The Concubine (Unexpected Circumstances #5) Page 8

  I reached up to my head and felt the cool metal that circled it. Though it was not a large crown, it felt heavy on my head. I leaned against the stone wall that overlooked the gardens and breathed in the fresh air for a moment. It always helped to clear my head. Just as I was about to turn back, I saw movement near the entrance and watched Branford walk quickly into the gardens with Princess Whitney at his heels. As Branford tried to escape from her, Whitney berated him from behind.

  “You know it will happen, Branford,” Whitney said. “You are not prepared for war, so why do you hold out when the outcome is inevitable? You know I will be your queen.”

  “You and your father underestimate me,” Branford replied curtly.

  “Well, you are very well versed in the art of underestimating your opponents!” she said with a laugh. “That is why your kingdom is in shambles and at our mercy.”

  “You should, perhaps, remember your place,” Branford said to her. “If you are here to convince me to marry you, another approach might be more successful.” He laughed, and the sound was cruel. I had never heard such a noise from him before. “As if I would ever consider it!”

  “You need an heir,” she said, and her hand grasped that of my husband. She pulled him to her, and though I could see the resistance in his shoulders, he still allowed her to place his hand upon her belly. “I can give you one. I do not even care if you keep her in a room close to us as long as I am queen, and she is a servant, as she should be.”

  “I will not do that!” Branford snapped at her as he pulled away and turned his back on her. He began to walk out of the garden.

  “It will happen, Branford!” she called after him. “Either you do it now without bloodshed, or you are forced to do it later with a sword at your back!”

  I heard her laughter flow up from the gardens below as she slowly followed my husband out of my view. At that moment, I wished I had been taught the skills of an archer so I could pierce her heart where she stood.

  Branford did not return to our rooms for some time. When he did, his mood was foul. I knew it was her doing and tried to get him to speak of it with me. He all but refused, stating there was nothing new to discuss.

  “I only wish to know what you are thinking,” I told him, “and feeling.”

  “Nothing has changed,” he replied. “Edgar threatens me, Whitney annoys me, and the court waivers on what action they wish me to take. With Lord William here supporting me, it is easier, but I wish Parnell would return from Seacrest. He has been there a week now, and I hoped he would be back with…news.”

  “Which news is this?”

  Branford shook his head, his lips clamped tight together. He looked around us and raised his hands to the air and his eyes to the ceiling in frustration.

  “You will not tell me,” I said softly.

  “I cannot tell you,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not here. Not now.”

  “You said you would. You said you would not shut me out.”

  “I will not,” he replied. “When the time is right, I will tell you. When I know there is no one else listening, I will tell you everything.”

  His gaze danced to the door and back to me again. It had become an almost automatic response whenever we spoke. Too many spies had been discovered within the castle walls though none close to the royal chambers. I had to wonder if he did not use his own paranoia as an excuse to keep me from worrying.

  “You keep saying that,” I said, “but it has yet to come to pass. You are still keeping me at a distance. You do not tell me your thoughts.”

  I tried to keep the emotion from my voice, but I was not completely successful. He reached up to cup my face as he looked down at me. His mouth covered mine, and the warmth of his lips made me feel safe again as it always did. I knew he did it to distract me though that did not hinder its effectiveness.

  “What must I do to prove it to you?” he asked after a few minutes. “There are some things I cannot speak of if I am not sure we cannot be heard.”

  “Tell me how often you think of me.” I made my request through persistent kisses.

  “Always,” he replied.

  “When?”

  “Yesterday, when I was teaching young Stephens to use his shield as a weapon. I was distracted because I was thinking of the first time I took you to the meadow and the sounds you made when I touched you. And that led me to think of the last time we were there, when you cried out so loudly all the pheasants took flight.”

  I looked up into his eyes and there was no doubt in my mind he spoke the truth.

  “Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

  “Is that what you need? To hear these words from me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are everything…in my every thought…”

  “Could we go there again?” I asked.

  “To the meadow?” Branford frowned. “I do not know if that is wise…”

  “Why would it not be?” I asked.

  “I do not wish for you to worry,” he replied.

  “Branford”—I sighed and tilted my head as I looked up into his face, but he refused to meet me with his eyes—“you promised me. Do not hide things from me any longer.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them to find mine. His mouth turned up slightly and his hand came up to brush across my lips.

  “As you wish, my queen,” he said quietly. “Shall we go in the afternoon?”

  *****

  Branford dismounted, reached up, and lifted me from Romero. He pulled the basket containing our lunch from the back of the horse’s saddle as I spread the bright green blanket on the ground. Branford dropped the food on the edge of the cloth and looked over into the woods.

  “Come sit with me?” he asked, and he reached for my hand.

  “Of course,” I replied. His fingers covered mine, and he pulled them to his lips before settling us both on the blanket.

  “You recall last month when I attended court in Hadebrand without you?”

  “Yes, of course,” I replied.

