men of Mercia—she groaned silently—or even someone who bathed occasionally! Some hideous conspiracy of the Fates had paired her with a crude, lusty, powerful, and utterly irresistible barbarian!
In her mind she saw bold, greedy, and unbridled Saxxe Rouen swaggering into her peaceful, orderly kingdom . . . striding amongst her diligent, immaculate, and sheltered people. It would be like turning the wolf loose in the sheepfold!
She glanced down at her broken nails, unkempt hair, and dirty, tattered tunic, seeing them suddenly as signs of her abandonment of duty. Look at the wretched effect he had on her, she told herself: dirt and disorder and neglect of duty. It was the worst that could befall a monarch: abandoning one’s obligation to one’s people. And if he had such an effect on her, just imagine what havoc his violent, unpredictable nature could wreak in her isolated kingdom!
* * *
He was the very embodiment of the dangerous, unpredictable world she had vowed to keep at bay. And she had led him straight to Mercia’s doorstep.
She had to reassemble her princess self, to somehow seize control again. Her obligation to her people came before her own personal needs and desires. No matter how much she wanted him, duty demanded that she never let Saxxe Rouen set foot beyond the mountain passes that isolated Mercia from the rest of the world. She pressed a hand against the stonecutting, drawing strength from the symbol or perhaps the rock itself. She had to think of a way to leave him and to substitute silver for—
“There you are.” Saxxe’s voice startled her, and she whirled, leaning back against the marker to shield it from his eyes.
“You surprised me,” she said thickly, her hand over her pounding heart.
“You were gone for so long that I began to wonder.”
“I was just returning,” she said, a bit too quickly. She lowered her eyes and said no more, for her throat tightened.
“It won’t be long now,” he said quietly. “You will be back with your family.” He took a step toward her, and she stiffened and pressed against the rock, feeling the royal crest burning into her back . . . into her very heart. “About your debts . . . three nights, by my count . . .”
“Three nights?” Lillith’s voice sounded from behind him. He turned to find her staring at him with some part indignation, some part alarm. “Blackguard! My lady has promised you only two!”
“There was a little matter involving a snake while we were separated from you,” he declared. “Was there not, demoiselle?” His piercing look said he expected Thera might try to deny it.
“There was,” she declared, then flinched at Lillith’s gasp. “Never fear, Rouen, you’ll be fully paid.”
Saxxe opened his mouth as if he would say more, then expelled a disgusted breath and turned back to the horses, leaving her to face Lillith’s horror alone.
“There was a snake, Lillith,” Thera insisted, “as big around as a man’s leg. And he fought it and”—the half-truth stuck in her throat—“rescued me again.”
“For a price,” Lillith supplied, scowling.
“For a price,” she echoed, her cheeks reddening. “But you needn’t worry that he’ll ever collect it.” Stepping aside, she revealed the crest she had shielded with her body. Lillith melted with relief at the sight. “We’re home.”
* * *
Dawn crept red and golden into the narrow rock-lined passage where they had spent the night. When they made camp the evening before, Thera had wrapped up in her cloak, settled down by Lillith as usual, and promptly gone to sleep . . . or so it seemed.
Through her lashes she watched Saxxe and Gasquar, waiting for them to fall asleep so that she and Lillith could seize their mounts and steal away. But Saxxe and Gasquar had remained awake most of the night, taking turns scaling the rocks and keeping watch over the surrounding area in the moonlight. She tried to stay alert, but her eyes grew heavy as the night went on, and soon her guise of sleep became sleep in earnest.
She dozed fitfully on the hard ground until she was awakened by a muffled growl. Her head popped up and her heart lurched until she realized it was Gasquar’s snoring, and she sagged with relief. She spotted Saxxe sprawled against a rock with his head bent, and sat up slowly, looking at him . . . his long, muscular legs, his wide shoulders that gave off half-visible heat, his callused but gentle hands as they lay across his thigh, and his dark, tousled hair. She closed her eyes to trap the sight of him inside her, and felt a dull, stabbing pain near her heart.
Quietly, she got to her knees and awakened Lillith with a hand over her mouth. As they readied their horses, every creak of saddle leather seemed to be magnified in the crisp air, but neither Saxxe nor Gasquar stirred. Then with a last look at Saxxe, she took a deep breath and led her horse as quietly as possible up the narrow path between the rocks.
The thud of hooves striking stone echoed off the rock faces as they led their horses along, and Thera prayed that the sound would not carry far behind them. All went well until they rounded the first major bend in the winding path. Lillith caught the edge of her cloak underfoot, stumbled, and cried out in surprise before she could clamp a hand over her mouth. Thera looked back with a frantic expression. “They may have heard . . . mount up and let’s ride.”
Behind them, Lillith’s cry had indeed reached Saxxe, and he bolted upright, straining to catch a repeat of the sound that had awakened him. When there was continued silence, he eased and took his hand from his dagger. Then he spotted the empty blankets where Thera and Lillith had spent the night, and lurched to his feet, looking around for a sign of them. His eye fell on the horses; two were missing.
