The Lost Princesses Medieval Romance Collection

by Jody Hedlund

I didn’t realize I’d hesitated in my response until his gaze dropped to my still-rounded, open lips. Something flared in his eyes, darkening the blue. Without taking his sight from my lips, he leaned closer.

  Was he thinking of kissing me? Surely not.

  When he angled his head, heat speared my insides, turning my blood hot and sending waves rippling along my skin. My breath caught hard in my throat, and my body tensed in anticipation—dare I say, even readiness?

  For several heartbeats, I didn’t care we had an audience—his men as well as the people on the sides of the road. I didn’t care I’d known the prince for only a few days. And I forgot I was a naïve young woman who could easily be seduced by a smooth-talking man. I could only think about how it would feel to touch my lips to his.

  But as he dipped closer, my heartbeat dipped too. The irregular rhythm reminded me of where I was and what I was supposed to be doing. I needed to stay alert and get away from the prince, not allow myself to fall deeper into his embrace.

  I quickly lowered my gaze and my chin, turning my head and cutting off the moment of intimacy. Or at least I thought I did. A touch of his lips against my temple told me I’d been wrong. The warmth and the soft pressure were the same as when he’d kissed my knuckles. He was tender and restrained, and yet I could feel his desire for me—a desire that told me our nearness was affecting him as it was me.

  At a shout ahead, he stiffened and pulled back. I strained to see the source of the commotion but couldn’t see far enough to make any speculations about what was happening.

  Moments later, a horse and rider came into view, galloping toward us at full speed. As the soldier neared, I could see his black chain mail and guessed him to be a messenger from the king. Since Magnus had already ridden ahead to Delsworth with the news of our marriage, what if the king had decided I wasn’t needed after all? Especially now that Rex had my key and the map to the labyrinth? Would Rex release me?

  His vows from after our hasty wedding in the woods whispered in my mind. As I’d gotten to know Rex, I’d learned he was a man of integrity and wouldn’t make any vows unless he planned to honor them. But certainly, this was different. Certainly, he wouldn’t keep me unless he truly had to.

  Did I want him to keep me?

  As soon as the question crossed my mind, I chastised myself for even caring. If he no longer needed me, then I’d be able to make my way to my parents and Bede with all haste. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it?

  When the soldier brought his horse into stride next to Rex’s, the messenger bowed as deeply as he could from atop his mount.

  “What news have you?” Rex demanded, wasting no time with formalities.

  The younger man was red-faced and sweating, and his horse heaved with the strain of his ride, both testifying to the urgency of his message. “Your Highness, the king tasked me with delivering the news that the usurper and her rebel army, along with Norland’s forces, will surround Delsworth’s harbor within two days.”

  Usurper? Did he mean Adelaide?

  “How many ships?” Rex asked.

  “Over two dozen. Scouts report seeing siege engines on the decks.”

  “Has word spread among the people that I have married the Princess Emmeline?”

  The messenger didn’t let his gaze shift to me, although I had no doubt he was curious. “That is why the king has sent me, in order to summon you back with greater haste. He is planning to have the official wedding ceremony today so all the land hears and knows of the marriage.”

  Rex barked rapid commands to his men then kicked his steed into a gallop.

  Could my public union to Rex really bring about peace? At the very least, could it prevent the start of another war?

  I wasn’t sure the joining of a princess from the House of Mercia to a prince from the House of Warwick would truly satisfy the people and prevent a revolt. The problems ran deep, and the deprivation I’d witnessed today only confirmed it.

  However, if there was even a small chance our marriage might prevent bloodshed, how could I not work toward that goal? If that meant I needed to resign myself to a life with Rex in Delsworth, I could do that, couldn’t I?

  Although deep inside I suspected my father would have argued against my logic and encouraged me to find a way to free myself before the public wedding ceremony, I quietly pushed aside his voice.