  “I rode past Sterling Castle,” Branford said. “I took another route, which was not the straight path, just so I could get a better look at it. It had been so long since I had seen it, but I do not know what to think of what I saw there.”

  “What did you see?” I asked.

  “Many men—workers, mostly. They could have been carpenters, masons, or both. They were bringing building materials from the field outside the castle walls into the gate. I could not determine exactly what they were doing, only that they have completely torn apart the east tower.”

  “Why would they do such a thing?” I asked. “I thought Edgar wanted Sterling Castle?”

  “As did I,” Branford said. “His actions make no sense to me.”

  The sun warmed us as we ate and spoke softly to each other. Though Branford attempted to keep the conversation light, I was hoping out here—where there were no ears—he would speak more freely.

  I was mistaken.

  “I heard Whitney harassing you in the gardens,” I finally admitted.

  Branford looked at me sideways.

  “Eavesdropping again?”

  “You still do not tell me everything.”

  “I knew you were listening,” he said with a shrug. “You always look over that spot when you are thoughtful.”

  I didn’t realize he had noticed.

  “She wants to claim you,” I said.

  “And her argument is always the same,” he said with a nod. “At some point…”

  “At some point, what?” I asked.

  “We still have no child on the way,” he finally said, “and the summer is getting late.”

  “There is still some time,” I said.

  “Not according to the court,” Branford replied. There was something in his tone I disliked immensely.

  “Will they side with him?” I asked quietly. Though Branford’s word would still be taken as law, not to have the support of the cou
rt in his decisions could lead to distrust and eventually upheaval or even worse—revolt.

  “Edgar has officially made the declaration I have known he would,” Branford said. “He has decreed you unfit as the wife of a noble and a queen. He has demanded that I denounce you and take Whitney as my wife. If I do not, he will take Silverhelm by force and place Sir Remy on the throne here.”

  Branford turned and placed his hand on my cheek.

  “I refused,” he replied softly.

  “He has declared war? Openly?”

  “He has given me no other options, Alexandra.” Branford released my cheek and sat back, pulling his knees up in front of him. “The court will side with him if I do not have an heir on the way.”

  “Hadley said…she said you stopped coming to her.”

  Branford glanced at me sideways.

  “She was not supposed to speak of it,” he mumbled. “Obviously she is unable to bear children, or she…”

  He stopped speaking and rubbed his fingers into his eyes.

  “I do not wish to speak of this,” he said. “I will not go back to her.”

  I bit my lower lip as I looked away from him. The conversation I had with Hadley in the Women’s Room filled my head. I swallowed hard and then turned to him—steeling myself to speak words that would likely mean death if they were to come from someone else’s mouth.

  “What if it is not Hadley who cannot bear a child?” I asked quietly. My shoulders curled inward with the tension held in them.

  “Obviously she cannot bear a child,” Branford said with a growl. “If she could, she would have by now!”

  “But what if it is not her?” I repeated as I closed my eyes.

  “What else could it be, Alexandra?”

  “Branford…” I paused and took a deep breath. “It could be you.”

  “Do not be ridiculous.”

  “But what if it is?” I asked. “What if it is you who cannot father a child, and it has nothing to do with either me or Hadley?”

  He shook his head.

  “Branford, if it is you, it would not matter how many concubines you took. It wouldn’t matter if you married Whitney!”

  “It is not me, Alexandra.”

  “It could be.”

  “No, it could not,” Branford insisted as he glared at me. “Even making such a suggestion…”

  “How do you know it could not be you?” I finally said back to him. When he did not respond, I pressed again and again until he gave me an answer that had never taken form in my mind.

  “Because I have already fathered a child!” Branford screamed as his fists pounded against the ground. He stood and walked several feet away from me.

  My head dropped forward as I stared at a spot on the blanket in front of where I sat. I felt chilled though the breeze through the meadow was warm.

  “Branford?” I whispered. Though my voice was low, he turned toward me, his eyes downcast.

  “I was young,” he said quietly. “I did not think of the consequences of…of spilling my seed inside of her.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Bridgett, the daughter of the Duke of Seacrest.”

  I looked up then and stared into his face.

  “Why did you not say this before?” I asked, my voice filled with uncustomary censure. “Could not this child be your heir?”

  When he did not respond, I reconsidered and then questioned him again.

  “Is it a girl child?”

  “She…was.” Branford took a long breath and tugged at his hair with his fingers. “She lived but a few weeks before an illness took her.”

  So this was not going to help us at all, but just another piece of information Branford had never thought to bestow upon me.

  “Did you not think it was important to tell me you had a child before?”

  “She did not live,” Branford said with a shake of his head. “I do not wish to—”

  “To burden me!” I cried out and saw him startle. “I know you do not! And yet you do all the time by not giving me the information I need to know!”

  “I am surprised Sunniva never told you.”

  “She should not have to tell me!” I said. I also stood and took several steps toward him as he backed away. “What else should I know?”

  “Nothing, Alexandra, I swear,” he said as he continued to tug at his hair.

