Emric nodded and a silence descended upon the council chamber as the king bent his head in thought. When King Morien finally spoke, his voice was loud and clear.
“Aelfric, send half a dozen of your fastest men to Loriel with orders to march half his number to Gallitain and levy what he can from his vassals and peasants. Bran, leave a detachment at Karvoie and march the remainder to Brimhall for our protection.”
He looked to Emric then and it seemed for a moment his voice caught deep in his throat. “Now to you, my son. Would that another be at my command, but I must ask this of you. Take Brimhall’s men and ride with all haste to Gallitain. The enemy’s number is great, but you must engage and detain them until reinforcements can reach you. Else we are completely unprotected.”
All eyes on him, Emric bowed. “I shall not dishonor you, Father. I shall give a good accounting of Wareham courage.” The words were so easy to say, yet Emric knew what living up to them meant.
King Morien nodded. “All of you to your tasks. Good fortune and Godspeed to you all.”
As the assembled men had filed out of the chamber, the king had reached out and gently placed his hand upon Emric’s shoulder. Nothing more was spoken between them. Nothing more was necessary.
Emric tore his gaze from the embers of the fire. His preparations were nearly complete, but his heart was heavy. He had fought often enough against the Highlanders, had seen them slake their steel in the blood of men, and heard their feral howls of joy at the slaughter. He had contemplated upcoming battles a dozen times but never a battle that could well mean suicide. Fear hung about him like a black cloak.
The prince stormed from his chamber and traversed the long stone-lined corridors of Brimhall. Soon he found himself before a stout wooden door he had seen a hundred times before but which now appeared before him as though it were the first, or the last. He cast open the heavy portal and stepped inside.
Leanna sat at her window, and in the stillness of her chamber he could hear the clatter of armed men in the courtyard below. When she turned to face him, he saw she had been weeping, and bitterly Emric recalled it was mere days ago he had vowed to her nothing would ever separate them again. He wondered if some part of him had known he could never keep the oath.
Crossing the chamber in three great strides, he took her into his arms. Even as he crushed her to him, it seemed his arms were already letting her go.
Leanna pressed her lips against Emric’s as his hair fell across her cheeks and mingled with her hot tears.
“I cannot bear it that you are leaving me, my love,” she whispered. “If my father is dead, you are all I have left.”
He looked down at her lovely face. “I must.” Lifting his hands to wipe away her tears, he forced a smile onto his lips. “But I will come back to you. I swear it.”
She shook her head and new tears slid down her face. “You swore that you would never leave me. How can I believe you now?”
“Have faith, my beloved.” He took her hands and pressed them against his chest. “Listen to my heart beat and know that it beats only for you. How could I not come back to you?”
She could say nothing, her eyes wide and full of doubt. Emric wondered if she somehow saw the fear his confident words concealed.
Leanna looked at Emric. He was smiling and his words were easy and reassuring, but she felt such disquiet in her heart, for the Ningal revealed his innermost thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken. She brought her hands up and gripped his hair, seeking to reaffirm her love in the face of their fear.
“Make love to me, Emric.” Her voice was urgent. “Make love to me so that I will feel your body against mine when you are gone.” Her voice caught. “So that I will have something.”
Emric swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
Undoing the fastenings of her robe, he quickly pushed it back and filled his hands with her soft curves. She arched up toward him, her fragrant skin warm against his face.
They lay together forgetting for just a moment the sadness within them. Lifting his head, he began to touch her. His hands mapped her body as if he could memorize her every curve with his fingertips. He looked down at the fiery hair swirling around her shoulders and cascading across her breast. The ache in his heart grew….
“Come to me now, my love,” she whispered brokenly. “Please. I want to feel your body.”
Emric held her for a short time. He made to rise from the bed, but her arms held him from leaving.
“I shall remember you as you were in the meadow, happy and carefree in the warm sunshine.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her once. When a blue ribbon alighted against his hand, he pulled it from her hair.