  Maybe staying wasn’t what he would have chosen for me. But if I decided to honor my marriage to the prince, was it possible such a choice would take more courage than running away?

  Chapter

  10

  Rex

  I stood near the altar of the cathedral, my sights fixed on the entrance. My muscles were rigid, my body tense, my jaw clenched.

  Would Emmeline come? Or had she tried to make another escape?

  A mental warning tolled louder with each passing moment of delay, telling me I’d been too trusting and had given her too much freedom during the hour we’d been at Delsworth Castle. Perhaps I should have accompanied her to her chambers and overseen the servants who’d been tasked with making her presentable for the wedding ceremony. She could outsmart them if she set her mind to it, although she would be hard-pressed to slip past the guards I’d posted outside her door.

  But another part of me waited expectantly, praying she’d come to the wedding of her own accord, that I wouldn’t need to force her to speak her vows, that this time she’d want to be with me.

  I knew it was too soon to hope for love. But during our journey, she seemed to begin to care about me just a little. Hopefully, I hadn’t misread her expressive eyes—the shy glances that seemed to relay an interest and even an attraction.

  But what if her need to return to her parents still outweighed her attraction? What if she’d been biding her time, making me believe she cared so I’d let my defenses down and allow her the chance to run away again?

  “I have heard she is quite beautiful,” my mother said from the ornate throne positioned in front of the altar next to the king’s equally elaborate throne.

  Before I could answer my mother, the king had already reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss there. “No one is or ever will be as beautiful as you are, my queen.”

  Mother smiled tenderly at him. With her long golden hair and her blue eyes, she was as beautiful as always. But I disagreed with the king. Emmeline was more stunning. If Mother was a shining star, then Emmeline was as vibrant as the moon.

  For all his brutality, I respected that the king was kind and loving to Mother. He adored her and treated her as a rare jewel. Over the past year, I’d noticed she seemed to be the only person who never angered him, and her presence and beauty had the power to calm him.

  While I didn’t know my mother well, I’d come to realize she was a simple woman who kept away from the concerns of the kingdom, preferring to spend her days embroidering and tending her rose gardens. If she knew about any of the problems, she chose to ignore them—perhaps had learned to ignore them for her own sanity.

  Whatever the case, I inclined my head first to my mother then to the king. With his long black hair styled into three warrior braids and his pointed beard, he exuded strength and dominion. His dark eyes connected with mine and contained a sharpness that set me on edge. Though he might have shielded Mother from the encroaching danger, he’d already spoken at length with me since my return.

  And he’d made no effort to hide his frustration that it had taken me so long to find Emmeline. He’d expected me to capture her weeks ago and believed if I’d done so, we would have had fewer men leaving Mercia and joining the rebel army.

  I’d wanted to remind him that Captain Theobald hadn’t been able to locate any of the princesses in the months he’d searched, and I alone had achieved success. Not only had I found Emmeline, but I’d laid claim to her key and some form of a labyrinth map, which were both now in the king’s possession. Nevertheless, as usual, I bore the king’s censure without reply.

  I glanced aga
in at the doors, past the throngs waiting outside, and hoped to glimpse Emmeline’s arrival. The chapel inside was filled beyond capacity, nobles sitting in every pew, lining the side aisles, and standing along the back. Those of high rank not privileged enough to gain an inside view crowded the churchyard. Beyond the yard, masses of common people lined the wrought-iron fences.

  Father Patrick sat in a chair near the altar. Although he wore fresh robes, weariness creased his face. I’d had to push him too hard over the past days of travel and needed to reward him for his faithful service.

  Magnus stood at my side, also attired in clean garments. He’d complained about having to attend, pleading to have the time to refresh himself after so long away. But of course, he’d accompanied us to the chapel, stifling his frustration.

  “Perhaps the princess has run away again,” he whispered now, loud enough for our parents to hear.

  The king lifted his brow, already aware of my escapades with Emmeline, since Magnus had given him every detail of her capture, including her breaking free and sneaking away from our camp.

