The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch (41 page)

Despite the help of his comrades, his life
was seeping from him.

Thayne’s eyes fluttered open. When he saw
Royce, a hint of a crooked grin curved his mouth. “Always was
better with a crossbow … than a blade,” he said weakly.

“Summon the royal surgeons,” a voice
commanded from behind them, forceful enough to send the servants in
the hall scrambling to do as they were ordered.

Royce turned to find that Mathias, heedless
of his own injury, had followed them down the stairs. His lords and
ministers were close at his heels.

Thayne reached up to grip Royce’s tunic,
reclaiming his attention. “Did you …” His green eyes were glazed
with pain. “ … get to your lady … in time?”

“Aye.” Royce glanced at Ciara, who stood
back from the group, a hand over her mouth to hold in a sob. “She
is safe. Princess Ciara is all right. She is here with me.”

The crooked smile appeared again. “Then that
is … all that matters.”

He dropped back against the table beneath
him, his eyes closing, his body suddenly limp.

“Nay!” Ciara cried.

With an anguished shout, Karl bent over his
brother, pressed an ear to his chest.

But then the young man exhaled shakily. “He
lives. Thanks be to God, he lives.” He glanced up as the surgeons
pushed their way through the crowd that had gathered around the
table. “But his heartbeat is weak.”

“Take him to one of the bedchambers above,”
Mathias ordered, shaking his head when one of the surgeons tried to
examine his wounded shoulder, nodding toward Thayne. “This man is
to have the best of care. I owe him a great deal. We all owe him a
great deal.” He turned to the servants. “Fetch bandages, hot water,
whatever the surgeons may need. Quickly.”

The hall became a flurry of activity as the
servants hurried to do their prince’s bidding, the rebels lifted
the unconscious Thayne and carried him up the steps, and a score of
ministers and lords surrounded Mathias again, all of them talking
at once.

In the middle of the chaos, Ciara elbowed
her way to Royce’s side. He pulled her into his arms, burying his
face in her hair as they comforted each other.

“He will be all right,” she said fiercely.
“He has to be.”

“Aye. And what about you—are you sure you
are all right?”

She nodded, her arms gripping him as if she
would never let him go.

He lifted his head, gut clenched at the
thought that he had almost been too late to save her. “When we
first came into the great hall and I did not see you—”

“You were just in time,” she reassured him,
smiling tremulously.

“Daemon did not—”

“Nay, you were there to protect me, exactly
when I needed you most. As you always are.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair.
God, how he wanted to kiss her. But he did not want to hurt her
injured lip.

So he settled for dusting a kiss across the
tip of her nose, just as he heard someone nearby clearing his
throat.

Tearing his attention from Ciara for the
first time in several long minutes, Royce saw that the hall had
almost cleared. Mathias stood alone beside them.

“I persuaded my lords that their questions
could wait until morn.” He sighed in exhaustion, glancing down at
the bandage someone had hastily wrapped around his injured
shoulder, then nodded in the direction Thayne had been taken. “You
have my word that your friend will be well cared for. Our surgeons
in Thuringia are renowned as some of the best. We will fight for
his life as he fought for mine.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Royce said
gratefully.

“Nay, it is I who should be thanking you,
Ferrano. You and Thayne and the others risked everything to save me
from that prison. I owe you much more than my thanks. And so do the
people …” He paused. “
My
people,” he amended,
pronouncing the words as if for the first time, his expression one
of wonder as he adjusted to the idea. “My subjects.”

Royce smiled. “Let me be one of the first to
say welcome home, Your Highness.”

Mathias returned his smile, then shifted his
attention to the lady in Royce’s arms. “Now then, do you not think
an introduction to Her Highness is overdue?”

Ciara dipped into a curtsy. “I am very
pleased to meet you, Prince Mathias.”

Mathias bowed. “I have heard a great deal
about you, Princess Ciara” He slanted a wry glance at Royce.
“Though you neglected to mention that she was such a beauty,
Ferrano.”

“Did I?” Royce cleared his throat. “It must
have slipped my mind.”

