Snowed in with a Rogue, page 57
“You’re gripping my wrist.”
So he was. Releasing Amelia, Edward brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ll have to forgive me, please. I don’t seem to be myself today.”
Amelia stood. “It’s understandable.”
It was? He dropped his hand to his lap and glanced up at her. “How so?”
Retaking her seat, Amelia pulled her cape over her legs. “You’ve had little sleep, if any. You’ve missed out eating at the stability of a table. You’ve had to endure a shopping trip while waiting around for a carriage wheel to be replaced. And now you have my marzipan stuck to you. Any sensible woman would excuse you under such stress. What isn’t excusable is your stubbornness at thinking you can proceed to carry on in such a manner.”
What was she suggesting? “Seriously, you can’t mean to free me of my...affliction.”
Amelia leaned forward. She stretched her arm out. “I absolutely do mean to. Right now, in fact.” She lowered her hand.
Edward held his breath.
Amelia plucked her marzipan off Edward’s crotch. “Impaled marzipan now withdrawn, sir.”
“You are a tease, woman.”
“Tease? You didn’t think I meant.... Oh, really, Edward. That would make me a tart.”
A tart he craved.
“My poor, suffering mouth,” Amelia said, wrapping her treat back in the paper it had come in. “To think what my tongue missed out on.”
Edward adjusted his trousers, no care to his company. He knew exactly what Amelia’s mouth missed out on.
And exactly what his stubborn cock missed out on, as well.
Arriving at Saint Augustine’s Monastery couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 6
AMELIA’S LOVELY ADVENTURE was coming to an end far too fast for her likes. But there was little she could do to prolong the journey. Especially with them now being in enemy territory as the norther border region wasn’t the best place for a Countavian to take a holiday. And to be here with a Countavian prince was even more dangerous.
She prayed to God, He’d keep her and Edward safe.
The carriage veered onto a snow-covered lane.
A knot formed in her core. What if this friend of Edward’s couldn’t help her? What if her world really would come to an end in a few short weeks? Could she truly live life according to her daft back up plan? In a convent surrounded by nuns who were pious and cared little for material things? Probably not. Though she would as it was her only alternative, as residing at Baine Palace for the rest of her life was not an option. Their Majesties might think it was an ideal situation, but she’d never impose on anyone in such a manner.
She let out a deep breath.
With a quick reshuffling of hairpins, Amelia neatened the chignon at her nape.
Thanking Edward would take the rest of her life and then some. He’d turned a most unpleasant trip into a delightful escapade. What man does that for a woman he’s only known for a mere five months? Not many.
Definitely not her late husband.
Travels with Flavio were never this enjoyable and she’d been married to him for nearly a year before he’d died. Trips with him were miserable experiences. Then again, the man’s company in general was bleak at best, being cooped up in a coach with him was even less of a thrill.
She glanced across at Edward.
He appeared transfixed with his top hat, brushing a spec of lint from its wide black, brim. It was almost sinful for him to cover up that thick, midnight hair of his, but she’d never argue with him over fashion. Edward was Countavia’s equivalent to England’s Brummel.
The carriage came to a stop.
Craning her head through the open window, Amelia held onto to the hood of her cape. “There’s nothing out here except a church.”
“The monastery is hidden from this side of the road.”
She pulled back inside the carriage. “Monastery?”
“Saint Augustine’s.”
Having been born and raised in Countavia, Amelia was familiar with the country’s geography. Especially its border in this area as her father had often spoke of the region when he would amuse her with tales of his travels. “But Saint Augustine’s isn’t legally a part of The Northern Territories. And you said you needed to cross enemy lines to meet with this friend of yours.”
“You’re right. Saint Augustine’s belongs to the church and therefore, diplomatically, its land is not owned by our northern neighbor. Nor is it subject to the north’s laws. But that’s not to say our enemy hasn’t attempted to confiscate it or exercise its rule over the parish’s priests.”
Priests. Prior to now, Amelia hadn’t given much thought as to who Edward’s friend was. “How can a priest know about marriage?”
“They marry people all the time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. But I don’t mean about that aspect of marriage. I’m referring to Kerdovian law. How can a priest know a foreign kingdom’s legal rules?”
“Because my friend is not a priest.”
She quirked her right eyebrow. “Explain, sir.”
