over until supper. Though she was
craving a swim in the lake behind the
castle, her stomach would have to be
satisfied first.
***
Jaisyn swam around the cool lake
for what seemed like minutes but was
actually hours. It was something she
did frequently. The lake was usually
deserted at this time, and the water
was the perfect temperature for the
hot Lytherian weather. She’d just
grabbed the clean clothing that the
maids normally left in a basket by the
reeds for her, when she heard a slight
rustling.
Darkness had fallen and although
she was only a few minutes from the
castle, Jaisyn tensed, ears alert as her
back snapped straight. One never
knew when Vulcan of Morden was
going to return with his fiendish army.
Since the battle years ago, Vulcan
had returned to his godforsaken land
in defeat and left Lytheria alone.
Because of the Northern Wolf, Jaisyn
had lost her brother, and Lytheria its
future king. She’d also had a tight
strap running along her arm for
months. When it was removed,
numerous surgeons had come weekly
then monthly to make sure that she
recovered use of her left arm. To this
day, her left was still the weaker due
to that injury. Wilhelm, although
deeply saddened by the death of his
son and heir, did not, as Jaisyn
suspected he would, blame her for her
foolish behavior. Instead, he embraced
her, pushed her to get better and tried
to instill in her the belief that she was
safe.
Despite her father’s words, Jaisyn
knew one day the Wolf would return.
She’d been taught by some of the
finest minds in Lytheria, and had
overheard
enough
conversations
among the warriors and unseasoned
soldiers to know that the Mor’an did
not give up easily. It was why she had
swords and daggers hidden at most of
the places she frequented. Whenever
he returned, she would be ready.
She’d gotten considerably better since
the last time she’d faced his soldiers.
The primary reason for her intense
training was preparation for her
rematch.
Placing the clothing onto the basket,
Jaisyn hunched down and crept
stealthily over to a large boulder
situated between two trees. She
reached into the slight opening
beneath the rock and pulled out a
thick leather scabbard that held her
sword. In seconds, the sword was
drawn. She waited.
The rustling grew closer to her,
telling her that whoever approached
was unaware of her position. Holding
her stance behind the rock, Jaisyn
waited. A man stepped into the
clearing and Jaisyn’s grip on the
sword tightened as she dug her toes
into the damp sand. From where she
was situated, she couldn’t make out
his face. What she did make out was
the red coloring of his tunic. Perhaps a
cape? Without giving it more thought,
Jaisyn rose from her hiding place and
rushed him.
***
A practiced soldier, Malcolm knew
he was in danger before the whirlwind
hit him square in the chest. He landed
flat on his back, his head erupting in
pain as it collided with the compacted
sand. Three thoughts entered his
mind, and not in the best order: the
person above him had a sword, the
person above him was female, the
person above him was completely
naked.
“What—” he grunted out as he
struggled to get the sword away from
the woman. He twisted her wrist and
she released the honed steel with a
vicious curse. Malcolm rolled over,
pinning
her
beneath
him,
and
prepared to do serious damage to
whoever it was.
“Malcolm?”
The surprised voice penetrated the
haze of fury around him and he
blinked rapidly. Although it was dark,
the soft light of the moon allowed him
to make out Jaisyn St. Ives. He could
have groaned. Jaisyn was beneath him
and she was bare as the day she was
born. Small, firm breasts rose and fell
with each breath.
Dear Goddess, if this wasn’t one of
his deepest fantasies coming true, he
didn’t know what was.
Knowing that he had to, Malcolm
pushed himself off of her and gave her
his back.
“Forgive me, Princess,” he told her
hoarsely, clearing his throat and
hoping that the rising part of his
anatomy would take heed and go
down.
***
Jaisyn, still shocked that it was
Malcolm and not a soldier from
Morden, didn’t remember she was
nude until a soft breeze chilled her
uncovered breasts. With a squeal, she
placed her hands across her private
areas and prayed the dark hadn’t
allowed Malcolm to see anything.
She was mortified.
Malcolm had turned around, giving
her privacy, so she hastily pushed to
her feet and moved to the basket. She
tugged on the thin shift—the material
she should have worn into the lake
had she the manners of a true lady—
before pulling her dress over her head.
She left her mantle in the basket.
After all, what did it matter now? She
brushed the fabric down and making
sure she was at least decent, Jaisyn
turned to face her friend.
“Forgive me, Malcolm. I thought
you someone else,” she told him, still
feeling the hot flush in her cheeks.
“You can turn now. I am clothed.”
Malcolm turned slowly and she could
see the confusion in his face. “Why
are you here?”
Instead of questioning her, he
answered, “When you didn’t appear
for supper, King Wilhelm sent soldiers
after you.”
“Supper?”
Jaisyn
asked
in
confusion. What did he mean by that?
It was still early. Her father couldn’t
have returned from his hunt yet.
Malcolm nodded. “Yes, your family
is eating as we speak.”
