“Alexandra?” Sir Branford said. He touched me gently under my chin, tilting my face toward his. “I would prefer to hear your answer without an audience, and we will have one soon. If your answer is no, so be it. I will not be unduly affronted. I will make another choice, but you must answer now.”
Thoughts of a proposal with a ring and the love of my life down on one knee in the gardens fluttered through my head for a moment. I had never even had a suitor before, let alone been in love. It was more likely that I would either be promised to some older man as a second wife or remain a maid forever than it would be for me to actually find a marriage of love. The possibilities of being wed to a noble were unheard of by those such as me.
In all honesty, I feared the reaction of Princess Whitney and her father irrespective of my answer. Saying no meant the certainty of their tempers being directed at me. Saying yes meant the potential to be removed from this place altogether.
“Yes, my lord,” I heard myself say.
“Yes, Alexandra?”
“I will marry you, my lord,” I said a little louder.
“Will you give your unwavering loyalty to me, my kingdom, and my God?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I'm pleased to hear you say yes, Alexandra,” Sir Branford said. The left side of his mouth curled up in a half smile, and his already handsome face was transformed into something truly stunning. The sound of booted footsteps approached. “Now be silent for a few moments. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Are you insane?” A knight in armor, decorated with the head of a red dragon on the breastplate, walked straight up to Sir Branford, his blond hair flowing out behind him. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Of course not. Why would you say that?”
“Are you trying to start a war, then?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. King Edgar has neither the army nor the balls to declare war.”
“Then what is this?” The blond knight motioned to me. “Your idea of a joke? You’re no jester, Branford.”
“And this is no jest,” Sir Branford replied. “I’m going to marry her tomorrow.”
Tomorrow?
“You have lost your mind.”
“That imbecile thought he would trap me into marrying Whitney, and he was wrong. Even if he had offered me the hand of his daughter, I would have chosen her sister.”
“Hedda is a child.”
“I’d still marry her first,” Sir Branford said emphatically. “Offering me any available maid just made the selection more interesting. Now King Edgar will understand our alliance cannot be bought by offering that bitch of a princess in exchange for arms.”
I gasped, for I had never heard anyone speak such words and certainly not directed toward royalty. Sir Branford turned toward me and took my hand in his, raised it to his lips, and placed a slight kiss on my knuckles. My skin tingled where his lips touched it.
“Forgive me,” he said softly, then turned back to the other knight.
Before the words completely left his mouth, shouting could be heard at the stable doors. Sir Branford looped the reins of his horse around the handle of a stall door before turning back to me and offering his arm. I wrapped my fingers just below his elbow, and he led me toward the ruckus, the blond knight standing to his right side and me on his left.
“How dare you?” King Edgar was the first through the doors. He was followed quickly by Queen Margaret, Princess Whitney, the other three handmaids, and two of the king’s knights. “With my own daughter right in front of you, and you select some...some...servant wench!”
“Forgive me, King Edgar.” Sir Branford spoke in his fluid voice. All the anger he had been projecting only moments ago had completely vanished. “You offered the hand of any eligible female. If you had intended for me to wed the princess, perhaps you should have offered me her hand. I'm afraid now that Alexandra has accepted my proposal, it would not be chivalrous of me to renege.”
“I haven't heard her response,” King Edgar snarled, looking straight at me. I quickly dropped my gaze.
“Are you doubting my word?” Sir Branford's tone was suddenly quite cold.
“I'm doubting your sanity,” Princess Whitney piped up. “You come all this way for tournament and return to your own lands with a…a…a handmaid?”
“I will give you another chance, Sir Branford,” King Edgar said, effectively silencing his daughter. “We will pass off your stunt on the field as just that—a stunt. Take my daughter's hand, and we will set this right.”
“Forgive me, King Edgar,” Sir Branford said, “but I will not be marrying your daughter. I have already stated a reason.”
“It's not good enough.” King Edgar snarled through his teeth. “You will set this right and do so now.”
Branford raised himself up to his full height and looked down on the King.
“I will not marry the Princess Whitney,” he stated.
“And why not?” the infuriated king shouted.
“Because she is not a virgin,” Sir Branford said simply.
For a long moment, there was silence in the stable. My stomach felt as if it were twisting inside of my body as I looked into the stunned face of the princess.
“How dare you!” King Edgar stepped forward, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword.
“Let her be tested, then!” Sir Branford took a step forward, meeting the king’s challenge. I did my best to remain behind him, but he did not release my hand from his arm and kept pulling me to his side. “If she's shown to be innocent, then I will marry her on the spot!”
“You bastard.” Princess Whitney’s voice was low and full of venom. “You dare to insult me in front of my own—”
“Princess Whitney,” Sir Branford replied, “I merely spoke the truth. Are you prepared to have the nuns at the abbey test your purity?”
“Enough!” she screamed at him. “Let him have the wench! I wouldn't consent to marry him anyway!”
Princess Whitney stormed away from her father with the other handmaids following quickly behind her. I started to follow, both reflexively and because I was unsure of what else to do, when Branford caught my arm and held me to his side.
