After we’d parted I did indeed retire to my room. For now, I was a lady in waiting to my cousin, Susanna, but soon, after I was wed, I would have chambers and ladies of my own. It was a small solace, marrying someone I only knew through others’ stories so that I would inherit a small part of his influence and power. Yet, it was what my parents had always planned for me. I’d known all my life that I would marry—indeed, each dance lesson, my tutelage in the fine arts, was to prepare me for it. There had never been a question of choosing another path. As the only daughter to the Lord and Lady of Sheridan and cousin to the Princess of Hohenzollern, there could be no doubt that I would marry to strengthen the family and secure loyalties for the princess. I was no more than a chess piece in this game—that I’d known from the start—but even so, I had hoped that I might make a suitable match.
I hoped and prayed nearly each waking hour that the duke might be such a match for me. There was no doubt that my mother thought him so—for although it was my duty to marry well, I could not believe she would place me with a man who would do me harm—but I would not be able to get a good night’s rest until I laid eyes on the man in question and saw for myself what type of man he was. Would he be loving and kind, as I so hoped? Would he find me beautiful, as the Lord of Archester had suggested? Or would he think me plain and set his eyes on a more desirable lady? The thought made my stomach turn. I shut my eyes against the pain and wished that Susanna were back from the evening meal so that we might play a game of cards to take my mind off things. Unfortunately, she and the rest of her ladies were out, leaving me to the lonely chambers and my anxious heart.
There’s nothing to be done for it, I told myself as I sat up in the bed, determined to put my fear aside. No good would come from dwelling on something I could not change.
At that moment, the door opened and a pair of the princess’s ladies poured in, all whispers and giggles. They halted when they saw me, but couldn’t quite hide their smirks behind their hands.
“Jane, Mary,” I greeted each of them in turn with as much warmth as I could manage. I had nothing against the girls, aside from the fact that they were vain and silly.
“Your Grace,” the one called Jane giggled, giving an exaggerated curtsey.
“Not quite yet, I’m afraid,” I remarked with a tight smile.
“What are you doing up here all alone?” Mary asked. “Thinking of the Duke of Württemberg?”
I knew she was teasing. I knew that neither of them meant any harm, and yet, even though I smiled, I felt that I would be sick any moment with the looming uncertainty.
A sudden lurching in my stomach brought me out of my thoughts. Doubled-over at the waist, I retched for what had to have been the fourth time in the last hour. Not that I could keep track of time—who could in this mess of swirling snow that blinded one past the point of seeing? I was cold, weak, and miserable, though I refused to say so.
“Are you unwell?”
The gruff voice startled me, though I carefully kept my expression blank. Nor did I give him the scathing reply that readily supplied itself—surely he could hear for himself that I was anything but well.
“You did not eat much,” he commented when I did not reply. “Perhaps you have an empty stomach.”
“It was probably the damned bird you fed me,” I snapped.
He arched his dark brows, clearly unimpressed with my slip in decorum. With the acrid taste in my mouth, I couldn’t trouble myself to care about his opinion.
“As soon as we are able, we will stop and you can rest.”
I wiped my mouth and regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, please, you needn’t trouble yourself on my account.”
He made no reply, only yanked the reins to keep the horse moving. My stomach settled long enough for me to doze in the saddle, rocked to sleep by the steady motion combined with my bone-weariness. When we halted suddenly, my eyes snapped open and my body tensed, preparing to face danger. Much to my surprise, I saw that we were in front of a small tavern. True to his word, the man who’d made me his prisoner had stopped, seemingly at the first opportunity.
“I cannot sleep here,” I announced, since I could not bring myself to thank him.
“Then do not sleep,” he said, as if it mattered to him not at all. “But you need to rest, as do I. We shall take shelter for the night. A hot meal will do you good, I think.”
“I will not share a room with you, and certainly not your bed,” I continued peevishly. I was not a bit happy about the situation and I was determined that he should never forget it, not even for a moment.
“As you wish, princess.”
I rankled at his words. “I amnotthe princess.”
“I see. Then what right do you have to think so highly of yourself?”
My lips parted to make a reply, but I found that I could not speak. Noone hadeverdared speak to me so openly before! Why, who did he thinkhewas? The one in control, of course, which meant that no matter how gently he spoke, nor what considerations he offered, I would never be able to do more than loath the very sight of him.
“Come,” he said before swinging me from the saddle as though I were no more than a common servant. “Let’s get inside before you worsen.”
As though he had a care for my health! If he had, he wouldn’t have secreted me away from the castle, stolen right out from under my family’s noses! They would be in such a dither when they discovered me missing!
I walked reluctantly beside him until we’d reached the inn. The woman at the front looked at us without interest when my jailer asked for a room.
“Two, please,” I interrupted, my voice sweet as morning wine. “It would be improper otherwise, you see. He is not my husband.”
Suddenly, the woman’s interest was piqued and she gave my captor a suspicious, eagle-eyed look that would have made a number of men squirm. Anyone, save the one that had abducted me. He only stared back at me with his infuriating calm.
