Page 18

Thankfully, due to the information extracted from the captured rider, we are able to chart the shortest course that also minimises the possibility of coming into contact with other patrols. This sees us entering Lord Montague’s province by nightfall.

Montague doesn’t bother with patrols, probably because he knows any intruders of the realm have already been dealt with by Greythorne.

Therefore, tonight we light a fire against the chill of the night.

We also construct two soft beds of grasses and blankets for Aaran and Barra and gently lay them on top of them, as close as possible to the flames.

Aaran briefly opens his eyes and manages a small smile as he feels the heat bring some comfort to his damaged body.

Much to my concern, Barra has yet to regain consciousness.

Ailish makes the most of them being free from the cart and inspects their wounds. I bring some cloths and warm salted water and help her to clean them as best we can. The prince joins us and helps us to turn and hold them, all the while speaking soothingly to them in Bawnish.

When we are finished we retire to the fire and fill our mugs with ale and our laps with bread and cheese.

“I'm grateful for the care you have shown to my men,” the prince says as he stares into the flames from where he sits beside me, “especially that which you have given with your own hand.”

I smile. “It's the least I could do. I'm looking forward to finishing our journey and getting them the care of the best healers in Ardvalla.”

“I suppose in a way it was fortuitous for them you abducted me when you did,” he observes, as he takes a swig of his ale.

“I suppose it was,” I agree.

“I still find it hard to believe it was Ellerban men who did this to them, but I suppose I must believe you as I cannot see what reason you would have to lie to me.”

I take a drink of my ale and remain silent, as I fear the more I talk about what happened to Aaran and Barra the higher the chance I may accidentally reveal the truth.

“However, from what I've seen of your Khaleeni today, they're more than capable of violence.”

It’s at this point I can hold my silence no longer. Withholding the truth to spare him additional upset is one thing, but him suggesting the Khaleeni are capable of the same level of sadistic cruelty as that of his brother is a whole other matter entirely.

“It’s true, the Khaleeni are highly skilled warriors, capable of injuring and killing in a myriad of ways. However, they do not indulge in unnecessary violence and most definitely not in inhumane torture.”

“Be that as it may,” he responds, his voice like dark silk, “they killed Greythorne’s man today without hesitation.”

“Greythorne’s man was killed because if he had blown his horn he would have alerted a number of patrols to our presence and we would be sitting somewhere quite different right now.

If they had seen a chance to stop him without killing him they would have taken it.

Plus, Greythorne’s men aren’t exactly known as the most honourable soldiers throughout the realms, and if their shoot-first-ask-questions-later approach comes back on them to get one of their own shot in the neck, then so be it.

I’m sure you’re as aware as I am, Greythorne recruits many of his men straight from the gaol’s gate. ”

I take a large swig of ale to cool my anger and am surprised when I look back at him to find him grinning at me.

“You have quite a fire burning in your belly, Queen,” he says as he breaks off a chunk of cheese and pops it into his mouth. “I'm not too familiar with Ardvallan women, but I'm starting to think sharing a bed chamber with you might be fun.”

I'm so shocked at his reference to sharing my bedchamber that the ale goes the wrong way down my throat and I end up spluttering it out of my mouth.

“I beg your pardon?” I ask, a distinct undertone of outrage and embarrassment in my voice.

He pats me gently on the back. “There, there, Queen, there's no need to be so shocked by my reference to your bedchamber. That is where you want me after all, isn't it?”

His forthright approach to discussing what is to happen between us has taken me completely by surprise and I'm finding it difficult to formulate words.

“Erm… ah… I think…perhaps...” I stutter as he continues to stare at me with a distinct twinkle of laughter in his eyes. There's no doubt he's very much enjoying my discomfort.

“I feel it's important to point out, Prince Ronan, that we will only be sharing a bed chamber in the event your seed proves good. Until then, I feel it would not be proper to speak of such things.”

He lets out a hearty guffaw. “Proper? Proper!” he exclaims. “You speak of being proper, but my dear Queen, there is nothing proper about our situation.

Admittedly, I'm unfamiliar with Ardvallan courting rituals, but I'm pretty sure abduction and restraint are not the norm and most certainly are not deemed proper.

I think we left “proper” behind a few nights ago and I'm certain we can dispense with the regular observances of courtship.”

My cheeks are aflame with embarrassment and I look away from his mocking gaze, which only serves to make them burn even more.

“Or do you have other means of conceiving children in Ardvalla that I am unaware of?” he asks.

“No, we conceive children in much the same way you do in Ellerban, except we do not indulge in multi-partner arrangements.” Even I feel like wincing at the judgemental tone laced through my words.

“Ooooh, judgy, judgy there, Queen,” he comments.

“I say don’t knock something until you’ve tried it.

” He moves closer to me and whispers seductively into my ear, “You might find you quite enjoy it.” His voice is a dangerous mix of silk and sin and causes a strange stirring of something I can only think is desire low in my belly.

He doesn’t move and the added touch of his breath upon the delicate skin of my neck causes the feeling of desire to scatter like hot embers across my abdomen and move lower, where it settles into a light throb between my legs.

I squirm in discomfort and move away from him in an effort to get control back over my body.

“Oh, Queen, you are an interesting prospect,” he laughs as he drains the rest of his ale.

