Unexpected
Circumstances
Book Five: The Concubine
Shay Savage
Copyright © 2016 Shay Savage
All Rights Reserved
Editing : Chayasara
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without the express permission of the author, Shay Savage —except in the case of brief excerpts or quotations embodied in a review or critical writings.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Table of Contents
BOOK FIVE: The Concubine
Chapter 1—Nearly Destroyed
Chapter 2—Gracefully Endure
Chapter 3—Moderately Mollify
Chapter 4—Humbly Rectify
Chapter 5—Finally Discover
Author’s Notes
More Books by Shay Savage
About the Author
BOOK FIVE: The Concubine
Royalty requires sacrifice.
As King Camden’s health declines, the need for an heir becomes crucial, impossible to ignore. With no other viable choice, Alexandra must stand stoically by when Hadley comes to the court of Silverhelm as Branford’s concubine. The queen’s edict of duty echoes through Alexandra’s mind as she accepts the loathsome conditions for the sake of the kingdom. The only person more devastated by the circumstances is Branford himself.
As Branford spurns Alexandra’s affections and King Edgar continues to press his post-war advantage, all seems lost to the young couple. Treachery still lies deep within the castle of Silverhelm, and the revelation of the traitor will come from the least likely of sources.
Chapter 1—Nearly Destroyed
I felt warmth, then dizziness, and then the floor of the bedroom I shared with my husband seemed to be rapidly approaching my head. The words he spoke continued to revolve inside of my head, pushing me further down into oblivion.
“She is coming here as my concubine.”
As I fell, the dizziness worsened, but before my head hit the floor, I felt Branford’s strong arms encircle me. Then everything went completely dark. Though my mind was in turmoil within the blackness, I could still hear his voice.
“God…please…no…”
I still felt Branford’s arms around me though I could not open my eyes. I felt myself lifted and held against the hard warmth of his chest.
“Why? Why are You doing this to her? I understand if I need to be punished, but not her! Not her!”
I felt motion—my body rocking back and forth—still encased within the security of my husband’s embrace.
“I am sorry, my wife…my love…so, so sorry…”
I didn’t know how long my mind rejected all that was around me—the room, the words I had just heard—everything. I had not given him what he must have. I had not given him an heir. Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I knew there would be consequences. I knew something like this was possible.
“Do not punish her so…please, God, please!”
When I was finally able to bring air into my lungs, I slowly opened my eyes. Branford’s arms were wrapped tightly around me as he sat in our chair and held me against his chest. He rocked slightly, cradling me like, ironically, a child. The side of my face was pressed between the palm of his hand and the spot above his heart as he held me and rocked us both.
“Not her…not her…”
Somehow I managed to keep my eyes open, but I was still dizzy, and my vision was blurred. I looked up at my husband’s face, his eyes cast to the ceiling as he cried out over and over again. The light from the fire was on his face, and his cheeks glistened. I reached up and touched his cheekbone, finding it wet.
Never before had I seen my husband’s tears.
His gaze fell to me, and his pain washed through me and merged with my own.
“Please…Alexandra, please,” he said, begging. “It was not my wish…you must know this…”
“She will come here…to bear your child?”
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and he nodded once before he opened his eyes slowly.
“Is there no other option?” I whispered to him, and his remorse multiplied in his eyes.
“I did not want this, Alexandra,” he cried. I felt the pressure of his fingertips against my side. “If there were any other way, I would seek it. I swear to you! I do not want this! I was given no choice!”
I could not find breath in my lungs.
His words rushed through me, chilling me far more than the winter winds ever could have done. My mind tried to push the words away from me—denying that they had ever been spoken at all.
But they had been.
“Has Camden demanded it?” I didn’t need to hear his reply—it would be the only way he would have acquiesced.
“He has,” Branford said, confirming my fear.
“What was discussed before I returned?” I asked, knowing I did not truly wish to hear this at all, but I had to know.
Branford took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. He cupped the back of my head and pulled me against his chest. I could hear the muffled beating of his heart below my cheek.
“The need for an heir has been discussed before,” he said, “between Camden and myself. Edgar has made his thoughts on the matter clear.”
Branford growled out the name of the man who had turned our kingdom upside down over the last year, continually demanding more and more from us. His constant threats to bring war directly to Silverhelm if we did not comply with his wishes had put him in a position of great power over our king.
“I should have told you,” Branford said, “but I did not want you suffering the dread I have felt since the summer—the first time Camden expressed his concerns that you had not become with child. I did not want you living with the fear of what could be demanded.”
His grip on me tightened as he continued.
