‘I brought a book of cooking receipts with me,’ she said, holding up the bound volume. ‘And I made these from flour, sugar and a little butter that I found.’ Wincing at his appearance, she remarked, ‘My, but your shirt looks as if you rolled in the dirt.’
Karl unbuttoned it and lifted it over his head, handing it to her. ‘Then you’ll have to wash it, won’t you?’
Her face grew pink at the prospect, but she pointed toward the table, gesturing for him to set it down. ‘How does one wash a shirt?’
He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t your book tell you?’
Serena pursed her lips together. ‘Not quite. It has wonderful instructions on how to cook— everything from the herbs to use and how long to prepare the food. But I don’t think there’s anything about washing clothes.’ She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘I suppose I’ll just put it in a pot of boiling water and try to find some soap.’
She picked up one of the warm biscuits and offered it to him. At the sight of his bare chest, she blushed again and stared at the ground. Karl took the biscuit, and the smooth buttery taste crumbled into his mouth. They weren’t terribly sweet, but the fact that she’d made a successful attempt at cooking was unexpected.
‘You see? It’s not so bad living like this.’ Serena ate another biscuit, and waited for his reply. Karl could only nod, feeling more and more like the bastard he was. She’d been beaten and abused by her father, and what had he done in return? Forced her into three days of living like a servant.
It was no way to treat a woman, particularly one he intended to marry. Karl stared at her, wondering what he was supposed to say now. In the end, he offered, ‘You don’t really have to wash my shirt.’
She stepped in front of him. ‘Oh, no. I won’t have you claiming that I reneged on our wager by refusing to launder your shirt.’ With a pointed look, she added, ‘You can borrow clothing from Father Durin. Perhaps a hair shirt might teach you humility.’
‘I doubt it.’ He took another biscuit and crooked his finger in a silent gesture to follow him. ‘I have fish for our supper.’
Serena picked up her book of cooking receipts and his shirt, following him back to the kitchen where he’d left them. ‘I’ll cook them, once you’ve cleaned them.’
‘Our agreement was—’
‘No.’ She stopped him, taking his hand. ‘You’re not leaving me with this.’ Before he could say another word, Serena brought him to stand beside her. ‘You’re very much mistaken if you believe that ordinary women stand by and do all of the work while their husbands watch. I’ve already made biscuits. If you want the fish, then you clean them.’ Before he could protest, she pointed a finger at him. ‘Unless you wish to give up?’
Chapter Eight
‘I’m not giving up our wager. But there are other tasks to be done. I have to cut wood, if you want to stay warm tonight.’ The prince came up beside her but she would have none of his excuses.
‘And you have to fill that large pot with water.’ She pointed to an iron cauldron hanging above one of the hearths. ‘If I’m to wash your shirt.’
‘That won’t work with me, princess. Our agreement was that you’d complete the tasks of an ordinary woman for three days. Not that you would coax me into doing them for you.’
She rested a hand on the door frame, studying him. ‘I never agreed to be your slave for three days. I agreed to work at your side.’ His expression was emotionless, his eyes holding no promises. ‘Why would I want to wed a man who thinks I’m incapable of doing anything right?’
‘That isn’t what I think.’
She cast a glance toward the fish. ‘Then at least show some fairness in this wager.’
His hazel eyes hardened, but he picked up a knife. Serena opened her book of cooking receipts and skimmed the pages for a way to cook the fish. Then she searched for information on how to launder a man’s shirt but came up with nothing. There was a cake of lye soap, so she decided to slice it up and add it to the cauldron. Once the prince got the water boiling, it would melt the soap and make the water better for washing.
After the better part of an hour, she found Karl with a pile of fish parts and two tiny fillets, barely larger than her palm.
She covered her mouth with a hand, and he glared at her. ‘Don’t you dare laugh.’
‘They’re rather … small, aren’t they?’
He stood up. ‘The size doesn’t matter, Princess.’ He dipped his hands into a basin of water and washed them, keeping his eyes locked upon her. ‘I think you’ll find that there’s not a single bone in them.’
