The Lost Princesses Medieval Romance Collection

by Jody Hedlund

  Once she ascended to Mercia’s throne, she’d have no shortage of suitors. Kings from all the surrounding nations would send their sons, princes who would fight over her. Her closest advisors would encourage her to make a match that would benefit her kingdom.

  The truth was, no matter how much Mitchell adored Adelaide, he must put away any thought of a future with her. He wouldn’t be able to marry her any more than I would—not that I wanted to or had considered it. Just because I thought Adelaide was beautiful and my body had betrayed me a time or two in reacting to her didn’t mean I was thinking of wedding her. Far from it.

  If I wanted to get married, I’d have to consider King Draybane’s offer of his daughter. The Princess Violet was sweet-tempered and lovely. Even as the youngest of King Draybane’s many children, she was more than I deserved since I wasn’t a prince or a wealthy nobleman. The king had made the proposition out of obligation, to repay me for my service to Norland because my leadership and skills had driven Ethelwulf’s pirate ships away. I’d not only protected the coastal cities, but I’d also raided his ships and increased King Draybane’s coffers as a result.

  In addition, during the recent drought, I’d helped keep his population from starvation. I’d led the organization of hungry field laborers to become teams of fishermen, which had allowed the country to sustain its own people. Our fishing efforts had been so successful we’d had enough left to trade for other food stores from countries to the south that hadn’t been affected by the drought.

  I respected King Draybane and had earned his respect in return. However, we both knew if I accepted his proposal of marriage to Violet, I’d essentially bind myself in service to him for the rest of my life. And mayhap he’d made the offer with that ulterior motive. He had no wish for me to return to Mercia. I was too useful to him.

  While I’d been flattered, I hadn’t been sure I wanted to relinquish all ties to Mercia, and I’d requested time to contemplate his generous gift. Now that I was here, now that the wheels of revolt had been set into motion with Adelaide’s claim to the throne, I realized I couldn’t marry Violet. My heart belonged to Mercia and always had. More than anything, I longed to restore my country to a land where peace and justice reigned hand in hand, where I could set the wrongs to right, where innocent people wouldn’t be hanged in the streets and left to rot for the birds.

  Though the challenge of freeing Mercia from Ethelwulf’s grip wouldn’t be easy, I relished the prospect of working toward that goal. Restoring Mercia to a just and peaceful land had been a burning desire for as long as I could remember. Now that the possibility was within my sights, I couldn’t walk away.

  Most of all, I’d already pledged my fealty in life or death to Adelaide. Even if I’d made the promise in a moment of heated emotion, I wanted to be by her side, not only to help her but to ensure her safety. I didn’t trust many others to protect her the way I could.

  Mitchell’s premonition that I would use her was wrong. I cared more about her than the cause, didn’t I?

  I glanced down at her sleeping face, the low firelight illuminating her exquisite features. With her hair unbound and cascading over her shoulders in silky waves, she had an almost ethereal quality about her.

  Tenderness pooled in my chest. I prayed one day God would bring a worthy man into her life, someone who would appreciate her strengths but at the same time refuse to bow to her whims. She needed a husband who wouldn’t be intimidated by her status and could stand on his own next to her but who wouldn’t attempt to dominate her.

  I shifted the embers again, causing sparks to rise into the blackened stone chimney—the only one remaining of the dozens that had once graced this fortress. A stone roof overhead shielded the room, which had likely been a private chamber for the master of the house. The remains of the great hall stood outside our shelter, but the high ceiling was gone, allowing moss, vines, and other foliage to grow in abundance.

  From our brief exploration upon arrival, I’d noted a set of stone steps leading down from the great hall into caverns underneath the castle, to storage rooms as well as former dungeons. I’d heard rebels speak of taking refuge among the Wellmont ruins in their efforts to flee from Ethelwulf’s men.