She was gone. He couldn’t believe it. How could she just steal away—after all they had been through, after all he had done for her, after all that had passed between them? It had been a long time since he had opened a part of his inner self to a woman. And now that he had, she stole away in the dead of night! The betrayal struck deep into the feeling so recently revived in him.
But as he stood staring at her empty blanket, he realized she hadn’t just stolen a bit of his heart; she had also taken his hopes for a reward . . . a future. And the aching emptiness began to fill with anger.
“Dieu, Rouen,” he muttered furiously. “Again you are left without a denier to show for all your efforts. Will you never learn?” He ruthlessly stuffed his ragged feelings back into a corner of his heart. “This time it will be different,” he declared. “I swear to God . . . this time I’ll track her down and make her pay.”
“Wake up, Gasquar—they’re gone,” he growled, giving Gasquar a shake, then a hand up. “And we’re going after them. The little witch owes me and I intend to collect!” He grabbed the blankets and rushed to saddle his horse.
In minutes they were riding through the narrow, rock-lined passages that carried them upward toward the mountaintop. Then, following what appeared to be a trail, they descended toward a shallow, forested valley which was bounded on the far side by another high, rocky ridge. They paused to take their bearings and were reconsidering their direction when Gasquar spotted something in th
e distance, something moving among the rocks on the far ridge. He shielded his eyes against the sun for a better look.
“It’s them!” he declared, pointing.
The next instant they gave their surefooted mounts free rein down a steep graveled slope toward the woods below. Once in the trees, they rode hard, picking their way through the dense woods on what seemed to be an overgrown path. It seemed forever until they reached the base of the far ridge and began to climb. Far above, Saxxe caught sight of Thera’s cloak and horse moving against the pale stone, and he gave Sultan the knee and charged ahead.
“It’s them!” Lillith said frantically, pointing to the figures on horseback far below.
“The wretch!” Thera groaned, muttering, “He’s part wolf, part badger, part ox . . . and now part blooded hound as well. Faster!” she called to Lillith. “We’ll have to lose them in the cliffs!”
But as they entered the mazelike trails higher on the ridge, they could see Saxxe and Gasquar gaining on them. They raced through the narrow passages, jostling and changing direction twice in an effort to throw their pursuers off their trail. But when they emerged on the far side of the mountain and hurried along the paths that led down into the valley, Thera found the tenacious pair leaving the stone passages and starting down the steep trails after them.
“Nooo!” she wailed, kicking her horse to breakneck pace down the steep incline with Lillith close behind. As they reached the trees and located a well-used path, they galloped full tilt through the forest.
Saxxe was close enough to see Thera’s reaction, and the sight of her distress spurred him on. He was going to catch her and haul her up short . . . and . . . Well, he wasn’t sure what he intended to do to her, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. And he was going to enjoy it, by God!
Leaning with his mount, he raced down the rocky slope and into the trees after her. He was so intent on the sight of her ahead of him that he scarcely took note when they emerged from the dense trees into lush green meadows filled with wildflowers and dotted here and there with dusters of fat, indolent sheep.
They left the road and streaked across thick grass, their hoofbeats muffled thuds reverberating through the moist earth. Over hillocks and around clumps of trees, they raced until they reached a snowy forest. Saxxe reined back slightly, disoriented by the endless expanse of white above thick, green grass. After a moment he realized it was trees in bloom . . . hundreds of them . . . growing in rows. The air was heavy with spring perfume as he plunged through the orchards after her.
Beyond the blossoming trees lay cultivated fields, a patchwork of varying hues of green and brown . . . crops newly sewn and newly sprouted. They raced through the midst of those fields on a road bordered by huge old oaks, and when Thera went splashing straight through a stream, he went splashing right through it after her.
Her hair was flying like a banner behind her, and the wind had torn at her cloak until it came undone and was blown from her shoulders. He focused doggedly on her image; her white surcoat, her burnished hair flashing in the morning sunlight.
He was so intent on riding her down that he didn’t realize she had led him straight to the edge of a small city. He raced pell-mell toward the stone buildings and neat half-timbered houses, oblivious to all but her wind-whipped form. He managed to bring his horse abreast of hers and dove for the reins she held. In moments he had pulled her horse to a halt and was on the ground, pulling her from the saddle.
“Nooo!” she cried out, kicking and flailing with everything in her. Trapped now, she went stiff and bashed his chest with her fists one instant, then went limp and tried to slither out of his grip the next. “Unhand me—”
“So—you thought you’d run off without so much as a fare-thee-well!” He grappled with her thrashing form, then, in desperation, gave her a powerful spin and hauled her back against his chest. With her back to him, caught hard against his body, there was little she could do but shove at his arms around her waist and kick at his shins. “Owww! Damn it!” he howled, spreading his legs to avoid her heels. “You owe me, my wicked little cat. And you’re going to pay . . . like it or not!”