‘I might still be hungry afterwards,’ she ventured.
His smile turned wicked. ‘Then there are other ways I could satisfy you.’ He leaned a hand upon the table. Before she could move, he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. His mouth was warm, taking hers in a softly demanding conquest.
It shook her down to her knees, though Serena tried to keep her balance against the table.
‘I’ll take care of your needs, Princess.’ He stepped away and added, ‘I’ll start a fire in the hearth and fill the pot with water. Then I’ll prepare fires to warm up the abbey interior. Bring the fish inside when it’s ready.’
When he’d gone, she steadied her breathing, understanding that the kiss was only another weapon in his arsenal. He’d made it clear that he intended to try and seduce her into marriage.
Serena distracted herself with the book while he made good on his promises. It would take a long time to boil the water for Karl’s shirt, but she put it into the pot of water. Her gaze fell upon her own clothing, and she picked up her muddied cloak, adding it to the laundry.
As she studied the instructions for fish, using the book to guide her, Serena heard the sound of falling rain. Oh, no. She moved closer to the fire, praying it would stop before she had to venture out with the food.
But the weather only worsened. Serena looked down at her hands, and wrinkled her nose at the fish smell. On impulse, she held them out in the rain to cleanse them. It had grown warmer, thankfully, and the water felt good against her fingertips.
The fish needed a few more minutes before it was done, and as she stared out at the falling rain, a strange impulse came over her. As if she were under a spell, Serena took one step, then another, until she stood in the rain, letting the water spill over her.
It was something she’d never been allowed to do. And though she’d regret it later, right now, she wanted to feel the immense freedom of doing something foolish.
The rain soaked through her gown and bonnet, wetting her hair against her neck. She closed her eyes, lifting her head back, and smiling to herself.
‘Have you gone mad?’ a voice demanded.
Serena opened her eyes. At first instinct, she nearly darted back into the outdoor kitchen. But then, what could the prince do to her?
‘I believe I have.’ She walked forward, along the cobbled path, until she saw an enormous puddle. With her foot, she stomped within it, sending a splash of water upwards.
‘I always wanted to do that,’ she laughed aloud, wondering what had come over her. ‘Even as a child I couldn’t step in puddles.’
‘You’ve ruined your gown,’ he said.
‘I don’t care.’ She held out her hands, as if she could embrace the rain. The feeling of breaking the rules, of doing something inappropriate, left her feeling wild. ‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’
‘It’s wet.’ He stepped beneath the shelter of the kitchen, his own hair dripping from the rain. ‘And you should come inside.’
Rebellion swelled inside her, and she tossed her bonnet at him, letting the rain soak through her tangled hair. ‘I don’t want to.’
For a few more moments, she revelled in the storm, well aware that he was watching her. And that he didn’t approve.
She stopped and watched him, never minding the water pooling over her skin. ‘Haven’t you ever wanted to do anything foolish in your life?’
He shook his
head. ‘It’s not the sort of man I am.’
With that, he retreated back into the abbey ruins.
After their meal, Serena stood by the fire in the great hall, drying her hair. Although rain fell through sections of the broken roof, the area by the hearth remained dry.
Karl pushed his plate aside, unable to take his eyes off her. He’d expected her to cry or complain about having to do everything alone; instead she’d revelled in the freedom.
He’d expected her cooking to be disastrous, but once again she’d proved him wrong. The fish had been perfectly seasoned and cooked tender, after she’d diligently followed the instructions in the cook book. His princess, it seemed, was more resourceful than he’d expected. It worried him, for he’d counted on her surrender.
Against the firelight, the wet gown outlined every inch of her corset-less form. He could see the rise of her nipples, and the slender dip of her waist. She had closed her eyes, as if she could absorb the heat from the fire into herself.
‘Are you regretting your dance in the rain?’ he mused, standing from the table and dodging water that poured from the leaking roof, forming puddles on the floor.
