The Lady's Choice (2 page)

Benae's head snapped up at the prince's words and she spied a muscle tighten along the squire's jaw. It seemed the handsome squire was not best pleased to be escorting Benae to her room and that annoyed Benae all over again. Since when did a handsome man not seek her company?
Since never!
Benae determined that the delectable Ramón Zorba would not be the first.

Ramón walked in silence beside the beautiful, dark-haired woman who was the latest of the candidates for his master's marriage. Had she no shame? For a moment, Lady Branasar's sparkling, emerald eyes and commanding demeanour had spoken of a different type of woman to the three princesses who had arrived before her. But she was just like the rest. Willing to prostitute herself for the sake of money. Where was love? Where was the sanctity of a union between two souls who spoke to each other?

The thought of love drew his mind to Princess Alecia, though it had been one-way with her:
his
love and admiration against her worship of Vard Anton. The two times they had kissed stood large in his memory. Alecia could have loved Ramón in the right circumstances. She had professed to love the previous squire, Jorge, but he had been killed by mercenaries. Ramon had his suspicions that the murderers had been hired by Prince Zialni, but he would never have said so to Alecia. Of course, she had her own way of dealing with the killers, tracking them down one by one and dispatching them.
Awe-inspiring!
No wonder I love her.

Anger boiled in his gut that he was cooped up in the castle tending to the needs of spoilt princesses while the cur Anton made free with the woman who should have been his. If only he had stopped them from escaping when he had the power, but he had allowed the pleading lilac eyes of the princess to sway him and now it was too late.
No!
It was not too late. Somehow he would shake off the duty that kept him tied to Brightcastle and by then his sword skills would be equal to those of the infamous Captain Vard Anton. Calm descended upon him as he imagined the kidnapper breathing his gurgling last.

‘Are you well, squire?' Benae asked. The man who escorted her made no attempt to converse and the silence grew wearying.

‘Yes, lady, I am quite all right.' He frowned. ‘I must apologise for the behaviour of Princess Avalin. The damage to your dress was deliberate.'

‘Of that I am well aware, squire, but you are not responsible for her actions.'

‘Still, you are under my care.'

‘At least I know what I can expect from her now.'

The squire's jaw tensed. W
hat was eating at him?

‘Forgive me if I pry, Squire Ramón, but you seem out of sorts. Have I done something to offend you?'

‘No, lady.' He averted his gaze but there had been something, a flash of shadow that told her he hid deep feelings about something. It would be fun getting inside his head.

They reached the base of the central staircase and he grasped her elbow to usher her up the stairs. The touch sent a thrill right through her and she covered her gasp with a cough. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo and she concentrated on her breathing to bring her errant feelings back under control. This was all wrong. She was usually the cause of these feelings, not the sufferer, and this man seemed completely unaffected by her. Well, that would simply have to change.

When they reached her room, Ramón opened the door for her but remained in the hall.

‘I will wait here, lady,' he said, closing the door on her after she had stepped through.

Benae stared at the closed door, unable to believe he had all but shut the door in her face. He could not have expressed more eloquently his lack of desire for her company. But who could blame him? She was here to win the hand of Ramón's master, not to have a fling with the delectable squire. Oh, but imagine those strong hands, those sensuous lips on her body. A shiver ran over her at the thought.

‘Lady Benae,' her maid said, as she came though from her quarters, which adjoined Benae's sleeping room. ‘Why are you returned so early? Oh . . .' Merel came forward to examine the damage to the back of Benae's dress. ‘Your favourite gown! But it is not beyond repair. I will help you into a new one and mend this right away. How would the black satin with the golden lace suit? You can still wear the emerald choker and tiara.'

‘That will do well, Merel.' Benae could have kissed the woman for not asking how the damage had been done to her gown. Her young maid would hold her own in any of the royal courts and, besides that, was a source of support and advice to Benae.

