For the second morning in a row, I awakened to warm arms wrapped around me and the slow, steady heartbeat of my husband under my cheek.

With his hand, he stroked slowly from the top of my head all the way down my hair and almost to my waist before he lifted his hand and started at the top again.  He stroked my hair over and over, the motion almost lulling me back into slumber.  In contrast to the tumult of emotions I had felt when I lay down with him at night, I found waking in Branford’s arms to be strangely relaxing and quite pleasant.  He was warm, and lying with my head on his chest was so comfortable, I felt at ease and couldn’t help but smile a little to myself.

I lay motionless for a minute or two, trying to collect myself internally as memories of the previous night flooded back into my head—from the words I heard in the garden, to my continued concern over our lack of consummation, and then to the soft, gentle touches Branford left on the tops of my partially exposed breasts.  There had been a strange and unfamiliar tingling feeling over my skin for several minutes after he had stopped touching me, and just thinking about his fingers sliding over my skin so close to an intimate area of my body made my heart beat faster.

Feeling Branford’s lips touch the top of my head and hearing his intake of breath against my hair, I swiftly brought my thoughts back to the present.  Deciding there was no real point in delaying, I tilted my head up to meet his eyes and his slight smile.

“Good morning, my wife,” Branford said.

“Good morning, Branford,” I replied and then quickly looked away, feeling shy and blushing when I looked into his eyes.  It made the memories of his lips on my skin overwhelm me again, warming my skin.  I looked to the windows and saw the sun shining through the cracks in the shutters, so I knew it was well into the morning.  It had been very late by the time I had slumbered, for it had taken some time for my body to recover from Branford’s touch enough to relax into sleep.  “It’s late.”

“Yes.” Branford’s shoulders moved up and down casually.  I looked back at him, and he was still smiling.  “There’s no rush today though, and I do like waking with you in my arms.”

“Have you been awake long?” I asked, hoping my words would divert focus from my almost permanently pink cheeks.

 “A while,” Branford said with another shrug.  “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“You have?”  Again, I looked away from his eyes and felt heat rise to my face.  Wondering what the specifics of his thoughts might entail, I tried to remember what I might have done either last night or during my sleep.

“Yes.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No!”  Branford sat up and pulled me with him until I was sitting beside him on the bed with his hands on my shoulders.  “Why would you think that?”

I took a deep breath.  Why did I think that?  Because everything I had done thus far had been wrong, that’s why.  I had angered and embarrassed my husband, causing him to go to another woman on just the second night of our marriage because I couldn’t bring myself to lie back and smile while he claimed my body.  Ultimately, I was afraid because doing the wrong thing could cost me my life—if not in one way, then in another.

 “Because I haven’t done anything right,” I finally said.  “Because I’m…inadequate.”

“Inadequate?” Branford scoffed.  “Alexandra, I have no idea why you would say such a thing.”

“I haven’t…we haven’t yet…”  I stopped and took a deep breath.  Branford found my chin with his hand, and he looked deep into my eyes.

“We talked about this last night,” Branford said.  “You offered yourself to me, and I made the decision to wait.”

“Because I wasn’t ready,” I clarified.

“You aren’t ready because I haven’t made you ready,” Branford said definitively.  “So it was my decision and my responsibility.”

“I embarrassed you in front of King Camden,” I whispered.

“Again, because I didn’t prepare you properly.”

“You were angry about the carriage driver,” I finally said.

Branford’s fingers tensed against my shoulders.

“Yes, I was.  I can only hope it was an accident, and I didn’t let a traitor live because you felt sorry for him.”

“A traitor?”

“Yes, a traitor,” Branford growled.

“I only lost my balance,” I said quietly.

“Which would not have happened if he had kept his horses still,” Branford insisted.  “I’m definitely watching him now.  If he steps out of line again, I will not stop at your whim.”

I tensed at his harsh words and felt Branford’s hand stop at the lower part of my back, no longer stroking my hair.

“I’m still…lacking…in what you need from me.”

“Alexandra, I don’t understand.”

The door to the morning room opened before I could respond.  Branford let out a low groan as Ida walked into the bedroom, stood at the very end of the bed, and put her hands on her hips.

