Chapter 1
A Coveted Hand in Marriage
White-capped waves crashed upon the craggy cliff, sending a frothy spray high into the salty air as Gabrielle stood on the ramparts ofle Château de Beaufort, gazing pensively at the turbulent surf. Sea gulls squawked, and white gannets soared in the gray, cloudy sky, the crisp saline scent of the sea calming her ragged nerves as the autumnal wind whipped her long red tresses and nipped at her stinging cheeks.
Her father, King Guillemin of Finistère, had sent for her to return home from Paris, for his poor health was rapidly declining. Enormous blisters now riddled his swollen feet, the incapacitating pain of gout making it nearly impossible for him to stand or walk. An unhealthy yellow pallor tinged his ruddy complexion and the whites of his eyes, and Gabrielle often heard him moaning in agony from inside the garderobe.
She swallowed an enormous lump of sadness as her throat constricted in sorrow.
Gabrielle knew that her father wished to see her wed before succumbing to his debilitating, inexorable illness. With the ridiculous, archaic French law—la loi salique—proclaiming that a woman could neither inherit a throne nor rule as queen in her own right, her father needed to arrange her royal marriage quickly. For if he died before her wedding, then King Philippe of France could order Gabrielle to marry a noble of his own choosing. Or confiscate her father’s kingdom outright to aggrandize his own.
Sir Alphonse de Pontivy, the First Knight ofle Château de Beaufortand her father’s champion, interrupted her disquieting reverie. “Your father has requested your presence, Princess Gabrielle. I am here to escort you to his royal solar.” The chivalrous knight removed his armored helmet and gallantly bowed his noble head, dark locks rippling in the salty spray. Sir Alphonse rose to his full regal height, secured his helmet back into place, and led Gabrielle inside the castle, down the long corridor, into the elegant antechamber where her royal father awaited, seated at a rectangular table with several nobles, all of whom stood and bowed reverently as she entered the room.
Straightening her windblown hair and smoothing her dark green velvet gown, Gabrielle inhaled deeply to compose herself. As she raised her royal regard to majestically greet her father’s esteemed guests, her heart dropped at the sight of Sir Bastien de Landuc.
The exceptionally skilled horseman whom she’d watched every day during her equestrian lessons as a young princess. The magnificent Master of Horse for her father’s royal stables. The most handsome man Gabrielle had ever seen.
Her legs weakened, and her mouth went dry.
Glossy brown waves tumbled to his expansive shoulders, the square jawline of his rugged face covered in dark stubble, a fine, jagged scar along one cheek enhancing his simmering brute strength. Smoldering eyes of deepest green blazed into hers like fiery emeralds, the intensity of his gaze robbing her of breath and coherent thought.
Her heart pounding, her legs trembling under her velvet robe, Gabrielle realized she was staring and forced her attention back to her father, who was making formal introductions.
“Gentlemen, may I present my daughter, the Princess Gabrielle of Finistère.”
Four heads bowed humbly as her father, tightly gripping the arms of his informal throne, his face a grimace of excruciating pain, attempted a proud paternal smile as his suffering eyes stoically held hers. “Gabrielle, this is Prince Kaherdin, son of my loyal ally King Hoël of Armorique. You remember meeting him when we visited his oceanfront castle,le Château Rose.”
Gabrielle lowered her head politely as the dark-haired prince gallantly approached to bestow a royal kiss upon her slender hand.
“Greetings, Princess Gabrielle. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Enchantée,Prince Kaherdin. Welcome tole Château de Beaufort.” Gabrielle smiled politely as the courteous prince returned to stand behind his chair at the royal table.
“And this is Sir Esclados le Ros, Lord of theChâteau de Landucand father of our Master of Horse, Sir Bastien.” King Guillemin gestured to a tall knight with bronze skin and jet-black hair streaked with silver, his chivalrous smile quite dashing as he bowed to greet her.
Sir Bastien inherited his father’s striking looks, Gabrielle mused, as she nodded her head respectfully.
“Daughter, you have certainly heard tales of the legendary First Knight of Camelot, Champion of King Arthur Pendragon, the High King of Britain. May I present the White Knight himself, SirLancelot du Lac.”
Upon her father’s introduction, a handsome knight clad in exquisite armor that gleamed like finely polished silver strode up to her, bowed gallantly, and kissed her hand with chivalrouspanache. “Enchanté, Votre Majesté.”Flashing her a disarmingly charming boyish grin, the affable Sir Lancelot of the Lake returned to his position at her father’s side.
“And you remember well Sir Bastien de Landuc, the Master of Horse. Not only does he possess unsurpassed equestrian skills, but he is an exceptional swordsman—second only to Sir Pontivy, my champion—as well as an unparalleled archer. Which is why I am appointing him to the prestigious position of your personal royal guard, charged with defending your life first and foremost. An unprecedented honor for a most worthy, valiant knight.”
At this, Sir Bastien strode across the room and knelt at her feet, his handsome head bowed in homage. An intoxicatingly male scent of leather, pine, horses, and musk assailed Gabrielle’s senses. Her stomach quivered as his deep, resonant voice strummed her like a harp. “My princess, I pledge to you my sword. My loyalty.My life.” He took her hand and pressed warm, full lips upon it, a shiver rippling up her spine at his commanding touch. Intense, impassioned eyes held hers, and Gabrielle lost herself in the dark green depths, as verdant and mystical as a forbidden forest.
Her father’s strained voice wafted across the room. “Now that introductions have been made…please, everyone, be seated.” King Guillemin called to the servants waiting patiently near a side table where silver decanters glistened in the dim afternoon light. “Wine for my distinguished guests!”
As valets filled the gleaming goblets and placed them upon the carved golden oak table, Sir Bastien seated Gabrielle next to her father and took his own place at her right. Her heart pounding wildly in his magnetic presence, her palms went damp as she realized the reason for this meeting.
Her father had chosen her husband.
A crisp saline breeze floated through the enormous open windows, and the thunderous surf crashed upon the cliff far below the oceanfront castle. Gabrielle inhaled deeply, the smell of the sea and the rhythm of the pounding waves a soothing comfort as she prepared for the profound impact of his solemn announcement.
“Gabrielle, I have summoned you to join us since this matter concerns your future as my heir.” King Guillemin gulped a large swallow of wine and laboriously shifted his weight to the side of his throne, wincing with the effort. “My health is rapidly declining, despite the best efforts of my gifted healer. I should like to see you married upon the winter solstice.”
His once merry eyes, now dimmed with pain, held hers in a steadfast, resolute gaze. “Indeed, Daughter, it is my Yuletide wish to see you wed to a worthy monarch who will protect and provide for you after my demise. Which is why I have invited these loyal allies. To plan and organize the Yuletide Joust, in which I will award your hand in marriage to the champion.”
Gabrielle stared bleakly into her goblet, her future as dark and obscure as the liquid she beheld.
