There were people too—complete strangers—I encountered in these dreams. One was a strict, old king, or at least I assumed he was a king. He sat on a throne with a crown wreathing his bald head. His beard was thick and craggy with streaks of white in the dark strands. He glared at me, telling me how worthless I was, that I only caused death and destruction, and then he cast me from his army. It always felt as if my heart were shattering when he repeated those words to me, dream after dream.
But the most painful dream was the one I had the most, the one of the dying soldier. I would grip him helplessly in my hands, begging him not to die, crying my sorrow into his lap as blood bubbled from his lips, just as the light in his eyes dimmed. It happened that way, every time, with no change. And I would wake with tears on my cheeks. I didn’t even know the man, yet it would feel as if a part of me died with him, every time.
I was almost leery to fall asleep anymore. But Anniston had been unsettled most of the day before Brentley and Allera’s second attempt at a wedding. When she finally fell asleep that night, I found myself lying down in my own bed, worn to the bone.
I was out within minutes.
Thankfully, I wasn’t disturbed by another one of my unusual war dreams. But it felt as if I’d barely closed my eyes when something woke me again.
I stirred on my bed and sat up, glancing toward the crib situated only a few feet away. After crawling off my mattress, I checked on Anniston, but she was sleeping peacefully with her little hands fisted by her face. The sensation that something had woken me on purpose remained, so I glanced around the room, searching the corners, except I was completely alone in my bedchamber.
I went to the door and opened it without even thinking, not experiencing a single worry that something dangerous may be afoot.
The man lingering outside my door as he rested a shoulder against the opposite wall slowly lifted his face.
I gasped and took a step back. The prince of High Cliff straightened from the wall, and for some reason, the agony in his expression had me stepping into the hall and closing the door behind me.
“What’re you doing here?”
It didn’t occur to me that I wore nothing but a thin night shift until his gaze ran slowly, boldly down my body. When I hugged my arms self-consciously to my chest, he lifted his attention to my face.
“You told Allera you wanted me to stay away from you,” he said. His voice was low and raspy; it sent shivers up my spine.
“I… Yes, I did.”
He stepped closer. “Well, I can’t.”
The look in his eyes was intense, predatory. I thought this should frighten me, yet it didn’t. A deep yearning ripened inside me, starting with a pulse of power between my legs, then a tingling in my breasts.
I looked up at him, swallowing, as he searched the features of my face with his gaze. “I’ve never seen your hair down before,” he said, reaching out slowly to grasp a single strand between his fingers. “It’s beautiful.”
I could only watch as he studied my hair in awe, then return his gaze to mine.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered.
“I know.” He nodded. “But the thing is, I can’t help it. I crave you. In every way possible.” Feeling pinned by his blue-eyed stare, I gaped up at him as he leaned in to repeat with emphasis, “In every...way.”
God, he smelled good. And he was so handsome, from the dark stubble along his jaw and thick black lashes framing his eyes to the scar at the corner of his mouth. His bottom lip was thicker and plusher than the top, making me imagine what it’d feel like to bite. Even his long, regal nose held me enthralled.
A shudder of desire rippled through my system. I shook my head against the temptation even as I swayed toward him. He lowered his face, creating an intimate bubble between us. His mouth neared mine, and I closed my eyes, already anticipating the feel of him against me, when it struck me what I was doing.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, pulling back and whirling away to return to my room.
But the door wasn’t there. I looked around to find myself in an endless hallway with nothing but walls and torchlight flickering warmly around us.
What was happening? Where had all the doors gone?
The prince set one hand against the wall directly next to my face, trapping me without laying a single finger on me. When he eased closer, the air stalled in my chest. His breath tickled my jaw as he murmured into my ear, “You want me to fuck you against this wall, don’t you?”
I slowly turned my gaze up. Though his expression remained passive, waiting for my answer, his eyes glittered with promise.
“Just say the word,” he said. “And I’ll be inside you.”
