The Lost Princesses Medieval Romance Collection

by Jody Hedlund

  Taking in the surprise that was surely etched in my expression, the king grinned. “You love her. And it is clear she cares for you. What is to stop you from getting married?”

  “You would approve of a wedded union?”

  “It would allay my fears to know the queen of Mercia has my most trusted servant and friend by her side.”

  The sincerity of his tone and the warmth in his eyes arrested my heartbeat. He’d called me his friend, and I could ask for no higher compliment than that. “Your Majesty, I shall remain your servant and friend regardless of what the future may bring.”

  “I know that,” he replied. “Even so, I would rest easier at night if I was assured you are the one who holds the heart of the queen of Mercia.”

  “No matter how we may feel for one another,” I said, “I fear I may have irreparably pushed her away.” Over the past few days, she’d held me at arm’s length, had even gone out of her way to avoid me at times—or so it appeared. I’d accepted the distance, knowing I deserved nothing less for rejecting her after our kiss at Wellmont ruins.

  “Then you must find a way to pull her back.”

  “How?”

  The king thumped my arm good-naturedly. “God gifted you with a handsome face and a charming smile. Use them. Why else do you think you have them if not to win the woman you love?”

  My grin broke loose.

  “Besides, every woman appreciates when a man takes the time and effort to demonstrate his love, not for what he can get out of it but for what he can give.”

  She was halfway through the great hall, close enough now I could see the delicate lines in her elegant neck that rose to her softly rounded chin and beautifully proportioned lips. Her nose and cheekbones were sculpted so perfectly. And her eyes . . . I shifted my attention upward to the bright blue outlined with impossibly long lashes.

  It took me a moment to realize she was looking directly at me, that our gazes had collided, that she was waiting expectantly for something. My approval? My praise? My pleasure?

  Though I had the urge to stalk toward her, crush her in my arms, and show her how I truly felt, I held my emotions in check and gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

  “Of course, kissing her might help your case too,” the king murmured.

  I couldn’t keep from choking at his bold statement. I pressed a closed fist against my lips to hold the cough back. But nothing could hold back the thought of doing exactly as he’d suggested.

  Adelaide

  The feast and the festivities were more lavish than anything I’d ever experienced. If King Draybane had set out to impress me, he’d succeeded. More than that, however, I sensed I’d impressed him, too, that he genuinely respected me. Because of his respect and consideration toward me, Norland noblemen and women followed his example, and I truly felt as though I was a guest of honor.

  At the start of the ball, the king offered me the first dance, which I graciously received. Though he looked nothing like my uncle who had been like a father to me, I sensed in him a kindred fatherly spirit.

  Several young unattached noblemen claimed the next few dances. I couldn’t deny I was wishing Christopher would dance with me, but he’d disappeared after my dance with the king and hadn’t returned.

  I’d just completed a dance with yet another single wealthy nobleman when I heard Christopher’s voice behind me. “Your Majesty, I would be honored to have the next dance.”

  I made myself count to five before pivoting and assessing him in what I hoped was a composed manner. His hair was slightly wind-tossed. But otherwise, he was just as handsome in his dashing courtier garments as he was in his armor.

  “Lord Langley.” I curtsied.

  “Your Majesty.” He bowed. Then he offered his hand. When I accepted, his fingers circled around mine in an almost possessive way that sent a frisson of heat up my arm and into my chest.

  As though he felt the same current, his gaze snapped to mine, revealing dark, almost bottomless depths that drew me in with their intensity. The music started again, and yet I couldn’t make myself move. Apparently, neither could he.

  “I had begun to conclude you had no wish to dance with me this eve,” I finally said, trying to break the strange sizzle between us.

  “Then you missed me?”

  “You are one of the guests of honor. Of course you were missed.”

  His lips curled into the beginning of a smile. “You can admit you noticed I was gone.”

  A dancing couple passed by and peered at us with curiosity.

  I quickly reached for Christopher’s other hand, placed it on my waist where it should be, and moved my feet, forcing him to do the same. His fingers tightened, and the touch seared through my gown, making me much too aware of how close we were. If I dared to look up, his face would be only a handbreadth away.

  He led me around the great hall in the steps of a simple dance we’d learned during our childhood.

  “I know you want to ask me where I was and what I was doing.” His voice was low and filled with a teasing that made my breath quicken.

  “My lord,” I managed evenly. “I am not so enamored with you that I must know where you are every minute of the day.”

  The pressure of his hand on my waist drew me toward him another inch. His breath brushed against my cheek, and I had to close my eyes to fight away the pleasure of his nearness.

  “I would that you were so enamored,” he whispered.

  My eyes flew open, and I tilted back enough that I could see him. Was he teasing me again?

  Earnestness lined his face, and sincerity swam in his bottomless eyes. Something else swirled there. Was it love? Was it possible his declaration the day we’d rescued Mitchell held steadfast, that he still felt the same?

  A tiny thrill wound through my middle.

