by J. D. Wright
This might be the easiest mission she’d ever taken. Technically, it was a personal mission to give a jerk prince a piece of her mind, but a mission nonetheless. She would have to make sure the prince didn’t notice her for the rest of the day. After that, all she had to do was get him alone.
Once she told him how much of an incredible bastard he was, she would sneak out and be gone before the wedding day started. Then, the prince could find someone else to sing for his precious bride.
~*~
Xavier was exhausted by the end of the day. He closed the door to his chambers and started to untie his shirt as he walked across the room. The balcony doors were open, filling the room with a blue tint from the moonlight. A cool breeze was blowing against the thin white drapes which felt nice now, but he knew he would probably get cold later in the night. Yawning, he walked over and closed one of the balcony doors.
“Leave a door open. It’s stuffy in here,” a female voice said, behind him. He smiled to himself and left the second door open. He turned his head and saw her stepping out from the dark side of the room. Her curly blonde hair was pinned up, again. He already decided that her hair needed to come down. The moonlight accentuated her curves, hidden snuggly under her gown. He already decided that her gown needed to come down, too.
“And here I thought you wouldn’t show,” he said, smoothly, as he dropped down from the balcony steps and crossed over to her. He wasted no time before wrapping his arms around her waist. She smelled like wildflowers, just as she had before, which made memories of their night together come flooding back into his mind. He was already becoming stiff just from the thought of getting to be with her, again.
“I couldn’t refuse when the Prince of Labara requests me, specifically. Now, can I?” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
Xavier’s smile began to wane. He thought her tone was rather peculiar.
Dahlia smiled, then quickly lifted her arm and slapped him across the face. Stunned, he dropped his arms and she brushed past him.
“You don’t seem to be happy to have discovered who I am,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “It isn’t the welcoming that I had been expecting.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” she replied, as she slowly walked around the room, lighting candles as she went. “You were probably hoping that I would be waiting for you… naked?”
“The thought of you naked has indeed crossed my mind,” he replied, watching her. When she lit the next candle, he was almost afraid that she might toss it onto the bed and set the room on fire. Her behavior was hard to read. “I just didn’t realize you hated royalty.”
“Oh, dear prince. It isn’t royalty that I hate. I just hate you.”
“Because?”
“I never understood the premise of a stag party,” she said, ignoring his question.
She opened his armoire and ran her fingers over his clothing. She needed to keep her hands busy so she wasn’t tempted to touch him. If she were going to leave the room with all of her clothes on, she needed to keep herself distracted from the intense gaze she knew he was giving her. It was the same one he had given her in the tavern and she knew, very well, how that night had ended.
She continued, “A groom-to-be spending his last nights as a free man with whores and alcohol. Disgracing his wife before she even becomes his wife.”
“I’m not sure I agree with your opinion of stag parties, but I don’t see how that’s relevant to our situation.”
“Of course, you don’t. You’ve probably had so many different women since our night that you’ve become numb to it all. I’m surprised you aren’t out there, right now. Enjoying your last night as a free man.”
“My last night as…” Suddenly, he understood and started walking toward her. “You are angry because you were a prince’s final amusement before his wedding. Am I right?”
“Right, you are,” she replied. She could sense him approaching and turned to face him, closing the armoire door behind her.
“There is just one problem with your story,” he replied, pushing her up against the armoire.
“And what is that?” she asked, trying to steady her breathing. She couldn’t appear to be weakening in front of him. That would defeat her entire purpose of confronting him.
“The problem is,” he started, pausing to kiss her neck. “I’m not getting married, tomorrow,” he whispered into her ear.
She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and wanted so badly to touch him. She was so distracted by how close he was that it took her a moment to understand what he had just said.
“Wait. What?” she blurted out. “What do you mean that you’re not getting married? I was invited here to sing for the Prince of Labara’s wedding. I’ve been downstairs and they are undoubtedly preparing for a wedding.”
“Yes, they are. But it isn’t mine.” He pulled back to face her, again.
“Then, whose is it?” she asked, irritated that he wouldn’t just come out with it, already. He was toying with her, the same way she had done just moments ago when she walked around the room, avoiding his questions.
“My brother, Tristan. Heir of Labara and betrothed to Princess Seraphina of Taten.”
“So, when you met me in the tavern?”
“That was not my final amusement. At least, I hoped it wouldn’t be.” He kept his mouth close to hers, hovering around it but not touching. Slowly, he ran his hands down her arms. He intertwined his fingers with hers and lifted her arms up over her head, pushing them against the armoire doors.
The entire moment felt familiar to her. It was eerily similar to the beginning of their night in the tavern. Her, pinned between his body and a door. Him, stiff against her. She’d relived the moment in her mind almost every day since then. The feelings were the same. The intense need to touch him, to kiss him. She had never felt this drawn to a man before. It was terrifying to her, to want him so badly. She didn’t like how vulnerable it made her feel.
