The Lady's Choice (4 page)

Ramón ground his teeth as he watched the Princesses Avalin and Lella and Lady Benae play
bonzer
in the formal castle garden. The word “discontent” was too mild for his feelings. He wanted information on Alecia. He wanted to be told that she had been found. He wanted to be the man to kill Vard, except that “want” was too mild a word as well. Need would be better; burning need even more so. Obsession? He snorted with wry amusement. Now he was getting close.

His feelings burned him, made him impatient with duty. Lady Benae was right; his behaviour towards her had been abhorrent this morning. She was his responsibility as were the other women who contended for Prince Zialni's hand in marriage. But Benae saw things that most people didn't. She had perceived his feelings for Alecia. She was most definitely dangerous. He had observed what could only be described as a predatory gleam in her eye when she looked at him. Even now, she flashed a smile at him whenever their eyes met. Had she no shame?A tinkling laugh filled the garden and Ramón looked up to see Benae hit the winning shot in the game, her ball flying through the last hoop, much to the disgust of Princess Avalin. Ramón momentarily lost his train of thought at the sight of captivating Benae, her long dark hair swinging against the gold fabric of her gown, brilliant green eyes shining with delight at her victory. She stirred his blood, robbed his mouth of saliva and made his manhood hard. But he would not act on his desires for there were too many barriers between them: Alecia, the prince, his contempt for Benae's choices. All were enough reason on their own for him to remain aloof from this enchanting woman.

Benae spied him watching her and flashed him a smile that set his heart racing. He allowed none of it to show on his face, or so he hoped. Down that road was ruin. She was here for a much greater purpose than a dalliance with the prince's squire and he would do well to remind himself of that often. Greed and self-interest motivated Benae, and perhaps a healthy interest in men too, if the rumours were to be believed.

Princess Avalin stormed past him. ‘I require you to escort me back to my chambers, squire.' She didn't wait for him but disappeared through the door into the castle ballroom, which adjoined the garden. Ramón hurriedly followed, flicking a signal to the page who was apprenticed to him, to attend to the two ladies remaining. The sooner these demanding women were out of Brightcastle and back in their palaces and estates the better.

Benae laughed at Jiseve's joke as she guided Flaire around a hole in the track. It was a beautiful day and they were on their way to the mountain meadow for a picnic. Four of the prince's guards rode behind at a distance, with two more ahead. She had to admit they were well trained, for she could forget the men were there for long stretches of time.

‘You have the most beautiful laugh, Benae,' Jiseve said, his mellow voice sliding over her. He had not mentioned the unpleasantness of yesterday and had been his usual charming self. He was very attractive, with his dark hair, sharp blue eyes and whipcord body. He cut a fine figure in a tunic and his skills with the sword could match all but the blade master. Benae again wondered if her father might have given her scheme his blessing. She frowned at the thought.

‘What is amiss?' Jiseve said, pulling his horse up.

Flaire stopped instantly. He was such a champion animal, perfectly trained.
He
was her rock. ‘I was thinking of my father and wondering if he would accept my being here.'

‘My lady, that thought proves to me what an extraordinary woman you are. That you would be concerned about your father and his opinion. You are a treasure beyond value.'

Benae smiled at him. Of course he would find that attractive after what Alecia had done to him. The pain in his gaze was echoed in her heart but she could not give him the comfort she wished. She would not mention Princess Alecia again, not unless Jiseve spoke first. ‘I thank you.'

‘Let us continue to the meadow. We will feast and talk of the future.'

At his words, Benae's heart skipped a beat. Surely it meant the prince would ask for her hand in marriage?

On arrival at the meadow, the guards placed a thick rug under a tree and set out the basket, plates and cutlery. Once all was ready, Jiseve dismounted and came around to help Benae down from Flaire. His hands lingered at her waist, his eyes searching hers as if he sought to understand her deepest thoughts. Yes, she could develop feelings for this man if he treated her well; if he could love again.

He led her over to the mat and helped her to sit and arrange her skirts while a guard led their horses over to another tree and tethered them. Jiseve poured two goblets of deep red wine and handed them to Benae. He cut thick slabs of bread from the loaf and spread them with butter. He sliced goat cheese to go with the bread and took his wine from her.

‘Here's to us, Benae,' he said, raising his wine to her. ‘To a long and happy association.'

