The Seduction

  “At night,” I said softly, “when Princess Whitney had gone to sleep and no one else needed anything.”

  “They treated you like a slave.” Branford growled.

  “Is there some difference between a servant and a slave?” I asked before I realized the words were out of my mouth. I bit my lower lip and looked at the ground. Branford turned from the window and stared at me.

  “You have some teeth, woman,” he said, but his voice did not sound angry, so I glanced up to his face and was met with his half smile. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Could you have left King Edgar’s employ?”

  “And go where?” I asked. “I have no family, and I would have to find a way of supporting myself.”

  “But you would have been allowed to leave,” Branford said. “No one would have stopped you if you decided to walk out the castle gates never to return. You could have given yourself to God at the abbey or found a way to travel to another village.”

  “I supposed I could have.”

  “Then you know the difference between a servant and a slave.” Branford turned around and placed his hands behind his back, against the windowsill, then leaned against them. “You have as many choices as any of us do. When we say we have no choice, it’s just our way of saying we have already chosen our path. There are always choices.”

  “I’ve always been at the mercy of others,” I said. “If I had been a princess when you chose me—”

  “Who do princesses usually end up marrying?” Branford interrupted again. “Do you think they have any more choice in the matter than you did? I at least gave you the opportunity to refuse if you so desired. Do you think the princesses of the realms have that luxury? Their fathers choose some man based on his political influence, not the man’s concern for his daughter. Edgar was ready to marry Whitney off to me, and I hate her. That whore threw herself at me after a tournament at Sawyer Castle. I won, I was celebrating, and I was quite drunk. She helped me back to the inn where I was staying, and then I helped her out of her clothes. In the morning she told me I would have to marry her, and I laughed.”

  “Why did you laugh?” I asked, for it seemed a logical assumption on the princess’s part.

  “Because, Alexandra,” Branford said. “Because I am free. I am a noble, and I am a man. I can do whatever the hell I want. I can take God’s name in vain. I can kill on a whim, and I can sleep with any woman I choose. The Church will offer me forgiveness, and no one will consider me any the less because of it. The most I will ever have to put up with is the ire of my king and queen, which is not to be taken lightly. Whitney is a fool. Not only did she give her virginity to me, she’d made it clear she was trying to trap me into a wedding. As if I would let someone so close to my enemy into my household.”

  Branford turned toward me, his eyes blazing but not in the same way they had when he touched me the day before. There was anger and hatred in them but also that quiet, desperate sorrow I had seen before.

  “Do you see?” Branford asked. He walked back to me and held the sides of my face. He was gentle—his fingertips just barely pressing into my skin—and I had no fear of his actions, even as his eyes burned into me. “Do you see why I couldn't marry her? Even when Camden told me to? I couldn't. I wouldn't be wed to the daughter of the man who killed my parents. Do you understand, Alexandra? Please, please understand. I couldn't do it. I couldn't.”

  “I understand,” I said. His eyes closed and he rested his forehead against mine.

  “Do you really?” Branford asked. His tone was abruptly cold again. “Do you really understand, or are you just saying it because you think that's what I want from you?”

  I didn't know how to answer, and I could not help but feel a cold chill run up my spine at his harsh tone directed at me.

  “Please, don’t look like that,” Branford said in a soft, no longer chilling voice. “I wasn’t trying to frighten you…I just want to hear the truth. You are so apt at hiding what you feel inside, I’m never quite sure if you mean what you say.”

  “Do you believe King Edgar really ordered the murder of your parents?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

  “Then I understand,” I told him, trying to keep my voice as firm as I could manage. Branford’s eyes looked into mine for a moment, and then he nodded his head.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I want you to always speak what you truly think and believe when we are here alone.”

  “But not when we are in the company of others?” I asked for clarification. Branford scowled a moment.

  “I would not want you to contradict me in front of others, no,” he said. “As long as that is not your intent, you should be able to speak freely most of the time. If there are others above your station, which is now restricted only to immediate royalty—kings and queens, princes and princesses by birth, not marriage—their word takes precedence. Otherwise, your word is as good as theirs.”

  “But you don’t speak of these things in front of others, do you? You don’t talk of the…betrayal of your family or of war with Hadebrand.”

  “No, definitely not.” Branford’s voice was harsh and dark. “Speaking of it could alert them to my plans. Edgar killed my parents. I may not be able to prove it, but I know it in my heart. He may not have done the deed with his hands, but he was still behind it. He wanted our lands—took most of them, too. Only by the will of the Church do I still have rights to Sterling Castle itself, but many of the lands around it are now Edgar’s.”

  “That’s why you chose me as a wife—to anger Edgar into war.”

  At first, I simply nodded to myself, and then I stopped breathing as I realized the words had actually exited my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say it—not out loud.

  “Why did you say that, Alexandra? Sunniva did not speak of those details.”

  There was no way around it now. If we were truly beginning again, I would have to confess my indiscretion and hope he would have mercy on me. I again remembered the carriage driver begging for leniency where there was none to be had. I glanced up at Branford, and he stood above me with his head tilted slightly and one eyebrow arched upwards.

