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“Christian Michael Beaumont!” A woman screams. “Get this filth out of your bed and out of this palace.”
“Not now, Kate.” He mumbles. “I am sleeping.”
“Not now, Kate?” The woman repeats angrily. “Yes, now! Guards!” She yells, and two armed men rush into the room. “Take her away.” She commands.
“Touch her and I will kill you.” The Christian leaves the bed. “I invited her here and she is staying until I am certain father will live. Only then will I return her to her homeland.”
“Who is she?” The woman demands.
“The daughter of a friend. I was escorting her home when I received word of father. I gave my word as a Beaumont that she will be returned safely.”
“This is safely?”
The woman’s long, dramatic sleeves wave like Beaumont banners as she points at me.
“I did not say untouched, I said safely.” He smiles at the woman and drinks from a cup of water. “She is safe, is she not?”
“Christian...” Kate warns. “This is the sort of woman you rut in the barn, not in your bed.”
“It is only acceptable when the women are white? Get out of here and let me sleep.”
The Prince is naked when he shoves them out of the chamber with her complaining loudly.
“Leave me the hell alone, woman.” He slams the door.
My head spins when I try to sit up. I put my hand to my temple and hope the pain away.
“What are you doing, Princess?”
The Beaumont crawls onto the big bed pulling me down underneath the covers with him.
“You are not well. Do not worry about them, no harm will come to you here.” He promises. “I will protect you.” His lips touch my cheek. “I will always protect you.”
I refuse to wear that rag.” I lift my nose with a sniff. “Those are Beaumont colors.”
“This is the Beaumont household, Princess.” He fingers the blue and gold silk gown. “You will wear it or stay in this chamber forever. There is a festival today to celebrate the end of summer. You might enjoy yourself.”
“I have been stuck in this chamber for two weeks.” I complain.
The Prince has not touched me in as long, but I will not bring that up. I guess cutting your own throat will turn a man away from you. I am in my best form and ready to be his whore again.
“Maeve.” His eyes darken. “You are not my whore.”
“I am not your wife.”
Every day that we are not married, heightens my fear of him marrying someone else and sending me to the servant’s wing.
“You are who I want.”
“I am your mistress, Christian.”
He holds my head in his big hands. “I love you.”
The words shake me. I feel as if I have fallen from a great height. I have fallen from grace. I have fallen for him. My face warms and I tremble nervously. Could he? Would he?
“I love you, Maeve.” He repeats. “You are my lady love.”
How can I be angry with him when he says things like this? I love him too. I do not speak the words aloud because they will solidify these feelings that we share. To speak them will make our forbidden affair more than an affair. Speaking the words will make ours a love story.
“It is more than an affair.” He kisses me. “This is our love story.”
“I am well enough to travel, Prince. You need to let me go.”
“My father is dying, Maeve. I cannot leave him now, and I do not trust anyone else to escort you. Am I treating you so badly that you are in such a hurry to leave me?”
“You are not unkind.” I admit. “I am treated well.”
“I need you.” He pleads. “I will need you more when he expires.”
The Prince is doing something that he does not do. He is showing weakness. It is because he truly loves me. He loves me enough to trust me.
“I do not want to keep you locked away in this chamber. Put on the dress so that you may walk around freely without being accosted. For all will know that you belong to me.”
He straps his sword around his narrow hips. His dark-blue hose are snug. I see every curve of muscle in his legs and ass. I can count every vein in his cock. Most men wear cod pieces to look like this. His blue vest is emblazoned with the blue and gold Beaumont crest. It fits nicely over his billowy white blouse with ruffles at the collar and wrists. His hair is tied behind his head with a leather ribbon. I look at the beautiful blue and gold dress laying across the bed with dread. How can I wear these colors? They look good on him, but they are traitorous on me.
“Join me if you change your mind.” Christian’s lips touch mine. “I will await you in the hall.”
He leaves me alone to decide whether I will wear his colors or not. I do not want to, but I nearly killed someone the last time I went for a walk alone. Two men attacked me, and I cut off their legs at the knee. Christian banished me to this chamber. Then he had the bindings removed from the men’s legs and they bled to death. Their deaths are on his hands, not mine.