  “If so, you will need to tame her,” the king said in an ominous tone that made my gut clench. If anyone else had spoken of taming Emmeline, I would have punished them swiftly.

  I lifted my chin and met the king’s gaze, conveying my displeasure but knowing I had to appease him nonetheless. “I shall take my direction from your worthy example, Your Majesty. I shall endeavor to love my wife as ardently as you have loved yours. And in so doing, I pray the princess will come to care for me as much as Mother does you.”

  The king held my gaze, as though testing me. Then he finally relaxed in his chair, a small smile curving his lips. “Well said, son. From what Father Patrick has told me, she is already softening under your influence.”

  “If you are half as loving as your father,” Mother interjected with a smile directed at the king, “you shall have no trouble winning her heart.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  Before I could say more, cheers erupted outside the chapel, and I knew Emmeline had arrived. Had she come willingly, or were my guards even now dragging her forward?

  My heart picked up pace, tapping a strange, almost painful beat. Why did I care so much if she wanted me? Essentially, this was no different from our first wedding ceremony in the forest. She was still my captive, still being held against her will, still being forced to wed a man she hadn’t chosen.

  The nobility filling the churchyard began to move aside, their cheering growing until at last I caught a glimpse of Emmeline gliding up the stone path flanked by my guards, and my chest seized. She was almost too beautiful to look at. With her dark hair down, it flowed to her waist in gentle waves that had been brushed until they shimmered. A circlet made of gold and pearls adorned her head, making her appear regal. Her creamy gown molded to her body, showing off her womanliness along with her well-toned muscles.

  If I’d been attracted before, I was more so now, especially after getting to know her and realizing she was not only beautiful but smart and kindhearted and easy to talk with.

  Was she coming to me of her own will?

  My pulse thudded harder, and when she stepped through the doors and into the chapel, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but watch her.

  With her chin angled up, she held herself with the bearing of a princess and of a future queen—my queen. She continued at a measured pace, her pretty lips set with determination, her shoulders braced in clear resolve.

  I riveted my attention to her face, willing her to look into my eyes and see my encouragement and my appreciation. Her gaze moved first to the king, then to my mother, and finally to me. From the rounding of her eyes, I could tell she was surprised to see me in something other than my black chain mail.

  Though I’d been left with scant time, I’d taken a quick bath, had my menservants wash my hair, and also managed a shave before donning my courtly garments. My appearance was vastly improved, and I hoped I was as attractive to her as she was to me—although I didn’t think that possible.

  Her gaze held mine fast for the duration of her walk down the aisle, filling my chest with inexplicable warmth. Something in her expression told me she’d come to the church willingly, although perhaps not necessarily because of her feelings for me. But she hadn’t been coerced, and that was progress.

  As she reached the altar and ascended the few steps, I held out my hand to her. When she placed her fingers in mine, I felt her trembling and wished I could draw her against my chest and reassure her all was well. While traveling, I’d grown to like having her close, so that having her near but not within my arms was a form of torture.

  As she took her place next to me, the king rose. In a show of respect and subservience, the nobility lowered themselves to one knee before the king. I, too, lowered myself and tugged Emmeline down beside me.

  The king offered an introductory prayer and then returned to his royal spot next to Mother. When he was finally sitting again, attention shifted back to Emmeline and me. She shot me a sideways glance, and I nodded at her, hoping she could see my sincerity.

  Father Patrick led us through the same wedding ceremony he had previously officiated. But this time, he spoke every word and prayer, without leaving out anything, ending with the Holy Eucharist and then the pronunciation that we were man and wife.

  At his final signing of the cross, the chapel bells began to peal. The crowds that had swelled the churchyard and nearby streets shouted, clapped, and whistled. Father Patrick closed his prayer book. “There’s only one thing left to do,” he said. “And that is to seal your union with a kiss.”