Benae's heart sped away. ‘Is there something you wish to ask me, Jiseve?' It was forward but Benae followed her intuition.

‘There is, but first I wish to do this.' He reached for her, his free hand looping around the back of her head and pulling her to him. His lips met hers and she stiffened with shock, but he did not relent. Benae had no choice but to allow the kiss and slowly her body responded as Jiseve's mouth mastered hers. The kiss deepened and Jiseve pushed past her lips to devour her mouth, exploring its soft, warm recesses. Benae found an answering need deep within her where she had expected none to be. Her hand curled up into his hair and she wished she had both hands free to explore his face, his neck, his body.

Jiseve pulled back, his breathing ragged, his pupils dilated so that only a slim ring of blue remained around each one. He looked shocked, perhaps more than she. He sucked in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

‘That was . . . wonderful,' he said, his words ragged with residual passion.

Benae smiled. She would not have described it in those words, but it was so much more than she had expected from an arranged union.

‘Lady Benae,' Jiseve said, taking her drink and placing it beside his in the basket. He grasped her hands. ‘Would you accept me as your husband? Would you agree to spend your life with me and have my children? Would you sit beside me on the throne if I should become king?'

Benae paused. He had truly spelt out all her responsibilities if she should agree to this union. This was a monumental step and one from which she could not retreat. But it would shelter her people, bringing her estate an alliance that would protect it financially and from the ravages of the dark elves. This was what she had come to Brightcastle for and now her goal was within her reach.

She looked deep into his eyes and saw his fear, his uncertainty, his hope all revealed. Any man who could show this much of himself could not be bad. He had suffered, first losing his wife and then his daughter. Jiseve needed Benae as much as she needed him, but for different reasons. She did not need love, having had her fill of men and the thrill of bedding them. She had not loved deeply, but wasn't creating a family and securing a kingdom of greater importance? This would truly be a reciprocal arrangement and if that kiss was anything to go by, she might come to love Jiseve in time. He was fit and still in his forties – some might say he was only just past his prime. Benae had healing powers that could help him delay the onset of old age.
A pity I cannot do the same for myself.
Yes, this might work out very well and her estate would be secured, her five hundred dependants assured of a safe and prosperous future.

Benae smiled. ‘I would be honoured to become your wife, Jiseve. I will be the mother of your children and sit beside you should you become king.'

Jiseve leant forward and kissed her tenderly, his eyes full of wonder. ‘I did not think to find a wife as beautiful or kind as you, Benae. I am indeed a lucky man.' He handed her back her goblet and they toasted to a long and fruitful union.

Ramón was wielding the practice sword against four opponents when the prince and Benae returned from their ride. Benae looked radiant and Prince Zialni wore a smug expression on his tanned face. Ramón was momentarily distracted and missed the sweeping arc of his opponent's wooden sword; that is, until it smashed into his calf. He went down, a searing pain taking his breath. Another of the fighters knocked Ramón onto his back and placed the pointed end of his practice sword against his throat.

‘A timely lesson, squire,' the weapons master said. ‘Distraction is death and you must remember it. If this were a real contest, you would be dead.'

‘If this were real, I would not be so distracted,' Ramón said, glaring up at the huge man above him. How did he move so well with a frame that large?

‘Practise as you mean to perform, squire.' The master still had the wooden sword at Ramón's throat and the prince and Benae had stopped to watch.

‘Your words are true. Let me rise.'

With that, the weapons master stepped back and Ramón sprang to his feet, bowing to his opponents and handing the practice sword back to the master. He collected his sword and belt from a boy at the fence and fastened them at his waist, then strode to the prince.

‘Not a very impressive sight to be greeted by, squire,' Prince Zialni said.

Ramón stamped upon the anger and shame the words brought. If he continued like this, the prince would never consider him as a son-in-law when Alecia returned. Correction: when he brought Alecia home. ‘Indeed, Your Highness, I have learned a valuable lesson today.'

Prince Zialni dismounted and drew Ramón away from the horses. ‘I would like you to gather the princesses, squire. I have made my decision. We will lunch together and you must be present to escort the unlucky ladies to their rooms and see to their departure from the palace.'

‘Certainly, Your Highness.' Ramón hurried to Benae's side to help her down from Flaire. He waited as Benae touched her forehead to the horse again. She had the most amazing affinity with the animal. She stepped back from the horse and her eyes met Ramón's.

