The Princes Determined Read online

  Her gaze softened at the thought of her sister.

  Sara was fifteen years old—a child. She was too gentle, too delicate a creature to survive harsh treatment. The eldest by almost six years, Rowena did what she could to protect Sara from their father’s vicious temper.

  Time and again, Rowena purposefully drew attention to herself so she would bear the brunt of his abuse. Rowena hardened herself, learned to guard her emotions, and eventually grew brave enough to face down her father.

  Unfortunately, the betrothal put an end to the uneasy foundation she’d built for herself. When she’d refused to marry the prince, it was not Rowena her father went after. It was Sara. In hindsight, Rowena should have pretended to agree to the betrothal. Perhaps her father’s guard would’ve relaxed enough for her to escape before they reached N’ior.

  So here she was, bound to the prince by her father’s word, which was about as good as the paper it was written on.

  She rebuffed the prince upon their arrival, hoping he would end the engagement, but the prince proved to be determined. If not for the assassination attempt, she would now be married.

  What didn’t make sense was why would her father try to kill the prince before the wedding took place? A mistake? Without the marriage, her father would have been unable to rule Noventia through her and any children born out of her union with the prince.

  She stood and stepped over the food she’d spilled on the floor. The maids would no doubt spread the word she was spoiled and prone to tantrums. Nothing could be further from the truth, but since she’d come to N’ior, she’d acted in such a manner to convince the prince to break the betrothal. At Bevelaire, she was unused to being waited on hand and foot. Her father was a wealthy overlord, but he employed only a handful of household staff. She was used to cleaning up after herself.

  Her first inclination was to let the servants think what they would. She was not looked upon with fondness anyway because of her father. But her natural proclivity toward tidiness took over, and she squatted down beside the wasted food.

  The dishes were not broken, a lucky thing. She upended the curved lid to form a bowl so she could place as much of the food as she could inside. She feared the blue and white rug was ruined.

  An unaccountable prickle of tears struck her eyes. It was hopeless. The chicken was easy to clean, but the rest was near to impossible. She tossed in a handful of crushed potatoes and admitted defeat. She would not be able to fix this. She could not fix anything.

  She gave over to her miserable sadness and dropped to her bottom on the floor. Her pink skirts fanned out around her as she lowered her head. A curtain of golden hair fell forward and shielded her face as tears streamed down her face.

  She had not cried in years. It was a weakness she could not afford to display, but there were no witnesses here. Her father was gone. Her sister was still in Bevelaire. The prince, no doubt, had returned to the duties of court.

  She cried for the terrified little girl she had once been. She cried for fear of her sister’s safety. She cried at the unfairness of being attracted to a man she could not possibly marry. What sort of life could she expect to share with a man whose father may have been killed by her own? She refused to subject a possible child of their union to such a fate as well.

  Now all she could do was sit and wait for the prince to release her. Surely he would tire of her soon.

  * * * *

  That night, Rowena learned nothing could be further from the truth.

  She was once again trapped in the prince’s chambers. She had not slept the night before and did not look forward to another night on the chaise.

  “You can set the tray right there.” Talin directed the army of footmen who carried in platters and dishes and bowls and steaming tureens.

  Rowena’s stomach growled at the heavenly scent of food. Her long-ignored hunger pangs almost brought her to her knees. Another gurgle came from her midsection, and she clamped an arm over her waist to muffle the sound. She hoped the prince had not heard.

  Talin was attired in an elegant blue jacket and tight black breeches. The blue was the exact color of his eyes, and the ensemble was a perfect fit. A strong arm lifted and gestured toward the table. “You may join me if you wish, Lady Rowena.”

  “I would prefer not to.” She narrowed her eyes and resolutely turned her back. Her robe twisted beneath her, but she refused to remove the garment in the presence of the prince. It was bad enough she was in her night rail, but she would be damned before she would allow him a glimpse of her in such attire.

  The chaise lounge was as uncomfortable as the night before, but she refused to share his bed, chaste or otherwise. She tugged at the robe, and at last succeeded in freeing it from beneath her hip. The material was heavy, and the heat of the room oppressive. She foresaw another sleepless night.

  The smells and the pleasurable moans Talin made as he supped were pure torture. She had always been a healthy eater, and there was no worse punishment than being denied food, even if the denial was self-inflicted.

  She could practically feel Talin’s gaze burning a hole in her back.

  “Are you sure you would not like some?” His deep voice had a seductive quality that sent shivers down her spine. “I am more than willing to share my meal with you.”

  “No, thank you.” Her words lacked the conviction of her previous rejections. She bit her lip and prayed for the strength to not give in.

  “No desert, Rowena?”

  She refused to answer. It was so hard to keep her resolve. Sweets were one of her many weaknesses when it came to food. She decided she would sneak a couple of bites once he was asleep.

  Unfortunately, that was not to happen. As soon as he was finished, Talin called for the footmen to come and retrieve the uneaten food.

  Damn it, she thought to herself, and clenched her teeth tightly so she would not call out for them to leave her a plate.

  “Thank you. That will be all.” Talin said and the sound of the door closing signaled they were alone.

