Chained (Chained Trilogy) (8 page)

All of that could well be true, but Gwen knew little of the ways of Lerrothians. She knew only that the large island exported some of the finest wines, and that their prince would soon be her husband. The lashes around those e
xquisite eyes were a dark blond, as was the scruff upon his head. He was several inches taller than she, broad shouldered, and lean. He was dressed richly in a black surcoat shot through with silver thread. The sleeves of a black leather doublet hugged his arms, and a belt with an ornate silver and aquamarine buckle cinched his slender waist. Black leather breeches disappeared into polished black boots. A large silver pendant with another aquamarine stone at the center lay against his chest, and an ornate silver crown rested on his brows.

She curtsied beautifully, her head lowered demurely. “Your Grace,” she said. “It is an honor to feast with you this evening.”

His hand found her chin and lifted it as she rose, his lips brushing her forehead as he caressed her jaw with his thumb. Gwendolyn started, but did not pull away. She must remember that Lerrothians were openly affectionate people. If she were to marry this man, he would touch her this way publicly when it pleased him. The others in the room watched them curiously, openly staring as Gaiwan maintained his hold on her hand.

“Milady, I am the one who is honored. Your arrival has brightened this
great hall considerably, and your beauty is a wonder to behold. My heart sings at the sight of you.”

Gwendolyn muffled a giggle as she took her place between Gaiwan and her mother. Lady Enid patted her hand gently and nodded in approval
after she’d taken in her daughter’s purple and silver ensemble. To Gaiwan’s right sat his mother, Queen Rhiannon. Princess Rosalie, Gaiwan’s elder sister, and Prince Darius, his younger brother, along with his wife, Princess Sebille, were in attendance as well. King Henry had remained in Lerrothe, as other obligations kept him from travel. Below the dais, the knights, friends, and family that had accompanied the Bainards to Dinasdale mingled with the residents of Seahaven.

Genial chatter resumed as the first course—a creamy soup filled with mussels and clams—was served. Prince Gaiwan laughed easily
and spoke kindly to everyone, a trait that Gwen could admire in a man of power. She attempted to relax and enjoy the evening, hoping that time would ease her nervousness toward her betrothed.

“When I arrived this afternoon, I was told you’d gone hunting with your brothers,” he said as a page refilled
his cup with a golden ale. “I did not know you were a huntress. Many of the women of Lerrothe hunt as well. Why, my sister Rosalie is quite the falconer.”

“I do not hunt with falcons or hawks, Your Grace,” Gwen replied as her empty bowl was taken away and replaced with a trencher. “I prefer to kill my own prey with bow and arrow.”

“Gwendolyn!” her mother exclaimed, horrified. She smiled prettily at the prince. “You must excuse my daughter, Your Grace. Being the only daughter in a house full of sons has made Gwen a bit … willful. She hunts with her brothers, but indulges in many other pursuits of a more suitable nature. Tell him, Gwen, of your skill with the needle.”

Gwen turned to Gaiwan. “I am quite deft with a needle, Your Grace, though far more skilled with a bow. In fact, I killed four wild pigs just this afternoon.”

Gwen fought back a grin as her mother sputtered and choked on her wine. Prince Gaiwan’s smile was wide as he laughed, displaying two rows of beautiful white teeth. “Never fear, Lady Enid, I find your daughter most charming.” He took her hand once more, bringing it to his lips. His thumb caressed her palm and he smiled. “Such soft hands, milady, for one who is so proficient with a bow.”

Gwen took her hand back and busied herself with buttering her bread. The rest of the feast passed in a blur of courses, wine
, and pleasantries exchanged between herself and Gaiwan. Laughter swelled as wine and ale flowed, yet Gwen could enjoy none of it with the Maignart mountain pressed insistently against her breast. She traded many glances with her uncle, but did not dare leave the hall until the appropriate time.