“Ida, for the love of God, you can’t just walk in here anymore,” Branford said, growling at his sister.  He pulled the blanket up over my shoulders, partially hiding me from view.

“I thought you might like more than a couple of hours’ notice,” Ida said with a shrug, obviously not concerned about her intrusion.  “Good morning, Alexandra.”

I mumbled a response to her though she may not have heard it through the blankets.

“I’m throwing a reception for you tonight,” Ida said, “since the first one was obviously a complete mess according to Parnell’s description.  You need a good one, and since I’m leaving with Parnell to go to Sawyer in two days, it will have to be tonight.  Mother said it would be a good way to introduce Alexandra to the court officially, anyway.”

“Parnell’s leaving?”

“Yes, he said you spoke about it.”

“Oh, right.  We did.” Branford sat up a bit and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.  “I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this.”

“Not a chance.”  Ida crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fine,” Branford grumbled.  “Now get out!”

Ida waved at me before she turned around and headed back out the open door, shutting it soundlessly behind her.

“A reception?” I finally said.

“There’s no way of avoiding it,” Branford said.  “Once Ida has her mind made up, there really is no way of stopping her.”

“Tonight?”  The concern in my voice must have been noticeable.

“Don’t worry, my wife.” Branford smiled at me.  “This one will be easy for you.”

“What will I have to do?”  I asked.

“It will be a dinner, much like the reception after our wedding, only a bit more ostentatious, I’m sure.  Ida goes overboard when it comes to such things though they do end up being the talk of the kingdom afterwards, so she must do something right.  It will be a feast, and you will be the last one to enter.  You’ll join me to eat, and we’ll dance afterwards.  Nothing to worry about at all.”

“What should I wear?”

Branford laughed.

“I haven’t any idea at all,” he said.  “I’m sure Ida will find someone to advise you, though.  She probably has a wardrobe picked out for both of us by now.”

“It really is late,” I said, glancing at the shuttered windows.  “I should get up and…”

I didn’t really know what I should be doing, so my sentence trailed off.  I was used to keeping myself busy all the time. I started to push myself away from him, figuring there was something I should be doing instead of sleeping, but Branford’s arms tightened around me.

“Stay,” Branford said, the word sounding more like a question than a command.  “Ida will undoubtedly do everything that needs to be done, so there is no rush right now.  Please…just lie here with me a while.”

Branford lay down on his back and pulled me close to him again.  I nodded and lay my head down against my husband’s chest.  He immediately moved his hand into my hair again with his fingers pulling lazily through the strands.  My thoughts returned to the night and the feel of Branford’s gentle touch and compared them to the slow draw of his fingers through my hair.

“What are you thinking?” Branford asked quietly.  “I find you so difficult to read, and you’re not very forthcoming with information.  Tell me what you are thinking that makes your eyes shine like that.”

Heat rose to my face, and I tried to tuck my head into the crook of his arm, but he held my chin and turned me to face him.

“Don’t hide.  What are you thinking?”

“I was just thinking about what you said,” I told him.  “I like waking up with you, too.”

“You do?”  Branford beamed at me, letting out a breathy, relieved laugh.

“Yes.”  I was sure my face blushed a deeper red.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Branford said.  “Honestly, I had just about come to the conclusion that you didn’t care much for me at all.”

“Why would you think such a thing?”

“You hardly look at me,” he said, his smile quickly gone from his face.  “When I saw you with my mother, I think that was the first time I had seen you really smile, and you stopped as soon as I walked in.  You’ve barely told me anything about yourself, and every time I touch you, you flinch as if you think I’m going to do something horrible to you.”

Though his grip remained holding me to face him, I still shifted my eyes away from his gaze.  Part of me understood that a lifetime of ingrained behaviors could not be changed overnight, but I would have been lying to both him and to myself if said I wasn’t made nervous by the touch of his skin on mine.  It was too unexpected—not necessarily unpleasant, but foreign and strange.  I probably hadn’t spoken to more than a handful of men my entire life, and all of them in the royal family, or very close to them, at Hadebrand.  None of them ever touched me intentionally though—not once.

“Why, Alexandra?”  Branford tilted his head way over to the side and looked at me straight on.  “Am I so hideous to you?”