  I hoped I hadn’t been unwise in using the small private chamber on the main floor rather than staying underground. The room was barren except for dust and animal droppings and a lone rabbit carcass, likely left by another rebel taking shelter from the elements. We’d covered the window to better keep out the rain and cold as well as to prevent the hearth fire from attracting undue attention.

  “No!” Adelaide cried out. “No!”

  At the fear in her voice, my blood turned as cold as it had been during the wolf attack. Even though I’d shed my armor, my dagger was still strapped to my belt. My sword, my bow, and the arrows I’d retrieved from the wolves were by my side. I had my dagger out in an instant, my body tense, my senses attempting to gauge the danger.

  Adelaide kicked at the coverlet and whimpered.

  I scanned the room and watched the open door that led to the great hall. The blackness of the night was all that greeted me along with the steady patter of rain.

  “No!” Adelaide shouted, this time louder. She tossed about in agitation, then released a scream—the terrified scream she’d elicited earlier, the kind that still haunted me.

  “Adelaide,” I said, putting my dagger away and positioning myself next to her. “Wake up. You are dreaming.”

  Her scream only grew louder.

  I suspected she was having a nightmare, perhaps about the wolves. Even if I was sympathetic to her fear, I had to keep her quiet. I couldn’t let her screams rise into the night and chance anyone nearby hearing them and guessing our location.

  I cupped my hand over her mouth in an attempt to mute her noise. At the pressure, her eyes opened. She flailed, trying to free herself, groping for the knife at her side.

  “Adelaide,” I said sternly, hoping my voice would break through her terror before she loosened her knife and plunged it into my heart. “It is I, Christopher. Have no fear.”

  Her screams continued as did her fumbling for her dagger. With my one hand over her mouth, I attempted with my free hand to prevent her from unsheathing her knife, but the move made her thrash harder. Her eyes were wide open, but she seemed not to see or hear me. She was shaking and crying and screaming all at once, though the sound was muted by my hold over her mouth.

  I bent in and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “Adelaide,” I commanded more firmly. “Wake up and you will see you are safe with me.”

  Her strength took me off guard. Fear had apparently lent her its aid. She had her dagger halfway out of its sheath in spite of my efforts to keep it there.

  Needing both hands to subdue her, I reluctantly released her mouth. Once again her screams filled the air. I quickly pinned her arms to her sides, and then, not knowing what else to do to silence her, I bent down and covered her lips with mine.

  Chapter

  13

  Adelaide

  My scream couldn’t find release. Instead, warm, soft pressure fitted against my lips, making me forget about the need to scream. In that moment, I realized I was awake and shaking. My eyes were already open, and through the dim firelight, I could see Christopher was holding me down. His fingers shackled my wrists.

  Had I tried to stab him?

  And why had he pressed his lips to mine? Had he intended to distract me with a kiss?

  If so, it had worked. My nightmare, whatever it had been, was gone. Suddenly, I was filled with the realization Christopher was kissing me—or at least was covering my mouth with his.

  Every other thought fled, and I could think of nothing save the tenderness of his lips. I’d never before experienced a kiss, and I likely wouldn’t have welcomed the intimacy from anyone else. But this was Christopher, the man I’d adored for so long. And whether he’d meant to kiss me or merely silence me didn’t matter. His lips touching mine provided an inv
itation too welcoming to resist. Although I didn’t know how to kiss a man, I returned the pressure, letting my lips stroke his.

  He froze, as though he hadn’t been expecting my reaction. His honey-brown eyes flew to mine, wide with surprise.

  Without breaking our gaze, I again caressed him.

  “Adelaide,” he whispered, breaking the contact and starting to back away. “I am sorry—”

  Freeing my arms from his imprisonment, I wound them around his neck, trapping him into place above me, preventing him from going away. I pulled him down until his lips once more met mine. At the soft contact, I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of deep contentment. I loved his nearness and the safety I felt in his presence. More than that, this gentle brush of our mouths made my entire body tingle with a rush of sweet energy.