She had only ever tried to impress one man, her entire life, and that was her father. And years of doing his bidding, spying on other kingdoms, and seducing whomever he told her to, had only gotten her further away from his affection. She had since given up on ever winning the approval of her father. He was dead now, anyway. There was no point in dwelling on the love she never received from him.
But now, she was having a hard time admitting that there just might be another man in the realm that could make her ache for his affection. And here she was, back in his arms.
Only, now he wasn’t a stranger. Now she knew where to find him. And though she didn’t think of herself as a coward, she was afraid to be with him. It would be the first time she had ever gone back to the same man, twice. She shuddered to think that she would come back for a third time. And now that she learned he wasn’t the one who was getting married, she had no reason not to be with him again.
“If your brother is Prince Tristan,” she said. “Then you are…?”
“Extremely lucky not to be betrothed,” he replied, and crushed his mouth to hers. The burning in her stomach intensified. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth to accept his playful tongue, then gave a small whimper when he nibbled on her lower lip. She wrapped her arms around his neck just as his hands found her waist. She expected him to lift her up and take her right there, just as he had before. But this time, he pulled her to him as he walked backward toward the bed.
He knew the layout of the room, so even without the candlelight, he could have found his bed. He sat on it and pulled her onto his lap. She started to remove her gown and he watched her. Little by little, the cloth fell away, just as he hoped it would, revealing her smooth skin. Without him even having to ask, she reached up and pulled the pin from her hair, setting her blonde curls free to fall where they may.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, thinking aloud.
Dahlia felt the wall that shielded her heart continue to chip away. He wasn’t just looking at her like a woman he wanted to lie with. He wa
s looking at her like a statue he wanted to admire. She had never seen that particular gaze before. It was petrifying and thrilling at the same time.
She pushed him back to lay on the bed, but he suddenly felt awkward being on the bed that he had shared with countless women. Meaningless women. It didn’t feel like an appropriate place for her. He would have the servants stuff a new bed and burn this one in the morning.
Once she was naked, she pulled his shirt over his head. After that, the only thing between them was his trousers. He grabbed her waist and held onto her as he rolled her over, pinning her to the bed. Then he stood. She expected him to remove his pants, but first he walked over and closed the balcony door. Instead of coming back to the bed, he crossed the room and lit the fire.
“Are you attempting to stall?” she asked, smiling.
“Perhaps… The last time I had you in bed, you snuck out of it, remember?”
“And if I hadn’t?” she asked.
He walked back over to the bed, where she was kneeling near the edge. He took her face into his hands and kissed her. He didn’t want to answer her question because he didn’t want to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t snuck away. Or if he had been the one to go instead. He might have come back to his chambers and forgotten all about her. He had done it dozens of times.
It was the fact that he had felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with her that first caused him to take notice. Waking up without her only fanned the flame which had continued to burn every day since. The fire inside him was fully ablaze now and he intended to keep it lit. She wasn’t like the other women. That much he was sure of.
She held nothing back, kissing him just as hard as he was kissing her. Holding onto him just as tightly as he was holding her. The air between them was tense and heavy, but it felt amazing to be in. Her need to be touched by him was just as strong as his need to touch her.
Her hands were free so she reached down and unbuttoned his trousers, sliding them down. Then her hands were on him, stroking him. His lips trembled under hers and he groaned. She reveled in the sound. She would have gone longer, but he grabbed her waist and lowered her onto the bed. She spread her legs, giving him plenty of room between them as he used a hand to guide himself inside her. Once there, she moaned and arched her back off of the bed.
The feeling was just as glorious the second time around. This time, however, she kept her eyes open the entire time, watching him as he drove into her using long, deep strokes that made her toes curl. He leaned down and kissed her, keeping a steady pace. He moaned and bit his lip when she started running her hand through his hair.
She was so enthralled in watching his reaction that she didn’t notice her own. As either a stroke of luck or by fate, he had found her sweet spot. The one that she had heard of but had never experienced, herself. His thrusts hit it every time and before long she was squeezing his shoulder and clasping a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the excessively loud cries that escaped her lips. She couldn’t stop them.
Xavier couldn’t remember ever making a woman reach climax so easily. He watched her trying to cover her screams and wished she didn’t. He wanted to hear her sweet voice and all of the sounds it made. He didn’t care who else heard them. So he pulled her hands from her mouth and held them down against the bed, giving her no choice but to sing out.
He tried his best to hold on, but her moans caused him to lose himself along with her. His hands still in hers, he collapsed on top of her. Finally, he let go and rolled to the side. And as if history was doomed to repeat itself, they both fell fast asleep.
Chapter Eleven
Xavier woke to an empty bed.
“Not again,” he grumbled. He rubbed the side of the bed that Dahlia had slept on and it was still warm. She hadn’t been gone long. Hoping to catch her, he quickly pulled on clothes and ran down the stairs. When he reached the hall, he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.
There she was. Standing in front of the king and queen.
“Xavier!” Isabelle called out, noticing her son had finally woke. “Come here, dear. The bard you requested has arrived.”