“No!” I said emphatically.

“Then why?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly.  “I can’t even manage to get your title correct.  I have no idea how I’m supposed to talk to you either alone or with others.”

“I don’t understand,” Branford said, shaking his head.  “Just talk.”

“It’s not that simple,” I answered.

“Please, just tell me what you want to say.”

“I’m frightened of you,” I blurted out.

Branford’s brow furrowed, and he glanced away from me.

“What frightens you?” he asked.

“I don’t want you to be angry with me,” I said, admitting my fear.  “You said we would talk later about the carriage driver, and we haven’t, and I don’t know what you are going to do when you’re angry with me.”

“What do you think I will do?” Branford asked.

“You’re a prince,” I replied.  “You can do anything you want.”

Branford sighed and lifted his hand to run through his hair.  He closed his eyes and shook his head for a moment.

“None of this is going right,” he mumbled to himself, and I felt panic immediately rise to my breast.  Despite my efforts from before, he was going to send me away.

“Please don’t get rid of me!” I finally cried out and then covered my mouth with my hand, horrified.

“Oh, Alexandra!” Branford shook his head.  “Why would you think such a thing?”

I had to look into his eyes because he sounded so sincere, and I needed to understand.

“Because I’m not good enough,” I said.  “I'm only a handmaid.  I don't know how to be your wife.  I have no idea how to behave as the wife of a prince.”

“Alexandra,” he said, slowly drawing my name out.  “I'm not going to send you away.”

“You could,” I whispered, “or worse.”

“Alexandra,” Branford repeated, his voice nearly as quiet as my own.  “Have I given you any reason to think I would do such a thing?”

Sunniva’s words about assertiveness and being noble of heart came back to me.  Maybe he hadn’t said as much in my presence, but he hadn’t said anything to the contrary, either.

“You haven’t given me reason to think you would not.”

“Why would I cast you out?” Branford asked.

Did he want me to list all the reasons again, or was he looking for something else?  I was certain I had spent more time second-guessing myself in the last two days than I had in my entire life.

“You have…you could…there could be someone else you want to choose instead,” I whispered.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

I took a deep breath and decided if I didn’t say it now, I probably never would.

“I saw you…last night,” I said, hesitating a moment.  I took a deep breath.  “You were with that pretty woman from the court.”

I felt his chest muscles contract under the side of my face, and his arms gripped me tighter for a moment before he relaxed again.

“What do you mean, you saw me?”

“You were in the garden,” I said.  “While I was waiting for you, I went out to see what it looked like at night.  You were there…with that lady.”

“And?”

“You were talking…and I heard you say…”  I paused, both to try to remember his exact words as well as wonder what on earth I thought I was doing.  If my words were taken as an accusation—right or wrong—against my husband and prince, the consequences could be dire.  He owned me, and if he decided to either cast me out for the favor of a new wife or keep me to the side as he entertained himself with someone else, there would be nothing I could do about it.

“Say what, Alexandra?”

“That you would have to replace me.”

“Replace you?” Branford’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.  “I never said anything like that!”

“You did,” I said emphatically, though I kept my voice quiet.  “You said it was so soon, and you weren’t sure how quickly you should replace me.”

Branford’s eyes widened.

“We were talking about Lily,” he said softly, then shook his head slowly.  “I was not referring to you, Alexandra.”

“You weren’t?”

“No, and I’m a little angry you would think so little of me.  I chose you, Alexandra.  If I hadn’t intended to keep you as my wife, why would I have chosen you in the first place?”

“You wanted to…to upset King Edgar.”

“And I did,” Branford said with a sly grin.

“You have already accomplished that goal,” I said, reasoning.  “Since we haven’t completed our union, you could send me away.”

“I would have completed it on the first night!” he shouted suddenly.  “If I wanted to replace you, I wouldn’t have even considered bedding you!”

Branford closed his eyes, and he took a couple of deep breaths.  I could see the tension rise in his shoulders and slowly dissipate again with each breath.

“Last night I asked you to trust me,” Branford said, “and you did.  Did I do what I said I would do?”

I nodded, my head reeling a little from his swift change in moods.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did you like it?”

