Chosen By The Prince (8 page)

"The Prince has gone to Haight to formalize the marriage contract. The wedding is in two weeks."

The floor seemed to drop out from under Jillian. She had known this would happen but it was too soon... oh god.

"There is a war brewing in the South. The Haight's need our support so they requested the wedding take place now instead of next year as originally planned. My dear, you knew this was to happen. Does it really matter when?"

Jillian shook her head. She refused to show her mother how much the words hurt. Her mother sighed.

"We had such high hopes for you my dear. Still, your position can be of some use to us. So long as you remain unobtrusive. They have different values in Haight. I doubt the Princess will be pleased to have you paraded in front of her."

This was worse than Jillian could have anticipated. The jealousy was overwhelming her, making her body feel like it was on fire. And there was a new feeling... shame.
 

"Well, it's good to see you looking well. I trust we can count on you to be wise? You will do as we ask?"

Jillian nodded jerkily.
 

"Yes, of course mother."

Lady Danielle stood and kissed her daughter's head softly.

"Your father and brother send their love."

Jillian curtsied as her mother took her leave. The door closed behind her and she sunk to the floor. She was too upset to cry. Her whole body felt like it was made of lead.

He was getting married.

It was three more days before the Prince returned. She slept much of the days, tossing and turning at night. Finally she was given an even stronger sleeping draught to help her sleep. The next morning when she woke, she knew instantly she wasn't alone in the room.

Prince Maximilian was sitting in a chair near the fireplace. He was watching her sleep, a hooded look on his face. Jillian sat up slowly. She felt warmth flood her chest. She was glad to see him, despite everything.
 

He smiled when he saw the soft look on her face.
 

"Come here sleeping beauty."

She flinched, remembering that Henry had called her that. The Prince didn't notice. His eyes were on her body... he wanted her...

She stood and walked slowly toward him. Her thin sleeping gown was designed to show her lithe figure to its best advantage. Sheer lace panels cut into the sides and down the center of her body, revealing her flat stomach, barely concealing any part of her. His eyes flared as he gazed at her body hungrily. She felt herself responding, before they even touched. He was watching her face as he pulled her into his lap.

He kissed her deeply, with something that felt like desperation. His arms closed around her and Jillian forgot for a moment that he was to marry another. But only for a moment.

She closed her eyes as he slipped her nightgown off her shoulders and began kissing her softly. He trailed kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, finally taking one of her nipples into his mouth. He moaned as he swirled his tongue around the hard nub. Jillian arched her back, sighing softly.

He lavished her breasts with attention endlessly, making her rock her hips against him restlessly. Finally he lifted his head to stare down at her. His hands roved over her back and hips. Jillian felt his arousal pressing against her insistently. She wanted him. It was no longer an obligation.
She wanted him.

Whore.

That's what she was. That's how his bride would see her. She was his whore.

He froze as he saw the look of shame on her face.
 

"Jillian."

She closed her eyes.

"Who told you?"

She took a deep breath, trying to regain control of her emotions. He squeezed her hips, demanding her attention and obedience.

"Jillian, look at me. You will answer me."

She lifted her eyes to his.

"Answer me!"

"My mother."

He cursed under his breath and stood, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down and crossed the room, pouring himself a glass of wine. He poured her a glass from her own decanter as well. She took it and hesitated before she drank.

"What is it?"

"There's something new they've been giving me. A sedative I think."

He stared at her. He hadn't known... they were both at the mercy of the King's advisor in their own ways.

"Drink mine then."

"It's fine."

She swallowed her wine quickly. Perhaps it was better to be sedated. Perhaps it would ease the humiliation.

"You are very close to disobeying a direct order."

She looked at him in alarm. He was upset.
Very upset.
He was staring at her with anger. She hadn't meant to push him.

"You'd rather be numb that be with me? Is that it Jillian? I'm not sure I would blame you."

"No! Never... I swear."

She sat up on the bed and pulled her slip over her head.

"Can we- can we just pretend that none of this is happening? Please, your Highness..."

He crossed the room in an instant, wrapping his arms around her. He grabbed her face and stared into her eyes, sorrow and desire radiating out of him in waves. Her eyes filled with tears but she refused to let even one spill onto her cheeks. He loved her. She knew it. No matter what else happened she knew that he loved her back. She felt it in her bones.

He kissed her then. Ever fiber of her being felt his worship as he tasted and soothed her. He pressed her backwards onto the bed and began making love to her. He lingered over her endlessly, caressing, tasting. He made her climax with his mouth and fingers over and over. She begged him to take her but he only shushed her, lowering his head to her apex again.
 

Finally he pulled his body up, pressing his shaft against her apex.

"You're mine Jillian. You belong to me. Say it."

"Yes. I'm yours."

He drove into her sheath, his body filling her with his warmth.
 

"Forever."

"Forever."

He plunged into her again and again, making her cry out again with her release. He didn't tarry this time. He let himself go, taking his pleasure from her willing flesh. He stared into her eyes as he shuddered, his seed filling her belly. He held her in his arms, still deep inside her. Then he took her again. Jillian nearly forgot the truth under the tender siege he laid upon her that day and for the next nine. Nearly, but not quite.

In ten days, his bride would come.

The Prince's Bride

Maximilion

Prince Maximilian stood with his father and mother, waiting to greet his bride. His mother smiled at him sympathetically. He felt sick to his stomach if the truth were known. Anyone who knew him well, knew that he dreaded this.

Because of her.

Jillian.

His beautiful concubine. She was all he could think about. He'd selected her years ago, one woman from amongst all the women in the Kingdom. She was a high born noblewoman. In the past all the chosen had been pretty peasant girls or the daughters of a merchants. He'd been encouraged to look over some women from the lower classes and he'd agreed,
 
just to pacify his father the King. But it was inevitable. It had to be her.
 

