Chapter 3

3

Corbet

Christ, she’s not only better than I’d hoped…she’s fucking extraordinary.

There is a pulse beating to the left of my jugular I wasn’t even aware I had. Meaning it doesn’t even race like this in battle. The girl only reaches my shoulder and I can’t seem to stop staring down at the part of her hair, memorizing the way the starlight bathes each of the midnight strands. My gaze tracks lower to the pale globes of her tits that wobble subtly with every step we take toward the loch. And if she only knew how my cock stretches the front of my trousers, she’d probably go running back in the other direction.

But my God, I am aching for her.

Gwen.

A woman who would stand up to a king, sass him without batting an eyelash.

Sharp of wit.

Proud.

I’m not so much of a barbarian that I don’t realize how quickly I’m moving. I should at least sit beside her at the bonfire, talk to her, share a couple of ales, before spiriting her off to the loch for our first fuck, but I’m already dangerously close to spilling my come down the leg of my pants. She is affecting me like nothing I’ve ever experienced. As soon as I’ve been between her thighs a few times, I’ll bring her back to the Joining and treat her properly. I swear it.

I’ll propose.

That she become my mistress.

And she’ll say yes.

Because what woman wouldn’t be overjoyed to live in the castle? I’ll dress her in the finest clothes, fill her with the best food, satisfy her sexually. Give her children. There is nothing else a woman could ask for.

Right?

It is unlike me to feel doubt—and I don’t like it. So I ignore the feeling and continue guiding the beautiful Gwen toward privacy. We’ll need to be out of earshot of the Joining for what I have planned.

“Have you come to the Joining alone?” I ask, eager to know more about this interesting female. One who would give no quarter to a king. One who would tell a man to drop dead without hesitation. God, I like the hell out of her. A woman! Who thought it possible?

“No. I am here with my two sisters, Viola and Sadie. They are too young for the nighttime festivities, so they’ve gone to sleep in our tent.”

“Your voice warms when you speak of them.”

“Yes.” She averts her face, but I catch the color on her cheeks. “I love them with all my heart and soul.”

I stoop down to study her face, laughing when she ducks her head. “Does it embarrass you to speak about your emotions?”

“Yes. It’s horrible.”

“It is,” I agree, chuckling. Goddammit, I like her so much.

A woman!

“I don’t know how people manage to…define their feelings so easily. And then talk about them to complete strangers,” Gwen continues. “Why not just hand them a—”

“Weapon,” we say at the same exact time.

“Yes,” she breathes, studying me with a puckered brow. “But my sisters deserve to have someone who professes love for them, so I force myself to do it. Only for them. Even if it makes my face feel like it’s on fire.” She pauses. “Do you have anyone like that in your life? Someone you would let your face burn for?”

“Perhaps my sword.”

“Ah. It must be magnificent.”

“A flick of my wrist and she’ll leave a man’s entrails at his feet.”

“Wow. Entrails. Do you talk like this to all the ladies?” She glances back over her shoulder. “It’s a wonder there aren’t a trail of them swooning in your wake.”

My laughter echoes off the side of the mountain. “God, woman. You amuse me.”

“Are you looking for a new court jester?” she quips, her expression so charming, I almost pull her down onto the grass, eager to put my mouth on her full, clever, beguiling one. Now. “Is that where your interest lies?”

“Far from it,” I rasp, reaching beneath my tunic to adjust my throbbing dick.

“Too bad,” she sighs. “I wager a jester makes decent coin.”

Concern briefly eclipses my hunger. “Are you in need of coin, my lady?”

Firmly, she shakes her head. “That is not your worry.”

Obviously she doesn’t see where this relationship is going. “Oh yes it is.”

Her nose wrinkles. “No, it is not. You are a king, but you are not my king. Besides, not even the ruler of my kingdom worries himself over a lower class farmer.”

The fact that someone else rules her, even temporarily, is repugnant.

It results in an erosion in my chest. A cascade of ugliness down to my belly.