Dahlia had no problem pretending to meet him for the first time. Her job as a spy had required a great deal of acting when the time called for it. So for the moment, she acted as if she had just arrived in Labara.
“Prince Xavier, it is an honor to meet you,” she said, dipping into a low curtsy.
Xavier noticed how calmly his name rolled off of her lips. The same lips that he had nibbled on the night before. Knowing their secret made this moment even more exhilarating.
“My son was in the town tavern when you traveled through this winter. He enjoyed your singing and has spoken highly of you many times since then,” Isabelle said, reaching out to smooth Xavier’s hair back. Out of habit, he allowed her to do it, then shook the hair back into place once she had finished.
“We’re glad you were able to come and sing for Tristan’s wedding on such short notice. It will be a pleasure to have you joining us,” Nolan said.
“Oh, no, Your Majesty. The pleasure is all mine,” Dahlia said, glancing at Xavier when his parents weren’t looking. The pleasure has already been mine.
~*~
Tristan made his way to the study. Lately, it had been the ideal place to hide from his fiancé. He wished it weren’t the truth, but he couldn’t change what was happening. The only good part of the situation was that Seraphina was avoiding him, as well.
But after only a few moments in the study, he knew he couldn’t stay there until the ceremony. He needed to get out of the castle. He needed to ride. It was the only way to calm his nerves and help him to prepare for the disaster that awaited him later today.
He decided to avoid going to the hall, altogether. His mother would likely try to force him to eat breakfast and he simply wasn’t hungry. Anything he ate would probably resurface shortly after. He didn’t need or want food. He wanted to breathe.
Once he reached the stables, he didn’t bother waiting for someone to ready his horse for him. He went ahead and did it, himself. Then, as soon as the saddle was secured, he jumped on and took off into the meadows. He rode fast, hoping the heavy winds would clear his mind. They didn’t, so he rode even faster. He finally slowed down when he reached Blueberry Falls. He was beginning to feel more at ease.
That is, until he spotted his betrothed.
Seraphina was atop a horse, galloping in his direction. When she saw him, she pulled her reins and slowed, then halted on the other side of the falls.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the castle?” she shouted.
“Why are you here? You should be at the castle. It’s your wedding day,” he shouted back.
“It’s your wedding day, too. Yet, you’re out in the forest, riding a horse.”
“And what are you riding, Princess? A ghost?”
Irritated, she pulled her horse to the side and started to cross the water.
“Wait!” Tristan shouted. “Don’t take him into the water!”
But it was too late. Either she didn’t hear him from across the way or she ignored his warnings. Either way, her horse reared back and dumped her into the water before bounding out and running away. Tristan thought about going after the horse but knew he wouldn’t be able to catch him now that he was startled. That was Xavier’s horse and he hated deeper water. If Seraphina had only listened to him, she wouldn’t be standing in a pool of water, drenched and looking pitiful.
Tristan dismounted and walked to the edge. He held out a hand to help her, but she swatted it away.
“Leave me alone! I don’t need your help,” she said, looking ready to cry.
“I will take you back to the castle. Get on,” he said, holding his horse still.
“I don’t need your help,” she repeated. “I can manage just fine on my own.”
“Go ahead and walk all the way back in soaked clothes. Not only will it take you most of the afternoon to
get that far, but you will have chafed skin and blisters from walking in wet clothing and slippers.”
She eyed him, trying to decide if he were telling her the truth. She had never walked in wet clothing, even across a room, let alone the distance it would take to get back to the castle. If her mother ever saw her drenched in water from a river, she would have lifted her nose to the sky and did her best to ignore her daughter until she made herself more presentable.
“Or walk back,” Tristan said, shrugging. “I couldn’t care less.” He turned to climb back onto the saddle.
“No, wait! I will ride your horse back to the castle,” she said. It took some effort to walk since her gown was now heavy from being soaked. She hated to think what her hair probably looked like. She allowed him to help lift her onto the horse because if she hadn’t, she never would have been able to pull herself up with the extra weight.
Tristan started to climb onto the saddle.
“What are you doing?” she asked, surprised.
“Getting onto the horse. What do you think I’m doing?”
“Absolutely not! You cannot ride with me.”
“If you think I am letting you take my horse and leave me here, you are mistaken.”
“It isn’t proper for a princess to ride with a man.”
Tristan laughed, but he soon realized that Seraphina wasn’t joking. The look on her face told him that she actually believed it.
“Then, what do you expect me to do?”
“Why, lead the horse, of course. You aren’t the one covered in water. Your clothes are dry.”
“My clothes are dry because I know better than to take Xavier’s horse into deep water. Perhaps, you should ask a horse’s owner about their mannerisms prior to borrowing it. Or better yet, ask for permission to borrow in the first place.”
“I don’t feel the need to ask Prince Xavier for permission. For anything. Or you, for that matter.”
“No, I don’t suspect you would,” he said, pulling the horse’s reins to follow him.
“What does that mean?” she asked, frowning.