‘Lady Benae.' His heart constricted at the sight of her. This woman was more beautiful than any he had ever seen but it was not only that. Her eyes held a sadness that spoke of suffering and yet she could still laugh and take part in life, even if he did not approve of her current plan. Had the prince chosen her? If it were his choice, Ramón knew whom he would pick: this petite and fiery woman before him. But he was not the prince.

‘Squire,' she said. Her voice, deep and rich, sent excitement swirling from his stomach right down to his groin. ‘Can you see that Flaire is cared for?'

The reminder of his place in her life blew away desire as completely as a gale blows the autumn leaves from a path. ‘Certainly, lady.' He bowed and led Flaire over to a stable boy. ‘See that he is rubbed down and fed, Billy.' When Ramón turned back to Benae it was to discover that Prince Zialni had led her to the castle steps. As Ramón watched, they disappeared inside.

He snorted. ‘Time to do my job,' he said to no one in particular and hurried into the castle to summon the other contenders for the role of princess of Brightcastle.

The ladies were gathered in the dining room, their faces flushed, their finery in place. All no doubt hoped to make a final lasting impression on the prince. Ramón met Benae's gaze across the room and she blushed. Did the roses in her cheeks confirm she had been chosen as the next wife of Prince Zialni? He tramped on the disturbing tremor of unease that thought raised.

A kitchen girl served the ladies their drinks and Ramón took one as well. He had a feeling he would need it before the end of this gathering.

Prince Zialni arrived and the first gaze he met was Benae's. He smiled at her and then at the other women. Princess Avalin shot a murderous look at Benae. The Amari princess would need watching if she was unsuccessful in winning the prince's hand.

‘Please be seated and we will eat,' Jiseve Zialni said. He led Benae and Avalin to places at his right and left as they had been seated that first evening. Ramón escorted Marey and Lella to their seats and sat between Avalin and Lella.

‘Will you not tell us your decision now, Your Highness?' Avalin said, her cool, grey eyes demanding acquiescence.

‘I know you are impatient, my dear, but please enjoy your repast first.'

Avalin shot Benae another venomous look but the lady's rapt gaze was fixed on the prince. Ramon could easily imagine Benae being caught unawares if Avalin turned nasty.

Hoping to ease the tension that had gripped his shoulders, Ramón engaged Lella and Marey in conversation about their morning pursuits.

‘Lieutenant Vorasava kindly took us shopping this morning, squire,' Lella said.

‘Oh yes.' Marey giggled. ‘Anyone would think that the Lieutenant escorted ladies on shopping trips every day of the week.'

‘He was most attentive,' Lella said. ‘He helped me select a handsome gemstone that I rather think I'll have made into a brooch to remind me of my time here.'

Ramón let their conversation wash over him, torn between politeness and a need to watch out for Benae. Avalin sat stiffly, her hands in her lap and her eyes on her plate. Two serving girls ladled soup into bowls and deposited small loaves of bread at each end of the table.

By the end of the meal, Ramón's nerves were stretched taut. Benae talked animatedly with Prince Zialni and tried to include Avalin. The prince made an effort to converse with all the ladies, though his eyes were most often upon Benae. It set Ramón's nerves on edge. It shouldn't have, but it did.

Prince Zialni stood and cleared his throat. ‘Ladies, Squire Ramón, I have come to a decision regarding my future wife.' The prince looked at each of the candidates, starting with Avalin and making his way around the table. Finally his gaze rested upon Benae and he held his hand out to her. She placed her hand in his and rose. ‘Lady Benae, will you consent to become my wife?'

Avalin gasped and surged to her feet as Benae curtseyed.

‘I will gladly take your hand in marriage, Your Highness,' Benae said. Prince Zialni raised her hand to his lips and kissed it lingeringly.

Ramón stood and moved to stand behind Avalin's chair.

‘I will not forget or forgive this injustice, Your Highness,' Avalin said, her voice rising to a screech. ‘I am clearly the most suitable candidate for the position you offered and you have fallen for this harlot.'

There were gasps from the other princesses and Benae went white, whether from horror or anger, Ramón did not know.

‘Oh yes,
lady,
' Avalin said. ‘I have heard the rumours of your affairs and that you are not fussy as to the social standing of the gentleman, and I use the term in its loosest sense.'

‘Princess Avalin, that is quite enough,' Prince Zialni said. ‘I have made my decision. Your insults do not become you.' He raised his eyebrows at Ramón.