“You no longer serve her,” he said into my ear. He then turned back to the king. “Alexandra will need two servants to prepare her. We will be married in the abbey tomorrow.”
“She has no family,” King Edgar stated. “There is no one to provide dowry.”
I dropped my gaze to the ground. I was beginning to see quite clearly that King Edgar was going to find a way out of this position, and I would return to an angry and humiliated Princess Whitney. She could be vicious and cruel—I had seen it many times though it had never been directed at me. I should have thought through what I was saying when I agreed to marry Sir Branford. I must have had a lapse of sanity. How could I ever think something so implausible would happen to me?
“Dowry is not required,” Sir Branford stated. “She is my prize. Now if you are done trying to weasel your way out of the reward you promised in front of your kingdom, I have some wedding plans to make.”
Branford turned away from King Edgar without a proper goodbye and pulled me behind him by the hand. The other knight, who had remained silent throughout the encounter with the king, followed closely behind us.
“I don’t want to waste any time,” Sir Branford said to the knight. “I’ll not have King Edgar come up with another dozen reasons why this cannot be done. We ride to the abbey immediately and entrust my fiancée to the nuns there until tomorrow. We’ll have the wedding at sunset.”
“Ida is going to kill you,” the other knight said quietly and without emotion.
“That is entirely possible,” Sir Branford said with a nod, “but my sister’s ire is not enough to discourage me from my wedding.”
He glanced down at me and offered that same crooked half smile. Once again, he reached out and captured my fingers, slowly bringing them up to his mout
h. As his lips touched the skin of my fingers, I felt my cheeks flame.
“Lovely,” he murmured softly.
And that is how I found myself engaged.
Chapter 2—Warily Celebrate
“If we ride hard, we should be able to reach the abbey in two hours.”
“We don’t have an extra horse. She’ll have to ride with me.”
“That will slow us down.”
“Undoubtedly.”
Sir Branford looked over to me for the first time in several minutes. He had barely acknowledged my existence since King Edgar and his entourage had left us here in the stables. His companion—the knight with the red dragon on his breastplate—glanced at me often, but his look was not the same as the one Sir Branford bestowed upon me. I felt certain the knight did not appreciate my presence though he had said nothing of the sort since his initial confrontation with Sir Branford.
My fiancé.
The words didn’t sound right in my head. Though I was certainly of marrying age, I hadn’t given the idea a single thought in my life—not with any true meaning. I had perhaps entertained a passing fancy when an attractive page or market seller caught my eye, but even that was rare. I was too busy with my duties to consider such folly. When Sir Branford looked at me, I felt a strange tingling sensation in my belly. The sensation made me forget anything and everything that was going on around me.
“You must stay behind us,” Branford told the knight. “We will have to ride too slowly, and I need to know we are not being followed.”
“Of course,” the knight responded, “though I don’t think he would be so bold.”
“I won’t chance it,” Sir Branford said, “not with my fiancée.”
“As you wish.” The knight bowed his head slightly, giving me one last cursory glance before walking out of the stables, leaving me alone with Sir Branford.
“Come, Alexandra,” he said, gesturing back toward his horse. “Have you been to Saint Anthony’s Abbey before?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good!” He smiled, which made his eyes light up for a moment. With a quick tug from Sir Branford, the reins fell away from handle of the stall door. A moment later, I was lifted into the saddle, my legs hanging off to one side. He mounted the horse behind me and again wrapped his arm around my middle, holding me securely against his body. “We’re going to ride quickly.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Have you ridden often?” I could feel the warmth of his breath against my neck, and again I thought I could hear him inhaling deeply.
“No, my lord.”
“If you tire, please tell me. If possible, we will take a short break. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Though the horses walked out of the stables and down the short path to the castle gates, Sir Branford quickly brought his steed to canter as soon as we had left King Edgar’s abode behind. I bounced around in the saddle uncomfortably even though his arm held me tight. After a few minutes, he slowed and shifted forward in the saddle, lifting me slightly and placing me across his legs.
“Put your arms ‘round my neck,” he said quietly. I felt my body tense slightly and blood rush to my face.
“Yes, my lord.” I responded so softly, I wasn’t sure if he even heard me. I had to turn my body toward his to comply, and once I was more or less facing him, though still side-saddle, I reached up and placed my hands around the back of his neck. As soon as I did, he called out to his steed, and we raced ahead. Sitting in his lap as I was, my body moved with his, up and down in the same rhythm as the horse. It was decidedly more comfortable, and in this manner, we reached the abbey without another word between us.
The priest at the door greeted Sir Branford warmly and smiled in my direction when Sir Branford informed him of our hurried nuptials. Sir Branford introduced him as Father Charles, and while Sir Branford spoke to the priest, I tried to remind my legs how to walk again. I had no idea simply sitting on a horse could leave one’s legs barely able to stand! I carefully shifted back and forth, trying to stretch tired, sore muscles. Perhaps I should have asked Sir Branford for a break after all.
“The nuns will care for you until mid-morning,” Sir Branford informed me. “By then, servants should have arrived with your wedding dress, and they will help prepare you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I will see you tomorrow eve in the chapel, Alexandra,” Sir Branford said quietly. He reached out and took both my hands in his, produced a half smile that made my cheeks warm, and laughed softly through his nose. “So lovely.”