Growing up they'd often been thrown into contact. He was the Prince and she was the daughter of an Earl. Spoiled and beautiful, always knowing that she was adored. That she'd always be adored. When her family had finally mentioned her betrothal to the King's advisor, it had been time to take action.

She had fought him. Once she'd been plucked from her former life and informed of her new responsibilities. Not overtly, she couldn't do that without risking her life or the lives of her family. But he had sensed her anger, her outrage at being forced to serve him.

He had rejoiced the first time he saw her in her collar, the first time he locked the chain into place. Not that he'd ever used it. The chain was symbolic, like the collar. It was just a reminder to all that she belonged to him. It was a reminder
to
her
.

From the moment he'd known that he would want a woman someday, he'd known it would be her. Usually the Royal Concubine was selected from the farming class. One pretty and intelligent peasant girl was selected to rise to the highest position, the King's mistress, to ease and comfort him with her body. But he'd bucked tradition and chosen a noblewoman. One who was about to marry his former friend, Duke Henry.
 

All the same, he hadn't hesitated. Not for a second.

The Prince could admit that it had given him pleasure to master her, to tame the girl who had tossed her head at him so many times, singeing him with her fiery eyes. She had never been the type to suck up. But now, she didn't have a choice. Both her life and that of her entire families' rested in his grasp.

He knew it was unfair but he didn't care. He reveled in watching her fight her instincts, watching her bend to his will. It hadn't been easy but eventually she had bent, surprisingly so. As soon as she'd surrendered, he found that he had as well.

He'd found passion in her arms and pleasure beyond his wildest imaginings. She was a fierce contradiction of innocence and passion. He was driven to seek her bed again and again. And she had no choice but to accept him. He knew that. He knew it wasn't just. But he did it anyway.

Last night he had kept them both up until the dawn, taking her again and again. He was always careful not to hurt her, not after the first time when he'd let his eager body override his common sense. But last night had been different. They had been desperate for each other, moving together like a machine whose engine was fueled by fear.

They hadn't spoken of today. Of the arrival of his bride. But they had both been keenly aware of the significance of today.

Now she was inside, locked in her chamber. Normally he would have her with him, the slender gold chain that bound them wrapped around his hand. She was his. But the King's advisor had decided it was better to keep her out of sight for now.

Her carriage arrived. Letticia, Princess of Haight. He'd met her before, at the betrothal, though they had barely spoken a word to each other. She was a beautiful woman, with a tiny waist and icy blond hair. Her blue eyes had fluttered at him with a coy flirtatiousness that left him cold. She wasn't
her
.

The Princess stepped out of her carriage and walked up the stairs to meet them. His parents greeted her and then she turned to him, expecting some show of gallantry. The wedding was to happen in less than a week. He forced himself to wear a mask of bland graciousness, but all he felt was despair.
 

He offered her his arm and led her into the castle.

Prince Maximilian stood outside her door. He had flatly refused to keep Jillian hidden for dinner. That was sure to set a bad precedent. He took a deep breath, realizing he was nervous. The guards opened the door and stepped aside, letting him see her for the first time all day.

She was glorious.

Her maids had outdone themselves this evening. Her hair was caught up in the topaz headpiece he had given her, the one that matched her eyes. She wore the matching earrings and bracelets as well. The bracelets reminded him of the cuffs he had made for her, the ones he could use to arrange her body for his pleasure. He felt his groin tighten. She aroused him by simply standing there.

He stepped forward and fitted the chain into her jeweled collar. He gripped the chain tightly. The weight of it felt reassuring in his hand.
 

She was his.

"Come, Jillian."

She lifted her eyes to his briefly and glided past him. She looked calm. He was relieved, fearing that she'd be angry at him... or ashamed. He knew it was cruel, forcing her to parade her half naked flesh in front of the Princess. It was so obvious that her beauty was displayed solely for his eyes. But it was the law that he could select a woman for his pleasure and he had done so. The sooner the Princess adjusted to the situation the better.

He watched his love slave's hips sway gently as he followed her through the castle. He would have her tonight, right after dinner he decided. Tonight and every night, marriage be damned. If he had to visit his bride once or twice a month to impregnate her, so be it. It would be Jillian he imagined beneath him. Perhaps with the lights off it wouldn't matter.

Tonight he would use the cuffs. He smiled, imagining her tied spread eagle on the bed. He'd tease her at first, and then-

"Good evening, your highness."

The Prince nodded to the courtiers as he followed Jillian into the dining room. She took her seat at the table with Sephina, his father's woman, and he joined his parents on the raised dais where they ate. A moment later his bride arrived. Everyone stood as Princess Letticia came into the room.

She looked particularly lovely tonight, her blond hair artfully arranged. Her figure was on display in a tight fitting icy pink gown. She certainly knew she was beautiful. She smiled at the Prince, expecting to be lavished with compliments. But his eyes were on Jillian. He couldn't help but want to gauge her reaction to the Princess's arrival.

His love slave was staring down at her plate. She looked outwardly composed but her face was white. He knew she hated this. She had been about to marry a Duke after all. She is the one who should be a bride, not this sniveling Princess he was being forced to wed.
 

He kissed the Princess's hand, noticing the malice in her eyes as she stared at his Sofriquette. It twisted her features, making her ugly. They sat down and were served wine. The Princess sipped hers quietly for a moment. He felt his eyes slipping to Jillian again. Sephina was speaking to her in a low voice. He wished he could hear what they were saying.

"Must we dine with your whore?"

The Princess's voice rang out over the room. Everyone froze, even the servants who were carrying platters of food. Maximillion found it difficult to breath for a moment. He closed his eyes, afraid to look at his sweet girl. He knew he would shatter if he saw pain on her face.