He swung his legs to the floor and pulled on his boots before she could protest. When he stood, something in his eyes made him seem suddenly cold and more unyielding than ever before. As though her very presence challenged his resolve, he walked out of the chamber without a final word.
When Emric reached his chamber, he found his squires waiting to gird him with his heavy armor plates. He moved to the fire and lifted both arms for them in the time-honored ritual. “Dress me,” he instructed flatly.
Some time later, he mounted his charger in the courtyard below. The men were waiting, assembled in ranks. He glanced up at the Green Tower and found Leanna’s balcony. Her room was dark, but he knew she would not sleep this night. He held her blue ribbon to his lips and said a silent good-bye.
“Company, ready,” he ordered, touching spurs to the stallion beneath him. “Move out.”
Chapter Five
Sleep was long in coming to Leanna. She lay awake for many hours, praying and weeping in silent torment, both for her father and for Emric. She could not believe the news that her father was dead. There was no tangible proof for it, but his prospects were slim. If he had been captured by his enemies, there would have been a ransom. She clung to hope, even as she knew it might one day exacerbate the pain.
The bitter ache within her was made even more unbearable by her farewell to Emric. He tried to conceal it from her, but she had seen into his heart and knew the truth of his mission: My love, would that fate decreed a chance for us. She cursed the gift that revealed his mind, for it left her feeling as though she were already grieving for him.
When she woke, she found her face wet. The tears followed her even in her sleep. The fire was dead, the room dark but for a beam of moonlight that filtered through the window. She sighed and wiped the moisture from her cheeks.
Suddenly, she shuddered, seized by the feeling that she was not alone.
A cry formed on her lips but was stifled by a great, meaty hand. Sharp terror gripped her as the assailant caught both her wrists in his free hand with a strength that defied her imagination.
“Quiet, my sweet.”
She heard the voice as the dark figure loomed over her like a specter from a nightmare.
“I’ve come to claim my prize.”
With a menacing chuckle he leaned back, moonlight illuminating his face, and Leanna recognized her assailant.
“Bran!” She heard the terror in her own voice.
She kicked at him and struggled vainly to free her hands, but her efforts were as puny to Bran as those of a child. Finally, her movements annoyed him, for he swore and struck her across the mouth with the back of his hand.
The blow stung and filled Leanna’s mouth with the bitter taste of her own blood. Unwanted tears filled her vision and dropped from her lashes.
“Enough of that, my pretty,” he hissed, freeing something from his belt. “Fight me again and my next blow shall be worthy of a man.”
Leanna remembered the sight of Sir Owen on the ground and Bran’s laughter as the blood poured from Owen’s crippled body. The horror of Bran’s thoughts that day flashed into her mind. She wondered how she would be able to defy him.
Leanna struggled vainly against the filthy cloth with which he gagged her. Bran seized her by the waist, lifting her easily off the be
d and onto his shoulder. As he flung her up, Leanna became aware of two shadows on the floor near the door. The shapes resolved into the bodies of guardsmen, black pools of blood spreading from them. Leanna screamed, but only a muted guttural sound escaped her.
Bran strode into the dimly lit hall, his squirming bundle an easy weight on his mighty shoulders. Several of his bondsmen were in the gloom of the hall, their blades drawn.
“Come,” Bran whispered hoarsely to one of them. “I have what I desire.”
They made quickly for the stairs, but came short as a naked blade emerged from the darkness.
The cloak-wrapped figure of King Morien stepped before them, his sword held high at the ready. He studied the men around him and when he spoke his voice was steady and strong.
“Sleep did not come tonight, so I paced the ramparts. Then I heard a cry. Now I find this mischief? What have you done here, Bran?” When only silence followed, he roared, “Answer me, boy!”
Bran slowly lowered Leanna to the floor.