I watched for a few moments as he rode back down the road in the direction from which we had come. Dusk was upon us, and though I could not have been sure, I thought he met with another rider near the darkened horizon.
“Come, Alexandra,” Father Charles said. “You’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”
“Yes, Father,” I replied. I followed him inside and heard the gate shut behind me. Throughout the rest of the evening, despite the meal I was fed and the bed I was given, all I could think of was the feeling of Sir Branford’s arm holding me tight and my arms wrapped around his strong neck. I supposed I was in a state of shock from everything that had transpired since the tournament’s end, and it was thoughts of his touch that took me into a surprisingly restful slumber.
When I woke to the dim light of daybreak, the nuns informed me I had visitors.
Both Hadley and Edith had been allowed to leave Princess Whitney long enough to be brought to the abbey to help bathe me and adorn me in the most beautiful white dress I had ever seen. It wasn’t overly fancy like a real lady or princess might have worn for her wedding, but I thought it was beautiful. It was by far the most extravagant thing I had ever worn. It was soft and covered in fine lace with a train flowing out in the back. There was a sheer veil, which Hadley affixed to my hair and pulled down over my face. When Hadley pulled a looking glass over, I could hardly believe it was me looking back in the mirror. Edith also helped Hadley dress in a gold gown with black trim as my maiden of honor, the colors a tribute to Sir Branford’s banner.
Everything happened so fast, my head was still spinning when I found myself at the end of a long aisle, walking along a blue carpet toward the altar inside the chapel at Saint Anthony’s Abbey. King Edgar was there beside Queen Margaret. I also recognized Lords Maxton and Clifford and spied Princess Whitney’s other handmaids. Princess Whitney was also in attendance, her dark eyes glaring at me. She sat between her young sister, Hedda, and her older brother, Gage. There were also perhaps six dozen lords and ladies of the kingdom in attendance, and they were all watching me as my cheeks flamed, and I looked down at my feet. When I finally gathered enough courage to look up again, I could see Sir Branford Sterling, my soon-to-be husband, at the end of the aisle, standing next to the knight who had argued with him in the stable.
Since I had no living family, Father Charles held my arm and walked me down the aisle to the altar, where he placed my hand in Sir Branford’s before starting the ceremony. My head was so full of confusion, I didn’t even hear Father Charles’s initial words, nor did I hear Sir Branford’s response. Father Charles nodded at me, and I lowered my eyes to my satin shoes. I had never worn such finery before this day, and being dressed in such amidst all these nobles was quite frightening. I kept waiting for someone to realize who I was and tell me to leave the room. I could feel the palms of my hands moisten with my nervousness, and I was sure Sir Branford would feel it as well.
Standing immobile, I was somewhat aware of Sir Branford repeating the vows of marriage as dictated by the scriptures of his God. The words were not familiar to me though I echoed the priest’s words as he told me to do, hardly able to hear my own voice.
“Alexandra Fay”—Father Charles’s voice boomed, bringing me out of the near trance I had been in since yesterday afternoon—“do you take Sir Branford Sterling, son of Branford, Champion of the Golden Dragon, Champion of the Painted Arrow, Champion of Saint Anth
ony Arena, Champion of the Grand Tournament, Duke of Peaks, Lord of Sterling, nephew to King Camden of Silverhelm, and heir to the throne of Silverhelm, for your husband?”
My throat tightened, and I found I could not swallow nor find enough wind to speak the words I was supposed to recite. All those titles! I didn’t even know what most of them meant. I had no titles and found myself wondering how I was going to be announced. Handmaid to the Princess Whitney? Sole survivor of the Fay household? I heard King Edgar’s quiet scoff in my direction, and I forced some semblance of sound from my throat, questioning the words even as I spoke them.
“I will.”
“And will you, Sir Branford Sterling, son of Branford, Champion of the Golden Dragon, Champion of the Painted Arrow, Champion of Saint Anthony Arena, Champion of the Grand Tournament, Duke of Peaks, Lord of Sterling, nephew to King Camden of Silverhelm, and heir to the throne of Silverhelm, take Alexandra Fay to be your wife?”
Alexandra Fay. Of course that is how I would be introduced, for I had no title to announce.
“I will,” he said simply.
I felt his hand grip mine ever so slightly, his thumb rubbing lightly over the back of my fingers before he reached for my left hand and brought it up. He took a simple gold band from the man beside him and slipped it over the third finger of my left hand.
“In front of God and these witnesses, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Kiss?
Branford turned me toward him and reached for the front of the sheer veil covering my face. He pulled the veil up and laid it over the top of my head, cascading the lace down my back. His gaze met mine, and he cupped my cheek with his hand. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, and I wondered if I would be the first bride to faint in front of the altar. I only realized my teeth were biting into my lower lip when his thumb ran across my chin and pulled until my lower lip was released. He gave me another half smile and leaned in slowly, pausing barely an inch away from my mouth and locking the gaze of his piercing green eyes with mine for a moment. His eyes fluttered closed, and the warmth from his mouth covered my lips.