I pick up the beautiful gown. The condition of my release is that I wear this dress so that the household knows who I sleep with. I finger the silky underthings wondering how something this soft feels against the naked skin. I dress slowly, leaving behind the parts that I cannot figure out. The Beaumont dress fits me well and looks handsome if I do say so myself. I braid my hair and cover it with the veil that Christian women wear. Will he notice my attempt to look pretty for him? I think I look pretty. I wonder if the Prince will agree.
I get curious looks as I walk through the halls, but no one speaks to me. I have heard of the grandness of the palace, but this is my first time seeing it. I am not very well travelled. The only place that I dared to journey without mother knowing was the crowded docks.
This place is paradise in almost every way, aside from it being full of Christians. There is always lively music and dancing. There are tables laden with food for all to enjoy. I join the stream of people gathering in the hall. The great hall is great indeed. I stop and look around like a child seeing her first rainbow. I feel tiny in this big place crowded with so many people. The Beaumonts are sitting on what look like thrones at the head of the long, long table. They are laughing and drinking from bejeweled cups. The Butcher stands out with his bright hair when his brothers are so dark. He is watching me. He has been watching me since I stepped foot in here. I smooth the front of the dress nervously. The arrogant devil beckons me with a wave of his hand. I blush. I cannot approach a Prince without being announced. I should not be in the same room as he. The fool Prince waves again, smiling this time. My feet are small like my steps. I curtsy at his feet and wait for him to acknowledge me.
“I see you finally came to your senses.” The Christian is pleased. “You may rise.”
He eyes me in a way he should not. It is unseemly and tells everyone that we are lovers.
“My colors look good on you, Maeve.”
I frown. He is so very handsome and a wonderful lover, but I am always disappointed when he opens his mouth.
“Let us hope that one day you shall come to yours, Highness.” I say sourly.
The Princes have mixed reactions to my comment. One blushes with embarrassment. One raises an eyebrow in surprise. The last one bellows with laughter. I cannot say who is handsomer. Or which is the eldest.
“I will excuse myself.”
The Prince sitting beside Christian laughs again. “You cannot excuse yourself, wench. We excuse you.”
He is the one who raised a dark eyebrow. He drinks from his cup and watches me in much the same way that my lover is watching me. He seems unpleasant and has a sneaky look about him that makes me wary of his intentions.
“My name is Maeve, or Mae if you prefer.” I inform him. “Not wench.”
These Beaumonts are disrespectful. I am not sure if I like this one.
“Does she know what she is saying, cousin? I fear the wench is an imbecile like they say. It is in their wild blood. Did you fuck her? What was it like? Is she this color all over?” The cousin asks curiously. “Take off your dress and show me.”
“She is not taking off her dress.” The Butcher says in annoyance. “Keep your hands off her. Do not even look at her.”
“Damn, Christian. I guess that answers my question about whether you are fucking her or not. What is it like? You can tell us.” The cousin urges him. “Is she this color inside? Did you see it? Could you not find a younger one? She is so old.” He prolongs the last word. “Does her cunt get wet at her age?”
“Shut your mouth, Devon.” Christian stands up and touches his sword. “She was untouched when I took her. I will not let you insult her like some whore.”
“Brother.” A Prince jumps between them. “Not here.”
The one he called Devon laughs nervously. “I was only teasing, cousin.” He is afraid of Christian. “How was I to know that you have grown fond of a mongrel?”
“Christian.” A different Prince snaps. “He is not worth it.”
My lover returns to his seat at his brother’s bidding. But I know the fight is not over. It has only just begun, and the cousin will lose.
“Find a seat at the table, Maeve.” My lover bids me. “I doubt if you have eaten all day.”
“Yes, Highness.”
I curtsy again and walk away wishing I could cut out that viper’s tongue. An argument ensues as I retreat. Christian Beaumont defends me at every turn. He is an adequate protector. I wander outside and sit beside a fountain of spitting angels. It is so pretty, and the carving is so real that I can make out the lashes on their eyelids. I trail my fingers through the clear water. It is cleaner than the water they drink in the village. I save a butterfly that falls in and is trying desperately to find dry ground.
