by Jody Hedlund
Her face was pale, and the movement of her swallow in her long, graceful neck was pronounced.
I didn’t want to have to send Dante and several others back for her parents. But she had to understand that she’d leave me with no choice if she didn’t comply. As if remembering the same, she finally spoke. “I will.”
Though her words were barely more than a strangled whisper, the tension eased from my shoulders.
“For as much as this man and woman 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 therefore that they be man and wife together, in the name of God, our bishop, and our King, who is the protector of our people. Amen.”
“Amen,” I whispered, bowing my head in a moment of reverence to God and silently acknowledging I’d do everything within my power to fulfill my wedding vows. If I worked hard enough to love Emmeline, maybe she’d eventually accept me and our marriage. I could only hope and pray.
In the meantime, our union wasn’t secure. Although we were officially married, there would still be many who would attempt to nullify the ceremony and take her away from me. The sooner I could confine her within the royal residence at Delsworth, the better.
“Let us be on our way,” I called out, and the men immediately broke away to finish readying for departure.
Before I could sweep Emmeline back up into my arms, Father Patrick moved in and began speaking to her. “Your Royal Highness, I know this is all rather sudden, but rest assured. God has given you a very good man in Prince Ethelrex. I have known him all his life, and although he is sometimes stubborn, I attest that he will make you a kind and noble husband.”
“Thank you.” She nodded at the priest, taking his words of comfort with a dignity and grace I admired under the circumstances.
I gave Father Patrick a curt nod as well, hoping he understood my gratitude not only for performing the ceremony against his better judgment, but also for his affirmation.
Then, without further ado, I swept the princess up into my arms and started toward my large warhorse. The creature would tire faster carrying two of us, and I’d eventually need to hand Emmeline over to ride with Dante in order to sustain the pace I desired. For now, however, I’d keep her with me and ensure she didn’t attempt any other escapes.
“If I release the binding around your hands,” I asked, “will you promise not to thwart me?”
Her chin jutted in defiance. “You may have forced me into marrying you, but you cannot force me to stay.”
Just as I’d expected. I’d need to keep her bound, even though doing so would make traveling more uncomfortable for her. I signaled to Dante with a slight cock of my head.
He left his horse, crossed to me, and bowed.
“Retie the princess’s hands so that they are in front rather than behind her. And then lift her up to me.”
As my oldest, most loyal friend, I trusted Dante more than anyone else. His father was Lord Kennard, the wealthiest noblemen in Warwick, and had been the one to train us both along with the other knights who had come with me to Delsworth. I owed much of my skill as well as my strength to Lord Kennard. He’d been a strict man but ultimately kind and trustworthy.
While I mounted my horse and situated myself and my weapons, Dante repositioned Emmeline’s bindings even as she resisted his every move. Finally, he lifted her into my waiting arms. I positioned her sideways in the saddle in front of me. Although the fit was snug and left little room for movement, I had her exactly where I wanted her.
She scowled and held herself away from me. “This is highly inappropriate, as I’m practically in your lap. ’Twould be much better if I rode behind you.”
The gleam in her eyes told me if I moved her to the rear, she’d have an easier time freeing herself without my awareness.
I reached for the reins, purposefully drawing her closer and surrounding her within the confines of my arms so she was pressed to my chest. She remained stiff and unyielding. Not that I expected anything less. Yet.
With a nudge to my horse’s ribs, the beast started forward, the momentum further pressing Emmeline into my chest. Her hair tickled my chin and cheek, and I slanted so I was near her ear. “You are my wife now. As such, there is nothing inappropriate with your sitting upon my lap.”
I could feel her entire body pause at my bold words. And I could not stop myself from taking advantage of the situation with more brazenness. “In fact, I give you leave to sit on my lap whenever you so desire.”
“I shall never desire it,” she retorted hotly.
“I shall ensure that you do.”
“I should like to see you try.”
“You should know I never back down from a challenge. And also that I never lose.”
She drew herself up higher. “There is always a first time for everything. Even losing.”
I liked her sass. It was unexpected and different from the docile, ingratiating attitude of most young women I’d met at court. Even so, I wanted the princess to know I was serious about my vows and that our marriage wasn’t a game.
“I meant my vow to you.” My voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “And I will choose to love and cherish you unto death.”
I could sense her ready retort fade away and her shoulders soften—even if just a little. At that moment, I knew I would win her affection or die trying.
Chapter
7
Emmeline
After endless hours of riding, I was sore beyond endurance. Though I’d ridden our mule on occasion, the experiences left me woefully unprepared for the rigors of being upon a horse.
I’d done my best to remain stiff and aloof for most of the night, but it had taken every ounce of strength I possessed. I’d kept myself awake by plotting all the ways I might be able to flee, although I’d not been able to find a method that might actually work.
When the prince had halted briefly at dawn to water our horses, I’d hardly been able to stand when he lowered me to the ground. If not for Dante, I would have collapsed. And now, after riding with Dante all day, I suspected I’d never walk again. The prince could cut my bindings and have no fear of my escape.