“Well, he’s not a priest yet. Maybe he’ll never be a priest as he hasn’t quite decided.”
Incredible. She was about to put her life in the hands of a man who couldn’t even make up his mind about God.
Dumfries came around the carriage and opened the door.
“After you, Your Highness,” Edward said, placing his hat on his head.
Amelia scooted from the coach without hesitation. Unfortunately, her feet froze the instant they hit the ground, her silk slippers soaking up the snow. Boots would have been the better option, but realizing her mistake now was ill advised as she could do nothing to alter the matter.
She shuffled out of the way for Edward.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be giving one of the jugs of cider, as well as one remaining pie, to my friend.” He lifted the plain package by its string.
“I don’t mind in the least. You purchased them, after all.” She paused. “Tell me, Edward, does this friend of yours have a name?”
No sooner did she ask the question, than did a man come running out from the church. His long, brown hooded robe concealed his face. But the garment did nothing to hide his height, which she surmised to be around six-foot-two or so, similar to Edward’s height.
The aroma of incense smacked her nose.
“Good, God, man, is that truly you, Eddie?” The not quite a priest opened his arms wide and clutched Edward as if he were his long-lost brother.
“It is, indeed, Lorenzo.” Edward embraced his friend.
Stepping back, Lorenzo eyed Amelia. “And who is this charming delight?” His English was perfect. Not a hint of an accent anywhere.
“Your Royal Highness,” Edward said, “may I present Her Highness, Princess Amelia.”
Lorenzo took her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“And you, Your Royal Highness.” She wanted to boot Edward in the arse right now for having delivered her to the Crown Prince of Kerdovia. What was the man thinking in that handsome, but daft, head of his? His so-called friend was a distant cousin of Flavio’s, though she’d never met the man in person as her late husband was far too removed from the upper echelon’s of Kerdovia’s Royal house to be included in any ceremony that mattered. In truth, he was merely a prince in name only, and didn’t even bear the ‘royal’ before the ‘highness’ of his title.
“Come,” Lorenzo said, motioning for them to get out of the snow and into the church.
Edward took Amelia’s arm. “Feeling better now?”
“No. Not in the least. In fact, I’m a bit put out that you’d do this to me.”
“Do what?”
“He is the Crown Prince of Kerdovia. Flavio’s very distant cousin.”
Edward chuckled. “Trust me, Lorenzo is not an enemy of yours.”
She wasn’t going to believe her wayward prince until she had proof of her own.
SAINT AUGUSTINE’S WAS just as Edward had remembered it to be from his last visit to see Lorenzo. Though he had to admit a year and a half was a long time to go without seeing his best mate.
Guilt touched his soul. “I would have been back sooner had we not had to deal with that blasted anti-monarchist movement.”
“Don’t worry yourself over it,” Lorenzo said, as he led them down the church’s center aisle. “I’ve had my hands full with our own troubles.”
Amelia tightened her grip on Edward’s arm.
He patted her hand, wanted desperately to ease whatever worry she was having about spending time here.
Amelia offered him a soft smile.
He didn’t like her feeling ill at ease.
“You have a beautiful church, Your Royal Highness,” Amelia said, gazing with an air of awe in her eyes. “The stained-glass windows are amazing.”
“Some date to the thirteenth century.” Lorenzo stopped midstride and pointed to a long window that ran nearly from floor to ceiling behind the altar. “That one is the oldest.”
“It’s stunning.”
The man smiled. “You have a keeper in this one, Eddie. Don’t be daft and lose her.”
Amelia quickly pulled away from Edward’s arm. “We are not courting, sir.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Of course I’m sure.” A look of grave concern crossed Amelia’s face.
“Pay the man no mind, Mel,” Edward said. “He’s teasing.”
“Oh.” Amelia’s cheeks turned a bright red.
Color did his princess good.
Lorenzo leaned in. “’Tis the reason they won’t allow me to become a priest. I have the soul of am imp.”
A deep breath escaped Edward. “Again, pay the man no mind. He hasn’t been ordained yet because he’s tormented over a woman.”
“More like I’m tormented over my father and the way he insists I live my life as Crown Prince.”
Amelia gave up a little huff. “I never did like what the Kerdovian gossip sheets said about you.”
Lorenzo laughed. “I’m sure they’ve painted me in a very bad way since I’ve fled the realm. All at the behest of my father, of that I can guarantee you.”