‘Come, princess,' Ramon said, ‘I will escort you to your room where you can compose yourself.' He stepped forward and offered his arm.

Avalin seized her goblet and swung it at Ramón. The vessel hit him on the left cheekbone and pain speared into his eye and skull. He grabbed a napkin to staunch the flow of blood, inwardly cursing the temper of princesses and ladies in general. Avalin stalked from the room and Ramón followed, eager to be away from the horrified eyes of the prince, his guests and Benae.

Ramón followed Avalin at a respectful distance but her door was closed when he reached her room and she refused to answer. The sound of breaking glass followed but Ramón had learnt his lesson. He would not be sticking his head through that particular door any time soon. Vorasava could deal with her. Ramón stalked off to summon the lieutenant. The sooner she left Brightcastle the better.

Benae closed the door to her room and leant against it, a delicious glow simmering low down in her belly. Her lips were swollen after an evening of passionate kisses with the prince.
Her betrothed
. It seemed he could not get enough of her. His hands had wandered further than she thought appropriate, considering the length of their acquaintance. Her cheeks heated at the thought. Jiseve was still very much in his prime and four years of living by himself had only whetted his sexual appetite. He had carried things to the point where she had thought they might consummate their union this very night but then he had withdrawn, leaving her panting and wanting more. Oh, this could work out very well indeed. She might enjoy making babies with her handsome husband-to-be.

In the midst of her joy, Benae remembered Ramón. She had wanted to go to him when he was injured, see that he was well, but Jiseve had ensnared her arm and held her at his side. She had no choice but to spend the rest of the evening in his company and soon she had forgotten her concern for Ramón.

But as the glow of Jiseve's passion faded, her concern for Ramón returned. Benae washed her face and fixed her hair. Yes, her lips did look thoroughly kissed. She touched them in wonder.
Time for daydreaming later.

Benae left her room and crossed to the east wing. She found Ramón's room and knocked quietly on the door. It was some time before the door opened to reveal the squire dressed only in his breeches.

‘Lady, you should not be here.'

‘May I come in, squire? I am concerned for your health.'

‘If that is the case, you will leave immediately,' he said. ‘If your betrothed catches you in here it will be the end of me.'

Benae stared at the golden-haired man before her. He was indeed beautiful; as fair as Jiseve was dark. He was taller and broader of shoulder than the prince and she had always been attracted to blond men.
Why, my first . . . 
Benae pushed the thought away.

‘Please may I enter, Ramón?' she asked. ‘I only wish to check your wound. How could my betrothed object? After all, you will be my responsibility in a very short time.'

His jaw tensed and Benae knew he wished her anywhere but here in the intimacy of his suite. But he stepped aside and allowed her to pass. She swept by him, lapping up the scent of the citrus cologne he preferred. She seated herself at the small table in front of the fireplace and patted the other chair.

‘Please sit and let me see your face.'

He frowned but moved forward and perched on the edge of the chair beside her. She ran her eyes over his features, not only the cut and swelling below his left eye but his broad forehead, high cheekbones and sensuous mouth. She reached to caress his bruised skin and he flinched. Her eyes met his. A wild urge swept through her but she kept her voice level. ‘That is nasty. Shall I heal it for you?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘My dark secret, Ramón. I am a healer.' Though sometimes my skill deserts me, as it did with my parents.

His eyes widened. ‘Do you speak of witchcraft?'

‘I will not harm you,' she said. What was he afraid of?

Ramón snorted. ‘It was not
my
safety I was concerned for. You must have heard of the prince's aversion to all things magical? Breathe a word of any association with the dark arts and your betrothal will be but a memory. You would be lucky to escape with your life.'

Benae gasped. ‘I had decided the rumours must be false.'

Ramón shook his head. ‘I tell you, they are not. He once ordered a witch burned at the stake.'

‘Then I must be careful,' she said, ‘but I want to heal you.'

She held his gaze and the room and castle fell away until all that existed was their connection. And there was a connection. She felt it and so did Ramón, if his gasp was anything to go by. He did things to her, moved her in a way no one ever had. He called to something deep within, not only sexual . . . Oh, she could not explain it, just knew it could not be ignored, that it had to be nurtured. It felt like . . . it
was
like the connection she had with Flaire.

Her shock must have shown in her eyes, for Ramón grasped her hand. ‘Lady, what is amiss?'

