Thirteen

 

Siward woke from a fevered dream. What kind of man dreamed he made love to a statue come to life? Or plants that moved like snakes, snaring and trapping him before the statue commanded them to stop?

He must have taken a stronger jug of wine than he'd thought. For only in his cups could he possibly place himself in such a silly fairy tale.

He stared up at the sky for a moment, reaching for the jug he knew should be beside him. All he touched were leaves, before pricking himself on a thorn. He had slept in a rosebush, then, instead of rolled in his cloak on the ground. He must do this again, for it felt far softer than the unforgiving ground. In fact, he could almost imagine the woman of his dreams beside him, pressing her breasts along his side as she reached for him once more.

"I see you are ready for me again, beloved," a distinctly female voice said, sounding amused as a warm, soft hand wrapped around his shaft. "Good. I wish you to love me again, just as you did last night."

Siward swallowed, then turned his head to meet her green eyes. The green eyes of a goddess, a divine statue come to life.

He bolted out of the bed, which he now saw was a fountain full of roses. He should have been covered in scratches from the thorns, but he was unscathed. A minor miracle, seeing as his clothes were little more than rags as he stood naked before a woman...nay, little more than a girl, who he had deflowered scant hours before.

Oh, he had done so at her command, which he could not refuse at the time, but now...honour demanded he make this right by her. That meant making her his wife.

He didn't even know her name.

"Are you real?" he asked.

The girl laughed. "I am no more or less real than you. Are you real?"

"Of course," he said firmly, trying not to be distracted by his body's response to her nakedness.

She was not so restrained. "Prove it. Come back to bed and love me again in daylight, or I shall fear last night was but a dream."

Siward shook his head. "I cannot. I should not have...I dishonoured you. I will make this right. I will take you as my wife, if you wish it."

"I do wish it, but I also wish for you to take me as you would your wife, here, now," the girl commanded imperiously.

No one in the kingdom commanded Lord Siward. Who was this slip of a girl who thought she could?

"Who are you?" Siward said.

The girl tossed her hair. "As if you do not know. I am Rosamond."

Named for the lost princess, like so many other girls in the kingdom, Siward thought. Every third woman under the age of fifty answered to the name Rose, for the princess had become legend.

He gave a wry smile. "Lying there like that, you look more like a goddess of love than a princess. You should be Freyja or Venus, not a mere princess."

Rosamond blushed redder than the roses around her. "You give pretty compliments. It is one of the many things I like about you. Of course, there is also your strength, your sense of honour and duty, your prowess in battle, and now your prowess in bed. I shall list your virtues when we see my mother and father, so that they will consent to our marriage."

Siward almost smiled at her naiveté. No parent in the kingdom would refuse his offer of marriage for their daughter, especially once he claimed the throne for his own. Even if he hadn't deflowered their virgin daughter. He sighed. When he'd thought of taking a queen yesterday, he had not thought to make a decision already.

"Where are your clothes?" he asked.

She laughed softly. "You can probably answer that better than I can. I never took care of the horses."

Puzzled, he opened his mouth to ask for an explanation, but he closed it again when he realised his spare clothes were with his horse, too. Climbing out of here naked, with the walls full of briars, would not be without pain. He could save her a little of that, though, if he lifted her to the top of the wall. "Come here," he said. "I will help you get out of here, and then we can find you some clothes to wear."

Reluctantly, she sat up, wincing a little as though not accustomed to being upright. She shook her head slightly and slid her legs over the side of the fountain, so they dangled above the mosaic floor. Rosamond took a deep breath before she stood up. She remained on her feet for a moment, before her knees buckled and she would have crashed to the tiles if Siward had not leaped forward to catch her.

"I am sorry," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I must still be weak from lying so long abed. Forgive me."

Realisation dawned on Siward, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Her weakness was his fault, for last night had been her first time and he had not held back. No wonder the girl was weak. He'd been a brute. He lifted her in his arms, like the bride she would soon be, he swore. "If I lift you to the top of the wall, do you think you have the strength to stay there until I climb up to you?" he asked.

Rosamond rested her head against his chest. "Why are we climbing walls? The way out is that way." She pointed at a gap in the briars Siward had not seen before. Not that he'd been looking, he admitted, for his eyes had been too busy feasting on her beauty to notice anything else. She directed him through the ruin, following a path that was miraculously free of the briars that covered everything else. Almost as though someone had cleared it deliberately.

Surely delicate Rosamond had not done it. "Do you come here often?" he asked her.

She stared at him, as if he had made a joke. "No, this was my first visit."

"Do you live nearby?" he persisted. If she did, he could ride by her parents' cottage to ask for her hand today. It would ease his conscience immeasurably.

"Of course not. I lived with my parents in the castle."

In a bigger kingdom, there might be more than one castle, but in a place this small, she could only mean the late king's castle. The one Siward's grandmother insisted should be his.

"Why have I not seen you there?" he asked.

"Perhaps because your duties keep you busy, and I prefer to spend as much time as possible in the gardens."

Siward could not recall ever seeing the castle gardens. She evidently knew him better than he knew her. If he had ever seen her before, he would have been just as transfixed as he'd been yesterday. More, perhaps, for a living woman was infinitely better than a cold stone statue.

"You must be right," he allowed.

Rosamond laughed. "I usually am."

She had the prideful manner of royalty already. Not a bad thing in a future queen. Perhaps destiny had led him to her yesterday, and played a hand in kindling their lust. Nothing else could explain his complete loss of control, Siward was certain of it. The only other explanation was...magic. And how could a girl so young be a witch? Siward wanted to laugh at the thought.

Destiny it must be, then. At least destiny favoured him.

"Where is my horse?" she demanded.

Siward had the distinct feeling that destiny was laughing at him, too.