  Once again, he did little more than let his lips rest against mine. I could feel tension growing in his shoulders and in his back, and I sensed his discomfort with our predicament.

  Mortification spilled through me. I’d clearly made more of the situation than he’d intended. Apparently, my infatuation had clouded my judgment, and I’d allowed myself to get carried away.

  “Christopher,” I whispered, starting to release him. How would I ever be able to look him in the eyes again? Now he knew my longing for him. And we’d both know he hadn’t reciprocated. “I was mistaken. I thought you wanted to—that you desired—that you meant more . . .”

  He released a shaky breath.

  My insides swirled with growing embarrassment, and I rolled to free myself from him entirely. But before I could escape, he planted his arms on either side of me. Between one second and the next, he bent and touched his lips to mine, fusing us together in a moment in which the world fell away and all I could think about was him. And how much I adored him and had my entire life.

  Was it possible I was falling in love? These past days of denying my feelings were futile, and I gave myself up to the sensations now enveloping me.

  His kiss was powerful and decisive and breathtaking and exactly the kind of kiss I would have expected from a strong man like him. His hand moved into my hair at the same time I slipped my arms around him and tugged him closer—

  “What are you doing?” came a harsh voice nearby.

  Christopher jerked away from me at the same time I did him. He scrambled to his feet while I pushed myself to my knees.

  There, standing in the doorway, his hair and clothes dripping wet, eyes round with shock, was Mitchell. For a moment, the two brothers stared at each other, Mitchell’s face tightening with anger and Christopher’s flickering with guilt.

  “I thought I heard Adelaide screaming, and I came as fast as I could.” Mitchell’s sword was out as if he’d expected to ward off an attack. Instead, he’d found the two of us locked into a passionate kiss.

  I felt my cheeks heating and didn’t dare meet his gaze. I could only imagine what he must be thinking.

  “You swore you had honorable intentions with Adelaide.” Mitchell’s voice was bitter.

  “I do—”

  “You swore you would not manipulate her affection or use her.” Mitchell stepped farther into the room, lifting his sword and pointing it at Christopher.

  He wouldn’t dare go after Christopher, would he? My limbs quavered at the thought. “He was not manipulating or using me,” I cut in, unable to stay quiet. “Christopher meant to comfort me from a nightmare.”

  “Comfort?” Mitchell’s tone rose a notch.

  “It may have started as a calming effort,” Christopher interjected. “But it did not end that way.”

  To hear him say such words swirled the lingering heat in my belly. I slanted a glance at him, too embarrassed to look at him fully. He held his chin high, clearly planning to tell the truth just as he always did.

  “Then you admit to using her?” Mitchell asked, taking another step into the room.

  “I did not start out with the goal of kissing her.”

  “But you let it happen nevertheless?”

  Christopher didn’t respond except to glare back in that unrelenting way he had about him. The two looked as if they were on opposite ends of the jousting lists, about to charge toward each other.

  My body stiffened. I would not let my favorite people left in the world fight each other. If necessary, I’d raise my own weapon and beat them back to their corners.

  “This is my fault,” I said, wishing I could find a way to facilitate peace between them. “I made more of the moment than Christopher intended—”

  “I shall not allow you to take responsibility, Adelaide,” Christopher interrupted. “I was fully aware of what I was doing. I could have walked away, but I chose not to.” For an instant, his gaze collided with mine, revealing something I couldn’t name but that made my heart beat faster.

  Whatever it was, Mitchell must have seen it too. His eyes sparked with hurt. “I thought I could trust you, but it looks like I was wrong, that you are just as selfish as always.”

  With that, Mitchell spun and exited the chamber, disappearing into the rain and darkness. Part of me wanted to shout after Mitchell and tell him to stop being petulant again. Yes, maybe seeing me kiss Christopher was a shock. And yes, maybe my relationship with Christopher since his return had moved quickly. But what right did Mitchell have to react so strongly against us?