  She heard him approach the chaise and pretended to be asleep. He did not touch her, but her nerve endings tingled with awareness. The scent of him was pure male, and unbidden warmth filled her. She wanted him to touch her.

  He stood over her for several moments. A whisper of air caressed her as he bent down to whisper in her ear. “Why do you persist in being so stubborn? I will not hurt you.”

  She kept her face motionless despite the goose bumps that prickled her arms.

  “Goodnight, Rowena.” His breath tickled the skin of her nape, and she held her breath, praying he would go away before her weakness overcame her good sense.

  Finally, he moved away, and his sheets rustled as he climbed into his hedonistically oversized bed. She waited for a few minutes, and then twisted to her other side. She lifted her head and looked toward his bed.

  He lay on his back with the sheets draped low over his waist. His bronze skin was dark against the pristine whiteness of his sheets. One arm was lifted over his head; the other was splayed to the side with his palm facing up. She devoured the sight of him. He was amazingly sensual, even in his sleep. His chest rose and fell. The even sounds of his breath indicated he’d fallen asleep.

  Quick as a wink, she tossed aside her covers and stood. The sound of her barefoot tread was muffled by the thick carpeting on the floor. She crossed the room and stood near the foot of his bed. He had not moved an inch. Her gaze roamed across the lump his body made under the covers, skimmed over his bare chest, and lingered at his face. He was handsome in his sleep, but it was the heat in his eyes that stroked the flames of her desire. Now he appeared less threatening.

  Rowena turned and headed for the door. It was unlocked. She twisted the knob, grateful the door opened with no sound.

  She glanced over her shoulder, satisfied he was still asleep, and left the room.

  It was not easy to find the kitchens. She had been at N’ior more than a month, but she had been permitted access to
the guest areas only. The basic layout of the castle was simple enough from the outside, but the twisting hallways of the first floor as she ventured into the servants’ area became difficult to navigate in a matter of minutes. She traveled up and down several corridors until she finally found the room she searched for.

  All the staff had gone to bed, so there was no one there to stop her from grabbing a slice of the bread she found on the table. She bit into it and moaned with pleasure. The loaf was old and a bit stale, but tasted like manna to someone who had not eaten for as long as she had. She wished for a hunk of cheese, but the bread would be enough for the moment.

  She ate in a hurry, taking large bites and barely chewing before she swallowed. She took a second slice and ate slower, relishing every piece she chewed. The hollow ache in her stomach abated. She was still hungry, but she could manage to wait a few more hours until she gave in and ate again.

  She turned to leave and drew up short. A shadowy figure lounged in the doorway, watching her.

  Her cheeks bloomed red. Had he been there the entire time?

  Talin pushed away from the doorway and stepped toward her. He wore a loose white shirt—open at the neck—and a pair of formfitting fawn breeches. His hair was tied back by a leather thong, but one section had escaped its bounds and teased the edges of his jaw.

  Her mouth went dry as he approached. It should be outlawed for a man to look as good as he did.

  “Would you like something more to eat?”

  Whatever he’d been about to say, Rowena had not expected that. She’d imagined he would have some sort of smug remark or command. Instead, his concern seemed genuine.

  She held up her last bite of bread. “This is enough.”

  She popped the bread into her mouth and chewed for longer than was necessary. It occurred to her that he’d left his chamber door unlocked so she could do this.

  She swallowed and motioned to the kitchen. “You knew all along I would come here.”

  He shrugged. “It is to be expected. A body can only go so long without eating.”

  He walked past her and uncovered a platter she had not noticed earlier. It was a dish similar to the chicken and potatoes she’d thrown earlier.

  He brought the plate to the table and held out a chair. “Come, Rowena. Eat.”

  This time, she did not argue. There was no point. She would have to find a different way to rebel against his continued persistence in keeping her at N’ior.

  She sat, and he pushed the chair closer to the table. Talin’s hand rested on her shoulder as his thumb gently caressed the back of her neck. “Thank you.”

  Although she knew his motivation was only to keep her healthy, she was pleased by his dogged determination to protect her. No man had ever treated her so. She picked up her fork and attacked the food with relish.

  She moaned in delight. “It tastes better than it smells.”

  “Gruel would probably taste good to you at the moment.” He took a seat next to her, his long limbs settling into a relaxed pose.

  Conscious of his gaze upon her, she wiped her mouth and forced herself to slow down. She sliced into a piece of succulent chicken and bit into it. Flavor exploded on her tongue, and she moaned again.

  “Good?” The right side of Talin’s mouth kicked up.

  “Very much so.” She continued to eat, not caring that he sat and watched her with smug approval on his face.

  “Did you enjoy your walk in the garden this morning?” Talin spoke softly, yet his deep voice reverberated around the room. His presence was so powerful that merely speaking afforded him complete attention.

  “I did.” She saw no reason to lie. If she did, he may not permit her to go outside again. “D’Arcy spoke well of you.”

  His lips curved into a small smile. “The lad is the grandson of Collin, my advisor. He is to be knighted in a few weeks.”

  She nodded. “I learned as much. He is excited about it.” Shyness overcame her, and she lowered her gaze. “May I attend the ceremony?”