Resuming his way through the church, Lorenzo led them out back and into the monastery.
Not another priest was in sight.
The last time Edward had visited, there were at least two dozen priests living at Saint Augustine’s. “God, man, but this really is bad.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Lorenzo said. “Cyril of the North is a bastard and I don’t see him giving up his iron-fisted rule anytime soon. And even if he did, his son is worse. Last month alone he forced three priests to leave the kingdom. We’re operating on a skeleton staff now.”
“And this month?”
“It’s been quiet. I believe Cyril is content knowing he has me backed into a corner. Other than the two remaining priests, each too old to bicker with the king, I’m the only one who can fight him. And he knows I won’t since I’ve been at odds with my own father. And now that he and Father have agreed to this stupid accord and taken the Corsican’s side in the war, it’s worse. My father knows I hate Napoleon. And I will fight against him, again, any day.”
Edward turned to Amelia. “Another reason Lorenzo is in exile.”
Amelia tilted her head to one side. “At odds with one woman, two kings, and a self-imposed emperor. No wonder you’ve taken refuge in the Church. Though I’m sure you could have gone Edward. He has a knack for helping friends in need. And he’s good at it, too.”
“Is he now?” A smirk covered Lorenzo’s lips.
“You did get my letter. Didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“And can you help Her Highness?”
Lorenzo gestured to the table in the middle of the great hall. “Please, have a seat.”
“This can’t be good,” Amelia whispered as Edward pulled out a highbacked chair for her.
“Let’s here what the prince has to say before we come to that conclusion.”
She frowned.
Edward took the chair next to Amelia. He looked across to his friend as he folded his hands on table. “I’ve brought you a beef pie from Carlton and Cason’s and a jug of their cider.”
“You know me too well, Eddie.”
How could he not when they’d been mates most of their lives. Even through their university years.
But he wasn’t here for a social visit. Amelia was Edward’s concern. “Does this so-called heir have a stake in the princess’s inheritance?”
“I’m afraid he does.” Lorenzo walked over to a corner stand and gathered three glasses, then returned to the table. “Kerdovian law is archaic when it comes to this damn mistress rule. I’ve discussed the matter with my father several times over the years, but he refuses to pass new legislation.”
“Then I am to lose everything.” Amelia’s shoulders slumped. She leaned back and bit her bottom lip.
Edward’s heart sank. “You will never lose everything. I’ll personally see to it that you keep the lifestyle you are accustom to living.”
“Well, Your Royal Highness, that is all splendid and good. It’s also scandalous, making me no better than the woman I am fighting in court.”
He did not mean to imply she’d be his mistress. “You misunderstood me. I’m not in the market for a mistress.”
“I see. So I’m to be a charity case. Is that it? Your own personal, charity case?”
Lorenzo reached for the jug of cider and poured three glasses. “There is always the law about producing your late husband’s heir.” He slid a drink to Amelia first, then one to Edward.
“I refuse to engage in sin,” Amelia said, reaching for the cider. “A man’s heir cannot be born more than nine months after his death, Your Royal Highness. I don’t give a fig what your country’s law states.”
His princess was being her usual, brazen self. And Edward was enjoying every second of it. “She’s right, Lorenzo. I’m siding with Her Highness on this one.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ve made the journey for nothing. As I know no other way around the matter. If I did, I would gladly share it with you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault my husband was unfaithful. I appreciate your time, truly I do.”
The chamber’s front door blew open, sent a thud echoing through the room. “The storm’s picking up.” Lorenzo was on his feet and at the door in a heartbeat. He secured it shut with two, large wood latches. “I think it best you spend the night. Dumfries cannot be expected to drive in that snow. Nor can the horses be expected to travel in such turbulent weather.”
Having Amelia sleep alone so near enemy territory was out of the question. “Perhaps we should attempt to at least make it back to King’s Way Court.”
“Impossible,” Lorenzo said. “You must stay the night. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have the room.”
Edward tapped his foot against the stone floor. “Do you have one with two beds?”
Amelia’s eyes went wide. “If you think I am sleeping in the same room as you, Your Royal Highness, you are sorely mistaken.”
“It is for your own safety.”
“Edward is right,” Lorenzo said. “Saint Augustine’s may not belong the Cyril’s vile Northern Territories, but he doesn’t abide by the fact. And while we don’t have a room with two beds, we do have plenty of blankets. Eddie will survive a few hours on the floor. Once the storm passes, you can leave.”