  “I heard you talking to Sir Parnell,” I finally said quietly. “I wasn’t asleep, and I heard what you said. I planned to tell you. I didn’t mean to overhear; I just wasn’t quite asleep.”

  I closed my eyes and braced myself for whatever his reaction might be. For a long moment, the room was silent. Finally, Branford spoke quietly.

  “What did you hear?”

  “Everything, my…Branford.”

  He was silent for some time.

  “You seem to have a habit of listening to conversation not meant for your ears,” Branford said. I couldn’t tell from his tone if he was angry or not. “What else have you heard that I don’t know about?”

  “Nothing, my lord,” I said quietly. “I never meant to keep it a secret. I meant to tell you all of it, I swear.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Alexandra,” Branford said. “It seems I have nothing to hide from you anyway.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord.”

  “Will I always become ‘your lord’ when you think you are in trouble?”

  “Probably,” I finally answered. Branford laughed, and the tense mood was instantly lifted.

  “That’s where you heard me first speak of Lily,” Branford said.

  I nodded.

  “Who is she?” I asked.

  “Lily was,” Branford said, correcting me, “my best friend.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I’ll tell you,” Branford said. He stood and held his hand to me. “But it would be easier to show you at the same time. Let’s go.”

  “I didn’t think we were to leave the rooms,” I said. “Queen Sunniva…”

  “My mother’s intent was for us to be alone together,” Branford insisted. “For all practical purposes, we will be. She wants us to know and understand each other, and you cannot understand me without understanding thi
s. She would not object.”

  “All right,” I said.

  Branford led me out into the hallway, where I noticed a guard standing outside the room. He was young and physically intimidating—his bulging muscles clearly visible under the chain-linked armor. I recognized him as one of the guards normally at the door to the great hall. He nodded and greeted us both.

  “Good morning, Sir Branford, Lady Alexandra,” he said.

  “Good morning, Dunstan,” Branford replied. “Is there some reason you are standing outside my rooms?”

  “Queen Sunniva has ordered me to keep you in my watch, Sir Branford.” Dunstan shuffled slightly from one foot to the other. “I’m to report if you…take leave of each other.”

  Branford growled something indiscernible under his breath, took my arm, and led me down the hallway with Dunstan walking a respectable distance behind us. Branford glared down at the floor in front of us and continued to mumble under his breath until we reached the doors and headed outside. When we reached the castle gates, he took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked out over the organized chaos before us.

  The sun was bright and shone down on the busy marketplace where many merchants held various wares to sell in carts, baskets, and makeshift tables all around the entrance to the castle gates. There was a woman holding a basket of flowers, a farmer with a cart of vegetables, and a man with a string of fish hanging from a rack. It was not dissimilar to the marketplace in Hadebrand though I did not recognize any of the merchants. I started forward, but my husband stopped and leaned over to me.

  “Alexandra,” he said and bade me look into his eyes. “When we are in common areas together, you will hold my right arm. I will always be addressed first, and if I give whomever addresses me leave, they will address you as Lady Alexandra. When returning their greeting, do not use a title at all. Just call them by their names. Understand?”

  “Yes, Branford,” I said and smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

  “I’m trying,” he said with a slight smile. He offered his right arm to me, and I wrapped my fingers around it.

  Branford pulled me back between two of the carts where a man with white whiskers adorning his face, but long dark hair on his head, sat with a bowl in his hands of what looked like porridge.

  “Channing.” Branford waved and greeted him.

  “Sir Branford!” the man said. He stood, depositing the bowl on the ground beside him. “I wondered when you would return. This must be your beautiful new wife.”

  “Alexandra,” Branford said as he turned to me, “may I present Channing—the finest breeder of hunting dogs in Silverhelm. Channing, this is my wife, Lady Alexandra.”

  “Greetings, Lady Alexandra,” Channing said, and he bowed to me. I felt heat rise to my face.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Channing,” I responded in kind. I saw Branford’s smile out of the corner of my eye and was glad he had taught me how to address someone.

  “Have you come to see your new beauty, Sir Branford?”

  “I have indeed,” Branford replied.

  “Right this way!”

  Branford and I followed Channing back behind his hay-filled wagon, where a light brown dog lay with a litter of pups at her teats.

  “She’ll be all yours in just a few weeks,” Channing said.

  “You’re getting a puppy?” I asked, my eyes wide.

  “No,” Branford said with a shake of his head. “I don’t have time to train one right now, and if I got one, I’d want to do the training. I’m buying the bitch.”

  I looked at the dog lying on her side, and she looked up at me. She looked tired but well cared for and obviously raising an excellent group of puppies. They were rolling around each other, nursing and whining. Their mother raised her head and licked at them for a moment before settling herself back down in the hay.

  “I hate to give her up,” Channing said, “but Sir Branford drives a hard bargain.”