In moments, Benae was attired in the new gown, golden lace over black satin, which left her shoulders bare and displayed a tempting amount of cleavage.
Let us see how that chit Avalin deals with
this
dress.
Not to mention the squire
. Benae shook her head.
Really.
She should be beyond such silly girlish thoughts. She was twenty-six, a woman of the world and head of her own estate, though the reason she was leader there still caused her endless sadness.

She pulled her thoughts from the past and squared her shoulders. ‘Thank you, Merel. That will be all for tonight.' Benae opened the door and stepped into the hall.

Ramon straightened from where he had been leaning against the balustrade. He struggled to control the lust that swept through his loins at the sight of the breathtaking woman who had just stepped from her room. Flickering candles in the wall sconces lent her an air of mystery. He clamped the feelings back where they belonged – shut away. He had no right looking at her this way.

She paused and he felt her gaze upon him, though it was too dark to see her eyes. He would need to be made of stone not to be affected by her – so petite and feminine, yet strong enough to handle the million-and-one details an estate owner must tackle. He knew only too well what it took to look after property and people.

‘Let us hasten to the dining room, lady,' Ramón said. ‘They will be waiting for us.'

She touched his hand. ‘What has you so irritable, squire?'

‘You misinterpret my mood, lady.'

‘I do not.'

Ramon drew a deep breath. Very well, she had asked the question. ‘I do not understand why you would put yourself in the position of competing with others for the hand of the prince.' There, it was out, done.

‘Oh, really?' Now Lady Benae looked cross. Did she never wonder how her actions would look to others?

‘Yes, my lady. You have your own estate and I can see you are intelligent. Why would you stoop . . .' Ramón stopped as he realised he might have gone too far.

‘I do not believe my motivations should be a matter for public speculation.'

‘No, lady; forgive me.'

They continued to the dining hall in silence. The sooner he was out of Brightcastle and on the road to finding Alecia, the better.

The impact Benae made on entering the dining room was intensely satisfying. Avalin's jaw dropped and the prince immediately leapt up, stalked across to Benae and drew her to the seat on his right at the table. It made up for how annoyed she was by Ramón's judgement of her.

Benae hoped she might be free of Ramón's company at dinner. He was far too much of a distraction. However, she noted that there were six places set at the candlelit table. The squire sat between Avalin and Lella on the other side of the table. If Ramón had been beside her, she might have been able to keep her eyes from him.
He is not for you.
Benae steeled herself to ignore him while she was with Jiseve.

Once Benae and the squire were seated, Prince Zialni rose. Glass of ruby wine in hand, he gazed at each of his guests in turn. Oh, how he loved the spotlight! Perhaps there was not so much sadness in him after all. Perhaps he was pragmatically seeking to fill his bed with a warm woman, but if that was the case, why had he not advertised for a wife sooner? His wife had been dead four years and it was said that he had never been seen with another woman since Princess Iona breathed her last. Until now.

‘With the arrival of Lady Benae, our party is complete,' the prince said. ‘I will not hide my delight at having you all here under my roof but there is a serious reason underlying your visits.'

Benae cast a surreptitious glance at the squire to find his eyes downcast and jaw tense. From where did his disapproval stem? He clearly believed this contest for the prince's hand to be beneath her, as well as the princesses, but why? For some reason, his disapproval unsettled her. She shook the thought away and returned her attention to the prince.

‘I find myself without an heir when I had thought my plans set.' Now it was Jiseve Zialni's jaw that clenched. ‘You all know how important that heir will be to the kingdom. My brother cannot rule forever and he has no children. I am next in line for the throne but only a son, not a daughter, can be heir. I had thought perhaps a grandson would solve the problem, but it is not to be. And so I come to the reason for your collective visit. From amongst you I will choose my bride and she will bear me a son, or sons, to ensure the kingdom remains in Zialni hands. My nephew Piotr—' The prince bit his lower lip as though he had nearly said too much. Benae guessed there was no love lost between the two.

‘My decision will be made in all haste for I have already let too many years slip by since the death of my beloved Iona. So raise your glasses.' Everyone at the table followed his words with action. ‘To your very good health, my beautiful guests.'