“Thank you for your hospitality.” The look on Amelia’s face didn’t match her words.
But better to have his princess agitated, then in danger. She meant the world to him.
God, but he loved Amelia.
The sudden realization unsettled Edward.
He was now in more danger than was his princess.
Chapter 7
FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR, Amelia tossed and turned, her heart racing with fear and her mind conjuring up every ill-fated scenario she could think of.
Even the shadows flickering on the wall cast from the roaring fire in the hearth, put a bit of fright into her.
Everything bothered her. From the starkness of the room, to the bed’s thin blanket, to the flatness of her pillow. It was as if the world was caving in on her and she had no means with which to battle back.
Edward rose from the floor. He leaned on the mattress, his weight forcing it to dip. “You really should try and get some sleep.”
“What for? I no longer have a home. Money. A life. I have nothing left that requires me to be rested.”
He joined her on the bed. “Move over.”
“Wonderful. Now even my reputation is to be ruined.” She scooted to the side, despite her protest.
“Is that what you really think? When you think of me. Of us?”
There was no them. “I am not having a child with you.”
“I’m glad to hear that, princess, as I am not offering to sire an offspring born out of wedlock.”
She felt horrible at having insulted Edward. What was she thinking acting so horribly? “I’m sorry. I’m just upset.”
“Seems like the two of us have had a rather bad day.”
Edward wrapped his arms around her, the warmth from his body seeping into her bones. Even in just a night shift, the man was dashing. Sexier than sin.
Amelia suddenly felt very naked sleeping solely in her chemise, having tossed her stays and petticoat to the chair after removing her gown. And while Edward had seen her in just underclothes before, like yesterday morning when she’d first told him about her plight, this was different.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
It was a strange question coming from Edward. “I suppose.”
“Well, this might not actually be first sight. At least not by today’s admission, but if I am to be honest with you, Mel, I’ve admired you from the moment we first met.”
She had no clue. “And it’s taken you five months to tell me this?”
“I’m not a cad, despite what some people say. You were recently widowed when we met. How would it have looked if I told you I found you beautiful and enchanting right from the start?”
So he was. Releasing Amelia, Edward brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ll have to forgive me, please. I don’t seem to be myself today.”
Amelia stood. “It’s understandable.”
It was? He dropped his hand to his lap and glanced up at her. “How so?”
Retaking her seat, Amelia pulled her cape over her legs. “You’ve had little sleep, if any. You’ve missed out eating at the stability of a table. You’ve had to endure a shopping trip while waiting around for a carriage wheel to be replaced. And now you have my marzipan stuck to you. Any sensible woman would excuse you under such stress. What isn’t excusable is your stubbornness at thinking you can proceed to carry on in such a manner.”
What was she suggesting? “Seriously, you can’t mean to free me of my...affliction.”
Amelia leaned forward. She stretched her arm out. “I absolutely do mean to. Right now, in fact.” She lowered her hand.
Edward held his breath.
Amelia plucked her marzipan off Edward’s crotch. “Impaled marzipan now withdrawn, sir.”
“You are a tease, woman.”
“Tease? You didn’t think I meant.... Oh, really, Edward. That would make me a tart.”
A tart he craved.
“My poor, suffering mouth,” Amelia said, wrapping her treat back in the paper it had come in. “To think what my tongue missed out on.”
Edward adjusted his trousers, no care to his company. He knew exactly what Amelia’s mouth missed out on.
And exactly what his stubborn cock missed out on, as well.
Arriving at Saint Augustine’s Monastery couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 6
AMELIA’S LOVELY ADVENTURE was coming to an end far too fast for her likes. But there was little she could do to prolong the journey. Especially with them now being in enemy territory as the norther border region wasn’t the best place for a Countavian to take a holiday. And to be here with a Countavian prince was even more dangerous.
She prayed to God, He’d keep her and Edward safe.
The carriage veered onto a snow-covered lane.
A knot formed in her core. What if this friend of Edward’s couldn’t help her? What if her world really would come to an end in a few short weeks? Could she truly live life according to her daft back up plan? In a convent surrounded by nuns who were pious and cared little for material things? Probably not. Though she would as it was her only alternative, as residing at Baine Palace for the rest of her life was not an option. Their Majesties might think it was an ideal situation, but she’d never impose on anyone in such a manner.