From my spot in front of Dante, I had a perfect view of the prince’s rigid back, his broad shoulders, and his strong arms. Though we’d ridden as hard during the daytime as we had all night, he remained as alert and vigilant as he had been from the start.
The thinning of the vegetation and the change in flora and fauna told me we were nearing the edge of Inglewood Forest, that soon I’d leave my familiar woodland home behind. From the northeasterly direction we traveled, I’d long since guessed we were headed to the Central Heathlands.
Fear had been building inside me with each passing hour and the widening distance from my parents. Although overcome with weariness, I hadn’t allowed myself to sleep even for a minute during the hours of traveling, and now my eyelids lay heavy with both grit and the need for slumber.
Every time my head bobbed, I sat up with a firm reminder to stay awake and alert for an opportunity to make my escape. So far, none had presented itself.
If only I hadn’t run off into the forest when Father had told me we were going to Norland. If only we’d left at that moment . . .
My regrets sat heavily within my chest, next to my fear.
Out of everything that frightened me, I still wasn’t afraid of the prince, though I knew I ought to be. Even now, the way he rode with purpose and skill and determination commanded respect. His men jumped to obey his every word, not out of fear but out of reverence and adoration, even though everything about him radiated fierceness and danger.
I meant my vow to you. And I will choose to love and cherish you unto death. His whisper had replayed in my mind countless times, as had the priest’s comment about the prince. Rest assured. God has given you a very good man in Prince Ethelrex.
Rex—as his brother called him—a very good man? While the
prince was brutal when he had to be, I’d been surprised by the kindness in him as well. He’d treated me more decently than other men would have in his situation. He’d even spared the tortured prisoner when his brother had insisted on killing him.
“We need him alive as a witness to the wedding ceremony,” the prince had said. “When his people find him, he will tell them what he saw so no one will doubt I have married the princess.”
His wise words had silenced any further argument, and we’d left the prisoner alive, bound to a tree, just as we had my parents.
Although I wasn’t afraid of Rex, I couldn’t claim the same regarding his brother. Something about Magnus gave me chills in a way I couldn’t explain. I sensed Magnus would have been far less lenient with me and my parents. So while I resented all that had happened, I was relieved I was married to Rex and not to his younger brother.
As if sensing my thoughts and gaze upon him, Rex shifted in his saddle and cast a glance at me over his shoulder. In the daylight, his blue eyes were vibrant, making his scruffy face all the more handsome.
He always seemed to take in more with a swift glance than I was capable of even after careful studying. Such attention to detail was something elite guards learned. But the prince was especially keen.
His face betrayed no emotion, but he held up his hand and gave a short, piercing whistle, bringing our party to a halt.
“Thank the saints,” grumbled Magnus from somewhere behind Dante. I caught the eye of Father Patrick and could see from his hunched shoulders and sagging head that his weariness matched my own. When he offered me a sympathetic smile, I gave him one back. But just as quickly as the smile came, I let it fall away. How could I smile at a time like this?
“We shall water and feed the horses and let them rest for a few minutes,” the prince said in his usual tone of authority. “Then we shall ride on again.”
My inward groan matched Magnus’s outward one. For how much longer would we push on without eating a proper meal or sleeping? I suspected Rex and his men could go for several days, but I hoped that wasn’t the case this time.
Dante slid off the mount. Before he could reach up for me, the prince was there, his large hands upon me, lifting me down. Again, as moments ago, he assessed me, the blue of his eyes even brighter up close.
When my feet touched the ground, my knees buckled, and I would have fallen if the prince hadn’t caught and steadied me. His long fingers spanned my waist. The pressure was gentle and yet firm at the same time, making me all too aware of his nearness just inches away.
Examining my wrists, his brow furrowed. “Dante, cut the princess’s bindings.”
“Hands and feet, Your Highness?” the young man asked.
“Why did you not inform me the ropes were chafing her?” The prince’s tone was laced with irritation.
Dante bent to look at my wrists and noted the red, raw skin. He shook his head apologetically. “I didn’t see it, Your Highness.”
The prince’s scowl deepened, and he seemed to refrain from lashing out at his second-in-command as he cut away the binding.
“I was trying to loosen the ropes,” I admitted, not wishing Dante to suffer on my account. “And thought to hide my efforts from him.”
Rex turned his scowl upon me. “You should have slept.”
I lifted my chin.
With a growl under his breath, Rex swung me up into his arms and carried me to a fallen log. Gently, he lowered me, but the moment my backside touched the wood, I couldn’t contain my cry of pain. My bones ached in every part, but especially where my hindquarters had bumped in the saddle for hours.
He hovered above me, worry clouding his eyes. “What ails you, Emmeline?”
I started to motion toward my backside but then stopped, unable to speak frankly with him about my predicament. Instead, heat climbed into my cheeks.
As if sensing what I couldn’t tell him, he quickly straightened. For the first time since meeting him, he was not only at a loss for words, but he fumbled before he lifted me and positioned me in a cushion of tall grass.
“Better,” I said, appreciating the stillness and the softness of the earth more so than I ever had before in my life.
He shoved a hard roll and an apple into my hands. “Here, eat these.”