“If you keep referring to me as adequate, I might take offense.”
The Christian sits beside me. I smile warmly. He is the most arrogant man I have ever met. I turn to him and drink in his face. I want to touch him so badly that I clasp my hands in my lap.
“You do look beautiful in my colors.” He says again.
“It is nothing.” I blush with pleasure. “I am only trying to fit in.”
“Is that why you wore your hair this way?” The Prince fingers the blue veil covering my face. “We look like we are together.” He points out. “You look like my queen.”
His praise is good for my soul, but I am still getting used to it. I reach up to remove the veil.
“No.” He stops me. “Leave it.” His eyes are warm with arousal. “Wear it to bed tonight.”
“Christian.” I scold him with an embarrassed smile. “I do not want people to think we are sleeping together.”
“They already know it to be true. It is not a secret, Maeve.” He takes my hand in his. “Come dance with me. It is a pleasant night.”
He releases it after I stand. It makes me sad. So, he takes it into his again and he does not let go. We should not be walking hand in hand. What we are doing defies the laws of the church. This is not proper Princely behavior. Our fingers lock together anyway.
The warm flickering flames of a thousand candles dance upon the white walls like molten gold. This is what I imagine their heaven looks like. I also imagine that this is how it feels. Walking through this beautiful place, while wearing this beautiful gown and holding hands with a beautiful Prince is not for a woman such as me. This is my ill-fated fairytale.
The palace is always spotless and smells of flowers and fresh-air. The musicians are playing, and the townsfolk are in good spirits. The Prince draws me into a dance. My dancing leaves much to be desired. The Christian, however, dances very well. We kick our feet and raise our arms in celebration. The other dancers circle us and clap along as we step to the music. When the music slows, he takes me in his arms and we circle the floor with the other couples. We gaze into each other’s eyes and fall a little deeper in love. This is how it feels to fly. The free feeling of dropping through the air like a bird without hitting the ground. My dress billows around my legs. His hair and lace blow in the night breeze. The Beaumont is everything that I want in a man. Leaving out the Christian and the Beaumont parts of him.
When the dance ends, the Prince bows before the pauper. It is so perfect and unexpected, that I blush and forget to curtsy in return. He laughs and swings me into the next dance. This is my first party. I like them very much, I think. I partake of a few sips of wine. Not enough to make me drunk. Just enough to make me smile. I am sad when he leaves me to myself again and goes off to find his brothers. I am reminded of my place. He would never leave his real Princess alone this way. As I am leaving, I notice someone familiar. The nun with the brown hands. Her habit is different. Her veil is made of fine lace. White gloves cover her brown hands, but it is her. It is the way she stands and the confidence with which she carries herself that gives her away. I notice her. She does not notice me. I am curious. Who is she? Where is she from? Who are her people? She will turn her skirts and walk away if I approach her for everyone knows why I am here.
“Christian will never let you go.”
A voice speaks behind me. It is the cousin, Devon.
“I see the way he is with you and he will never let you leave here. He has quite the collection of mistresses. You have trapped your Beaumont.”
“I trapped my Beaumont?” I laugh dryly. “When did I say that I wanted one?”
“Come, now. Every lady and whore who visits the palace wants to land a Beaumont. Any Beaumont, to set them up and keep them in luxury. You managed to nab everyone’s favorite.”
“Your jealousy of him will rot your insides one day.” I warn him. “How sad and pitiful you are. Only a cousin and never a Prince.”
I walk away. He follows me through the crowd grabbing my arm outside the hall.
“You are never to touch me again, Beaumont.” I hiss at him. “I am not a plaything. I have my own home, so there is no need for me to want this one. I do not need charity from the likes of your family.”