She let out a deep breath.
With a quick reshuffling of hairpins, Amelia neatened the chignon at her nape.
Thanking Edward would take the rest of her life and then some. He’d turned a most unpleasant trip into a delightful escapade. What man does that for a woman he’s only known for a mere five months? Not many.
Definitely not her late husband.
Travels with Flavio were never this enjoyable and she’d been married to him for nearly a year before he’d died. Trips with him were miserable experiences. Then again, the man’s company in general was bleak at best, being cooped up in a coach with him was even less of a thrill.
She glanced across at Edward.
He appeared transfixed with his top hat, brushing a spec of lint from its wide black, brim. It was almost sinful for him to cover up that thick, midnight hair of his, but she’d never argue with him over fashion. Edward was Countavia’s equivalent to England’s Brummel.
The carriage came to a stop.
Craning her head through the open window, Amelia held onto to the hood of her cape. “There’s nothing out here except a church.”
“The monastery is hidden from this side of the road.”
She pulled back inside the carriage. “Monastery?”
“Saint Augustine’s.”
Having been born and raised in Countavia, Amelia was familiar with the country’s geography. Especially its border in this area as her father had often spoke of the region when he would amuse her with tales of his travels. “But Saint Augustine’s isn’t legally a part of The Northern Territories. And you said you needed to cross enemy lines to meet with this friend of yours.”
“You’re right. Saint Augustine’s belongs to the church and therefore, diplomatically, its land is not owned by our northern neighbor. Nor is it subject to the north’s laws. But that’s not to say our enemy hasn’t attempted to confiscate it or exercise its rule over the parish’s priests.”
Priests. Prior to now, Amelia hadn’t given much thought as to who Edward’s friend was. “How can a priest know about marriage?”
“They marry people all the time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. But I don’t mean about that aspect of marriage. I’m referring to Kerdovian law. How can a priest know a foreign kingdom’s legal rules?”
“Because my friend is not a priest.”
She quirked her right eyebrow. “Explain, sir.”
“Well, he’s not a priest yet. Maybe he’ll never be a priest as he hasn’t quite decided.”
Incredible. She was about to put her life in the hands of a man who couldn’t even make up his mind about God.
Dumfries came around the carriage and opened the door.
“After you, Your Highness,” Edward said, placing his hat on his head.
Amelia scooted from the coach without hesitation. Unfortunately, her feet froze the instant they hit the ground, her silk slippers soaking up the snow. Boots would have been the better option, but realizing her mistake now was ill advised as she could do nothing to alter the matter.
She shuffled out of the way for Edward.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be giving one of the jugs of cider, as well as one remaining pie, to my friend.” He lifted the plain package by its string.
“I don’t mind in the least. You purchased them, after all.” She paused. “Tell me, Edward, does this friend of yours have a name?”
No sooner did she ask the question, than did a man come running out from the church. His long, brown hooded robe concealed his face. But the garment did nothing to hide his height, which she surmised to be around six-foot-two or so, similar to Edward’s height.
The aroma of incense smacked her nose.
“Good, God, man, is that truly you, Eddie?” The not quite a priest opened his arms wide and clutched Edward as if he were his long-lost brother.
“It is, indeed, Lorenzo.” Edward embraced his friend.
Stepping back, Lorenzo eyed Amelia. “And who is this charming delight?” His English was perfect. Not a hint of an accent anywhere.
“Your Royal Highness,” Edward said, “may I present Her Highness, Princess Amelia.”
Lorenzo took her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“And you, Your Royal Highness.” She wanted to boot Edward in the arse right now for having delivered her to the Crown Prince of Kerdovia. What was the man thinking in that handsome, but daft, head of his? His so-called friend was a distant cousin of Flavio’s, though she’d never met the man in person as her late husband was far too removed from the upper echelon’s of Kerdovia’s Royal house to be included in any ceremony that mattered. In truth, he was merely a prince in name only, and didn’t even bear the ‘royal’ before the ‘highness’ of his title.
“Come,” Lorenzo said, motioning for them to get out of the snow and into the church.
Edward took Amelia’s arm. “Feeling better now?”
“No. Not in the least. In fact, I’m a bit put out that you’d do this to me.”
“Do what?”