  I dropped my sights to his chest. I didn’t want to allow my hopes to escalate as I’d done before only to have him put me in my place again.

  He stopped dancing. “Come with me.” He retained his hold on my hand and tugged me off the dance floor. I didn’t resist, though part of me warned that I should, that I couldn’t withstand another rejection. Besides, what would people think when they saw me disappearing with Christopher? It would surely cause a great deal of gossip at court.

  “Christopher,” I hissed as we passed bystanders. “Where are we going?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “What kind of surprise?”

  “It would no longer be a surprise if I told you.”

  I could feel the king’s attention upon us. “What will King Draybane think of us disappearing together?”

  “He will be glad of it.”

  “He will?”

  “Aye. Most certainly.”

  The king stood near the head table, his arm around his slender, petite queen. He continued to watch us with a wide, almost pleased grin.

  Christopher tugged me faster so that I had to bunch my skirt to keep from tripping over it. Once out of the great hall, he led me down a long passageway, turning several corners until at last, we arrived at the base of a stairway that rose into one of the castle towers. Two guards stood at attention on either side of the door. They bowed, and then one of them opened the door for us.

  “No one is to disturb us,” Christopher ordered as we passed through.

  I shivered with anticipation as he led me up the spiraling staircase. “The guards were expecting you.” I was winded, the climb much longer than I’d realized.

  “Mm-hmm,” he answered without stopping his ascent. The wall sconces were lit and guided us through the darkness of the stairwell.

  “Can you not give me at least one tiny clue regarding the nature of our escapade?”

  “No.” He laughed softly. “You never were patient with surprises, were you?”

  I laughed in response. “I have never been patient with anything.”

  He reached back for my h
and again, and I gladly placed mine in his. When we finally came to the landing at the top, he circled behind me, and before I knew what he was doing, he slid his hands over my eyes. The tender hold made me want to recline into his embrace, especially because I could feel his presence behind me, the strength and warmth of his body, the rapid rise and fall of his breath.

  “No peeking,” he said.

  “You ask too much,” I teased.

  Gently, he steered me out of the stairwell and into the turret of the tower. The coolness of the night air brushed against me, soothing my skin, which had become overheated from the climb—certainly not from Christopher’s nearness.

  He led me forward a few paces and then stopped. With his hands still covering my eyes, he bent in, his mouth close enough to my ear that his breath tickled me. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” The word was a breathless whisper.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, closer and lower.

  I swallowed my need to feel his kiss against my heated skin and managed a nod.

  Slowly he moved his hands away from my eyes.

  At the sight before me, I gasped in delight. A table for two sat in the center of the circular turret. A tall silver candelabrum with half a dozen long candles had been lit, revealing a three-tiered cake covered in white cream and adorned with vibrant pink roses that reminded me of home, of Langley and Mercia.

  I approached the table, which was decorated with white linen, silver tableware, and a crystal vase bursting with more freshly cut roses. With the canopy of bright stars overhead and a full moon reflecting on the bay that spread out below the city, the scene took my breath away.

  “It is beautiful!” I smiled at Christopher and noticed Tall John retreat into the stairwell and hide in the shadows there, apparently intending to give us the feeling of privacy even if we weren’t completely alone.

  Christopher moved to stand next to me, close enough that his fingers brushed against mine. At the faint touch, I wanted to tangle my fingers in his, but he shifted away before I could gather the courage.

  “I know how much you love sweets.” He reached for a long-handled silver knife next to the cake. “The cook assured me this was her sweetest cake.”

  “It is much too pretty to eat.”

  He quirked a brow. “Are you sure? I could take it back.”

  I nudged him playfully. “Of course I cannot resist tasting a cake as lovely as this, especially if you insist.”

  “I insist.”

  “Very well. Then since I always do as you bid, my lord . . .”

  He snorted.

  I laughed, my delight in this moment sweeter than any bite of a sugared confection.

  Christopher sliced into the top circle, cut a thin triangular wedge, then picked it up with his fingers. He shifted to face me. “Ready?”

  “Do you intend to feed it to me?”

  “Of course.” His sights zeroed in on my mouth. “You must have a taste to ascertain whether the cake is worthy of an entire piece.”

  My stomach fluttered like ribbons wavering in a warm breeze. As he raised the piece to my lips, our eyes locked. I opened my mouth and he very gently inserted the bite. As I closed my lips around the soft delicacy, I brushed his fingers, remembering when I’d fed him gingerbread on my birthday.

  At the contact, something blazed in his eyes. The same something sparked in the air between us and ignited a flame inside me.

  Neither of us moved for a long second, not even to breathe. Finally, he sucked in a shaky breath and withdrew his hand. “How does it taste?”

  Was he asking me about the cake or his touch? I let the morsels melt against my tongue before swallowing. “It is like none other.”

  “Do you desire more?” His eyes held mine, and somehow I sensed we weren’t talking about the cake anymore.

  I swallowed again and nodded.