I walk away again with his eyes burning into my back. I hate this family. I should run away from here. I should run tonight while everyone is celebrating. Forgoing Christian’s bedchamber, I instead let myself in the chamber that his aunt appointed to me. The first thing I do is strip out of his colors. I toss the offensive dress out the window and pull on my old cotton. I bundle my things and fill a water bag. I meditate in the dark to clear my mind of Devon Beaumont’s bad energy. I think instead about his cousin Christian, who makes me smile. The man who kills for me and dances with me. The man I love. He will never let you go. Why would he want to keep me? I am everything that he is against. Why would I want to stay here when I hate his kind?
“I will kill Devon if he touches you again.”
The Prince vows, storming through the doorway. He lights several candles to better see me.
“Have you been fighting?” I demand rushing over to him. His eye is swollen, and blood is trickling from his lip. “Did your cousin do this to you?”
“It is nothing compared to what I did to him.”
The Beaumont pulls away when I touch his eye.
“Devon did not hurt me.” I assure him.
“I do not care if it hurts or not. The next time he puts his paws on you, he dies.”
I push him down onto a chair and fret over his eye again. I feel his pain as if it were my own.
“You cannot go around killing people for touching me. Someone will say that I have bewitched you. I do not want to burn, Beaumont.”
“You have bewitched me, Princess.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “They will have to kill me to burn you and I have cut down the strongest of men.”
He lays his silver head on my belly. I cradle it in my arms. This Beaumont consumes me. I never feel alone when I am with him.
“I enjoy having you here, Maeve. You can stay for as long as you like. I want you to.”
“We know that I cannot stay here, Christian.” I run my fingers through his fine hair. “It is too dangerous. Someone will find out the truth about me. That is why mother sent me away.”
“It is because you are a healer.” He says reverently. “You died and came back. I would not believe it if I did not see it for myself. What else can you do?”
“That is all.” I admit sadly. “I can only heal.”
“That is all?” He looks up at me. “That is amazing, Princess. How does it work?”
“I draw energy from the sun somehow. Had you buried me today, I would be dead.”
“I thought you were dead.” He says grimly. “I cried for hours.”
“You did?” I smile brightly. It is flattering that this Beaumont would weep for me.
“I did.” The Christian nods his head. “I was heartbroken.” His eyes tear up. “I was only chaining you for your own good. I gave you my word that I would protect you.”
“They can never take me alive, Christian.” I wipe away the tears that fall down his face. “I will leave this life by my own hand before I let them torture me. They will not execute me the way they did my family.”
“Your family was executed for practicing witchcraft. The sin is punishable by death. Your mother breathed life into a dead infant. There were several peasants who witnessed it. Your sister built a contraption that straightened a crippled boy’s back. They were seen doing pagan dances and chanting in a strange tongue.”
“Chanting? We are giving thanks for all that is given to us. We do our movements to keep our bodies ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Ready for anything, Highness.” I tease him. He grins, standing to his feet.
“I rather like the way you say that. Say it again, Maeve.”
“Say what? Highness? Should I scrub his royal majesty’s back or maybe empty his royal chamber pot, Highness?”
I bat my eyelashes innocently. He roars with laughter. It makes me laugh too. We laugh so hard that we fall over onto the bed holding our bellies.
“You are what is known as an arrogant ass.” I tell him.
“Maybe so, but it is an unspoken truth. You are far too outspoken for a proper lady. Women should be quiet and kind. They should be biddable and sweet.”
“What you are looking for is an inbred heiress that does not have sense enough to put two thoughts together. That is why they are so quiet and weak-looking. Stretches might do them some good.”
“You should be whipped for your insolence.” He says.
“Maybe.” I half agree. “But you already gave me your word that no harm will come to me and lying is a sin.”
“Are you mocking my faith, witch?”
The Christian gives me a dirty look.
“Who me? I would never.” I roll over onto my back smiling.
“Were you always like this?” He begins to undress me. “So bright and obnoxious?”
“I imagine so. I live alone on a mountain, Beaumont. There is no one to put on airs for.”
“Keeping you hidden away from decent society has ruined you.” He kisses my throat. “You will never fit in here. The church dislikes bold women.”
“And what of you, Highness?”
I reach down and squeeze his cock in my hand. How do you feel about bold women? I know he is in my thoughts.
“I can barely stand them.”