‘No.’ She stretched and let out a sigh. ‘I may be wet and cold now, but I enjoyed every moment of it. I suppose I should go and check the laundry pot. Your shirt and my cloak will be clean by now, if I haven’t cooked them.’
He crossed the hall, noticing the weariness on her face. Not a single complaint had she voiced, but the evidence of the gruelling day lay within her green eyes. When she left, he sat back and stared at the stone walls. She had succeeded living amid the hardships better than he’d ever imagined.
A quarter of an hour passed, and when she entered the hall at last, her face looked worried. ‘There was … a problem with your shirt.’
‘Did it shrink?’
‘No.’ She bit her lip, as if she didn’t know how to tell him what had happened. With a dismissive shake of her head, she explained, ‘It’s very wet, and I couldn’t wring it out well. I hung it to dry in the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.’ She glanced down, as if expecting him to get angry. He thought of the bruises on her throat and the way she was shielding herself now.
‘I won’t need it while I’m sleeping,’ he said. ‘In the morning will be fine.’
She seemed relieved to hear it. ‘You could find one of the priest’s shirts, if you’re cold.’
‘I never get cold.’ He crossed his arms over his bare chest, and noted how her gaze was fixed upon him. ‘But I imagine you are, in that wet gown.’
Her face softened into a smile. ‘I enjoyed myself.’
‘It was foolish.’
‘Do you not know how to have any fun?’ she countered. ‘Or were you always this serious?’
‘I had fun as a boy, but there’s no place for it as a prince. Duty matters most.’
‘You believe that, don’t you?’ Her face turned sympathetic. ‘Being foolish isn’t such a bad thing.’
‘You said your father never allowed you to do anything, either.’
‘He didn’t. But I learned how to entertain myself in all circumstances.’ She sat down next to the hearth, tracing her finger across the cool ashes that lay just beyond it. ‘Sometimes, I would draw pictures of houses by the sea. I dreamed of places I wanted to visit and imagined a quiet holiday from the palace with just me, my sister, and my mother.’ She drew lines within the ash, and then ventured, ‘What about you?’
He sat beside her. ‘I spent all of my time learning to rule the kingdom.’ He hadn’t played, for he had no friends or siblings. His father had forbidden him any contact with other boys when he was growing up. And as for Queen Astri … after years of her madness, they had locked her away. Nothing he’d achieved had ever pleased them.
The memory of the lonely boy he’d been gave rise to a cold frustration. What reason was there to seek their approval, when they’d disinherited him and turned their backs? He owed them nothing. The stony emptiness inside hardened into resolve. He would gain his own kingdom to rule, and prove his worth as a ruler.
He didn’t need them. Or anyone else.
Karl glanced over at Serena, and in her eyes, he saw sympathy. It wasn’t right for her to pity him. He was using her for her kingdom, and he didn’t deserve anything at all. ‘It’s growing late. You should get some sleep.’
She came closer, her hair in wet strands against her shoulders. The gown clung to her, the water droplets glistening upon her skin. ‘Not yet.’ With a sigh, she moved beside the fire, turning to dry herself.
‘Going out in the rain wasn’t a wise idea,’ he pointed out. ‘It won’t be easy for you to sleep.’
Her gaze softened. ‘No, but it felt good to do something I wasn’t supposed to do.’
The hint of rebellion in her voice sent a flare of interest through him. He moved to stand beside her. With a hand, he reached out to touch her damp hair. The wet strands slid through his fingers as he saw her expression transform into apprehension.
‘Why do you want to marry me?’ she whispered. ‘It would be far easier to find another princess.’
He stared at her, drinking in her soft features. The buttons gaped across her breasts, and he longed to cross the room and unfasten them, one by one. He wanted to peel away the fabric, revealing her bare skin. ‘I have my reasons.’
Leaning in, he took her mouth in a kiss. Her soft lips were damp, and he tasted the rain upon them. Against her mouth, he ordered, ‘Kiss me back, Princess.’
‘This wasn’t part of our agreement,’ she breathed, resting her hands against his chest.