I nodded again, blushing.

“Trust me again now,” he said.  “You are going to remain my wife, and I will remain your husband.  No one can change that.”

My mind fluttered back to the words I heard in the garden, the pretty woman holding his hands and beckoning him to her.  I wanted to press the issue further.  Where did they go and what did she give him?  I was concerned I had only barely dodged his anger though, and I wasn’t sure the answer was worth his wrath.

“Will you trust me, Alexandra?”

“Yes, my…Branford.”

He covered my hand with his and pulled it up to his mouth.  I followed the motion with my gaze as he brought my fingers to his lips and pressed gently along my knuckles.  The rough skin of his unshaven face tickled my hand.  Taking a deep breath, I opened my hand and slowly touched the edge of his jaw, the rough stubble of hair scratching the pads of my fingers.

“Would you like me to shave you today?” I asked.

Branford’s eyes brightened, and he smiled.

“Yes, I would like that.”

“Now?”

“I suppose I can only lie around in bed for so long.”  Branford chuckled and kissed the back of my hand again.  “Shall we?”

I moved to sit up and felt a sudden sense of loss when his arms dropped away from me.  I shook my head slightly and then clambered out of the bed to take care of my more urgent morning needs.  Branford placed two logs on the fire closest to the water basin, and I placed the kettle on its hook.  While the water heated, I dressed in the slightly too-long dress Sunniva had me wear while we had hemmed the blue and yellow one.  It hung down low enough to touch the floor, so I spent a moment twisting the fabric into the waistline to shorten it a few inches.

When I came out, Branford was dressed only in his trousers and sat back in a chair he had pulled close to the basin.  Everything I needed to shave him was set out on a nearby cabinet top.  The kettle’s water was boiling, and I added a generous amount to the bowl.  Testing its heat with my fingers, I soaked two towels in the hot water.  Once they were drenched, I wrung out the first one and placed it around Branford’s face.  He winced at first then relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes.

It had been some time since I had shaved a man, but I had shaved Prince Gage, Princess Whitney’s brother, often enough that I wasn’t concerned about my abilities.  Taking a straight razor from the nearby cabinet top, I soaked it as well and then used my fingers to extract cream from the cup on the cabinet.  I rubbed the cream into Branford’s face and neck to soften his skin and make the process more comfortable.

Starting with his neck, I scraped the edge of the razor slowly up his skin, rinsed the blade, and then made a second pass.  I worked over one side of his neck before moving up around his jaw to his cheek.  Branford’s eyes stayed on my face as I worked over him, and he seemed rather tense.  I wondered if he ever had anyone do this for him or if he was used to doing it all himself.  His skin was taut with his tense muscles underneath, and his stare was starting to make me feel self-conscious as well as making my job more difficult.  I decided to try conversation in hopes of diverting his attention and relaxing his face.

“Why does Ida want us to have another reception?” I asked.

“She’s angry with me, to begin with.”

“Because she was supposed to plan your wedding?”

“Yes, who told you?”

“Ida and Sunniva talked about it.”

“Of course.”  Branford sighed and turned his eyes to mine.  He did appear to be relaxed a little now or at least distracted.  “I suppose they told you how awful I am?”

“No,” I replied.  “Sunniva said you were…”

I paused and bit down on my lip, wondering how much I should reveal.

“What did she say?” Branford asked, prodding for an answer.

“She said you were a good man,” I said.

“Did she?”

“Yes.”

For a few minutes, I went about my task in silence, and Branford stared off into space, his expression contemplative.

“Does the reception worry you?” Branford asked.

“Somewhat,” I admitted, slowly sliding the straight blade up the side of his neck.  “I don’t really belong with all those people.”

“Of course you do,” Branford said, correcting me.  “You are my wife.”

“I’m not so sure everyone would agree with that.  Their first sight of me was less than ideal.”

“It doesn’t matter if some of them disagree,” Branford said, his voice low.  “You are mine.  You belong wherever I am, and you will be at my side during the feast celebrating our marriage.”

“I’m yours,” I said quietly.  “I will do as you wish.”

