Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Alfred

I wake up with a sense that something is wrong, only to find myself alone in bed.

I do not like this sneaking about, nor waking up without my mate, and even less do I like that she could sneak out on me. Tonight, I will chain the brat to my bed… and with nothing in reaching distance that she might use to unpick the lock.

Thrusting the snot-green covers aside, I rise and, still butt naked, storm from the room.

"Where is my woman?" I roar at the nearest servant.

She screams, throws up the bedding she is carrying in the air, and, lifting her skirts, takes off at a run.

With my eyes peeled for signs of my errant mate, I stalk down the corridor.

I don't find her. All I get are yet more screaming servants. You would think they have never seen a naked man from the fuss they are making.

I turn the corner and find three soldiers, swords drawn, blocking my path.

"Stop where you are, barbarian!"

I have never taken well to instructions. It was probably for the best that I became the king of a clan, all things considered.

"No," I say, continuing to stalk toward them, which throws them for a loop. There is hesitation and some stammered words of caution before their sword points begin to waver. "I'm looking for my mate. Where the fuck is she? The brat snuck out of my room this morning before I was even awake."

The swords lower a little more as I stop a pace away.

"Isn't it a bit early to be waving swords around." I stretch out my shoulder—they all take nervous steps back. "I haven't even limbered up for battle. But if needs must…"

"The princess is having breakfast with her father," the guard on the right says, before he sighs and sheaths his sword.

The other two cast nervous glances his way and then follow suit.

"I am Dick," the one on the right says. He has a posh accent that seems odd for a guard. He is a tall, reed-thin beta with overly floppy dark hair that falls into his eyes. "This here is Wendle." He indicates the fresh-faced middle man with curly red hair and then the stocky man on the left with a bald head and dark skin. "And Poach."

"Dick? That is your name?"

"Yes, sir!"

"That must get very fucking confusing," I mutter, deciding it must be a strange Hydornian custom. Maybe he has a big dick? Maybe it is small?

Wendle's eyes bounce up and down between my cock and my face.

I scowl. "What the fuck is wrong with you all? Have you never seen a cock before?"

"It is a... not really a done thing for people to walk about the castle naked, Sir Alfred," Dick says, his lips twitching like he is fighting a smile.

"So I'm getting the idea," I say. "Also, last I checked, I was a barbarian king and nobody's knight."

"The king has decided to knight you," Dick explains—he appears to be the one in charge of the trio, or is certainly the most vocal. "So that you have a suitable title."

I scratch absently at my jaw. "This is a strange place," I say before nodding at Dick. "Can you direct me to my mate?"

He snaps to attention. "Yes, sir. We will escort you there directly. But if I might implore you to put on some clothes first."

"No," I say firmly. "I do not have fucking time to go put on any clothes. Also, putting clothes on involves returning to the green room, and I cannot spend another moment there without puking up my guts."

Wendle snickers—Poach thumps him on the shoulder.

"It is the king's favored color," Dick says, diplomatically.

"Well, it is not my favored fucking color. A man could lose his mind sleeping there of a night… Although I like that big fancy mirror for when you're disciplining a lass… and the fucking that follows. Do you have any more in storage? I want to cover all the angles."

Wendle makes a choking sound.

"It is not considered good form to discuss one's conquest of a servant," Dick says, lifting his nose in the air.

"Servant? What the fuck are you talking about? I never touched any servant: not to discipline and definitely not to rut." I shudder. "I'm a mated barbarian. There's only one lass I have eyes for, and that is Penelope."

Wendle's face has gone so pale that I worry he might faint dead away, and his eyes are once more bouncing between my face and my cock.

Poach pats the younger lad's shoulder as though comforting him.

Dick grimaces. "One does not discuss one's conquests of a, ah, princess."

I scratch my jaw again, wondering how I will survive here with all these strange rules. "Fine. Take me to the lass… princess." I gesture, and we start walking. "She is assuredly due another spanking for sneaking out of my room this morning. Do you know where I can get some cuffs and decent chains? I have a mind to secure her to the bed, tonight."

Wendle groans as though in pain.

Dick coughs to clear his throat. "We shall, uh, see what we can find for you, Sir Alfred!"

We cross paths with yet more screaming servants and a couple of gasping nobles on our long walk before I am shown into a fancy dining room that, thankfully, is not decorated green.

Penelope and her father are sitting at the far end of a long gold-inlaid table that could hold twenty people.

Louie, being in the unfortunate stage of taking a sip of tea, spits it clear across the table at my entrance.

A servant bearing a domed-topped platter chooses that moment to enter the room through a door on the right. The platter hits the floor with a crash. She screams and runs back out.

"We beseeched him to put on some clothes, my liege," Dick says. "He refused, and we thought it best to bring him straight here."

Louie waves them off with an imperious sweep of his hand.

As the door clicks shut on the guards, Penelope, biting her lower lip to hide her smile, rises gracefully from the table.

"Father, if I might handle this."

"By all means, daughter." He lifts a napkin and pats himself down.

