The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch (42 page)

And this was where it would all end.

One way or another.

“You are making me dizzy, my love,” Royce
said lightly. “Which is not unusual, but this time I am not even
kissing you.” He was perched in the window seat, long legs
stretched out in front of him, boots crossed.

When he patted the empty place beside him,
she shook her head. She could not sit down. With a look of
understanding, he returned his attention to the window, gazing down
at the bailey below.

Earlier, he had gone out to spend some time
alone at the small brass cross that marked the place where his best
friend had fallen in defense of his realm, and his home … and
her.

Ciara wondered whether her father had yet
found it in his heart to forgive her for her part in Christophe’s
death. She remembered all too vividly his angry words to her.

And knew that what Royce had said was true.
Your father is not a man who forgives easily.

She finally stopped pacing and turned to
rest her back against the hearth, wishing she could have remained
with Hera, happily ensconced on the bed in her room. “He has been
out there a very long time,” she said uneasily, her gaze on the
door. “What if—”

“The emissaries have a great deal to
explain.” Royce’s tone was calm, reassuring. He tallied the
subjects on his fingers. “Prince Daemon’s deceit. The fact that the
rebels were never trying to kill you at all. How Mathias was
rescued from his prison. The fact that he has reclaimed his proper
place on the throne—”

“I know.” She sighed. “But I am beginning to
think that the rebels had the right idea in staying a safe distance
from the palace until their fate was decided.”

Royce chuckled. “This is the way we wanted
it, Ciara—you and I and Mathias. We all agreed that the royal
ministers would discuss the past … while you and I would be the
ones to present the decisions that need to be made concerning the
future.”

“But what if—”

The door opened. Ciara turned, tensed.
“Father.”

The king’s velvet robes swirled around him
as he closed the door, his eyes on her, his expression …

As always, it was impossible to discern from
his somber face what he felt or thought. She almost took a step
toward him, then fiercely reminded herself how much he hated
emotional displays.

Silent, he stared at her for a long moment,
his gaze tracing over her face before he turned his attention to
Royce …

Who slowly got to his feet, then dropped to
one knee and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

For the first time since coming into the
solar, her father showed a hint of emotion, one silvered brow
lifting in surprise. “Rise, Sir Royce.” He turned toward Ciara.
“And come here, Daughter.”

She crossed the distance between them, so
nervous and uncertain she held her breath.

But when she drew near, he opened his arms
and reached out to her.

And enfolded her in a strong, silent
embrace.

All the air left her lungs as she relaxed
against him, closing her eyes, too overcome by emotion even to
speak. Her arms went around him and she hugged him hard,
shamelessly letting her tears fall against his velvet tunic, as she
had not done since she was a little girl.

His usually cool, regal voice wavered when
he finally spoke. “I am so grateful that you are safe and well, my
Ciara. If aught had befallen you, it would have been the death of
me.”

Her only reply was a tearful sniff as she
tried to blink away the moisture in her eyes. But he did not seem
to mind.

After holding her a long while, he set her
away from him, his hands gentle on her shoulders, and she saw the
unmistakable love in his eyes before his attention shifted to
Royce.

“I understand that I have you to thank for
my daughter’s life, Baron Ferrano. And for my kingdom’s return to
both peace and freedom.”

“It is no more than any loyal subject would
do,” Royce said quietly, “in service to a worthy king.”

The two men’s gazes held for a long
moment.

Ciara felt new hope bubbling up inside her.
“Father, did the Thuringian emissaries explain all that has
happened?”

“Aye, including the fact that there is a
huntsman by the name of Thayne and a few of his friends who are in
need of a royal pardon.” He let go of her shoulders, glancing from
her to Royce. “And they said you and your guardian would explain
the rest. I understand that Prince Mathias has demands to
make?”

“Requests, Father. He has asked us to
present four requests.”

Her father sighed heavily. “And what are
they? What could I possibly give him that his brother did not
already take?”

Ciara hesitated, glancing over at Royce, who
nodded for her to go ahead.