“You are mine.” Branford reached out and placed his hand over my wrist, stopping my motions with the razor.  With his other hand, he reached out and cupped my chin.  “In the same respect, I am yours.”

I moved the razor from my husband’s cheek.  For some strange, unknown reason, the notion made me laugh.

“You find that funny?” Branford inquired, and for a moment, I thought him angry, but when I looked to him, he was smiling slightly.  He released my wrist and chin.

“A little,” I admitted.  I calmed myself and went back to my task.  “I belong to you, of course.  I was given to you when we married—by Father Charles.  It’s supposed to be that way.”

“Is it now?” Branford said with a smirk.

I looked up into his eyes again, trying to determine if he was telling me I was wrong, agreeing, or possibly just teasing me.  I couldn’t determine the answer from his expression.

“I think so,” I mumbled.  I focused back on the edge of his jaw, running the razor carefully over the curve.

“Marriage is a union, Alexandra,” Branford said when I moved to shave the opposite side of his neck.  “As I told you on our wedding night, I do have expectations of you, but there are things I must do for you as your husband.  You belong to me, but I am yours as well.  You will take care of me and our children, and I will protect you and provide for all of you.  What happens to a man if he cannot provide for his family?”

“Um…well…” I stumbled over my words, not expecting the directness of his question.  “In Hadebrand, his family may be taken away and given to a man who can provide for them.  It would depend on his station, but one of Princess Whitney’s other handmaids was taken from her father when he could not care for her and her mother.”

“I better make sure I provide for you,” Branford said.

“But you are a prince,” I reminded him unnecessarily.

“Only as long as I keep my kingdom safe.”

It was yet another idea I had not considered in a long list of things I had not pondered.  There were many, many individual kingdoms within the realm, and though only a very few had stood strong for centuries, a handful of others combined to become stronger.  However, the majority rise and fall as loyalties change and battles are fought.

“Is that what happened to Sterling?” I asked, tensing as soon as the words left me, for I did not know if this was a subject about which Branford would speak.

“Not…exactly.”  Branford’s words were strained and his voice deep.  I could see the tension in his jaw.  “I’m not prepared to discuss that with you.”

“I’m sorry, my lord.”  The words flowed out of my mouth automatically, just as the muscles in my neck and shoulders tensed for the potential physical assault.  He did not make a move toward me, so I looked back to his face and studied him carefully.

His jaw was still tight with his teeth clenched.  His hands were drawn into fists, and the muscles in his arms and chest were tensed and more clearly defined.  Everything about his body screamed against the contained anger and violence within—everything except his eyes.

Branford’s eyes held the deepest sorrow I had ever seen.  I had never witnessed tears from a man, and something inside me reacted instinctively.

Without thinking, I placed the cup and razor on top of the cabinet to free my hands.  I reached out to him, and though I saw his eyes darken, narrow, and glare at the movement, I didn’t stop.  I touched the edge of his jaw with my fingertips and then moved them further up his cheek until my fingers reached his hair.

“I’m sorry, Branford,” I said.  “I don’t remember my parents, so I never really mourned for them.  I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you and Ida.  I’m sorry.”

Branford’s eyes softened as they shifted to look into mine, but his jaw remained clenched.  After a moment, I saw his throat move as he swallowed before he spoke.

“You had better finish with me,” he said.  “I’m sure there’s something Ida is expecting me to do, and if I disappoint her again, I will never hear the end of it.”

I gathered up my tools again, quickly finished the last spot on his cheek and then moved to his chin and upper lip.  Once those were complete, I probed his skin with my fingertips, checking for any spots I might have missed.  I found none and bit down on my lip to keep from smiling at myself.  I took the last towel from the basin and covered his face in the heat again.  I let Branford sit with his face covered for a moment while I cleaned the tools I had used, removed the wet towel, and gently patted him dry with a clean one.

“Excellent,” Branford said as he smiled broadly.  His hands ran over his face while his eyes looked at me.  “Thank you, my wife.”

“Anytime you wish, Branford,” I replied.

“You will spoil me, I think,” he said with another smile.

“Am I not supposed to?” I inquired.  Branford laughed.

“Whether you are supposed to or not, I hope you continue.”

I nodded but could no longer contain my smile.  Branford rose from the chair and stepped closer to me.