“Destiny smiles upon me this night, it seems,” he said. “But what’s this you’ve brought for me, Father? The point of your blade?” He drew his own sword in an instant, though his stance remained relaxed, nonchalant.
Morien stood tensely, watching the crowd of armed men. Then his eye caught the pool of blood that had spread beyond the door of Leanna’s chamber.
“Whom have you killed this night?” he shouted. “And you dare to draw steel against your king?”
“Oh, I dare much more than that,” the prince responded icily. He made a short, quick gesture toward his henchmen. “Seize him!”
As one, Bran’s men-at-arms rushed forward. The first reached the figure of the king sidelong, fouling his sword arm as it rose in defense. The desperate struggle lasted but a few tense moments before Morien was overwhelmed, his steel clattering uselessly to the stone floor.
“What treachery is this, Bran?” the king asked, his composure regained. “You go too far in this …”
“I do as I have always done. I do as I please.” Bran gripped the king’s jaw roughly in his hand, staring coldly into his father’s narrowed eyes. “And you would do well to change your tone. I am no longer your whelp to be spoken to thus.
“It would please you to know my designs?” Bran’s tone mocked his father. “Then I shall give you this last comfort.
“I have planned this moment with the mind of the true conqueror, for I look ahead for years where others look mere days. Lorccan came to me, his men piling furs at my feet to win my favor, and I knew he could be controlled by his ambition.
“I made him king, first over his neighbors, then the whole of the Heldann Highlands. I supplied him with steel weapons and armor, schooled his men and horses. My hand guided him throughout, even as he swept out of his lands to lay flame and slaughter on Gallitain.
“But the cursed barbarian’s pride burns hotly in his breast such that he issued you a formal challenge. Had the dog bided his time, you would have learned his name at the point of his blade within these very walls.
“No matter, for the end shall be the same. My army is ready to march, and with the garrison gone from Brimhall, all resistance will be easily crushed. Once Lorccan has made but a memory of my dear brother, I shall send him along the coast until his hordes are too weak to oppose me. They will have served me well.”
Morien shook his head sadly. His tone was incredulous. “Betrayal? But why? In time, this would all have come to you.”
“Would it? I have no intention of ruling as you do, Father, feebly scraping this way and that to appease those beneath me. I would have that upstart Loriel in the south and Emric courting the nobles away from me. I would inherit civil war. Better to strike now at my enemies and take by force the whole of what is rightfully mine.”
The king paled in the face of his son’s ambition. His gaze went to Leanna, who lay bound against the wall.
Bran read the unspoken question in his father’s eyes. “Leanna will make a fitting queen for me when I sit on the throne of Wareham. She will be my final victory.”
“This is madness … madness,” the king muttered. Without warning he cried in alarm, “Guard! Gua—”
Bran clapped his hand over the king’s mouth, silencing him at once.
“It is fortunate you come to my sword now, Morien, instead of on the battlefield. Without your leadership to rally your troops, my triumph is assured. I bid you farewell, Father. Know that all you have amassed in your lifetime will, indeed, be mine and that your beloved Emric will soon join you in death.”
With a lightning-quick motion of his arm, Bran lashed out. His sword sank to the hilt in the mighty king’s chest.
A mix of surprise and sorrow passed over Morien’s face before he crumpled to the floor. Leanna’s muffled screams echoed from the walls.
“Take her,” ordered Bran as he wiped sweat from his face with a trembling hand. “We ride for Karvoie.”
He watched as his father’s lifeblood ebbed in a pool at his feet, until he heard the sound of armored men descending from the stair above. He fled for the yard below, unable to sheath his blade for the cursed shaking of his hands.
Chapter Six
Prince Emric studied the silhouette of Castle Gallitain in the distance. The fires of the Heldann watchmen were visible through the crenellations as heavy clouds began to obscure the midnight sky.