  Without warning, Branford’s eyes widened, and his head tilted a little to one side. He rushed toward me and grabbed me by my arms. For the briefest moment, I was frightened. I had raised my voice and insulted not only my husband but my king.

  His reaction surprised me.

  His lips crashed against mine, and his mouth stole my breath. He was not gentle but kissed me as his hands groped my body, and his tongue eagerly sought my mouth. He pulled my body close to his, turning me to the side and away from the path where we had entered the meadow. His mouth left mine as he kissed up the side of my jaw.

  His lips touched my ear.

  “Do not stop,” he whispered softly. “We have been followed, and they are close, but do not stop.”

  “Branford…” I tried to catch my breath, my eyes wide.

  “Close your eyes!” he said, and I quickly complied. His grip on me tightened.

  “Who?”

  “I do not know,” he replied. “But I have no doubt—”

  Branford was interrupted by a short scream from the woods. There were the sounds of a scuffle and the breaking of branches, followed by another muffled groan and a thump.

  “Sire!” I heard Sir Brigham’s voice coming from the woods near the path.

  Branford pulled me behind him as he took a step forward.

  “Brigham!” he called out. “Where is Dunstan?”

  “I’m here, sire!” Dunstan called out. I saw movement in the trees and recognized his shuffling walk. “It is safe.”

  Branford trailed his hand down my arm and grasped my fingers. He pulled me behind him as he approached the group. Dunstan had his crossbow drawn, and Sir Brigham’s sword was in his hand as well, the metal shining with dark blood. There were two men on the ground, one with an arrow through his throat and the other with a sword wound through his back.

  I gasped, and Branford turned to pull my head to his chest.

  “Close your eyes, Alexandra,” he whispered into my hair and then addressed the two men. “I told you not to attack.”

  “He was taking aim, sire,” Dunstan said. “I know this one. I remember him from the war.”

  “Randall,” Sir Brigham replied. “He led one of the groups against us. This other one, though—I have never seen him before.”

  “I know who he is,” Branford said. I looked up from his chest and saw him scowling at the ground. I could feel his heart hammering underneath my cheek.

  “Sire?” Sir Brigham inquired.

  “His name,” Branford said after he took a long breath, “was Dalton. He helped murder my father and mother.”

  I moved my hand to his shoulder, and he looked down at me, his eyes empty.

  “They came to kill us?”

  Branford nodded.

  “Do you think they would have targeted both of you?” Dunstan asked.

  Branford turned back to his men.

  “This just proves everything I have feared,” Branford said quietly. “He will stop at nothing unless I…”

  He turned to me, and the pain in his eyes hit me through the heart. I knew what he was saying.

  “You would allow this?” I finally whispered. “You would allow Edgar to push me from you?”

  “You would still be with me,” he said quietly, looking away. I reached up to touch the side of his face, but his eyes did not meet mine as he spoke. “You would still have my heart—you would still be my only love. You would take Hadley’s place as my concubine.”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “It would be much more commonplace in my position,” Branford said through clenched jaws, “to have you as my concubine. W
ives are for the politics of the show, and concubines are for love. It will always be you I love, Alexandra. You are the only one in my heart.”

  “How can you say that when you would deny my place at your side? The very first day you brought me here, you said you would defend my position.”

  Branford covered his face with his hands. He took several slow breaths and then turned to Sir Brigham.

  “Go,” he said. “We will return shortly.”

  “Sire, I would not want to leave you unprotected…”

  “Go!” Branford shouted. “Leave now! Send someone to deal with this…this mess.”

  With only murmured protests, Sir Brigham and Dunstan returned to their horses and rode slowly away from us.

  “Pack up our things,” Branford said to me.

  “Get them yourself!” I spat back. “Or perhaps your new wife will come get them!”

  I stomped away, infuriated with Branford, with the dead men on the ground near his feet, with Edgar, with Whitney, and with myself. I went to where Romero grazed on the other side of the meadow with Branford’s footsteps close behind me.

  “You will not speak to me in such a way!” he yelled as he grabbed my arm and turned me around. “I am your king whether you are my queen or my slave!”

  He gripped my shoulders, and he pulled me close to him, his eyes blazing.

  “Whether it is in the morning, midday, or night, you will speak to me with respect! Even in twilight, you will know your place!”

  The word he emphasized hit me as hard as if he had slapped me in the face, and I immediately understood. We were not alone. There were others still nearby, listening to us. Whether they were also there to kill us or only to report back on what they had seen and heard, I did not know, but I knew we were most certainly not alone.

  I swallowed hard and nodded my head once in understanding.

  “Yes…yes, sire,” I responded as I stared into his deep, green eyes.

  We rode quickly and quietly back to Castle Silverhelm, and though Branford never turned around to look behind us, I could feel the tension in his grip on me as we rode through the forest. His head was tilted slightly, angling his ear toward our backs. Once we returned, he leaned close to my ear and told me to make sure I did not go anywhere without my guard.