“I want to kiss you,” Branford said abruptly.  He reached up and pulled my face closer to his.  “Is that all right with you?”

“Yes,” I said, my breath already gone.  “You don’t have to ask me for that.”

He smiled, raised his eyebrows, and then touched my lips with his very softly and briefly.  I opened my eyes to find him staring intently into them, the green of his irises deep enough to lose myself in them.  He kissed me again with a little more force.

Branford placed his hands on my hips.  He pressed against my mouth as his body pushed me backwards until my shoulders touched the cool stone wall behind me.

“Do you remember what I said last night?” he asked.  “About trusting me?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Trust me now?”  His words were both a question and a command, so I nodded and tried not to let any of the fear that lurked in my belly show itself in my eyes.  Branford took my chin in his hand and leaned close, looking directly at me.  “I’m not going to hurt you, Alexandra.  I swear it.  I just want to touch you like I did last night.”

I nodded again, and Branford’s head dipped, and he placed his lips against my throat, sucking softly on the skin there.  My breaths started coming in pants almost immediately.

His gaze took me in, first looking over my face, then darting to my lips and lower.  He moved his hand quickly up the length of my arm and to my shoulder.  He moved slowly across my neck before dipping lower, grazing my collarbones on the way back.

“I want to touch you lower, Alexandra.  Do you want me to stop?”

Lower…lower?  What did he mean by lower?

“I don’t think so,” I finally said as I wondered what in the world I was agreeing to let him do to me.  Part of my brain said it didn’t matter.  Whatever he wanted to do was just fine.  There was one thing I was sure of at that moment—I did not want him to stop.

He moved his hand over the top of my breast once more, on top of the fabric of my clothing, and then very, very slowly, his fingers crept over my entire breast until his hand reached the bottom edge and curled his fingers around, lifting my breast into his hand as his thumb traced over the center, causing it to tense and tighten.

But it wasn’t just the nipple he touched that I felt tightening.

I felt the muscles of my thighs also clench, and a strange, unfamiliar feeling that started in the pit of my stomach, slowly worked its way downward as Branford’s thumb gently massaged the nipple of my left breast.  My legs moved closer together of their own accord, and the feeling became more intense and focused on a spot directly between them.

“Do you like that, Alexandra?” Branford’s mouth ran along my jaw, and his thumb graced my nipple again.  “When I touch you here…do you feel it in other places?  Do you feel it between your legs, my wife?”

“Yes.”  I was panting.  How did he know?  How could he possibly know what my body was doing when I didn’t understand it myself?

“Do you like the way that makes you feel, Alexandra?” Branford’s hot breath invaded my ear.  “Do you want more from me?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know!”

Branford chuckled softly.

“I know what you want, and I want to give it to you,” he said.  “I want to teach you what it is you want from me.”

He nipped lightly with his lips at the skin of my neck, down to my shoulder, and then back up to my ear.  He traced the edge of my ear with his tongue before he whispered again.

“Tonight,” he said quietly so I had to strain just to hear his words.  “Tonight I’m going to touch you where you’ve never been touched.  Slowly and gently, Alexandra…so gently…and then you’ll understand what it is you want from me.”

*****

Having missed breakfast altogether, I found myself in the Women’s Room with Ida, eating a simple lunch of breads, cheeses, and berries while my brain turned somersaults.  I considered Branford’s words to me over and over again.  Between his promise from the previous night and those right after I had shaved him, my head was a maypole of twisted emotions.

Ida discussed my hair with a young woman named Ramona.  After some conversation between the two of them, I found my head dunked in water and then washed with mead, of all things.  I sat near the window and combed it, as Ida instructed me to do, until it was dried from the sun.  I was surprised at how soft it was and wondered if it would feel different to Branford when he ran his hands over it tonight.

Tonight.

I felt my body tense at just the word, which echoed through my head with a memory of his breath in my ear.  The tension—so different than it had been when I thought of him before—ran up and down my torso with the remembered movements of his fingers over my skin.  I shivered, shook my head, and tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“I think she should wear it up,” Ramona was saying.

“I’m not so sure,” Ida replied.

“It will show off her neck, and she has a lovely neck.”