  “I do too,” he whispered, lifting his thumb to the corner of my mouth and brushing away a crumb.

  I trembled at his touch and the implications of his words. “You once told me I belonged only to other royals and that you must sacrifice your desires.”

  Instead of lowering his thumb, he skimmed it lightly across my jaw and yet in such a way that seemed to indicate I was already his.

  “I was wrong.” He made a trail to the pulse pounding in my neck. “I have realized I can make many sacrifices for Mercia, even giving my life if needed. But I cannot give up the woman I love, not for any cause or country.”

  At his confession, my heartbeat bounded forward. “Exactly what kind of love do you have for this woman? Is it friendly concern or something else altogether?”

  “Allow me to show you, Your Majesty.” His lips curved into a slow grin as his fingers circled to the back of my neck.

  In those endless seconds as he bent and angled his head, I nearly swooned with anticipation. He took his time brushing his nose against mine, letting his lips and breath tantalize the corner of my mouth. I was so eager for his kiss that I lifted up on my toes, grasped his cotehardie, and pressed in giving him no choice but to finish what he’d started.

  For an endless moment, his lips tasted mine with such thoroughness and enjoyment it was as though he was truly savoring a bite of the sweetest cake.

  “Oh, Adelaide,” he said, finally breaking the kiss. “I must be careful lest I am tempted to feast before the banquet.”

  “You speak in riddles again, my lord.” My mind was too clouded with thoughts of the kiss we’d just shared to make sense of anything else.

  To my surprise, Christopher lowered himself to one knee before me, reached for my left hand, and then brought it to his lips. “I love you, Adelaide. And I long to spend the rest of my days showing you my love and serving you with my life. Will you grant me that desire?”

  I wanted to jump up and down and shout yes, but I was no longer a little girl infatuated with Christopher. I was a full-grown woman, the queen of a nation, with responsibilities to handle and many people to please. I understood now why Christopher had been so cautious before. We were not at liberty to rush into any decisions about our future.

  Even so, I loved this man kneeling before me, and I couldn’t imagine a future without him beside me encouraging, advising, teasing, laughing, and even crying together. He was the man I needed. There would never be another like him, never be another I’d love a fraction as much.

  Whatever the future held, whatever opposition we encountered, we would face it together and be stronger for it.

  I began to lower myself to one knee, and he shook his head in protest. I knew he was thinking a queen should not kneel to one of her subjects. “No, Adelaide—”

  I leaned in and silenced him with a kiss, a tender blending of our lips that I held as I finished kneeling. When I was firmly on the ground in front of him, I drew back and reached for his left hand.

  “I have always loved you and I always will.” I raised his hand to my lips and placed a kiss on his knuckles. “I would be satisfied with nothing less than showing you my love and serving you with my life.”

  Christopher lifted my hands, pressed our palms together, and intertwined our fingers. “Then you are answering my question with yes?”

  I smiled. “Yes. Evermore.”

  Chapter

  25

  Adelaide

  The bishop made the sign of the cross above where I knelt next to Christopher. “Forasmuch as the Earl of Langley and Her Royal Majesty, the queen of Mercia have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth each to the other, I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  Christopher squeezed my hand, and I glanced at him sideways to find his head bent in prayer. I squeezed back, my assurance to him that we had done the right thing.

  Since his proposal of marriage the night of the ball a week ago, the court had been in a frenzy of preparations fo
r the royal wedding. Christopher had wanted the ceremony to take place as quickly as possible and would have married me the next day if I’d agreed.

  “The sooner, the better,” he’d said. “Once Ethelwulf learns of our plans, he may try to stop us.”

  Even with the short notice, the servants had decorated Brechness Cathedral with garlands of flowers, glowing candles, and a royal carpet up the center aisle. Those who’d traveled with me from Mercia as well as nobles from all over Norland crowded the benches and stood along the sides and back of the cathedral.

  “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder,” the bishop said. Then he bid us rise.

  In another of my long, elegant gowns, this one the color of brilliant opal, I could hardly maneuver through the layers of silk. Christopher’s steady grip upon my arm as we stood was a reminder of the steady help he would be to me for the rest of my life.

  Iron sharpens iron. We were both made of iron and would continue to challenge each other to grow. With Mercia’s royal signet ring now upon my finger, I could already feel him bearing me up, lending me his strength, and making me a better queen because of it.

  The bishop closed his eyes in a final prayer. “The Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen.”

  “Amen.” King Draybane’s echo came from his position beside Christopher.

  I’d been relieved the king had so readily accepted the news of our betrothal. I’d expected a measure of resistance, particularly regarding Princess Violet. But Christopher had assured me King Draybane supported our union and had even encouraged him to marry me with all haste. With Christopher like a son to him, in some ways our marriage served to form an advantageous alliance for both of our countries.

  As we turned to greet our crowd of witnesses as man and wife, King Draybane clamped Christopher on his shoulder and grinned. “Go ahead, my good man. Seal your vows with a kiss. We can all tell that you want to.”