“First,” she began slowly, “Prince Mathias
asks Your Majesty and the people of Châlons for forgiveness. For
himself, and for his subjects. Seven years of war have cut deep
wounds between our people and his, and he wishes to begin healing
those wounds.”

Her father made a grudging nod, still
looking wary. “Since that is my wish as well, his first request is
easy enough to grant.”

Ciara did not allow herself to feel
confident just yet. The other requests would be more difficult for
him to accept. “Second, he wishes to restore to us the lands that
Daemon took by force, and return our borders to the way they were
seven years ago, before the war began. Mathias is willing to
relinquish Thuringia’s claim to all the conquered holdings”—she
paused—“except for a band of neutral territory in the mountains
between our two kingdoms. He wishes to set that aside for the
present, for he has need of those lands.”

Her father contemplated that for a moment
but said neither aye nor nay. “And what else?”

She took a deep breath. “Third, he asks that
we move our capital to the keep at Ferrano. The castle that is in
ruins there can be rebuilt and expanded—”

“Move our capital?” her father demanded, his
brow furrowing until his silver hair almost touched his eyebrows.
“Our palace has been here for more than two hundred years. It is
the safest location in Châlons.”

“But as Daemon’s mercenaries and their new
siege weapons proved, Father, it is not so safe as it once was. And
it is isolated. Prince Mathias wishes for the royal family of
Châlons and the royal family of Thuringia to become closer, in
every way. The keep at Ferrano is only three days’ ride from the
Thuringian palace on Mount Ravensbruk. And as Prince Mathias says,
it is much harder to make war on a beloved friend than on a
stranger.”

Her father seemed to understand, but still
did not look pleased. “And what is his final request?”

Ciara took another deep breath. “He was
quite adamant about the last one.” Clasping her hands in front of
her to keep them from shaking, she glanced down at her intertwined
fingers. “Prince Mathias wishes to marry soon because he realizes
that a king needs heirs. So the matter of the betrothal agreement
that was made between Châlons and Thuringia must be resolved. He
wishes to make a specific appeal that you grant my hand in
marriage”—she lifted her gaze, not sure what her father’s reaction
would be—”to his friend Sir Royce.”

Her father had no reaction at all for a
second. He blinked down at her as if she had just declared she
planned to marry Anteros.

And then he turned the same stunned look on
Royce. “Prince Mathias wishes you to marry … Sir Royce?”

“Aye.” She hastened to mention all the
reasons Mathias had spelled out for her. “The prince realizes that
I am the sole heir to Châlons’s throne, that one day I will be
queen of this realm. There are many unscrupulous princes and kings
in Europe who might seek my hand for less than noble reasons. He
wishes to see me wed to a man he can trust. A man strong enough to
rebuild and to rule, brave enough to fight if he must”—she snuck a
secret smile at Royce, who had not been present when she and
Mathias made up their list of his good qualities—“and gentle and
honorable enough to care for his people. And to keep the
peace.”

Her father said naught, still regarding
Royce with an assessing gaze. The two men faced each other for a
long, tense moment.

Ciara tried to think of something more to
say. Some way to nudge them both past the stubbornness and hurt of
the past, to persuade them to reconcile. “Father, if you can
forgive the Thuringians for the war, if you can forgive me for what
happened to Christophe—”

That brought the king’s attention swiftly
back to her. “Forgive you for what happened to Christophe?” he
asked in confusion.

“I … I know you blamed me for his death.
When you and I were hostages after the palace was taken, when you
said—”

“Nay, Daughter. Saints above, nay.” He shook
his head. “Can it be that you have believed all this time that I
…” A look of pain crossed his features. “I spoke to you in anger,
Ciara. God in Heaven, I am sorry. The fault was Daemon’s,
not
yours. You were innocent.” He reached out to brush a
tear from her cheek. “Can you forgive me for my harsh words?”

“Aye, Father.” She looked up at him with a
tremulous smile, her heart lightened. “I forgive you, gladly.”