“He is the Crown Prince of Kerdovia. Flavio’s very distant cousin.”
Edward chuckled. “Trust me, Lorenzo is not an enemy of yours.”
She wasn’t going to believe her wayward prince until she had proof of her own.
SAINT AUGUSTINE’S WAS just as Edward had remembered it to be from his last visit to see Lorenzo. Though he had to admit a year and a half was a long time to go without seeing his best mate.
Guilt touched his soul. “I would have been back sooner had we not had to deal with that blasted anti-monarchist movement.”
“Don’t worry yourself over it,” Lorenzo said, as he led them down the church’s center aisle. “I’ve had my hands full with our own troubles.”
Amelia tightened her grip on Edward’s arm.
He patted her hand, wanted desperately to ease whatever worry she was having about spending time here.
Amelia offered him a soft smile.
He didn’t like her feeling ill at ease.
“You have a beautiful church, Your Royal Highness,” Amelia said, gazing with an air of awe in her eyes. “The stained-glass windows are amazing.”
“Some date to the thirteenth century.” Lorenzo stopped midstride and pointed to a long window that ran nearly from floor to ceiling behind the altar. “That one is the oldest.”
“It’s stunning.”
The man smiled. “You have a keeper in this one, Eddie. Don’t be daft and lose her.”
Amelia quickly pulled away from Edward’s arm. “We are not courting, sir.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Of course I’m sure.” A look of grave concern crossed Amelia’s face.
“Pay the man no mind, Mel,” Edward said. “He’s teasing.”
“Oh.” Amelia’s cheeks turned a bright red.
Color did his princess good.
Lorenzo leaned in. “’Tis the reason they won’t allow me to become a priest. I have the soul of am imp.”
A deep breath escaped Edward. “Again, pay the man no mind. He hasn’t been ordained yet because he’s tormented over a woman.”
“More like I’m tormented over my father and the way he insists I live my life as Crown Prince.”
Amelia gave up a little huff. “I never did like what the Kerdovian gossip sheets said about you.”
Lorenzo laughed. “I’m sure they’ve painted me in a very bad way since I’ve fled the realm. All at the behest of my father, of that I can guarantee you.”
Resuming his way through the church, Lorenzo led them out back and into the monastery.
Not another priest was in sight.
The last time Edward had visited, there were at least two dozen priests living at Saint Augustine’s. “God, man, but this really is bad.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Lorenzo said. “Cyril of the North is a bastard and I don’t see him giving up his iron-fisted rule anytime soon. And even if he did, his son is worse. Last month alone he forced three priests to leave the kingdom. We’re operating on a skeleton staff now.”
“And this month?”
“It’s been quiet. I believe Cyril is content knowing he has me backed into a corner. Other than the two remaining priests, each too old to bicker with the king, I’m the only one who can fight him. And he knows I won’t since I’ve been at odds with my own father. And now that he and Father have agreed to this stupid accord and taken the Corsican’s side in the war, it’s worse. My father knows I hate Napoleon. And I will fight against him, again, any day.”
Edward turned to Amelia. “Another reason Lorenzo is in exile.”
Amelia tilted her head to one side. “At odds with one woman, two kings, and a self-imposed emperor. No wonder you’ve taken refuge in the Church. Though I’m sure you could have gone Edward. He has a knack for helping friends in need. And he’s good at it, too.”
“Is he now?” A smirk covered Lorenzo’s lips.
“You did get my letter. Didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“And can you help Her Highness?”
Lorenzo gestured to the table in the middle of the great hall. “Please, have a seat.”
“This can’t be good,” Amelia whispered as Edward pulled out a highbacked chair for her.
“Let’s here what the prince has to say before we come to that conclusion.”
She frowned.
Edward took the chair next to Amelia. He looked across to his friend as he folded his hands on table. “I’ve brought you a beef pie from Carlton and Cason’s and a jug of their cider.”
“You know me too well, Eddie.”
How could he not when they’d been mates most of their lives. Even through their university years.
But he wasn’t here for a social visit. Amelia was Edward’s concern. “Does this so-called heir have a stake in the princess’s inheritance?”
“I’m afraid he does.” Lorenzo walked over to a corner stand and gathered three glasses, then returned to the table. “Kerdovian law is archaic when it comes to this damn mistress rule. I’ve discussed the matter with my father several times over the years, but he refuses to pass new legislation.”