He moved his mouth to her temple, feeling her body shudder at his attention. When he took her earlobe into his mouth, she gasped, her hands grasping the back of his head. She wasn’t fighting his advances, but instead held him to her. He tasted the skin of her throat, pulling her flush against him.
She aroused him, and he palmed her hips, letting her feel his desire. ‘If we were married, I’d take you upstairs,’ he murmured. ‘I’d remove this gown and touch you everywhere.’
She emitted a shaky breath, still holding on to him. In her eyes, he saw the haze of her own forbidden desires.
‘I’d take your breast into my mouth, using my tongue to make you ready.’ His hand moved to the curve beneath her breast, his thumb close to her nipple, but not touching it. Her face flushed, and against the damp dress, he could see the taut buds.
He claimed her mouth again, kissing her hard until she returned the kiss. Her mouth moved against him, her hands touching his shoulders as she lost herself in the abandonment. With his knee, he parted her legs, his mouth hovering against hers. ‘You’d feel wet for me here,’ he said. ‘And I’d fill you, moving inside you, until you cried out with release.’
Serena’s mouth was swollen, her eyes filled with needs she didn’t understand. But when he drew his hands down her bruised arm, she inhaled sharply.
‘It still hurts a little,’ she admitted, closing her eyes.
The physical reminder of her abuse made him stop. Though he wanted her badly, she wasn’t ready for this.
‘I’ll show you to your room.’
Serena followed him as he led the way up the stairs. Karl brought her into the smallest bedchamber, and she grimaced at the sight of the straw mattress upon the floor.
‘Must I sleep upon that?’
‘Like an ordinary woman, remember?’ Karl moved forward to stoke the fire he’d lit in the hearth earlier. It was still cold within the room, and she shivered.
‘Get some sleep.’
Before the door could close behind him, she interrupted, ‘Fürst Karl?’
‘What is it?’ He turned back and saw her standing by the fire. In the dim light, her skin glowed, the droplets of water making him want to lean down to taste them.
‘Today wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was rather nice, actually.’
Karl closed the distance between them and pulled her back into his arms. He could
feel the quickening of her breath, the soft chills that ran over her skin. ‘There are two days left.’
‘And nights,’ she added in a tremulous voice.
‘You don’t have to spend them alone,’ he murmured. He moved his hands down her spine, drawing her closer.
Against his cheek, he felt Serena’s face grow warm with embarrassment. His body was tight with need, but he wasn’t about to let her go to bed without throwing down his own gauntlet.
He brought his mouth to hers, resting just above it in the hint of a kiss. ‘Tell me to go away, Princess.’
‘What have you done to my son?’ Gerlach threw open the door to the freiherr’s study. He didn’t care about proper etiquette or waiting to be announced. The man had taken Wilhelm, imprisoning him in the dark. ‘He’s only nine years old! What could he possibly do to you?’
‘You’ve been remiss in your search, Captain Feldmann,’ the baron responded. With a signal, a servant stepped closer. Although the man was smaller and Gerlach could easily overpower him, he kept his temper under rein. Wilhelm’s well-being depended on him remaining calm.
‘The coach stopped near the coast of Lohenberg,’ Gerlach answered. ‘The fürst paid passage to the island of Vertraumen. They are still there, so the fisherman said.’
‘Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ The baron’s voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Go with your men and bring the princess back to the palace.’ The thin smile upon the man’s face made Gerlach long to break the man’s jaw. ‘I’ll notify the king.’
‘I want to see my wife and son,’ he demanded. The thought of Marta and Wilhelm enduring imprisonment pushed him closer to the edge of murder.
The freiherr motioned for a servant to escort him. ‘Take him below,’ he ordered. Then he added, ‘They won’t be released until you bring back the princess. And you’ll face charges for defying the king’s orders.’
Gerlach shielded his fury and fear for his family. Though Marta was young and strong, no woman should have to endure what she had on his behalf. And as for Wilhelm … it infuriated him that the Baron held the power to harm a child. He followed the servant down the winding stairs that led to the prison cells, his heart growing colder with every step.
The Accidental Prince Page 11