When the minstrels—who had been playing softly in the gallery above them—began a tune fit for dancing, the mood in the hall shifted. Those at the lower tables began dicing and dancing, while some of the knights tried to outdo each other at knife throwing. Her brothers descended from the dais, Evrain taking his wife Josaine into his arms for a dance, while Leofred and Achart joined the knights at guzzling ale and knife throwing. Gwen smirked as she watched Jorin take the empty seat beside Sir Tristian Garin, one of the greatest knights in her father’s service. Jorin always wanted to be near the knights and their squires, hearing tales of tourneys, battles
, and glory.

Her mother invited Queen Rhiannon to take Evrain’s vacated seat so the two could chat, leaving her with only Gaiwan for company.

“Milady, I wondered if you would honor me by joining me in the garden for a stroll. I’d much love to admire your beauty by moonlight.”

Gwen fought the urge to roll her eyes at Gaiwan’s honeyed words. They would have meant much more to her if he truly meant them. Oh, she did not doubt that he thought her beautiful, only the sincerity of the love he’d been professing for
her since they first time they met. They scarcely knew each other, and Gwen knew Gaiwan only spoke to her in that manner because he thought of her as the type of lady who placed value in such things. She wondered how much he would claim to love her when he discovered that she was not at all the kind of woman he’d first thought. However, his invitation offered a chance to escape the hall. She stood and placed her hand in his; it would not do to be seen publicly rejecting his invitation in either case.

“That would be wonderful,” she said, forcing a smile. “The garden is particularly lovely by night,
is it not, Uncle?” she prodded Orrick as they passed him on their way down from the dais.

“Most especially, my dear,” Orrick replied, nodding his understanding.

Knowing that she could count on her uncle to appear at the opportune time, Gwen took Gaiwan’s arm and allowed him to lead her from the crowded great hall. She led him to a postern door, which led to the back of the keep and the stone walls enclosing the flowering garden. Mingling with the salty scent of the sea beyond the walls were the smells of honey myrtle, sea lavender, rock rose, valerian, germander, and dianthus. Even in the dark of night, bursts of pink, yellow, and purple were visible amongst the greenery. She plucked a stalk of sea lavender, still clutching Gaiwan’s arm as she brought it up to her nose, inhaling its fragrance deeply.

“Milady enjoys the scent of lavender,” Gaiwan observed as they rounded a tall, flowering hedge. It brought them beneath a series of archways cloaked in climbing pink morning glories.

Gwen turned to face him. “I do.”

Gaiwan smiled down at her and took her hand, lifting it so he could sniff the delicate blossoms himself. “
You smell of it, and I find myself developing a love for the scent as well.” He turned her hand to expose the inside of her wrist, pressing his lips there. Gwen’s eyes widened as the rasp of his tongue found her pulse.

“My prince,” she stammered. “Please, you
… you grow too bold.”

“Gaiwan,” he admonished. “You shall call me Gaiwan, and I will call you Gwen, my sweet. I am not a prince with you, darling, I am only a man.”

When he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her against him, she could feel just how much of a man he was. The prince’s body was hard and sinewy against hers, and the most male part of him was harder still, pressed insistently against her belly.

“
Gaiwan,” she murmured. “Please, we should talk. We are to be wed, yet we hardly know each other.”

Gaiwan pulled away, but Gwen could clearly see the flash of annoyance in the depths of his sea green eyes.
“Forgive me,” he said, his voice polite, but strained and clipped. His lips pursed in a petulant pout and the spoiled prince in him was revealed in that moment. “I thought you understood the depth of my affection for you, milady. It is a heady thing, being so near you. Love has made me most eager.”

More like your cock has made you stupid,
Gwen thought to herself. Out loud, she simply said, “There is nothing to forgive. I feel affection for you as well, Your Grace. It is just that …”

“Gaiwan, sweetheart,” he insisted, pulling her to him once more, his lips finding the line of her jaw as she turned her head to avoid his kiss. “I would hear the name from your lips often.
When we walk and talk together of a morning, when we are together in the night, when I am inside of you.”

Gwen felt her face
flushing at the frankness of his speech. He laughed at her wide-eyed expression. “The blood of the Lerrothian runs hot, milady,” he whispered. “In princes most of all. You shiver now with fear, but when we are wed I will tutor you in the ways of pleasing me. Yes, I can see that you will make a splendid bedmate. You are a willful woman.”

