The Viking's Chosen by Quinn Loftis (10)

As I stared up at the ceiling in my bedchambers, my eyes refused to become heavy. I had finally convinced my mother and sister to retire to their own rooms, assuring them that I was not going to throw myself from my window to escape my fate, though I was sorely tempted. I was more concerned about my mother’s mental state much more than my own. She was much more upset at Cathal’s behavior than I had originally anticipated. I hoped she would not do anything rash.

Trepidation about the following day kept me from my rest. I would be expected to spend most of my day in the company of my future husband and I would rather clean out the chamber pots in every room in the castle than be with Cathal. I chuckled silently as I imagined the shocked faces of the castle court if they saw me carrying chamber pots in the dress Cathal expected me to wear.

“Ugh!” I groaned. “Why could he not just be a kind old man looking for companionship in his old age?” I asked the quiet room. I wouldn’t have romance, of course, but at least I wouldn’t be disrespected—or worse—fear for my safety. I suppose I could wish that my circumstances were different until I was blue in the face, but that would not change anything.

After another hour of tossing and turning, I finally drifted off into a restless sleep. Dreams of a dragon with the head of Cathal tormented my mind, leaving me feeling shaky and overwhelmed. No matter how many times I told myself it was just a dream, the fear in my belly would not diminish.

When my eyes snapped open the following morning, I felt as though a heard of wild boar had done a jig in my head. The pain was nauseating. I climbed out of bed, grabbed my robe, and wrapped it tightly around me. There was a knock at my door and my stomach dropped. I was not ready to face Cathal. I walked slowly toward the door and jumped when a second, and louder knock, rang out.

I took a deep breath as I grasped the handle and pulled the door open. I came face to face with a broad chest clothed by a palace guard uniform. For once, it wasn’t Captain Clay. That thought flew out the window when I tilted my head back, and still farther back, as I looked up at the person who owned the impressive chest. My eyes widened as I saw the stern silver eyes staring down at me. He was breathtaking. There really was no other way to describe the fierce looking man before me. He was not pretty. He was too masculine for pretty. He was striking. His unwavering stare and large, solid frame was incredibly intimidating and yet I was not afraid of him. Something in his gaze was…protective of me. I knew that he would never hurt me.

“Princess.” The man finally spoke and his deep voice caused chill bumps to rise all over my arms.

“Who are you?” I asked, once I had finally found the good sense to close my mouth and quit drooling like an adolescent staring at her first crush.

“Forgive me for bothering you, your highness,” the guard rumbled. “Brant,” he motioned to the even larger mountain standing behind him, who I had yet to even notice, “and I have been assigned to your guard detail.”

“Uh-huh,” I said slowly. My eyes narrowed as I glanced at the one called Brant and then back at the vision in front of me that had spoken. “And who exactly are you?”

His lips twitched as if he was amused by my scrutiny. He bowed his head slightly. “I am Torben.”

“Torben,” I repeated as if he was speaking another language. What was wrong with me? A handsome face and mesmerizing voice seemed to be enough to turn me into a brainless ninny. But really, what kind of name was Torben? I don’t think I’d ever heard it before. It certainly did not sound native.

“Yes, Torben. I know my name is unique. I’m not sure how my mother came up with it. I’ve asked her plenty of times, but she never gives me a straight answer.”

“Uh-huh,” I responded, once again showing my brilliant linguistic abilities. I stood there staring up at him stupidly while he stared back at me. Torben did not seem to feel awkward about the silence between us. He stood stock, still simply staring at me, as if he would not mind spending the entire day doing just that. I, on the other hand, fought the urge to shift from foot to foot under his intensity.

The other one, Brant, cleared his throat and the trance between us lifted. My brain, which I knew I still possessed somewhere in my head, suddenly reengaged. “My father did not inform me that I was getting a new guard,” I said, watching closely to see if my words caused any insecurity in Torben. I knew many of the palace guards and certainly all the ones assigned to my protection. My father would have informed me if there was to be a change among the men.