My heart started to pound, and air suddenly rushed through my lungs. “Yes,” I said.
He smiled. A knowing, victorious smirk. Then warm fingers caught the outside of my thigh, just at the hem of my nightdress. I jumped from the contact, but then I backed myself against the wall, watching his eyes darken as he stepped in, trapping me fully. His hands moved up under my clothes until they grasped the curves of my bare bottom. Then he was lifting me, levering my weight higher against the stones at my back so he could move between my spread legs.
Warm pressure at my entrance had me biting my lip, and then he was entering me, squeezing his way inside my body with a slow determination that had me moaning and wanting more. Harder. Faster. But he refused to be rushed. My inner muscles contracted around him, gripping, pleading. His gaze firmly held mine as his cock pulsed within me, filling me as I’d never been filled before. Then he started to pull out, only to surge back in, slamming forward with a grunt that made me gasp and grip his arms as he embedded himself fully.
His skin was warm and muscled under my fingers, causing me to skim my hands up his arms with the need to feel more.
All the while, my own flesh felt over-sensitized, my nerve endings screaming for release. A hot current traveled up the insides of my thighs while my breasts throbbed and the heated weight inside me rubbed against all the right places.
I wanted to feel more of him, his skin directly against mine, his lips tugging at mine. There were too many clothes, too much space separating us.
As if sensing my need, he leaned down and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. It felt so good that my toes curled and back arched. The coils of pleasure building inside me tightened. I was so focused on the decadence of his mouth that it took me another moment to realize I was naked.
Wait. Where had my nightgown gone?
I looked down, startled to find only flesh between of us, his a golden bronze, mine a paler peach. We pressed together intimately, only to separate and then rejoin. The pressure of him moving inside me built toward a peak.
“Hey,” he murmured with a lazy kind of satisfaction as he lifted my face with a single finger under my chin to seek my attention, his body still working fixedly in and out of mine.
I looked into his eyes, amazed by how blue they were. Then his mouth captured mine, and a new swell of pleasure overtook me. I closed my eyes and held on tight because I was going to come, any moment. He was too; the fervency of his thrusts grew aggressive as he fisted handfuls of my hair and spiked his tongue deeper between my teeth. I dug my heels into the mattress under me and lifted up to greet each plunge, vaguely wondering how we’d made it to a bed, when the wail of a baby broke through the chaos of lovemaking.
“Dammit.” He lifted his head, his face filled with frustration as he looked across my room toward the crib. “The baby’s crying.”
“What?” I blinked, shaking my head, not understanding and still trying to figure out when we’d entered my room.
His gaze returned to mine. Cupping my face gently in his hand, he pressed one last soft, quick kiss to my mouth before he murmured, “Wake up, darling. Your baby needs you.”
“Wake up?”
Oh hell.
With a gasp, I bolted upright, remembering Anniston as I swerved my attention toward the crib. She was reall
y only just beginning to fuss, not yet fully awake. Pressing a hand to my brow, I searched for the prince, but he was gone. Only a damp, unfulfilled throbbing between my legs remained.
A dream.
My God, it had all only been a dream.
I fumbled my way out of bed, my legs tangling in the skirt of my nightgown, and I decided this had to be the most unsettling of the unusual dreams I’d been having. I’d never had a sex dream before. It was quite embarrassing. I was actually relieved the prince wasn’t allowed to talk to me because I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look him in the eye again after this. I’d so eagerly taken him into my body—in my dream, anyway—that I felt shameful and dirty. And yet secretly, I also felt more powerful than ever.
How was I supposed to recover from this?
Shaking my head, I returned to reality.
Anniston was wet, so I changed her into some dry clothes, and then offered her a drink, which she never turned down, but my nerves continued to twitch with after-effects of that dream. I almost wished I’d had the bloody, gory nightmare of the soldier dying again, except no…no. In all honesty, this one had been wonderful and exhilarating.