The spell broken by his touch, Benae breathed again. ‘Nothing is wrong.' What could this man be to her? What part of him touched the deepest fibres within her, striking a chord, calling to her? She shook her head. She was past these feelings, ready to settle down and do her duty for her people, for Jiseve. She must ignore these impulses, they were not becoming for a betrothed lady. The words of Princess Avalin echoed in her mind.
Harlot, harlot, harlot.
Benae had not suspected the rumours of her behaviour had spread so far. Jiseve had dismissed Avalin's words as envy but the truth was she
had
enjoyed herself with men of all walks, common and noble. And . . . would . . . not . . . apologise.

Oh bother, she did not know whether to be angry or mortified at Avalin's words. She looked up at Ramón. There was puzzlement and discomfort in his eyes.

Benae stood and the squire's eyes widened. He sat back a little in his chair and she seized his head before he could slip out of reach. ‘Close your eyes.'

Ramón frowned.

‘Please,' she said.

His eyes slid closed and Benae cupped her right hand over his injury while she rubbed her left palm backwards and forwards across the knuckles of the hand below. This could not be too complete a healing or Jiseve might ask questions; just a suppression of the swelling, helping Ramón's body to remove some of the bruising and take the pain away. This she did, her mind weaving spirit and water in a complex net that she cast through her palm and into the soft flesh of his cheek.

He gasped as the weave hit; his eyes flickered open.

‘Hush, be at ease,' she said.

He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face then strode to the gilt-edged mirror nearby. ‘Your words were truth. The bruising is mostly gone, the pain vanished.'

‘It is the least I could do after you incurred the injury on my behalf. Who do you think Avalin would truly have liked to hit with that goblet?'

He turned back to her, fear and distrust in his gaze. It hurt her to see them there. These people of Thorius truly did fear what they could not understand.

‘What are you?' he said.

Benae flinched as though he had struck her. She drew her shoulders back and met his gaze. ‘I am a healer.'

‘That explains nothing. What you did was surely witchcraft. It is forbidden here.'

‘Report me to the prince then,' she said, angered that he could not be grateful for her efforts. She stepped closer and stroked her knuckles gently down the side of his injured face. The stubble on his chin was rough against her skin. She stepped even closer until she could feel his minty breath on her face. She could have this man, if she chose; her body yearned for his, hummed with a riveting, dark intensity whenever Ramón was near. The squire might object at first, might hold out against her efforts for days, even weeks, but eventually he would succumb.

Benae's eyes dropped to his lips. Oh to kiss that mouth, to feel its sensuality against her, everywhere: on her skin, in her hair, touching her secret places. Just the thought made her wet . . .

Ramón grasped her by the shoulders and gently held her away from him. ‘Please return to your chambers before someone suspects you of infidelity.'

Benae blinked at him. His hands on her, even in such a benign way, were a revelation. She felt their heat through the thin fabric of her gown. Her body responded, muscles tightening deep down in her abdomen. It had been too long.

‘Lady.'

Now Ramón sounded distressed, even angry. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and the spell was broken.

‘You are right; I will go.' She gazed at the face that had been battered and bruised moments before. Only a small cut remained. ‘I am sorry.' That made no sense; sorry for what? For his injury? For healing him? For touching him?

Benae turned and left the room, returning to her chamber without a backward glance. She had a lot of sorting out to do.

Ramón let out a slow breath as Benae closed the door. She was so unexpected. And the magic! He did not care what she said, it
was
magic and the prince could not discover her secret. Benae did not know the danger she was in. How could she marry the prince and hide such a talent? One thing was sure: Prince Zialni would
never
accept it.

Her touch invoked unwelcome feelings. He itched to take her in his arms, longed to kiss that delectable mouth, but how could Benae fit into his life? The answer was that she couldn't. Alecia was his future, if he could find her and if Prince Zialni agreed to the union. He must cling to Alecia's memory. Already he had thoughts of another, but the princess need never know. And besides, hadn't she run away with Anton? She could hardly criticise him for a few wanton thoughts about the dark-haired beauty her father was to marry.

His face was almost healed. Perhaps he could get some decent sleep tonight. Perhaps he could get his feelings for Benae straight in his head.
No!
He would not even think of her. He would do his job, look after her to the best of his abilities and stay away from compromising situations. He could at least do that. Couldn't he?