“Very true.” Ida nodded in agreement.  “We should probably hold it up simply, because Branford is just going to want it down when he gets her back to their rooms.  I know my brother’s preferences, and he likes hair long and flowing.  He’ll want to be able to take it back down again without a lot of fuss.”

“What about those combs Queen Sunniva gave you for your birthday?” Ramona suggested.  “Would they work with the dress?”

“Anything would work with the dress I have picked out,” Ida said with a laugh.  “No one will even notice what’s in her hair—they will be too focused on the dress!”

For as long as they discussed me, I wondered if I even needed to be in the room.  I did end up with my hair affixed to the top of my head, twisted and coiled around in the back before it was held in place by a luxurious set of combs.

“Perfect,” Ida finally said after fussing with a few loose strands for what seemed like an hour.  “I have to go check on your dress.  Sunniva is hemming it for you.  I’ll send a couple of the girls up to your rooms soon to help you dress, all right?”

“Of course,” I said with a nod.

“I’ll try to be there as well, just to make sure everything is as perfect as your hair.”  Branford’s sister gave me a big smile.  “I have a thousand things to do though, and Branford won’t let anyone else help him dress.  I can’t wait for you to come into the hall.  You are going to look so elegant and so noble, no one is ever going to question you.”

I tried to smile and believe her words, but I had some difficulty.  Most of the nobles had already formed a first impression of me, and I doubted anything Ida could do at this point would change that too drastically.

“At the very least, Sir Branford is going to have a hard time keeping his hands to himself before the dancing,” Ramona said with a giggle.

I knew I was blushing but kept my gaze to the ground.  It would be several hours before the reception, and I was already concerned about how well my hair would stay in place and if the dress would truly be to Branford’s liking.

“I have to get downstairs,” Ida said.  “The dinner is complicated, and I want to make sure it’s right before they get too far along.  Alexandra, go on to your rooms.  I’ll get your dress sent there as soon as it’s ready.”

“Yes, Ida,” I responded and headed back to the rooms I shared with Branford.  I walked carefully to keep from disturbing my hair.  Along the way, I worried over the mechanics of getting a dress over my head without messing up all of Ida and Ramona’s hard work.

Our rooms were empty, and I wondered if Branford had also spent his day with someone primping and preening him, but I doubted it.  Ida said he didn’t let anyone but her help him.  I wished there was something useful I could do to pass the time, but everything I considered seemed too great a risk to my hair.  I couldn’t even bring myself to add another log to the fire for concern it would dirty my hands, which would then need to be washed.  If I washed my hands, they would end up wet.  If my hands were wet and I accidentally reached up and touched my hair, it would be ruined.

I had never had the occasion to concern myself over such things before.  The actual wedding probably should have been the first time, but everything had happened far too quickly for me to think about it much.  The remainder of my afternoon was spent taking slow, deep breaths to keep myself from crying alternating with all the various ways I might embarrass myself or Branford during dinner.  In retrospect, I should have done the hemming of the dress myself if just to give me something to occupy my mind.

There was a knock at the door, which surprised me.  I wondered if Branford had spoken with Ida again about coming in without knocking first, but I somehow didn’t think she would listen to him.  I opened the door slowly and was taken aback by who stood on the other side.

It was the beautiful golden blonde from the garden along with the other attractive noblewoman who had stood with her in the throne room the day before.

“Hello, Alexandra,” the golden-blonde said.  “I’m Kimberly, and this is Nelle.  Princess Ida sent us to help you dress.”

For the first time, I noticed the bundles of creamy-colored fabric with light blue trim held by Nelle, who stood a little behind the taller woman.

“I thought Ida was coming to help,” I said quietly.  I didn’t like the idea of this woman in the rooms I shared with Branford.  Though Branford assured me their conversation the previous night had not been about me, I was uncomfortable with her presence.  I just didn’t want her here.

“Princess Ida was detained.  She’s working on some last minute changes to the decorations or the food or something.  Regardless, she can’t be here and sent us instead.”

Nelle shuffled from one foot to the next.

“Come in, please,” I said once I realized I had just been standing there, staring at them.  They both flitted past me and went straight to the changing area.