“Then I am to lose everything.” Amelia’s shoulders slumped. She leaned back and bit her bottom lip.
Edward’s heart sank. “You will never lose everything. I’ll personally see to it that you keep the lifestyle you are accustom to living.”
“Well, Your Royal Highness, that is all splendid and good. It’s also scandalous, making me no better than the woman I am fighting in court.”
He did not mean to imply she’d be his mistress. “You misunderstood me. I’m not in the market for a mistress.”
“I see. So I’m to be a charity case. Is that it? Your own personal, charity case?”
Lorenzo reached for the jug of cider and poured three glasses. “There is always the law about producing your late husband’s heir.” He slid a drink to Amelia first, then one to Edward.
“I refuse to engage in sin,” Amelia said, reaching for the cider. “A man’s heir cannot be born more than nine months after his death, Your Royal Highness. I don’t give a fig what your country’s law states.”
His princess was being her usual, brazen self. And Edward was enjoying every second of it. “She’s right, Lorenzo. I’m siding with Her Highness on this one.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ve made the journey for nothing. As I know no other way around the matter. If I did, I would gladly share it with you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault my husband was unfaithful. I appreciate your time, truly I do.”
The chamber’s front door blew open, sent a thud echoing through the room. “The storm’s picking up.” Lorenzo was on his feet and at the door in a heartbeat. He secured it shut with two, large wood latches. “I think it best you spend the night. Dumfries cannot be expected to drive in that snow. Nor can the horses be expected to travel in such turbulent weather.”
Having Amelia sleep alone so near enemy territory was out of the question. “Perhaps we should attempt to at least make it back to King’s Way Court.”
“Impossible,” Lorenzo said. “You must stay the night. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have the room.”
Edward tapped his foot against the stone floor. “Do you have one with two beds?”
Amelia’s eyes went wide. “If you think I am sleeping in the same room as you, Your Royal Highness, you are sorely mistaken.”
“It is for your own safety.”
“Edward is right,” Lorenzo said. “Saint Augustine’s may not belong the Cyril’s vile Northern Territories, but he doesn’t abide by the fact. And while we don’t have a room with two beds, we do have plenty of blankets. Eddie will survive a few hours on the floor. Once the storm passes, you can leave.”
“Thank you for your hospitality.” The look on Amelia’s face didn’t match her words.
But better to have his princess agitated, then in danger. She meant the world to him.
God, but he loved Amelia.
The sudden realization unsettled Edward.
He was now in more danger than was his princess.
Chapter 7
FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR, Amelia tossed and turned, her heart racing with fear and her mind conjuring up every ill-fated scenario she could think of.
Even the shadows flickering on the wall cast from the roaring fire in the hearth, put a bit of fright into her.
Everything bothered her. From the starkness of the room, to the bed’s thin blanket, to the flatness of her pillow. It was as if the world was caving in on her and she had no means with which to battle back.
Edward rose from the floor. He leaned on the mattress, his weight forcing it to dip. “You really should try and get some sleep.”
“What for? I no longer have a home. Money. A life. I have nothing left that requires me to be rested.”
He joined her on the bed. “Move over.”
“Wonderful. Now even my reputation is to be ruined.” She scooted to the side, despite her protest.
“Is that what you really think? When you think of me. Of us?”
There was no them. “I am not having a child with you.”
“I’m glad to hear that, princess, as I am not offering to sire an offspring born out of wedlock.”
She felt horrible at having insulted Edward. What was she thinking acting so horribly? “I’m sorry. I’m just upset.”
“Seems like the two of us have had a rather bad day.”
Edward wrapped his arms around her, the warmth from his body seeping into her bones. Even in just a night shift, the man was dashing. Sexier than sin.
Amelia suddenly felt very naked sleeping solely in her chemise, having tossed her stays and petticoat to the chair after removing her gown. And while Edward had seen her in just underclothes before, like yesterday morning when she’d first told him about her plight, this was different.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
It was a strange question coming from Edward. “I suppose.”
“Well, this might not actually be first sight. At least not by today’s admission, but if I am to be honest with you, Mel, I’ve admired you from the moment we first met.”
She had no clue. “And it’s taken you five months to tell me this?”
“I’m not a cad, despite what some people say. You were recently widowed when we met. How would it have looked if I told you I found you beautiful and enchanting right from the start?”