My stomach was growling, and I couldn’t turn down his offer, although part of me warned against accepting his favors. He left me, posting two guards beside me as I reclined in the grass and nibbled on my food.
Our break this time was longer than the prior ones. I suspected the prince had extended the respite for my sake, and I was grateful. Finally, he approached. As he stooped and picked me up, I couldn’t protest or struggle, even though I knew I should.
Dante helped to settle me on the horse in front of the prince. When I found myself sitting on a cushion of blankets, I couldn’t contain my surprise at the prince’s sensitivity in trying to ease my discomfort. I tilted so I could see his face.
He held himself tall and straight, his head high, his sights probing the woodland. For the first time since meeting him, I seemed to really see him—not as my captor, but as a man. His face was only inches from mine so that I could take in every scar, smudge, and mark. Beneath a thick layer of stubble, his jaw was long and chiseled. His cheekbones were broad and his nose the perfect shape.
As though sensing my scrutiny, his gaze flickered to mine before returning to our surroundings. “Do I meet with your approval?”
I turned my attention to the woodland, too, and pretended to study it, although all my mind could envision was his face—rugged and yet entirely too appealing.
Suddenly, I was conscious of the way his hard chest pressed against me, the strength of his arms surrounding me as he held the reins, and the essence of power that emanated from him. I had the urge to squirm, to put distance between us. But I had no place to go. All I could think about was that I was with a man, and I had no idea how to act or what to do.
Of course, I’d watched Mother and Father interact, had witnessed their abiding love and the tenderness with which they treated each other. But I’d never had any practice for myself in mingling or speaking with men my age. I didn’t know where to start—or even if I wanted to start.
I peeked at the prince only to find my gaze connecting with his once more. His eyes were beautiful, especially in contrast to his warrior-like expression. They pierced through me and made my pulse lurch with unusual speed.
I closed my eyes.
What was going on? Why was I reacting this way to a stranger?
Mother had taught me the finer lessons of life and had tried to explain the process of courtship and marriage. Even as she’d insisted I’d one day be ready for marriage, and perhaps even fall in love, I’d always proclaimed that I didn’t care if I ever met a man and got married.
And for the most part, I’d been telling the truth. I hadn’t cared. Only once in a while, like when I’d watch my father slip his arm around my mother’s waist, draw her near, and nuzzle her neck, had I wondered what such love would feel like and if I’d ever experience it for myself.
This isn’t the time for love or even attraction, I silently rebuked myself. Especially not with the enemy. I had to stay strong, remain vigilant, and continue working toward escape. That’s what my father would have wanted me to do—refrain from being mesmerized by beautiful eyes.
I shut my own eyes tighter, forcing myself not to look at the prince and to ignore the curiosity that was growing in spite of my silent lecture to stay detached. But even with my eyes closed, I was still too aware of his strong presence enveloping me and threatening to undo me. Although I worked on keeping my posture rigid, I finally gave way to the weariness that weighed upon me more heavily than it ever had before.
Wakefulness hovered at the edge of my senses, but I fought it away. Instead, I burrowed farther into the warmth and solidness of the arms surrounding me, relishing the feeling of safety. In fact, I’d never felt safer than I did at that moment, k
nowing with certainty that nothing and no one would be able to hurt me.
Strong but gentle fingers smoothed down flyaway strands of my hair, brushing lightly, almost reverently along one of my cheeks. The other cheek rested against a solid chest, the steady thud of a heartbeat echoing in my ear.
My eyes flew open to the awareness of a horse jostling beneath me, the aching in every joint in my body, and the fact that a man’s arm was wrapped around my waist. One glance at the black chain mail brought back the direness of my plight, the realization I’d been captured from my home and was a prisoner.
Panic burst in my chest. But before I could sit forward and claw my way to freedom, the soft fingers glided over my cheek again. The touch was infinitely tender, grazing my skin and combing back my hair in one move.
The prince. I didn’t have to see him to recognize the strength of his body against mine, different from Dante, who’d held me much more formally.
I released a breath, allowing the panic to ease from my body. The pressure of the prince’s arm around my waist felt somehow secure, not imprisoning. And as his calloused fingertips trailed up my cheekbone, I closed my eyes and rested my head against him, relishing the sweetness of his touch, so delicate and yet so masculine at the same time.
Something in the caress sank into my skin and blazed a path through my blood, pumping it harder so that it spread strange warmth into my chest. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to awaken fully, didn’t want this moment of tenderness to end.
Yet a voice from my conscience reminded me that while Rex might be a better man than I’d expected, he was still King Ethelwulf’s son. I couldn’t forget that King Ethelwulf had been the one to murder my birth parents, had hung their bodies from the castle wall after his invasion, and had been hunting my sisters and me for years in order to destroy any threat to the throne.
“I am glad you slept.” Rex’s low voice rumbled near my ear and made my stomach vault head over heels.
I was tempted to luxuriate in the warmth and strength of his embrace a little longer. I was still weak and tired, I told myself. But with my father’s disappointed face rising before me, I sat up straight, moving away from his caress.