Mathias chuckled, his gaze returning to
Ciara. “I doubt this lady could slip any man’s mind.”

“Indeed, Your Highness.” Royce tightened his
arm possessively around Ciara’s waist.

Still grinning, Mathias gestured for them to
sit at a nearby table. “There are matters we need to discuss,
milord, concerning the peace agreement. It occurs to me that if I
am to be king one day,” he said slowly, his eyes on Ciara as they
claimed their seats, “I will be in need of a queen.”

T
he western
mountains sparkled like massive diamonds in the midday sun as Ciara
rode across the lowland plain, the wind in her hair, spring’s
warmth scenting the breeze with the fragrances of flowers and
earth, her gray mare galloping through the fields.

As Châlons’s royal palace came into view at
last, its towers and walls little more than dots at this distance,
she reined her horse to a walk, then to a halt. She could not seem
to catch her breath, watching while the sun painted that familiar
keep with streaks of gold. The sight of home filled her with
longing, with love. And with uncertainty.

She prayed this would not be the last time
she ever saw it.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply of the
sun-warmed air, of the beauty all around her, and held fast to her
hope.
Her father had to agree to Mathias’s offer. He had
to.

Surely he would see that he had every reason
to give his consent. Her country was free. Her people were free.
Free from war, from the tyrant who had so abused them. As the news
had spread, cheering crowds had turned out in every town and
village on the way home from Thuringia.

But she herself was not entirely free.

Not yet.

She heard hoofbeats behind her and glanced
over her shoulder as Royce came across the field at a gallop,
catching up with her at last. He pulled Anteros to a rearing
halt.

Laughing, Ciara tugged on the reins to
control her skittish mare. “Keep that great black beast away from
my little Merlin,” she chided. All the commotion brought a growl
from the basket tied to Merlin’s saddle. Hera poked her head out
from beneath the lid, barking excitedly.

Undaunted by the protective puppy, the
stallion pranced nearer, towering over the mare, tossing his head
and nickering impatiently.

“It is impossible to hold him in check, my
love.” Royce laughed. “I think he believes we bought that little
beauty just for him. He does not like to let her out of his sight.”
His voice turned husky. “I know how he feels.”

As Anteros nuzzled Merlin’s neck, Royce bent
down in the saddle and cupped Ciara’s chin in his hand, lifting her
mouth to his. With a soft moan, she reached up to grasp the edge of
his cloak as their lips met in a kiss that was slow and soft and
deep. The first kiss they had been able to steal in days.

The satiny invasion of his tongue sent
desire shivering through her, but it was all too brief.

Groaning, he lifted his head, and they both
glanced back at the entourage of riders not far behind them—Karl
and the other rebels, the emissaries Mathias had sent to speak with
her father, and the guards and serving maids and other retainers
who had been in the wedding procession.

“Five minutes,” Royce muttered. “What I
would not give for even five minutes alone with you.”

Ciara released her hold on his cloak,
sighing in agreement. Since leaving Mathias’s palace a fortnight
ago, they had not been able to steal an hour alone together, much
less a night. Though Miriam had stayed behind with the recuperating
Landers, there were more than enough maidservants and courtiers
with them this time to ensure that Ciara was well chaperoned on her
journey home.

“It is even worse than before,” Royce
grumbled, letting her go before anyone could see them.

“Worse?” Ciara nudged her mare forward and
they rode on, side by side, Hera content to rest her muzzle on the
edge of her basket and yip at the scenery.

“During our first journey, all I could do
was
imagine
what it would be like to touch you.”

Ciara glanced sideways and their gazes met
for a long, heated moment.

“This time, I
know
,” he told her in
that low, husky tone.

“It will all be over soon,” she said softly,
turning to look up at the castle in the distance.

“Aye.”

“And we will be together.”

It took him a moment to respond, and when he
did, his voice revealed his uncertainty. “Aye.”

Ciara fell silent, not wanting to put her
own fears into words. Behind them, shouts of happiness rose as
their traveling companions caught their first sight of the
palace.