“You are a farmer,” I force out, imagining her sowing a field on her hands and knees. The image is pleasing and unacceptable at the same time. Pleasing because farming fits her exactly. It’s honest work. It’s real, like her. But I don’t like the idea of her toiling under the sun, and I don’t plan to allow it any longer.

“Yes, we have a small family farm in Lavere.” She stares ahead, as if seeing a very different landscape. “The earth has not cooperated for the past two harvests, unfortunately, leading to a position as jester to sound more and more appealing.”

“You are meant for far better things, Gwen.”

“Yes, I know.” She winks at me. “It was only a jest.”

Something funny happens in my stomach. It’s the feeling I had as a lad when falling off a horse. I’m free falling and the ground is a long, long way down. This time there doesn’t seem to be any ground at all. This woman is wreaking havoc on my body and mind. I’ve never been in this position before. Of liking a woman and wanting to fuck her so bad. In fact, I don’t recall a single time I’ve liked a woman at all. Or cared one way or the other whether I laid with her.

With Gwen…

I feel a terrible rapping inside my ribcage, and the fact that it’s my heart making the god-awful racket is terrifying. My heart’s only function is to keep me alive so I can reign victorious in battle. It ought not to be slamming around in my throat over a woman. And yet…it is.

Ignore it. Focus on practicalities.

“You will not be a jester. Nor will you farm a single day longer.” I cup her cheek, tilting her face up toward mine, anticipating a flood of gratitude in her gorgeous brown eyes and eager to watch the show up close. “You are to be my mistress, woman. Permanently.”

Silence stretches.

It stretches so long, doubt begins to creep back in and tingle my spine.

Finally, Gwen smiles sweetly. “Like hell I am.”

She stomps back toward the gathering.

Not even a second passes before I’m striding after her, unable to ignore how perfectly shaped she is from the back. Sweet fucking hell. A finer, juicier ass has never been crafted. She was molded by the angels, every curve and dip given the utmost attention.

“Come back here, Gwen. Now.”

She shoots daggers at me over her shoulder. “My first demand stands. Drop dead, Your Majesty.”

Fuck sake. I may have handled this very badly.

I should have put my lust on hold and brought her to the bonfire before propositioning her. I didn’t expect to feel this…this possessiveness, though. It caught me off guard. Still, surely she is not reacting how a woman normally would when a king shows her attention. Right?

Jesus, she’s quick.

I break into a run and come up behind Gwen, easily tossing her over my shoulder, turning on a heel and continuing toward the darker, more hidden areas of the loch’s edge. “You think to escape the Fury so easily, woman? Many a warrior has tried and failed.” I find a large notch carved into the side of the mountain and set Gwen on her feet inside of it. I settle my hands on her shoulders, mentally preparing a speech that will make her see the advantages of my proposition, clumsy though it was…and that’s when I notice the sheen of tears in her eyes.

The words on my tongue die a withering death, my knees feeling suspiciously weak.

Have I made this courageous woman weep?

A pit yawns wide in my stomach over the possibility.

“Gwen?”

“I understand now.” She keeps her spine straight and proud, but the effect is challenged by the red tip of her nose. “You saw an easy target. The big girl with the cheap dress. You wouldn’t even have to woo her. Just drag her out to the loch for a roll in the grass.”

All right. Now my head is spinning.

Irritation over being misunderstood spears up into my throat, but it’s nothing compared to the discomfort I feel over the tears in her eyes. Tears I caused.

“How on earth did you come to that conclusion?”

“You just assumed I would lay with you.” She tips her head back and blinks rapidly to keep the moisture from falling—and the sight of it wounds me. Worse than being run through on the battlefield. “Would you have made that assumption about a respectable lady?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have time for respectable ladies—” Fuck. Her eyes are flashing and I’m already holding up a hand. “That came out wrong. I meant, I don’t waste a lot of time on romance. Imagine me trying to court someone?” She sniffs and my hand cups her cheek, stroking it with my thumb, the instinct to comfort her fierce. “I brought you out here, Gwen, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in all my years on this earth. Not because I thought you might be easy. Frankly, my lady, there is nothing easy about you—that’s part of what I like.” I look down at my humongous frame, back to her. “And if you’re big, what does that make me?”