As Benae toasted the others, her gaze fell upon Avalin. If looks could kill, Benae would be lying dead at the ice princess's feet. Oh yes, Avalin had identified her main competition. Before Benae's arrival, the wintry princess must have thought her position secure, though why she would discount the younger women, Benae could not say. But then she had not been present to witness the interactions between the prince and his guests.

The kitchen staff arrived to serve the first course, which was pheasant, served in a broth with fresh white bread.

‘Please give praise, Squire Ramón,' Jiseve said.

Ramon stood and Benae closed her eyes to concentrate on his velvety voice as he spoke the blessing. His deep love of the Goddess was expressed in the heartfelt way he said the prayer. These seemed not just empty platitudes for Ramón, but a core part of his being. It struck a chord within Benae, who had been raised to worship all that was the Goddess.

Their eyes met as Ramón resumed his seat and Benae smiled. He did not return her smile but turned and engaged Lella in conversation. Nothing could have better reminded her of her earlier resolve. Jiseve was the reason she was here, not Ramón, as delectable as the blond squire was, with his azure gaze she could so easily lose herself in. She turned to the equally compelling sapphire eyes of the prince.

Jiseve reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Please go ahead and begin, lady. The pheasant was freshly killed this morning.'

He watched as she sliced a piece from the bird in front of her and placed it in her mouth. The meat had a strong, gamey taste but was tender and delicious. She licked the salty broth from her lips. The prince copied her gesture and his throat moved in a sudden spasm, his pupils dilated, his breathing quickened. Oh, he was enjoying this little game! She raised her glass.

‘Your good health, Highness,' Benae said, tapping her glass against his, the musical note of the crystal ringing around the table. This was almost too easy.

Avalin went on the attack.

‘Lady Branasar, how many people live on your
little
estate?'

‘Five hundred, give or take,' Benae said. ‘But surely you would know that, as your father is my king.'

Avalin's pale cheeks flushed. ‘Oh . . . you are of the Tylevian Branasars. I should have realised.' Avalin flushed a deeper shade of red as she fell from one blunder into another.

‘And what of Tylevia, Princess Avalin?' Benae said, pinning Avalin with her interrogator's stare. ‘What are your responsibilities there?'

Avalin turned her gaze on the prince, who appeared to be enjoying the rivalry between the ladies on either side of him. ‘I have a myriad of responsibilities but suffice to say I am well aware of the duties of the head of a household,' she said, looking now to Benae, ‘
Lady
Benae.'

Benae narrowed her eyes at Avalin. She was not sure where this was heading but she had a feeling a change of topic was a good idea. Just then, Princess Lella piped up.

‘I've been schooled by my tutors from a young age to run a kingdom,' Lella said, ‘even though I have four brothers who will rule before I ever do. We still have ruling queens in Brevisten, you see. My mother and father are joint rulers.'

Prince Zialni seemed not best pleased to be reminded of the differences between kingdoms. ‘I don't believe any wife of mine will be called upon to undertake the duties of a ruler. Iona was content to run our household and look after our daughter and I. That is all I would ask.'

Avalin seemed content, while Lella's pale blue eyes looked troubled. Marey sat across from the squire and seemed lost in contemplation of him. As for Benae, she resolutely kept her gaze on the prince – well, mostly.

‘Prince Zialni—' Benae said.

‘Please, call me Jiseve.'

‘Jiseve, surely there are other traits, other skills you would seek in a wife?'

Avalin sniggered but Benae ignored her.

‘My wife must have grace and beauty, she must be young enough to bear children and she must have good taste and discretion.'

Well, that left Marey out of the race.
The young princess was still gazing at the squire. For all Benae knew, the girl was probably playing footsies under the table with Ramón. She tried to ignore the spike of jealousy that thought provoked.

‘But, Jiseve, surely you wish your wife to have a mind of her own, to be able to converse and to be a stimulating companion,' Benae said.