“I am sure he has not had time to tell you, just yet. It may not be my place to tell you, but he was concerned that the fire that was started last eve might be more than just an accident,” Torben answered calmly. “He wanted to make sure you were protected, especially with all the visitors in the castle.”

Either this man was truly my new assigned guard, or he was as smooth as churned butter at lying. I couldn’t tell for certain, but he didn’t feel evil to me. I didn’t have any supernatural ability to discern a person’s intentions. However, my power has, at times in the past, warned me about danger. I didn’t understand how it worked, but I guessed it was a defense mechanism to alert me when I was in the process of healing someone. During those times, my attention was completely focused on my task and I was vulnerable, so knowing if danger is close at hand is important.

This sixth sense, as I had come to call it, had saved me in the past. Once I came upon a rabbit that had been attacked by a predator. As I knelt to check the frightened creature’s wounds, I was completely unaware that a wolf was hiding close by in the foliage. Just as I placed my hands upon the rabbit to heal the scratches and bites, an overwhelming feeling of being watched came over me. I jumped up and yelled, spinning in place. The wolf, startled, matched my yelp, and bolted away, leaving the rabbit and I behind. Since that day, I’ve never ignored my sixth sense when it tells me danger is near.

“Princess, are you all right?” Torben asked me. I shook my head and refocused. His voice was musical, but that wasn’t what had drawn my attention. It was the large hand that was currently resting on my shoulder. He was touching me.

“You are touching me,” I said stupidly, as if the man did not know he had placed his hand on my shoulder.

A small smile tugged at his full lips. “I am,” he said without apology. “I called your name several times but you did not respond.”

I looked from his hand back to his face. “Oh.” That was my brilliant response. I shook my head and took a step backward. I needed to put some distance between myself and this new guard. Something about him, I didn’t know what, disarmed me.

“Thank you for introducing yourself, Torben. I need to ready myself for the day. If that is all, good day.” I said all of that with the speed of an exuberant child and then shrugged off his hand before quickly shutting the door right in his handsome, yet confused face.

I stared at the closed door as though if I looked at it long enough I would be able to see straight through it to the man beyond. After several minutes, I slowly turned away from the door and let out a shuttering breath. I had never felt so shaken over anyone. Do not get me wrong, I had noticed handsome men in the past, but none of them caught my attention the way Torben had. Something about him captivated me, which, in turn, made me sound like a bumbling idiot. I shook my head as if I could remove the image of him from my mind and began my morning routine. It would be the first time I would have to spend the entire day with King Cathal. The thought was nauseating. Being in his presence was the equivalent of allowing chickens to peck out my eyes, only the chickens would probably be better conversationalists.

A half hour later, there was another knock at the door. Instead of walking over to it, I simply stared at it as though it was a three-headed monster preparing to devour me. My heart began to beat painfully hard in my chest and my palms grew damp. I wasn’t sure whose presence I feared most on the other side of the door—Cathal or Torben.

The choice was suddenly taken out of my hands when the door opened and in walked Lidia. My handmaiden glanced out into the hall, confusion marring her brow before she closed the door and turned to face me.

“I was not aware that you were getting new guards,” she said.

“I was not either,” I said with a sigh. I watched as Lidia moved about the room, making the bed and straightening pillows that were already straight. “I can tell you have more to say on the matter, Lidia. By all means, speak already.”

She shrugged her shoulders as if it was of no consequence. “I was just thinking that they were both quite handsome.”

“You make it sound as though guards cannot be handsome.”

Lidia tsked at me. “When have you ever seen a guard that looked like those two?” She motioned toward the door.

I had no argument. Torben and even Brant, I could admit, were both exceedingly handsome. “Have you ever seen them before?” I asked her.

Lidia shook her head. “I would not have forgotten either of them nor would I have failed to have mentioned it. They are new. Those two will be the talk of the castle staff.”

I smiled at her. “That, my dear friend, is quite true.”