Penelope

This is by far the strangest breakfast ever. I cannot help the little glow of pleasure that consumes me as I surreptitiously watch the man who will be my husband—who I am already mated to—as he eats his breakfast.

Alfred sits in the fancy carver chair. Around his waist is a tablecloth hastily brought by a servant from the nearby store.

A big, gruff barbarian with long hair and braids, a thick beard, and acres of naked chest muscle sipping tea from a china cup is quite the sight.

He makes me happy just by being here; a fluttery, giddy feeling unfurls inside that I know to be the beginning of love.

I knew he would be cross that I left him, but my father had mentioned the servant coming to wake me early, so I had no choice. The last thing I wanted to do was cause even more scandal than I already have, so, reluctantly, I slipped out of bed and returned to my room.

I missed him, which is ridiculous when he is inside the castle. And it's not like he could sneak out… he has neither the size nor disposition for sneaking anywhere. Alfred is more of a direct approach man. He looks very much like what he is—a huge barbarian king. Well, he's not a king anymore since he abdicated. My father means to knight him this morning. He also intends to make him a lord and gift him an estate.

Alfred seems to be accepting of this, and to know already, courtesy of Dick, Wendle, and Poach, three of my father's personal guards. I have known Dick since I was a little girl and Poach nearly as long. Wendle is a new member of the guards but highly competent, even if he is a little shy. It did not escape my notice that all three of them were amused by Alfred's antics.

My attention returns to the present. My father is detailing the wedding plans. Alfred is more interested in the food than the wedding, which means far less to him than us. In his eyes, I am already his mate, and a wedding is a lot of unnecessary pomp.

He slides another two slices of crispy bacon onto his plate. My lips twitch as he shoves one into his mouth whole and groans as he chews. He has eaten no less than six sausages and as many pieces of bacon… and is obsessed with the breakfast potatoes our cook does so well.

Two sausages are left on the platter, and I believe he is eyeing them up even as he finishes the bacon.

At my father's insistence, he is on the opposite side of the table to me, and I like that it gives me this unguarded view even if I crave his touch.

My tummy takes a slow tumble again at the mere thought of his hands on me; even the lightest touch of his hand against mine, our fingers entwined, would soothe me, better still if he were to purr…

"Fuck it," he mutters.

My father stumbles over his words as Alfred pushes his chair back. With the tablecloth clasped at his hip, he stalks around the table with a determined air that quickens my heart rate—I am his destination.

I still squeak as he snatches me from the chair, sits down, and puts me on his lap.

He purrs. I get the strangest feeling he sensed my need and acted as a result.

"Sorry, Louie," he says. "I could not think fucking straight when she was over the other side of the table. I'm an alpha. We need to stay close to our mate. Especially at this early stage of bonding."

Thankfully, my father was not drinking, and we could avoid another tea-spitting incident, although his mouth is working like a fish out of water.

The door opens to admit a softly treaded servant who makes a small audible gasp.

"They will get used to it, Father," I say. "Our cultures clash at every moment and every step. He has his ways, and we have ours. I sense he is prepared to compromise on some things, but in this, he is not."

The young pink-cheeked servant is about to take the platter with the two sausages. Alfred's hand snaps out, and he snags them. They are gone in two bites.

He licks his fingers clean. "The food here is delicious," he rumbles.

My father chokes a laugh. The poor servant is now crimson as she gathers up the empty plates.

Alfred leans back into the chair, tucks my head against his chest, and resumes his purr.

My father does a double-take before he makes a point of picking up his tea and taking a sip. "I dare say we will," he says. "I must admit, you seem to have a way with my daughter."

"She's a handful," Alfred says, with a definite note of pride. "She left your home and rode alone into a vast enemy camp and disabled a dozen of my men. She is as deadly as she is beautiful… But she also has a propensity for putting herself in danger and further does not involve anyone in her decision-making. She admitted she left without your permission or knowledge—had told no one at all. Anything might have happened to her, and you would not have even known where she went or why. No one is infallible. I would have more than words with any man of my clan acting so recklessly, putting himself in danger, compromising the safety of all, for others might need them to take risks to save him. Notwithstanding the pain he would cause his loved ones should he fall or be lost, or others to suffer the same fate seeking to rescue him. That is not acceptable."

I feel the strongest urge to cry and must work to keep my breathing steady. He uses a clan member as an example, but I know he is talking about me. For the first time, I consider my actions not as daring but as foolhardy. All I wanted was to find a light outside my mother's shadow, always thinking I know better, and perhaps I do, but that is no excuse.

"I have had many years of this," my father says dryly.

"Well, you got the better deal," Alfred replies, humor entering his voice again. "She is yet young, and I have many more arduous years ahead."

"True," my father says. "I worried I would never find a man to take her on."

"I am right here!" I protest, although I am warmed by their acceptance of my faults—that they can still love me.

"You were looking in the wrong places, Louie. This here is a job for a barbarian."

My father chuckles. "You have demonstrated admirably the error of my ways. Her mother was just the same, Goddess rest her soul."