Jayden went outside, locked the door, and slipped the key in his pocket, wishing he had his wings. The archangel Michael had said he wouldn’t be able to fly once he touched the ground, but having his feathers would be so much easier.
The roof seemed to be the most pragmatic place to watch over Bella. That way, he’d have a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the surroundings. After taking a walk around the house, he decided his best bet would be to stand on the porch railing and haul himself up onto the shingles.
Once up there, he climbed to the peak and carefully surveyed the area. He didn’t feel Ulric’s presence, but knew it would only be a matter of time before the demon became bored with his current proclivities and came looking for Bella.
Sitting down, he leaned against the chimney. Bella had taken everything much better than he’d expected, but perhaps she was in shock. However, she’d always been mentally strong, and he supposed she’d simply absorbed his words and would let them percolate around in her beautiful head. Then, in the morning, she would have many, many questions.
It seemed so right to be with her now, and he knew a part of her recognized him. He could see it in her gaze. Yes, she was confused and wary, just as she should be. However, somewhere deep inside her, she knew she could trust him, just as she’d figured out all those centuries ago.
He grinned, thinking of the first time they’d been officially introduced.
He’d been summoned to her father’s solar, his palms sweaty as he considered what on Earth the prince would want with him.
He followed a maid down the damp corridor to the private rooms of the royal family, a place he’d never been. A rush muffled the echo of his boots while the many torches provided excellent lighting. As the servant knocked on the door, he studied the painting of Princess Arabella upon the wall.
She stared down at him, her dark gaze full of fire. A small smile played on her lips as if she held one of the world’s best-kept secrets, or knew a joke no one else was privy to. She wore an emerald gown, her décolletage smooth and unmarred.
He marveled at her beauty; however, he also knew it didn’t compare to seeing the Princess in person.
“Enter!” the prince called from inside.
The maid opened the double doors, and the first thing that caught his eye had been Princess Arabella standing by the window, looking forlorn, her arms crossing her chest. She glanced over at him for a moment, and he found it hard to look away. She wore her black hair in loose waves around her shoulders, the light from the window making her skin gleam. For a moment, he thought he’d been taken to the wrong room, but then glancing to his right, he saw her father, Prince Alistair, his face red, his lips pursed as he smoothed out his doublet.
He dropped to his knee and bowed his head. “Your Grace, you have summoned me?”
“Yes, Sir Jayden. May I present my daughter, Princess Arabella.”
He stood as she turned to him. Walking over to her, his breath caught in his throat at her beauty. A small smile played on her lush lips as she extended her hand. He took it and bowed before her, kissing the air just above her second knuckle. “Your Grace, you look quite lovely on this fine day.”
Her voice came out as a demure purr. “Thank you.”
“Sir Jayden, please come sit with me,” the Prince ordered, motioning to two chairs by the window.
He did as he’d been asked, and met the prince’s gaze.
Taking the chair to the prince’s left, he waited to be told why he’d been summoned as he absently wiped his sweaty palms on his breeches.
The prince sighed. “As you may know, my daughter is now of age to marry. However, it would seem she suffers from a bit of an unruly nature. I have asked the Sergeant at Arms who he thought to be the most trustworthy among the knights, and your name fell from his lips.”
Jayden cringed. The Sergeant of Arms seemed as if he walked with a stick up his arse. He avoided drunkenness, didn’t utter profanities, gamble, or take up with any women, claiming the practices to be ungodly. Jayden, on the other hand, enjoyed all those proclivities, and often butted heads with the Sergeant at Arms. He did his best not to attract attention to himself in order to escape the man’s scrutiny.
However, last night, the Sergeant had caught him brawling in town after a few too many ales. He had promised Jayden he would pay for his indiscretions, and apparently, this was to be his punishment.
He couldn’t imagine what Prince Alistair could want with him concerning his daughter. Whatever the prince had in mind, the Sergeant had only chosen him as recompense for his supposed ignoble behavior.
“Despite my best efforts, my daughter has always been a bit willful. At ten years of age, she let the horses out of the stable, proclaiming she wanted them to run free. At ten and six, she dressed as a lad, of all things, and worked as a stable boy for a few days until she was exposed to be a female. These are only two misdeeds in a long line of others. I have been able to keep these things from becoming public knowledge because of her young age, but now that she is of age …”
The prince shook his head, as if his daughter must be the biggest disgrace he’d ever imagined. Jayden glanced over at her, experiencing pity for her as her father spoke of her in such a negative light while she stood within hearing distance.
“I am assigning you as my daughter’s personal guard until such time as a match can be made for her. She is not to get into any trouble. None of the men being considered as suitors will marry her if word of her behavior becomes widespread. She should be learning how to manage her own keep someday, not mucking around in the stalls.”
He nodded, unable to meet the prince’s gaze. If he only knew half the truth! Just last night, while he’d been at the whorehouse drinking ale and deciding what wench would take him to bed, he’d seen the princess peeking through the window in rapt attention. She’d watched the men drinking and singing, the whores joining in as their bosoms spilled from their gowns. She had been wrapped in a black cloak, and he would never have recognized her if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of those dark eyes.
More than once, he’d also noticed her watching the knights practice their jousting in the bailey. She’d stand atop the castle’s inner wall, partially hidden, while holding a book, or whatever bit of sewing she was supposed to be attending to. However, her attention had not been on the pages in front of her or her needle, but on the men practicing their swordsmanship. He wondered if she stared at them and wished to learn to fight, or if there might be one knight who held her interest.
“You are to follow her everywhere and ensure she does nothing to embarrass our family name, or ruin my chances at making a suitable match.”
The prince stared off into the distance for a moment as if he were in deep thought, then he spoke again. “Perhaps I should have wed again after her mother’s death, so she could have grown up as a proper lady. Her lady’s maid, Agnes, has done the best she can with her, attempting to teach her the finer points of royal etiquette, but there is only so much a maid can teach a princess. Now, I must get her married off to a man who is strong enough to tame her.”
Anger railed through him when he turned his gaze back toward the princess. Her head hung from her shoulders in what he assumed to be shame. However, far be it for him to tell the prince he shouldn’t speak of his daughter in such a way.
“I understand this is a peculiar request, Sir Jayden, but I agree with Sergeant. You are an honorable man, one that saved my life during the battle of Woodhaerst. I know I can trust you to keep an eye on my daughter until I can find a suitable match.”
Yes, he had saved the prince’s life during that battle. He’d plunged his sword deep into the heart of a man who had almost done the same to the prince as he lay on the ground.
The prince stood. “Do you understand your assignment?”
He rose to his feet and bowed his head, trying to hide his dismay at the horrid task given to him. “Yes, your Grace.”
“Very well. Arabella, you are dismissed.”
She turned and walked out of the solar without another glance back, her head held high.
He followed.
She continued down the hall and rounded a corner, finally stopping at another door.
Turning to him, she gave him a wicked grin, her dark eyes glimmering with mischief. “Will you be joining me while I bathe, use the privy, and take a rest as well, Sir Jayden?”
Shocked at the personal nature of her question, he took a step back. “Of course not. I shall wait for you right outside this door.”
“Very well. I wish to go into the village later and purchase some cloth, as it seems to be so important that I learn my stitches correctly.”
He noted the venom dripping from her voice and could not fault her for it, all things considered.
He bowed his head. “As you wish, your Grace.”
At that point, Jayden had had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. He glanced around the neighborhood again and sighed. Bella would have to deal the final death blow to Ulric, so she would need to become proficient in the handling of weapons. At one time, she’d wielded a sword and a knife as good as any man, and he hoped that with a little training, the skills she’d had so many centuries ago could be brought to the present day.