Emric and his men were near exhaustion, having ridden at a merciless pace for days through lands ravaged by fire and pillage. He ordered meals delayed until pickets were set and the camp secured against attack. He had learned long ago the value of attention to detail when on the battlefield.
Emric shrugged off his dusty cloak and tunic, seized a nearby bucket of water, and lifted it, sending the cool liquid splashing against his tired body. It did not soothe the fires raging within him.
He turned wearily into his tent and dropped onto the straw-filled mattress. Fatigued as he was, sleep still avoided him. Heavy thoughts of the morning plagued him, for he knew they must face an opponent who not only greatly outnumbered them but was better prepared and rested. He searched his mind over and over for some advantage but could find none. The wisest course was to avoid open combat as long as possible unless the enemy marched for the interior.
But Emric knew they would have to fight, for the Heldanners had no reason not to ride out at first light to crush him and his force like so many bothersome insects.
He yearned for the peace of sleep, to leave the heavy responsibilities behind, if only for a brief time, and to escape into Leanna’s warm embrace. At last, the prince slipped into the dark haven of his dreams and there he found her …
Leanna’s chamber was warm in the glow of candles and smelled faintly of sweet freesia. Emric heard her moan as she stretched back across her bed of soft, deep furs. Her hair spread across the velvet pillows, gleaming red in the dim light.
Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his dark hair and guided him down to her waiting body.
Raising himself on one arm, he lowered his head to her breast and kissed the soft roundness. Her skin was like velvet and smelled of spring flowers. He pressed his face firmly against her breast, inhaling her fragrance. Arousal tightened wantonly in his belly. Shifting her legs apart, he stroked his hands up the length of her smooth ivory thighs.
Slowly, he let his mouth kiss its way down her body, over her belly, and down to the soft copper curls below. His fingers traced her delicately, parting the silken curls to reveal her. His tongue licked out teasingly.
Her cry of pleasure as his mouth caressed her told him how well he could please her.
Shifting back upward, he suckled at her breast while his fingers entered her. Gently, he moved his fingers back and forth until he saw his desire reflected in her eyes. Her head rolled from side to side on the pillow, and her hands tangled feverishly in his hair before they slid down his back, her nails sinking into his flesh.
“Please, my love …” she whispered.
“Do not deny me.”
Her words and her breathless sighs excited him beyond measure. He felt her hand reach out to find him. Freeing him, she brazenly caressed him as her hungry lips sought his. No, he would not deny her.
The last vestiges of clothing were quickly cast aside. From the corner of his eye he caught the reflection of his crimson cloak on his armor and briefly shuddered, for it gleamed like newly shed blood. A small blue ribbon curled on the ground next to it.
He looked back to Leanna, who lay beneath him, her lovely body naked in the half light of the fire. She nestled into the furs, arms reaching for him, legs parting for him. He lowered his body, hard with desire to possess her.
She gasped when he entered her. Her arms twined round his neck and she opened her mouth for his tongue as she had opened her body to accept him. He joined their mouths as he had joined their bodies, tasting her sweetness.
He filled her and in return, the emptiness within him was also filled. He felt her body move beneath him, and his hunger for her was so overpowering he feared he would hurt her with his superior strength. He fought against the powerful instinct that took hold of him, the timeless urge of the male animal to conquer and consume.
She lay beneath him as delicate as a flower, her hands gripping his shoulders with surprising urgency. “Emric, my prince …” Her breath was ragged. “I want to feel all of you.”
“I must have you,” he moaned. His body tensed and arched, then he thrust into her again and again, holding nothing back. He was drowning in a torrent of desire.
“Leanna … oh, Leanna.” He murmured her name over and over, his mouth hot on her skin. His body set a pounding rhythm deep inside her. Both hands on her breasts, he caressed her nipples and she moaned with pleasure at the ardor of their loving.
He felt her tighten and pulse as she approached the brink of ecstasy. When he felt her climactic moment, he, too, exploded and then felt nothing but his own blinding release.
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