I got Anniston back to sleep within half an hour, but it took me much longer than that to settle in myself. When I did, I dreamed of a young Allera. She and I were sneaking through a cold, drafty castle until we found our way outside. Once we were free from the interior, we took off racing over a meadow toward a copse of trees.
I was winning, and it felt good to beat her. This was the first time I’d ever beaten her in a footrace. She didn’t like losing, either, which made it all the sweeter.
“Urban,” she yelled, racing after me, her voice out of breath. “Wait!”
I woke on another gasp, the name Urban echoing through my head like a gonging cymbal. Wondering why I’d dreamed I was actually him that time, I rose for the day, deciding I didn’t want to sleep any longer. My unconscious thoughts were becoming quite unsettling. Besides, the sun was coming up, and there was a wedding to attend.
I couldn’t decide if I was more excited about the prospect of a royal wedding or that I was actually going to get to leave my room for the first time since having Anniston, because I was so ready to leave this room.
The maid who brought me breakfast every morning bustled in with a tray, and the two healers weren’t far behind. They looked me over as I ate, and neither woman could find a reason why I couldn’t leave my bedchamber, especially since I was getting around easier than both of them could.
Then Anniston woke, and I had to feed her again. After that, another pair of maids arrived to help me wash and change into the dress I was going to wear to the wedding. We had to pause multiple times because the baby kept getting fussy. My little girl was already quite spoiled and liked to be held nonstop. So one maid finally agreed to hold her while the other helped me prepare.
We were just finishing with my hair when a knock came at my door. Wincing because I feared it may be Soren—since he’d visited every day for the past two weeks—I paused to sigh before reluctantly calling, “Come in.”
When Nicolette entered instead, I sent her a relieved smile. She appeared to be set for the wedding already and wore a new dress. “Oh, you look stunning.”
“Thank you.” Clutching the skirts of her dress, she bounded over. “You look well too.” Then she seemed to really look at me, because her mouth dropped open. “Actually, you look really well. Like you were never pregnant at all. I remember Soren’s first wife never quite looked the same after she had her babies.”
I glanced down at myself and shrugged. “It must be part of the unnatural healing process I went through.” Which made me think of the reason I had healed so unnaturally, which led me to memories of the dreams I’d just had, which further sparked a flush of guilt inside me.
The man had not only saved my life, keeping my baby from being motherless, but he was directly responsible for how healthy I was now. Yet all I’d done in return was have illicit dreams about him and request that he stay away from me. It made me feel terrible. I’d only wanted to avoid all possible altercations between him and my husband—to keep the peace—but having those dreams about him on top of it… I must look so selfish and ungrateful. I wished I could just explain to him that I meant him no ill will; I just thought his distance from me was for the best.
“I was wondering if we could go down to the chapel together and sit by each other throughout the ceremony,” Nicolette asked, pausing next to me to touch a butterfly barrette the maid had just put in my hair.
I looked up at her, confused. “I thought Allera wanted you to be her lady’s maid.”
The princess rolled her eyes. “Oh. No. I mean, yes, originally, she did. But Yasmin decided she wanted the honor instead. Allera tried to talk her out of it, of course. But she’s not nearly as unassumingly or smoothly persuasive as you are, so…” She shrugged. “Yasmin got her way, and I’m just a regular guest, like you, today.”
I shook my head. “Nothing about you is regular, my lady. You are one-of–a-kind remarkable, and I’d be delighted to sit with you.”
“Good. Shall we head down, then? I think they’re about ready to start.”
“Oh!” I checked the time and rose from my chair. “I’m sorry. I quite lost track of the hour. Let me fetch Anniston.”
“Is she coming too?” Nicolette brightened as I took the babe from the maid who’d been bouncing her. “How precious. I love the little dress she’s in. And look, the booties actually fit. You did so well with them.”