  I was still holding Emmeline’s hand, and at the mention of a kiss, she started to pull her hand from mine. Before she could get away, I intertwined our fingers and then lifted my other hand to her cheek. I settled my attention upon her lips—those pretty, oft sassy, and yet innocent lips. I wasn’t about to let an opportunity to kiss her pass by.

  I’d wanted to kiss her earlier today and had almost succeeded. I wouldn’t fail now.

  Caressing her high cheekbone with my thumb, I leaned in and let my mouth hover above hers. She drew in a quick breath, caught her lower lip between her teeth, then dropped her eyes to my lips. Curiosity and interest mingled there, igniting my own desire even more.

  Before anything could stop me, I closed the distance and covered her mouth with mine. For a heartbeat, uncertainty hung between us. Then I moved my lips, relishing the sweet fullness and the taste of her. A moment later, her lips responded tentatively, testing, trying. I opened more fully to her, giving her room for exploring. But she was timid and began to pull away altogether.

  I let my lips cling to hers an instant longer, willing her to feel my devotion, desire, and determination to be a good husband. When I released her, I became aware of more clapping and cheering from within the chapel, the nods of approval, the smiles of relief.

  At the joyous atmosphere both from within the church and outside, Emmeline finally smiled—the first real smile I’d seen from her. It lit her eyes and made the curves of her mouth all the more appealing, so that I could think of nothing else but kissing her again.

  As a man accustomed to getting what I wanted and doing whatever I pleased, I bent in and touched my lips to hers again. Her eyes widened with surprise. She, in turn, surprised me by lifting on her toes and pressing back, almost as if she’d wanted another kiss as much as I had. This time her mouth meshed with mine, her lips fitting perfectly, eagerly.

  The cheering and whistling increased until it was deafening.

  Emmeline pulled back, again nibbling on her lip, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright. She avoided my gaze, suddenly shy in a way that made my pulse quicken. I could only pray her willingness to kiss me meant she was beginning to like me as much as I liked her.

  Chapter

  11

  Emmeline

  I was overwhelmed by the lavishness of the wedding banquet awaiting us at Delsworth Cas
tle. The kitchen servants brought out a continual procession of delicacies. In addition to capons, pigeons, rabbits, veal, venison, and lamb there were sugar plums, strawberry tarts, pears in red wine, sweetmeats, and more I couldn’t name.

  Between the courses, pages and squires helped to serve the ale and wine while minstrels played music on their lutes. The king and queen sat side by side at the center of the high table. I was positioned between the queen and one of her important ladies-in-waiting. Rex was seated on the opposite side of his father with his brother, Magnus, next to him.

  In some ways, I was relieved I wasn’t beside Rex. Something had most definitely changed between us as a result of his kisses, something new and exciting and yet frightening. During the meal, whenever I dared to peek at him and allow our gazes to collide, the desire and possessiveness in his eyes only tilted my world, making me dizzy and breathless with emotions I couldn’t begin to name.

  I was still uncertain what to make of the pale cream gown I wore, with its rows upon rows of seed pearls embroidered in intricate patterns with golden threads that shimmered in the light. When I’d been ushered to my chambers earlier, a dozen maidservants had crowded around to beautify me for the wedding, some working on my hair while others cleaned and styled my fingernails. Still others lathered my body, particularly my sundew bruises, in creams.

  Although Mother had done her best to prepare me for such a moment, drilling me on the proper court etiquette, I’d never imagined so much attention and pampering all at once. Even now, as I ate, several servants waited only a few feet away, ready to jump at my every need. After fending for myself all my life, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get used to depending on others.

  What would I have been like if I’d grown up in the royal residence, if King Francis and Queen Dierdal had reigned instead of King Ethelwulf? As I’d walked the halls of the castle, I tried to picture them, tried to picture my sisters. But my thoughts had turned to Lance and Felicia. They were the only family I’d ever known, and I couldn’t—didn’t want to—imagine my life without them.