  Christopher stared out the open doorway, the muscles in his jaw rippling. When he finally moved, he spun toward the fire, grabbed a stick, and began to stir the embers.

  I wanted to stand, walk to him, and wrap my arms around him. But I held myself back. Just because we’d shared a kiss didn’t mean he would welcome my embrace. And I wouldn’t be able to bear him pushing me away, not after what had transpired. Even if he hadn’t meant the moment to deepen, it had, and now he couldn’t deny something special existed between us. Surely, he felt it as much as I did.

  “Do not fret,” I finally said tentatively. “I shall talk with Mitchell tomorrow and make him understand.”

  “What will you make him understand?” Christopher asked without turning.

  I wasn’t exactly sure. I loved Christopher, didn’t I? But he hadn’t given me any indication he felt likewise. “What would you like me to tell him?” I asked, hoping Christopher would declare his love for me—or at the very least, his affection.

  Christopher added a handful of gorse to the fire before responding. “You may tell him that although I am indeed besotted with the queen of Mercia, I have no intention of overstepping the boundaries again.”

  I couldn’t contain a smile. So he was besotted with me? I rose and crossed to him, waiting for him to circle around and smile at me in return. He continued to poke at the now flaming gorse as though heedless of my presence. But he was too seasoned a soldier not to have heard my tread behind him.

  Finally, I touched his arm. “I am gladdened to know you are besotted.”

  He broke from me, as though the merest contact burned him, and strode toward the door, widening the gap between us.

  My smile faded, particularly when I saw the granite lines of his profile. It was the same expression he’d worn the day he’d left home five years ago—the deep scowl, the determined set of his chin and lips, and a hardness in his eyes that said he would not be swayed.

  A stone dropped in my chest and almost knocked me to my knees. Christopher wouldn’t leave me. Surely not. “Though you freely admit to caring for me, I am yet undesirable after all?”

  He stopped in the doorway and stood a full minute before pivoting to face me. As previously, something flickered in his eyes that made my pulse patter faster again. “You are desirable, Adelaide. Too desirable. And it would appear I am a weaker man than I thought in allowing myself to kiss you.”

  “What is so wrong with kissing me, my lord?”

  His sights lingered on my lips as if reliving the kiss we’d shared. It was a kiss I’d never forget. It was the kind I’d only dreamed of and never imagined possible. “Nothing is wron
g with you, Adelaide. But everything is with me.”

  “You speak in riddles.”

  “There can never be anything between us. You are the queen of Mercia. You belong to the royal House of Mercia. And someday you must unite with a man who is worthy of your bloodline, a prince who is also of a royal lineage.”

  His words were blunt and to the point. And though his frankness regarding my union with a prince was embarrassing, I was equally indignant. “Someday, as you point out, I must unite with a man. But that man will be of my choosing, someone I love—”

  “You will have little choice, Adelaide. Not as the queen.”

  “As the queen, as the ruler, I shall make my own choices. I can decide whatever I wish.”

  “Not if you hope to keep the peace with your advisors and the nobility who will expect you to form an advantageous marriage. They will likely suggest an alliance with the Franks, Queen Dierdal’s family, mayhap to a cousin.”

  His somber words settled around me like the damp chill of the night. I hadn’t considered tradition and what would be expected of me in marriage. But Christopher was right, as usual. My betrothal and marriage would be a public act, just as my parents’ union had been.

  Our tutor had explained that King Francis had picked his bride to form an alliance with the Franks. Princess Dierdal had been the oldest daughter of the king of the Franks. The union had brought about the security and help of the Franks during a troublesome time when Ethelwulf had just begun attacking the southern borders of Mercia.

  Fortunately, the match had ended as a happy one. Stories abounded of the love King Francis and Queen Dierdal had shared. However, equal stories abounded of other royal marriages that did not share such love.