“I think I should turn in for the night,” I announce. “We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow to make Valensia by nightfall.” I pull my cloak around me and turn my back to him as I arrange my travelling bag as my pillow.

“You are without a blanket,” he observes.

“Yes, I asked that it be used for your men’s comfort. The heat from the fire is sufficient for me tonight.”

Seconds later I feel the weight of a blanket being laid upon me. “You shall have mine,” he says in a quiet voice.

I immediately shake the blanket off and turn around and offer it back to him. “No. I can’t take it. You have no cloak to cover you and the night is cool. Thank you, but I must respectfully decline your kind offer.”

A look of mild annoyance flitters across his handsome face.

“Respectfully, Queen, I must insist you accept the offer of my blanket, as what kind of man would I be if I allowed a maiden to go cold on account of the needs of my men, not to mention what kind of leader would allow such a thing? I am humbled by the efforts you and your Khaleeni have gone to in order to bring my men some small comfort this night, but I cannot watch you shiver as I warm myself under this Ardvallan wool.”

What kind of leader would he be? What kind of leader would I be if I asked members of the Khaleeni to go without their blankets while I warm myself with another’s?

“With the greatest of respect, Prince, firstly, I am a queen, not an ordinary maiden, and secondly, what kind of leader would I be to ask my warriors to go without while I fend off the chill of the night with your blanket? And thirdly, I have my cloak at least, but you have nothing else to cover you and that was an oversight on my part for which you should not have to pay the price.” I take the blanket and throw it at his feet.

He grabs it up from the ground and his frustration is evident from the white of his knuckles and the hard set of his jaw.

He looks around the camp. Most of the Khaleeni are settling down to sleep and those with blankets are sharing with those who have none. He turns to me. “Then we will share it,” he announces emphatically.

I blink in shock at his suggestion and manage to croak out, “Wha..aat?”

“You heard me,” he replies, “the only solution is for us to share it. That way we both stay warm and have the added benefit of combined body heat. I see your Khaleeni are familiar with the concept.”

I remain seated, my mouth agape in shock and watch as he comes closer. I put out my hand and exclaim, “Stop!”

He stops and gives me a quizzical look. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem? You can ask me what the problem is, especially in light of what we just spoke about?”

A frown darkens his face. “Oh no, don’t tell me we’re back to the whole ‘proper’ thing again?”

I look at him in disbelief. “Of course we’re back to the whole ‘proper’ thing again!

I thought I was clear. You may not share my bed until such a time as your seed has been proven to be good and you need to procreate with me, as my husband.

I am the Queen of Ardvalla, and if your seed proves to be poor then I must seek another and I can’t be seen as sullied by having shared a bed with you. ”

His expression darkens at my use of the word, “sullied” and I watch as his knuckles whiten even further as he clutches the blanket tighter.

“There is no bed here, Queen, and we are surrounded by others. I think your concerns for your honour and what is proper are somewhat overplayed, but be that as it may, have no fear, I shall not sully thee tonight.”

With that he turns and lies with his back to me and not even the thick layer of Ardvallan wool that covers it can hide its muscular form.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to blank out the vision in my mind’s eye of my fingertips clutching at those muscles as the prince sullies me to within an inch of my life.

It’s some time before I manage to banish the vision altogether, but finally I succumb to a restless sleep.

The night falls and, despite the Khaleeni on night watch tending to the fire, at some point I am aware the night becomes bitterly cold.

In my half awake state I shuffle closer towards the flames and the extra warmth they bring is enough to entice me back to sleep.

However, soon I feel another heat at my back and this heat moves along the length of my body.

It's different to that of the fire, softer and more diffuse, yet its source seems hard like stone.

I find it comforting and wriggle my body closer against it, hungry for its soothing embrace, and soon fall into a deep sleep.

All too soon I feel dawn’s early light troubling my eyelids and I start my reluctant rise to consciousness.

However, before I am fully awake I become aware of an unfamiliar weight upon my body.

I open my eyes and see a silver frost has settled upon the ground, but I feel strangely warm.

I move my hand along the length of this unfamiliar weight, at least the part that is lying across my ribs and to the front of my stomach.

And then it hits me. I realise exactly what this weight is!

Oh no, he didn’t … but as my fingers find the roughened hand of the prince wrapped tight around my waist, I am forced to acknowledge the truth.

He did! He shared his blanket and his body heat with me despite my protestations, but I have to admit, instead of being flush with anger towards him I find myself smiling.

He may be gruff and overly forthright, but there is a kindness in him too that I find most appealing.

Also, he doesn’t seem to care much for convention, and the prospect of how that could rub some of the powers that be up the wrong way back in Valensia causes me to smile even more.

“Good morning, Queen,” his deep voice rumbles into my ear. “I trust you slept well.”

“Good morning, Prince,” I reply in a low voice, “the night wasn’t without its challenges, but I am well rested, thank you.”

The sound of a low chuckle vibrates through my shoulder. “Oh, Queen, I think we’re going to have some fun, you and I. But for now, I shall roll away before too many more of your Khaleeni see us lying together. I wouldn’t want them to think of you as sullied.”

I roll my eyes as he rolls away. I have a feeling he's never going to let me forget my use of the word sullied.

The imprint of his heat upon my body lasts for a few seconds more but then starts to fade and I find myself already longing for the time when he will lie with me again.

I've never hoped a man's seed proves good as much as I’m hoping Prince Ronan’s seed will.