“Lyria’s bloody toenails!” Jaisyn
exclaimed loudly, ignoring the grin
and raised eyebrows from Malcolm.
He’d heard much worse from her lips,
had taught her most of the curses she
used. “What time is it?”
“After seven,” he replied easily,
stepping into line with Jaisyn as she
began a brisk walk toward the castle.
Before long they were standing
outside the Great Hall.
Jaisyn’s hand was on the door when
Malcolm spoke. “Now that you’re
back safely, I’ll be going, Your
Highness.”
“Are you not joining us?” Malcolm
was usually a staple at her father’s
table on nights like these. As the son
of Wilhelm’s head general, his seat
could not be questioned.
He shook his head, sending his
blond curls flying, but a small smile
touched his lips. Before Jaisyn could
ask at its reason, he spoke. “I am
relieving the watch tonight.”
Wrinkling her nose at the job, Jaisyn
nodded. It was a boring but necessary
task, staring down from the guard’s
chamber in the gatehouse at the roads
that led to the castle. A handful of
times, when Malcolm had been
assigned the duty, she’d clambered up
to the stone tower with him. She’d
never spent the entire night—to do so
would be a scandal even she would
never live down—but she had stayed
for some hours. The duty was highly
regimented. Each hour, a mandatory
walk
of
the
battlements
was
necessary. Without companionship, it
was tedious. Even with it, the task was
daunting. Anyone caught sleeping was
dismissed from Wilhelm’s army, and
branded a lout, preventing future
gainful employment.
“I’ll bring you some of cook’s treats
after supper.”
“I’ve already eaten, Princess—.”
“If you’d prefer not to have cook’s
buttermilk cookies, you can simply
say so.”
She smirked when Malcolm’s lips
parted but closed just as quickly. As
long as she remembered, those had
been his favorite treats.
With a defeated smile, Malcolm
bowed to her. Jaisyn’s curtsy was so
deep, the ladies and maids who’d tried
hard to turn her into a
decent
lady
would have been proud. In a pretty
voice with the batting eyelashes to
accompany it, she murmured, “Thank
you for rescuing me, Sir Warrior. I am
forever in your debt.”
“Two cookies and your debt shall be
wiped clear, my lady.”
Jaisyn watched him walk away until
he disappeared from sight to enter the
bustling hall, hoping her father would
save his lecture until after the meal.
He didn’t. She entered the Great
Hall with her head held high, passing
the nobles, most of whom owned
manors just outside their city. As she
was late, she was required to follow
the long, outside path of the room,
passing warriors and townspeople
seated further away at the surrounding
tables, before she could take her
appointed place by his side. Wilhelm
glared at her. Before she could
apologize for her tardiness, he began
to speak of her ‘bad’ habits. Isolde,
Mathilda, and everyone close enough
to hear looked to their platters and
anything else besides her as their king
spoke. Jaisyn, never one to be
intimidated ate with exaggerated
relish, the pheasant stew and bread a
servant placed before her. She was
almost finished when Wilhelm sighed
and ruefully shook his greying head.
Jaisyn waggled her brows and passed
him a small smile—they’d done this
routine countless times before—and
he
chuckled.
The
conversation
switched to one Isolde and Mathilda
could easily participate in: literature.
As she ate her dessert, which
included wild berries, goat’s cheese,
and the very cookies she planned on
saving for Malcolm, Jaisyn focused on
her father. Dressed in a dark brown
cotton tunic with a sleeveless leather
vest, and a thick golden chain with the
St. Ives crest upon it, finery befitting
his station, her father looked the part
of king. Although no longer as bulky
as he’d once been, he looked healthy
and regal. His hair was once more
thick, curling just around his neck,
and his eyes shone brightly. Each day,
she was reminded of the man whose
shoulders she’d ridden as a child; the
man who’d knelt when they were
alone in order to bring himself to the
height of the five-year-old wielding a
wooden sword. She’d thought herself
a warrior then, defeating the man she
believed the fiercest warrior of them
all.
The bard struck up a lively tune, and
Wilhelm urged Isolde and Mathilda to
dance. They immediately moved
toward the music, gaily tossing their
arms as they did so. In a matter of
seconds, some of the nobles and
soldiers stood, with a nod from their
king, to partner the princesses and
other women in reels and gales.
“Jaisyn?” Wilhelm began, stroking
his day’s growth of beard, and smiling
slyly at her.
Leaning close, she murmured in
words meant only for his ears.
“Unless the dance includes swords,
Father, I doubt any partner would find
me as charming or as light of foot as
my sisters.”
Throwing back his head, the king
laughed. Many of his warriors pushed
to their feet at the booming sound,
before returning to their seats with
grins.
“I’d wager many would take
blistered and stubbed toes to earn a
dance with you, my child.”
Jaisyn doubted it. She could not see
as Wilhelm did. Her face wasn’t