Another thing Saxxe had failed to notice was the people in the fields they passed along the way. The people, however, had noticed them, and now came running across the fields and up the road, calling to each other. Soon there was a score of them rushing toward Saxxe and Thera . . . men in work clothes, women in fine woolen tunics and kerchiefs, and bright-eyed children in tidy smocks and wooden shoes. And as word spread, people in the houses at the edge of the city began to pour onto the road as well, streaming toward them.
Whether it was the sound of the people approaching or the fact that Thera gasped and stilled against him . . . something caused him to look up. For the first time, the sense of where he was registered in his mind.
They were in a broad valley set between high, steep hills, and standing on a road not more than fifty yards from what appeared to be a small city. The buildings were all made of the same finely cut stone and were set along cobbled streets. In the distance, he could see a spire, several round towers, and what appeared to be domed roofs supported on columns. Brightly colored pennants flew above some of the taller buildings, and he could see treetops among the houses.
The sight of a city here, in these craggy, forbidding hills, astonished him. And such a city . . . cut stone, spires, towers . . . it was nothing short of beautiful. But as unexpected as the sights were, it was the sounds that burst upon his ears that left him speechless.
“Huzzah!” the people were calling as they came. “Princess! Welcome home!”
The entire city was turning out to meet them, surrounding them with scores of smiling, bobbing faces and waving hands. “What was the journey like, Princess?” a grinning, ruddy-faced fellow called out. “We have a dozen new foals, Princess—wait till you see!” cried another. “Was the city of Nantes as beautiful as they say, Princess?” another voice asked above the din.
Princess. The word rang like a clarion through Saxxe’s head. These people recognized Thera, he realized; this place must indeed be her home. But they addressed her as “Princess.” Bon Dieu! His pampered, arrogant, and deceitful demoiselle was a princess? As he grappled with that shock, he felt her trying to wrest free and instinctively tightened his hold on her.
“Let me go!” Thera demanded through gritted teeth while discreetly trying to pry his arm from her waist. But it was no good—she was caught, trapped. Her attempt to escape and to keep him out of Mercia had utterly failed, and now she would have to deal with not only his presence but also his wrath!
She looked around the circle that had formed about them and saw the sunny smiles on a number of faces turning to quizzical frowns. She froze in his arms, reddening, forcing a smile she hoped would divert their attention. But their eyes only widened and they crept closer, scrutinizing Saxxe’s appearance and the forceful way he held her.
This was the ultimate degradation, she thought furiously: being held against her will in front of half her kingdom by a huge, greedy, violent mercenary intent on taking her body as payment for services rendered!
But she had only begun to plumb the depths of humiliation, for the throng suddenly parted to make way for a contingent of older men and women robed in rich garments the color of lapis lazuli. They were all shapes and sizes; some quite elderly and frail, and some robust and in the prime of life. All carried about them an air of great dignity and all bore at least a trace of silver in their hair. She groaned silently.
The elders.
The moment the elders spotted her, their expressions of concern changed to beaming smiles. Chancellor Cedric came rushing forward, ahead of the others, his rounded form bounding enthusiastically and his dark eyes shining with pleasure.
“Princess!” He halted abruptly and made a courtly bow from the waist, which was copied by every man present and was accompanied by curtsies from the women. “Thank the good heavens you have returned safely!” he said breathlessly. “We sa
id the prayers . . . every day . . . for . . .”
Halfway through both the bow and the greeting, he halted. His gaze had fallen on the tattered, mud-stained hem of her tunic. As he straightened, his eyes traveled upward, widening on the sight of her rolled-up sleeves and the dirt, ash, and stains on her once elegant surcoat. Thera felt him taking in the smudges on her face and the wild tangle of her hair, and her face reddened.
Then he dropped his gaze to the huge, sinewy arm clamped around her waist. Following that thick band of flesh, his gaze slid to a massive shoulder and a dark, shaggy head and forbidding scowl. Some of the color drained from his ruddy cheeks. Thera had been dreading that very look on his face.
“And this . . .” Cedric drew himself up straight, obviously scrambling for a diplomatic response to so unexpected a face and form. “This must be the duc.” He bowed again, discreetly waving his hand at his side to draw the other elders down with him. “Your Grace, on behalf of all Mercia, we wel—”
“The duc? Nay!” Thera choked out, trying to force Saxxe’s arm from her waist without alarming Cedric and the others. How could they possibly mistake Saxxe for a nobleman . . . even a Norman nobleman? “He is most assuredly not the duc, nor even a seigneur. He is . . . he is . . .”
She looked at Cedric’s expectant expression, then at the trusting faces of her people, and felt a stinging chagrin that she had behaved so unworthily . . . indulging in unthinkable intimacy with a violent soldier for hire and then leading him straight into the heart of her kingdom. Retreating into her princess self, she collected that horror and flung it straight at Saxxe.
“He is a barbarian.”
“Oh.” Cedric pulled back his chin and clasped his hands tightly, looking thoroughly bewildered. “But why did you bring home a barbarian instead of a duc?”