  “I’m offering the stud services of my pack for the next breeding season in exchange for her,” Branford said, explaining their deal to me.

  “I’ll be keeping three of the female pups,” Channing said, “but they won’t be able to breed with their littermates—not healthy for them. Sir Branford’s dogs are excellent hunters and not related to these pups at all. It will mean three good litters for me next year.”

  “Come, Alexandra,” Branford said. He looked into my eyes and took my hand as he led me closer. He held my hand out and slowly pulled my fingers through the bitch’s soft fur. “Alexandra, I would like you to meet Amarra. She’ll become part of my hunting pack when her pups are weaned. She’s the replacement for Lily.”

  My gaze darted to his, and I could see the strangest combination of sadness and mirth.

  “Lily was a dog?”

  “The best ever,” Branford said quietly. “She was found a week ago in the woods not far from the fields where my pack runs when we’re not hunting. She would have had pups in just under a month, but she was…well, she was killed. After she didn’t return to the stable one night, we found her hanging from a tree.”

  “Oh goodness!” I cried. “Someone…someone killed her?”

  Branford just nodded.

  “She was rarely away from me at night,” Branford said, “but she needed to have a good place to have her pups near the rest of the pack. She had been staying out there with them for three nights before she disappeared.”

  I looked up into his eyes, and I could feel the anger behind them.

  “I do have enemies,” he said quietly, “and sometimes they know exactly where to strike me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Some of his words from this morning—the tale of his parents and his reluctance to trust—drove deeper into me, and I understood some of his reasons for his actions.

  “She stayed with me in my rooms most of the time,” Branford said, and the purpose of the large square cushion by the fireplace was suddenly apparent. “I loathe the idea of replacing her so quickly, but it’s late in the season. If I want to have pups next year, I want to give the new bitch plenty of time to get used to the pack first.”

  “I remember when you first took Lily with you,” Channing said. “You had her picked out the moment you saw her.”

  “True, I did,” Branford said with a slight smile.

  “It took a little convincing to get him to let the pup go back to her mother until she was ready to be weaned.”

  “I wasn’t horribly patient about it as I recall.”

  “That’s why you had to resort to hand-feeding her when you insisted on taking her too young.”

  “How long did you have her?” I asked.

  “Nearly five years,” Branford said. “She was with me almost constantly. The rest of the pack stayed together most of the time, but even when we weren’t hunting, Lily was always by my side. My hope is Amarra will be half as good as Lily was. If she is, I’ll be very pleased.”

  “Will she stay in our rooms?” I asked.

  “It would be my preference,” Branford said, “but only if you are agreeable. The rest of the pack stays near the other side of the garden, next to the stables, and she could remain there as well.”

  I could see in his face he didn’t like the idea.

  “I don’t mind at all,” I said, and the glorious smile that greeted me was impossible not to return.

  Branford looked up, glancing quickly from left to right before he turned back to me. I looked around as well, but saw no one save Channing, who was tending to the pups.

  “Yesterday you told me I didn’t have to ask permission to kiss you,” Branford said so softly I didn’t think the breeder could hear him. “Pray, is that still the case?”

  The skin all over my body started to tingle just at the sound of his words. Other than waking in his arms and the few touches of his fingers on my chin, he had barely touched me at all since yesterday morning. I didn’t dare look at his eyes because I knew if I did, they would be smolderin
g, and there would be no doubt I would agree to his wants. I needed to figure out if it was still all right if he kissed me or not before I looked at him.

  There was certainly a part of me that feared even the most casual touches from him. It was difficult to see his hands and not remember them balled into fists and pounding the cold stone wall of the morning room, so dangerously close to my head. If I thought about it, I could feel his fingers grasping the flesh of my arm as he hauled me back up the stairs and into our rooms.

  But today, he had been the Branford who had carried me on his horse to the abbey to prepare for our wedding. Today, he had been the same man who didn’t take me by force the first night even though it was his right. He was using the same tone of voice he had used when he held me the second night and told me he would be gentle when he touched my skin. He had been gentle, and the feelings he evoked were unknown and exciting.

  Forgetting myself, I looked into his eyes, and as I suspected I would be, I was trapped there. Not only could I see his want for me, but I could also see his confusion and his hope. I had waited too long before answering him, and I could see he had all but decided I meant to deny him. He nodded slightly and then started to turn away.

  “It is,” I said quickly before he could turn his back to me. His gaze swiveled back to mine, curious and hesitant. “It is still all right for you to kiss me.”

  A slight smile appeared over his lips, and he looked around the area once more before leaning close to me again. I closed my eyes and felt the warm burn of his mouth as it pressed carefully against my lips. He didn’t push hard against me, nor did he open his mouth or touch my lips with his tongue. He kissed me simply and softly while my heart pounded in my ears. After exactly seven kisses, he pulled his head back, and his smile was much larger. His expression made him look much younger than he was—a boy, even. A boy who had just been given his first horse to ride—excited, encouraged, and relieved the day had finally arrived. Branford’s eyes were literally glowing along with the rest of his face, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.