“Edgar has brought it up on numerous occasions. He enjoys my reaction when he tells me I should have married his daughter, for in his eyes, commoners should not bear future kings. I have ignored and endured his comments, but as the months went by, he kept repeating them. He all but demanded I renounce you as my wife and take Whitney’s hand. I refused to comply. I will not do that, but Camden and the rest of the court concurred—I must have an heir. The kingdom is too unsure—too volatile after the loss of the war with Hadebrand. They need to know the line of succession is not broken. They must be able to have faith in their king…and their future king.”
I felt his lips on top of my head, and he brushed his hand through my hair.
“Camden is not as strong as he would like others to believe even though he cannot hide it all the time. He is not long for this world, I fear. If I take the throne without an heir, it will leave us vulnerable not only to Hadebrand but to others who side with them. They said it had to be done—that I must have a child—before next spring.”
“Next spring?” I echoed. It would mean no more than a half-year before Branford has an heir on the way.
“Edgar said again that my clear option was his daughter,” Branford told me. “I said some choice words regarding my feelings on the matter. Camden said if I had no other alternatives to suggest, he would command me with a royal decree to annul my marriage to you and take Whitney in your place.”
“Camden?” I whispered as I felt tears finally sting my eyes. “He wanted this?”
Branford shifted and took my face between his hands.
“He wishes no such thing,” Branford said to me, “but he is also without clear options. He has fo
ught against this with Edgar over and over again and would not consider such action lightly. He fears for our futures and for the future of his kingdom. He has grown to love you, Alexandra. You know this. He adores you, as does Sunniva.”
I nodded.
“Edgar told me I had but one choice,” Branford said. “He said it would be as it should have been from the beginning with Whitney as my bride and eventual queen. I could not do that. He has taken so much from us already, and it is because of me that he is in such a position. I could not let him do that to you…to us.”
“Can we not try again?” I whispered.
“It has been a year and a half, Alexandra.” Branford closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair again. “Will you suggest to the court we could try harder? Is that even possible?”
Branford pulled me against his chest, and I felt his lips on top of my head. I had no words to speak and tried instead to comprehend what I had been told. It was clear Branford needed to secure his successor as quickly as possible for the good of all of Silverhelm, but why did he take such a route to that end?
“I had no time to really think about it,” he said, his voice again strained. “I should have, but again, my lack of forethought has harmed us.”
I reached up and placed my hand against his jaw, my fingers working their way into the rough stubble of hair on his neck. I turned my head to press my lips to his chest where his robe fell open.
“The only other option I could see before me was to secure a concubine,” he finally whispered. “Your place as my wife would remain secure, and Edgar would not be able to begrudge me the alternative. I told them I would take Hadley as such, and she would provide us with the children we must have.”
I finally spoke.
“Why Hadley?”
“You love her,” Branford said, his voice husky in his throat. “You will love the children she bears as if they were your own. They will be your own. No one but you will raise them.”
“Does she know?”
“She does by now.”
“Has she any say in the matter?”
“Of course,” he replied. “And…if you would prefer…if someone else was…”
Branford’s voice trailed off, and his hand left my back to cover his own eyes.
“I cannot believe I am speaking to you about such a thing,” he said.
“What if she refuses?”
“I would not…I will not if she does not agree,” Branford said softly and shook his head. “But if she does not come willingly, the other option placed before me is Princess Whitney.”
“She would become your concubine? A princess?”
“No,” he said softly, “she would not.”
The meaning of his words hit me harder than the original news.
“She would only come as your wife,” I said with a nod. “I would have to step aside.”
“Yes.” He uncovered his face, and his eyes bore into me. “You see why I had to think of something quickly? Please, understand. They were demanding an answer from me immediately. I didn’t know what else to do. I should have spoken to you before—I should have planned with you. I’ve failed you, Alexandra…”
“No, Branford,” I told him as I took his face between my hands. “You have done what you thought was best, as you have always done.”
“I cannot do this to you,” he whispered to me, and again I saw a tear fall from his eye. He tilted his head toward me and closed his eyes as his forehead rested against my shoulder. “I cannot do this.”
I wrapped my arms around his head, and I held him to me as my own tears began to fall. I stroked his head as my mind raced to think of how this would come to be. If Hadley agreed to come here and provide such a service, how would our lives together change? Would Branford still be here with me in our bed at night, or would he go to her?
How could I bear watching him leave our rooms to be with Hadley?
Then I remembered the times Whitney had come to our castle—to my home—with her sneers and her veiled insults. How many times had she suggested I was too inadequate to be Branford’s wife? How many times had she all but said I was unfit for my station and unworthy of the family I now called my own?
I would not give her or anyone the satisfaction of thinking I was too weak to perform my royal duties. If those duties included having another woman bear my children to continue my husband’s bloodline, then that is what I would do.