Gwen squared her shoulders. “Does that displease you?”

Gaiwan laughed again. “On the contrary, milady. I find a woman of high spirit most … stimulating. You are a woman of Alemere, raised with customs far different from those of Lerrothe, but you will like it there. When I take you to Athasi Hold, I will drape you in silk so fine that the curves of your body will be visible, the tips of your breasts an enticing shadow against the fabric. We will lie naked in the sun together, eat our fill of dates, and drink the finest wines. The heat of the island will cause your blood to run as hot as mine, I think.”

Gwen laughed. “If the heat in Lerrothe is as oppressive as
I have heard, I fear I shall spend my time seeking relief in the shade, not sunning naked.”

Gaiwan
chuckled. “The lady laughs, what sweet music. Tell me, Gwen, what could a man do to entice the sound from you more?”

“Simply speak frankly and never seek to condescend,” she said honestly. “If you treat me in such a way, I believe we will get on well together.”

“Never fear, Gwendolyn, my heart would never allow me to treat you badly. Now, I would ask something of you, and pray you do not deny me.”

“What would my prince ask of me?”

His thumb came up to her chin, caressing slowly before finding her lower lip. “A kiss. Just one, to satisfy me until our betrothal ceremony.”

Gwen supposed it couldn’t hurt. After all, the bedding ceremony would be far more intimate than a kiss, and there wasn’t much time to accustom herself to the idea. Perhaps if she allowed him to kiss her,
Gaiwan would ignite the same passion in her that he seemed to feel. Her hands found Gaiwan’s shoulders as he bent toward her, his arms tight around her. Her lips parted as his came over them, his warm breath caressing her cheek just before they kissed. Gwen had never kissed a man save for her brothers and father upon the cheek. She’d never been kissed in the way a man kisses a woman, and was not sure what to do.

Gaiwan’s lips were warm and gentle, insistent
and probing. His hands weren’t idle, grasping her waist through the open sides of her surcoat. His thumbs circled on her ribs, coming dangerously close to the swell of her breasts and the pin hidden there. He pressed her to the side of one of the stone archways, crushing the pink morning glories as he met her body with his. Gwen tilted her head and held on to him, opening her mouth as he tutored her unskilled lips with his.

I must try,
she told herself.
Gaiwan is being forced upon me, but I must try to feel something for him. I am to be his wife, I have no other choice.

“Yes
, Gwen,” he rasped, his hands tight on her shoulders. “What a sweet thing you are. Give me your tongue, sweetheart. No, no, don’t be afraid and don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t proper. ’Tis the way men and women kiss.” Gwen tried it, drawing a groan from Gaiwan. “Aye, that’s it. Gods, you’re good …”

Gwen closed her eyes and gave herself to the kiss, allowing Gaiwan’s tongue to mate with hers between their joined lips. She had to admit, his kiss was stoking more within her than she’d expected, causing her to feel the slightest fluttering low in her belly and a warm tingle across her skin. It was hardly a raging storm of desire, but it was something. It gave her hope t
hat she could come to truly desire Gaiwan in the way he seemed to want her.

The sound of boots over the stone path caused Gaiwan to pull away from her swiftly. Gwen was
relieved when Lord Orrick appeared, striding purposefully toward them beneath the arches.

“My
uncle,” she explained when Gaiwan’s jaw tightened in irritation.

“Send him away, I am not yet done with you.”

“That would hardly be polite, my prince. Perhaps we should save it for another time. We’ll have our entire lives to spend in each other’s company.”

Gaiwan was once again the picture of a jovial prince as he smiled. “My sweet Gwen, how right you are. Ah, forgive me. Your kiss caused me to lose nearly all of my wits. What a delight. Oh, Lord Orrick, good evening.”

Her uncle was upon them now, eyeing Gaiwan closely. “Your Grace,” he said politely, sweeping into a bow. “I trust you found the garden diverting.”

Gaiwan’s smoldering gaze rested on her. “Aye, very much so. What a wonder your niece is. I am a fortunate man.”