I didn’t mention that the booties on her feet weren’t the pair I’d made, because those indeed hadn’t fit. This set had come from a sweet maid who’d given them to me as a gift. Clearing my throat, I glanced away and murmured, “I think we’re ready.”
“Great.” Nicolette led the way to the door. “I saw Brentley this morning. He’s nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
I laughed. “I rather thought he’d be eager. He seems to like Princess Allera a great deal.”
“Oh, he’s that too, for sure. But I think he’s worried something else may delay today’s attempt at a wedding.”
“I hope that’s not the case. If the marriage is rescheduled too many times, the alliance between High Cliff and Donnelly may suffer.”
We chatted the rest of the way down to the chapel where the wedding was to take place, talking about the possibility of the wedding making it through to the end, and then moving on to the topic of how much Anniston was growing. I’d forgotten about any nerves I’d been having until we entered the room and the first voice I heard was my husband’s.
“Remember what I warned you, High Cliff bastard,” he was saying, catching both Nicolette’s attention and mine. “If you talk to her, if you come within twenty feet of her, if you so much as look at her—”
“I know you feel as though you must warn me of what I cannot do around your wife at least two millions times,” Prince Urban cut in dryly, shifting his face away so that Soren wasn’t breathing directly on him. “But I assure you, Donnelly bastard, I heard you after the first million.”
Soren pointed threateningly. “I’ll kill you myself if you—”
“Gentlemen.” Brentley stepped between them smoothly, lifting his hands. “No bloodshed on my wedding day, if you please.” He elbowed Urban companionably. “Besides, I have every confidence my new brother-in-law will behave.”
“Where is Vienne, anyway?” Yasmin asked from the other side of the room where she was fluffing at the white sleeve of a wedding gown that a frowning Allera wore.
Urban glanced over Soren’s shoulder directly at me as if he knew I’d been standing there the entire time.
I froze, immobilized.
I’d caught this man’s intense gaze from across the room before, but this time it felt different, because this time I knew why his attention always seemed so focused, so narrowed and intent on just me whenever he looked my way.
A shud
der racked my body, and I clutched Anniston closer to my chest. His gaze fell to the swaddled form in my arms, and pain laced his features before he glanced away. Then he turned on his heel and strode off to approach his sister, who was speaking quietly with the friar and trying to ignore Yasmin, who was still dusting what was probably imaginary lint off her.
“There you are,” Soren called, finally noticing me. He strode forward, and Nicolette shifted closer to my elbow, while Anniston wiggled, unsettled, in my arms.
He paused when he saw her. “You brought the babe.”
“Of course. This is a momentous occasion. We’re aligning two powerful kingdoms today. I want to be able to tell her she was present when it happened.”
Soren pressed his lips together in disapproval but said nothing. After scowling toward Prince Urban, who was still lingering near Allera, he turned back to me. “I won’t be able to sit with you through the service. I feel I must be near the king in case he has need of me.”
My relief was so visceral, I blurted, “That’s great! I didn’t want to sit with you anyway.”
A beat passed before anyone reacted. Then Nicolette started coughing ardently, probably trying to mask her true reaction. She had to spin away from us because she was so overcome. All the while, I stood there, frozen, unable to believe what I’d just spoken aloud. My heart pounded hard in my chest, because oh God, oh God… What if he took Anniston away from me because of my big, stupid, unpredictable mouth?
Soren seemed similarly immobile, blinking at me before he glanced at the agitated Nicolette, only to turn back, squinting. “What did you just say?”
“I said…” Taking a quick breath, I stalled a moment longer, my mind racing before, I once again blurted, “I said, that’s fine. At least I have Nicolette to sit with, anyway.”
He blinked yet again and cocked his face to the side as if he knew that wasn’t what I’d said but couldn’t seem to prove it, so he shook his head, dismissing me altogether. After glancing Nicolette’s way when she finally turned back to us—her face bright red—he nodded to us in farewell and turned away to stalk toward Caulder.