As I reached this conclusion, Branford’s sudden outburst startled me.
“I will not do it!” Branford yelled with his voice full of venom. He stood with me still in his arms, turned around, and lowered me back to the chair before he started pacing the room with vigor. “They cannot force me to lie with her! Even if they bring her, I will still refuse!”
“Branford, what are you saying?”
He stopped moving and turned to stare at me. I could see his gaze darting back and forth as he considered his options. He took a deep breath and nodded as he came to some kind of conclusion.
“I will take you away with me,” he said softly. He came back to the chair and knelt in front of me as he glanced toward the door conspiratorially. “We will both leave Silverhelm forever. There are many lands far away, and I have skills that would be welcome in any kingdom’s army. As long as they do not know who we really are…”
I looked into my husband’s eyes and knew he would do what he envisioned. He would take me from here as he had proclaimed. I could see it written all over his face. He would leave his family, his kingdom, his right to the throne, his home, and his duty…for me.
I shook my head slowly from side to side.
“Branford,” I said as I reached for his arm, “we cannot do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because your duty is here, and your people are here,” I told him. “You said yourself—you will need to take the throne. In these times, you cannot abandon your people when they need you most. Could you just leave Camden and Sunniva with no successor? You might as well hand Edgar the entire kingdom before you go. We cannot do that. Your sister’s child will be born soon. Would you choose to never look upon your niece or nephew? Would you never again see your sister? No, Branford, I cannot let you do that. We cannot leave.”
His expression became crestfallen, and his breathing emerged labored.
“Then what can I do?” he asked. His eyes pleaded with me to give him another answer—another option—but I had none to offer. He dropped his head to my lap, turning his face to one side as I placed my hands on top of his head. My fingers entwined with the soft strands of my husband’s hair.
My husband.
He was now, and would always be, my husband. No matter what else anyone forced upon us, we would still belong to each other.
My love.
“You can do your duty to your people and your kingdom,” I said softly to him. “You can father an heir with your concubine, and we will raise the child as ours.”
His head turned slowly so he could look up at me.
“How can I?”
“You must, Branford,” I said. “You must do this to bring a child to Silverhelm as its king after you. Even if I cannot…if I cannot bear your child, it still must be done.”
He reached out and worked his arms around my waist, and he held his face to my belly.
“I love you,” I heard him whisper.
“As I love you, my Branford.”
His gaze turned back up to mine.
“Always yours.”
He stood slowly and pulled me up into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest before he turned us both around and sat back in the chair. He pulled me with him, and I straddled his legs and leaned forward to place my lips upon his mouth.
At first, our kisses were soft and slow, but as I felt his desperation for me grow once again, he moved his hands inside my robe—pushing it apart until our bare chests were pressed together.
Though my mind was still reeling from all that had transpired,
my body yearned for him. My hands could not get enough of his skin, and I pushed his robe from his shoulders so I could feel the strength of his muscles under my palms. I was hungry for him, and as I rose up on my knees, I pressed my lips tightly against his.
Branford’s hands were under my robe, and he caressed and stroked me slowly but with increasing pressure. I reached down and pushed both our garments away from our legs, searched and found his hard male flesh. His mouth opened in a gasp as I gripped him and guided the tip to my entrance. I lowered myself slowly, claiming him as mine as I gave myself to him.
Our arms wrapped around each other as I pushed down, and he angled his hips up to meet me. Over and over again we came together as one. I knew in my heart that this was for us alone, and even if he had to touch another, it would never, ever be like this. This was us together as we were meant to be. Nothing and no one could take that from us no matter what happened outside of our rooms.
He was mine.
I was his.
I held his head to my breast as I cried out his name and felt him grip my backside with his fingers as he poured not just his fluids but his heart and soul into me. I rocked slowly against him as my tears fell down my cheeks, and I felt wetness from his eyes on my skin. His body shook as he sobbed against me.
“Shh…Branford…shh…” Again I took his face between my hands and calmed him as only I knew how—with my lips and my tongue and my hands against his skin. This belonged to me and me alone.
“I love you, my wife…my love…my life…”
“I love you…always.”
After many long moments, he calmed and quieted. His breathing returned to normal, and his head rested lightly on my shoulder as his fingers stroked up and down my arm.
“I will not give her what I give you,” he said quietly. “When we are together…it is…it is…”
“I know,” I told him.
“Indescribable,” he finally finished.
He leaned back against the chair and reached up to wipe the wetness from my cheeks. I trailed a finger over the edge of his bicep.
“Regardless of the muscles in my body,” he said, “you are so much stronger than I.”