Lidia, quiet though she may be, did enjoy sharing any tidbits with me that she heard or saw outside of the castle. She was never quite as graphic as Dayna, but every bit as eager.

Just as Lidia was assisting me with removing my night clothes, the door flew open again, giving me a brief glimpse of a wide eyed Torben. I jerked my gown up over my bare shoulder and tore my eyes from his to glare at my sister.

Dayna slammed the door with just as much fervor as she had opened it.

“Have you not heard of knocking?” I snapped at her, embarrassment at Torben having seen me in such a state burning up my flesh.

“Sure, I have heard of knocking. But why should I have to knock to enter my own sister’s room? And besides, I assumed by this hour you would already be changed and ready for the day,” Dayna countered. “How was I to know that you were dragging around your room like a sickly snail?”

“Can you think of one reason why I should be jumping for joy to begin the day?”

A mischievous smile lit my sister’s face. “Well, I can think of two and they are both standing just outside your room. Where has Father been hiding those two?”

“I have no idea. They were there when I awoke this morn. Now would you please lock the door so that no one else barges in while I am changing?”

“Yes, yes,” she waved me off. “Get ready, but while you are doing so we must discuss our strategy.”

“What strategy?” I asked as Lidia slid my dressing gown over my head and then held out one of Cathal’s dresses for me to step into. The fabric was slick and cool. It felt good against my heated skin. But once she raised it all the way up and I slipped my arms in it, I realized how little it covered and my skin flushed even hotter. I glanced down at the overabundance of cleavage that was pressed up and out by the cut of the dress.

“The strategy we shall employ to convince King Cathal that you are not the bride for him,” Dayna answered as she tapped her chin. The wheels were turning in my sister’s head and I did not know if I should be thankful or scared.

“Perhaps he is not a man who likes breasts,” I pointed to my own. “Since mine seem to be handing out engraved invitations, he will be repulsed and sail back to Tara without delay.”

Dayna made a sound between a snort and a laugh. “Breasts are like sunshine, my dear sister. Everyone likes them.”

Lidia scrunched her nose up at the offensive gown. “I cannot believe that this is the fashion in France.”

“The French encourage embracing the beauty of the feminine form,” Dayna said absently.

“Can they not embrace it behind closed doors?” I said as I walked over to the mirror and stared, wide eyed at the woman before me. “I am not leaving this room…not like this,” I declared.

“I am a bit surprised he would allow you to be paraded around like that. Won’t he be jealous? The eyes of every man in the castle will be upon you.” Dayna asked, having abandoned, for the time being, her plans to derail the impending nuptials.

I stared at my image, feeling like a woman of the night. How could I hold my head up as a princess of my people while dressed like a harlot?

“No,” I finally responded. “Cathal is a man who is absolutely confident in his own position. He wants other men to see me and know that they could never have me. He wants other men to be jealous of him, lording over them what they could never touch.”

The three of us stared at the mirror for several moments in silence until I finally threw my hands up. “There is nothing to be done about it now.” I turned from the mirror and motioned for Lidia to follow. “Could you please just do something simple with it?” I asked pointing to the mass of hair still mused from my sleep.

“I have taken it upon myself to be your escort, sister mine,” Dayna informed me as she flopped down on the chair across from me.

“Do not feel that you must. I will have my guards with me.”

She grinned back at me and winked. “Oh, believe me, it has not slipped my notice that you will have those two handsome beasts with you.”

“Handsome beasts?” I asked while Lidia giggled.

Dayna shrugged shamelessly. “I may be only sixteen, mind you I am very close to seventeen, but that does not mean I do not know a prime stallion when I see one. Or two,” she added cheekily.

I pointed my finger at her, attempting to sound as stern as possible. “Well, you just make sure you don’t suddenly develop an interest in equestrianism, Dayna Auvray.”

“I think interest isn’t a strong enough word. I’m thinking of taking up trick riding.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple, attempting to keep the headache I felt coming on at bay. “Bloody hell, you will be the death of me.”