His companions had noticed. Patrulha, for one, had been intensely vocal about her displeasure regarding his…preoccupation of late. “You had better focus your mind on what’s needed soon, oh lordly prince, or everyone around here will wind up dead–or worse!”
She only used her favorite reproach, “oh lordly prince” when something deeply upset her. She might have had a point, he conceded. Perhaps Stellan would best serve everyone if he forgot about Clarysa and concentrated on the issue at hand–eliminating Pestilence. He had to be ready for whatever his father planned to throw at him.
But a hunger he struggled to understand propelled him to gain his fill of the youngest Aldebaran princess. What if he never saw her again? Could he continue on as he had been, a bitter hermit with a heart rotting from disuse? When he probed inwardly for an answer to resolve his confusion, none came.
A snapping twig yanked Stellan from his reverie. He turned his head in the direction of the noise. Two riders approached. Lionel was one. The other was some kind of servant, cloaked and hooded.
Stellan revealed himself. They exchanged hushed greetings.
“Wait here,” Lionel instructed. He turned his horse around. “My squire will wait on you until the time of your meeting.”
Stellan grabbed Lionel’s arm and lowered his voice. “Are you sure he can be trusted?”
Lionel glanced over his shoulder, smiling faintly. “Oh, most certainly. Been with me for years.”
They clasped hands. “Thank you,” Stellan said.
He watched Lionel ride off. Turning back around, Stellan found himself in the tight grip of the squire, the servant’s arms locked around his torso. Cold dread invaded his chest. Squire…or soldier? What deceit is this? Stellan broke the hold and pushed against his chest with a powerful thrust of his hand. The squire flew through the air and landed on the ground with a loud cry.
Stellan glanced down at his hand. Something hadn’t felt right. He looked up. Or sounded right.
Whimpering softly, the figure struggled to sit up. The hood fell back, revealing a head of wavy, golden hair.
Stellan rushed over, his heart in his mouth. “Clarysa! Why didn’t you say something?” He kneeled down, slipping an arm behind her back.
Slightly dazed, she stared at him, her eyes moistening. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to surprise you.”
“I understand, but you shouldn’t startle me like that.”
Clarysa moaned, clinging to his neck. “You can’t begin to imagine how much I’ve missed you.”
Stellan pressed his cheek to hers, delighting in the touch of her soft, dewy skin. Then he kissed her, hard, feeling breathless and consumed with hunger. She eagerly returned the gesture, her mouth cleaving to his so yearningly it was all he could do to not tear off the rough-spun clothing she wore. It was a long time before either of them used their lips to speak.
* * * *
Next to the remains of a meal, Clarysa nestled against Stellan beneath a makeshift canopy. She described the long confrontation with her father and resulting punishment. Stellan listened attentively, his furrowed brow darkening his roguish features. She feared he thought the worst of her, but what could she have done differently? Her every move was watched; truly she was a bird in a gilded cage.
“Our time is running out,” Stellan said. Sighing, he stroked her arm. “I want to see you again, but how we can arrange it without discovery eludes me. And we shouldn’t have to sneak around like wayward children.”
“You could see me every day if we were married.” Clarysa gasped and covered her lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”
Stellan dropped his gaze.
Clarysa looked askance. Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve either angered or embarrassed him. Probably both.
An awkward silence ticked by. A warm breeze ruffled the damp grass. Then a light rain began to fall.
“Clarysa, are you sure that’s what you’d want?”
Clarysa stared at him in shock. “What do you mean?”
He jabbed at his chest. “This–me! This life of mine. There’s not much I can offer you. I have no wealth to speak of. No royal treasury.”
“There are more important things than wealth.”
“I have no friends. You’re accustomed to–”
“Lionel’s your friend. He adores you. And, uh–” Her gaze flicked to the canine snoozing nearby. “–and Wolfe.”
“My castle is frigid, even in the summer.”
“Well, then, I’ll put on a cloak!”
“I hate crowds.”
“People are overrated.”
“My family despises me. I’m surprised they even let me live this long.”
Clarysa knelt and faced him squarely, her nose less than an inch from his. “I’d be your family,” she whispered. “And if all this is some attempt to scare me away, Mr. Big Bad Dark Prince, you’ve failed miserably.”
“Clarysa!” Stellan caressed her cheek. “Such fearlessness!” He dropped his hand and grasped hers. A wistful expression softened his features. “You’re the best person who’s ever come into my life.”
“And you’re the most exciting person who’s ever come into mine.”
They kissed again, knocking the canopy to the ground with their wild frolicking.
Clarysa sucked in a breath as Stellan lay atop her. He covered her face with urgent kisses and pushed his hips between her thighs. “Stellan, I don’t want to stop, but we haven’t much time. We must think of something before Lionel returns.”
Undeterred, Stellan gently squeezed her right breast. “Think of what?” His hot breath washed over her ear.
Clarysa arched into his heavenly touch despite the risk. “How we can be together and give you unrestricted access to Aldebaran. Oh yes, keep your hand there–that’s lovely.” Clarysa sighed happily as Stellan placed a searing kiss on her neck. She grasped the back of his head and pulled him closer. “Pestilence…Pestilence uprisings have been reported more times than I can count. I don’t think the campaigns against it have been very successful, either.”
The way Stellan moved his pelvis against hers caused a rush of pulsing warmth between her legs. One of his hands tunneled under her shirt. His fingers skimmed the underside of a