Which only made the uneasy quiet between her
and Royce more uncomfortable.

She shifted to a different topic. “I wish we
could have stayed at Mathias’s palace until Thayne was strong
enough to come home with us.”

“He will need at least another fortnight’s
rest in bed, even though the surgeons worked a miracle with their
stitches and their herbal potions.”

Ciara nodded. “I know, but I hated to leave
anyone behind.”

“He has Landers and Miriam for company. And
I am not sure Thayne would have
let
us tear him away from
his many admirers.” Royce grinned. “Every pretty serving maid in
that keep seemed to be thinking of some excuse to spend time in his
bedchamber.”

The Thuringian ladies had been quite taken
with the brave, handsome rebel who helped save their beloved
prince. “They were most attentive, weren’t they? Changing his
bandages, cooling his brow, feeding him tea and broth—”

“Seeing to his every need …” Royce
chuckled dryly. “Giving him incentive to get his strength back
…”

Ciara slanted him a quelling look. “I
thought they were simply being kind.”

“
Most
kind. I am not sure we will
ever get him home, now that he has experienced Thuringian
hospitality.”

Ciara shook her head, unable to suppress a
smile. “Thayne does seem to possess a certain charm with the
ladies.”

“We men of Châlons are born with it.” He
reached out to ruffle her hair. “It is in the blood.”

She caught his hand in hers, twining their
fingers together as they rode on, not caring if anyone behind them
noticed. Looking up at the sun glittering across the snowcapped
mountains, she sighed. “Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as
that?”

“Aye,” he said quietly, glancing down at
her. “Aye, I have”

They rode in silence for a while, both
gazing up at the soaring ridges dotted with pines, the mists
parting over the mountains, the almost unearthly blaze of
color—blue and white and green and gold.

“Ciara … how can I take you away from all
this?”

“You will not have to if my father agrees to
Mathias’s terms.”

He did not reply.

She dropped her gaze to her horse’s mane.
“You do not think he will agree, do you?”

“I do not know,” he said carefully. “Your
father is not a man who forgives easily. In four years, he did not
forgive me for my actions during the first peace negotiations.”

“But I am sure he will forgive you now. You
have done all he asked of you, at great risk to your life. You did
your duty, and more.”

“It is the
more
that worries me,”
he muttered with a pained expression.

“I meant that you not only escorted me
safely to Mount Ravensbruk but you helped rescue Mathias.”

“Aye, but I seem to recall your father
mentioning something about drawing and quartering if I dared so
much as look at you. And you do not want to know what he meant to
do if I dared touch your royal person.”

She lifted their twined hands, rubbing her
cheek against his fingers. “I had no intention of mentioning any of
the wonderful ways you have touched my royal person.”

“Ciara, I am serious. He has at least a
half-dozen reasons to refuse Mathias’s offer—”

“He will agree, Royce. He has to.”

“And if he does not?”

“Then this will be the last time I ever see
my home.”

For a moment, there was no sound but the
wind in the long grass and the muted thudding of their horses’
hooves. Little Hera had curled up in her basket to sleep.

“You would give up all of this?” He nodded
toward the mountains, the palace, his voice soft, serious. “Leave
Châlons forever?”

“For you, aye.”

He glanced away from her, and she knew what
he was thinking: he did not want to tear her from her homeland. Nor
did he want to leave this realm he had fought for, risked
everything for, loved all his life. She knew how much the four
years of banishment had pained him.

The idea that they might have to leave
forever …

“Well then, my love …” Still holding her
hand in his, he lightly tapped his silver spurs against Anteros’s
flanks. “Let us go and see what your father says.”

***

They waited in the solar, the two of them
alone, while her father and his ministers held an audience with the
Thuringian emissaries in the great hall. Ciara paced, her stomach
queasy.

This was the chamber where it had all begun,
she thought as she moved restlessly from the door to the hearth and
back again. This was where she had come to hide the night of her
betrothal party, where Miriam had spoken to her about the rebels,
where Landers had tried to kidnap her—though she had not known that
at the time.