“This is, I think, a day for forgiveness,”
Royce said quietly. “Your Majesty, I spent four years in exile
being angry at you. Hating you because I thought you had purposely
disgraced me and my family name in order to make an example of
me—”

“Nay, Ferrano, my intent was never to shame
you, only to make you understand the seriousness of what you had
done. I told no one that you had been banished.” He paused, his
voice becoming heavy. “Only Christophe knew. After you disappeared
so suddenly, he pestered me for the truth about what had become of
you until I told him. He always insisted I was wrong for punishing
you so harshly … and mayhap he was right.”

“Mayhap, Your Majesty.” Royce shrugged one
shoulder, as if it no longer mattered to him. “But I have come to
understand that sometimes a king must do a thing he finds
distasteful, for the greater good of his people.”

“True.” Her father shook his head with a
rueful expression. “But I was trying to punish you for losing
control of your anger—and yet I acted purely out of anger when I
banished you.”

“We were both angry that day.”

“Aye.” Her father glanced toward the window
behind Royce, where the sun was setting. “But Christophe always
knew it would not last. He intended to bring you home after the
war.”

“And you knew that?” Ciara asked.

“Your brother was as stubborn as his sire.”
Her father glanced at her before returning his attention to Royce.
“And I never meant for the exile to last forever. That is one
reason I never wished to shame you publicly, that and …” He
stopped himself.

Royce regarded him with a puzzled
expression.

Finally her father continued. “You said it
yourself, when we met at the abbey.” His majestic voice wavered
with emotion as it had when he embraced her. “You have been like a
son to me, Royce.”

Royce swallowed hard, his look of confusion
dissolving into one of gratitude and pride. He bowed his head. “I
am honored, sire.”

“The honor is mine.” Her father reached out
to clasp his shoulder with one hand. “Sometimes it is possible for
even a king to forgive.”

Ciara felt tears gather on her lashes
again—of joy and hope. “Then will you give us your blessing to
marry, Father?”

Her father turned to her, his gaze
searching. “I once promised you in marriage to a man you did not
want. I will not do so again, regardless of Prince Mathias’s
request. Do you wish to have Royce for your husband?”

Did she wish to have him?
Ciara
dropped her gaze to the toes of her boots, furiously fighting a
blush, realizing there was a great deal that was better left unsaid
in front of her father. “I came to know him well during our
travels, Father. I believe I could make the best of it.” Lifting
her head, she could not hold back a broad smile. “Aye, I wish to
have him for my husband.”

Her father nodded his acceptance of her
answer, turned to Royce. “And you?”

“Your Majesty, earlier today, outside in the
bailey, I made a vow to Christophe, and I give you the same
promise.” He looked at Ciara, his brown eyes darkening. “I vowed
that I would protect her and care for her and love her all the rest
of my life.”

Ciara felt her heart soar, let her love for
him shine through in her eyes.

“There is yet a problem,” her father pointed
out slowly, reluctantly. “In that Sir Royce is not of royal blood
…”

“Nay, Prince Mathias has remedied that
problem for us.” She turned a beaming smile toward her father. “You
recall that I mentioned the band of neutral territory he wishes to
create between our countries? With your permission, he intends to
make those border lands a separate state and give them a name: the
Principality of Ferrano.”

She looked at Royce again. “And in honor of
Royce’s service to both the crown of Thuringia and the crown of
Châlons, Mathias wishes to bestow those lands on him. Along with a
new title—prince of Ferrano.” Turning back to her father, she
shrugged. “I had already made him a baron, you see, and Mathias
could think of no other honor suitable enough to reward him for all
his help.”

“If you approve, Your Majesty,” Royce
emphasized. “The decision is yours.”

“And of course, were Royce and I to marry,”
Ciara added, “our holdings would be joined, and our heirs would
rule over both as one.”

The king looked from her to Royce and back
again.

And then he smiled.

And then he began to chuckle. “A wise man,
this Prince Mathias. I think I will like him.”

“I am certain you will.” Ciara’s heart was
thrumming. “So … will you give us your blessing, Father?”