  Talin’s voice was smooth as silk. “Are you planning to stay at N’ior then, my lady?”

  She lifted her gaze and held his. “We shall see.”

  He seemed pleased by her answer. She was unprepared for the brilliance of his smile. This was not a practiced reaction. His expression seemed born of genuine happiness. “Since you seem fond of him, d’Arcy can be your escort until he is knighted.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  During their walk that morning, the young soldier had also revealed many facts about the prince. It was obvious Talin was well-loved by his people, which was much more than she could say of her father. The people of Bevelaire feared Roarke, and her family had been painted with the same brush. She was treated with respect when in public, but her own people would never go to great lengths to defend her.

  “D’Arcy told me of Nadia, the woman soldier. We only spoke for a few moments, but I envied her.”

  “Ex-soldier,” Talin corrected. “She is princess of Isidor now.”

  Jealousy reared its head. Nadia had been granted a freedom of which Rowena could only dream. “It is admirable you allow women to join the army. In Bevelaire, we are not allowed any sort of profession except that of a … prostitute.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. How had she gotten on this subject?

  Talin’s dark eyes roamed her face. “Women have far more usefulness than just the bedroom, although I quite enjoy that activity as well.”

  Rowena’s gut clenched with an unexpected tug of desire.

  How did he do it? How did he seduce with just a look?

  Instead of answering, she took a bite of potato and all but swooned at the taste. “This is delicious!”

  “You enjoy food. I can tell from your expressions and the sounds you make.” He leaned in close, and his voice whispered across her skin like a caress. “It is very similar to the sounds you would make in my bed.”

  Rowena almost choked on a bite of potato. She coughed a couple of times to clear her throat, and her eyes flew to his in amazement. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  His gaze heated. “I’m merely making an observation. Would you like me to seduce you?”

  Oh, the wretch. How did he turn her comment around to make it seem as if it were her suggestion?

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It is not ridiculous, Rowena, for a man to woo his bride.”

  She steadily met his gaze and held it with her own. “I am not your bride.”

  “You will be.” He returned her gaze without blinking.

  Rowena had much experience dealing with men. She’d rebuffed the advances of her father’s friends. She manipulated her father into believing she was stronger than she really was.

  But she’d never been in a situation like this, one where she actually wanted to give in to a man’s whim.

  It would be so easy. All she needed to do was lower her guard and let him in. But to do so would take her out of her father’s control and place her in the hands of another, a man who was practically a stranger. A handsome, intriguing man, but a stranger, nonetheless.

  A stranger determined to become her husband.

  The thought thrilled her more than she wanted it to.

  Chapter 3

  The troops assembled in the field behind the soldiers’ training yard. Horses stamped impatiently, and their breath misted in the cold morning air. Fog had rolled in overnight, shrouding the scene in gloom. The field was blanketed in tall grass and dandelions. The field was flat, level, and stretched a dozen acres across until it gave way to a thick forest. Dewdrops clung to the grass, and the dandelions spread to the winds as the men and horses moved past.

  Talin stood with Collin on a small wooden dais hastily erected for this occasion. It was small, about ten feet wide and built four feet off the ground. From his position, Talin could survey the troops with ease. Faces of friends and strangers alike rode past as the troops moved out. Nearly three hundred soldiers were being sen
t. A small number, no more than twenty, would go to Bevelaire to seek out Roarke. The remainder would go seek out the rebels.

  The eerie scene was reminiscent of his childhood. His father brought him to this very same spot almost twenty years before. He’d been eight, and even at such a young age, he’d known many of the men he waved farewell to would never return. The war had been hard on Noventia, eventually ending when the life of the king was taken. Now, ten years later, war was being declared again.

  Talin was not happy with his decision, but it had to be done.

  Collin put a hand on his shoulder. “You did what you must, Talin. Remember that.”

  He held himself stiffly as he nodded. “I will, but it is not easy to watch them go.”

  “It never is,” Collin agreed in a soft voice.

  “Let me pass!”

  Talin tore his eyes from the scene of his loyal soldiers as a feminine voice sounded out in anger. He turned in time to watch as Rowena stormed the dais he stood upon. His guards blocked her, but she drew up to her full, but unimpressive, height. The men who held her back looked toward him for instruction. Talin waved them aside with an impatient swipe of his hand.

  “My bride is never to be kept from me when she wishes to see me.” He spoke in a commanding voice. His tone brooked no argument. Not that the guards would give him any, but he wanted them to understand Rowena’s needs were to be treated with the upmost importance.

  Rowena rushed forward, her topaz eyes glowing. Her cheeks were pink from exertion and perfectly matched the rose gown she wore. Her hair was pinned in an untidy coronet of braids, as if she’d rushed through her toilette. Despite the haste, she was still blindingly beautiful.

  She lifted her arm, and the bell sleeves of her gown fluttered as she waved her hand toward the troops. “Care to explain what is going on here?”

  Talin took her arm and guided her toward the edge of the dais. It was not far enough to prevent being overheard by his guards, who were clearly amused by her display, but it was as private as he could make it. “Rowena, calm yourself.”

  Her eyes flashed in anger. “I will not! You should have told me.”