“I see Branford has redecorated since I was last here,” Kimberly said as she looked at me out of the corner of her eyes and then glanced back at the bed.  “I suppose that was needed.”

Nelle covered her mouth to muffle her laughter as I felt a cold chill run through my body.  I wondered how many times Kimberly had been in Branford’s rooms and just what they had done here.

“I have your dress right here,” Kimberly said, distracting me from my thoughts.  “I know Sir Branford will just go crazy when he sees you in yours!  The fashion is the very latest, and I can’t believe Ida managed to get all of us dresses in this style.”

Taking the fabric from her counterpart, Kimberly held the dress she and Nelle had brought with them up to my shoulders.  I couldn’t really get an idea of the exact look of the outfit as she held it to me and rather assumed there were several layers to it since Nelle walked past us and began to hang additional fabric over the changing screen.

“Come along,” Kimberly said as she turned me by my shoulders and guided me to where Nelle stood.  “You can help Nelle and me dress, and then we will help you.  You don’t mind, do you?  I mean—you have a lot of experience with such things, yes?”

Nelle giggled.

“Yes,” I said quietly as I tried not to feel offended by her remark.  It wasn’t that she insulted me, but I felt affronted for Branford, knowing he would not have approved of her words.  Determined not to let them know I was bothered, I held up the first dress, still looking around to see where the rest of it might be.  All three of the dresses were nearly identical with only the color of the trim signifying the difference.  What was most odd was the cut of the dress, which appeared to be very low across the front, and the sleeves themselves didn’t appear to be complete at all.

Doing as they instructed, I first assisted Nelle and then Kimberly into the strange attire, growing more and more uneasy as the efforts continued.  Once they were dressed, they both helped me into the outfit while I kept my eyes to the ground, both from my own uncertainty and also because I felt as if I were intruding on their privacy.

Their dresses showed their entire necks and the tops of their chests, even to the point where the slight dip between their breasts was clearly visible.  The whole outfit was held up by gathered cloth wrapped around their chests, with other matching gathers around the tops of their arms, but their shoulders were completely bare.  The garment’s sleeves ended just below the elbows, and though it fell nearly to the floor, the fabric was light and showed much of their curves when they moved from side to side.  When I looked down at myself and saw an almost identical dress barely covering my body, I was truly horrified.  This couldn’t be right—it just couldn’t be.

“This is the dress Ida wants me to wear?  The one Queen Sunniva hemmed for me?” I asked, incredulity overwhelming me.

“Would I be here with it if it weren’t?” Kimberly snipped back at me.  “Come on, now.  Let’s make sure it’s the right length.”

She knelt down and fiddled around with the hem, shaking it slightly before letting it billow back around my legs.   She declared it of the exact right length before standing again to face me.

“Where is the rest of it?” I asked quietly, for surely I was missing something here.  There was no way I was supposed to wear such a thing in public.  The garment was much more likely to be reserved for a wedding night, not a wedding reception.  Even then, it was far more revealing than the nightdress I wore the first night I was with Branford.

“Don’t be so old-fashioned,” Kimberly said with wide-open eyes and raised eyebrows.  Nelle laughed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth again.  “This is the latest fashion, and we are all going to be the talk of the court for at least a month.  The princess only brought five of these back from Sawyer.”

“Who will wear the fifth?”

“The queen, of course.”

“Queen Sunniva will be dressed like this?”

“Of course!” Kimberly exclaimed.  She nudged Nelle, who began to nod emphatically.

“The queen has always had an eye for clothing,” Nelle informed me.

“And she wants me to wear this?”  I was really having a hard time believing this wasn’t some kind of jest, and I found myself caught between the risk of not wearing what Ida and Sunniva intended me to wear and how uncomfortable I would be wearing something that clearly showed so much of my skin.  Even as I stood there with the other two women in very similar dresses, I couldn’t believe we were all planning to be seen in such things outside these chambers.  Would Branford want me to wear such a thing?  “I just don’t know if I can…”

“Look, Alexandra,” Kimberly said with an exasperated sigh, “I’m trying to help as a favor to Sir Branford, but you are obviously too stubborn or just too ignorant to understand.  If that’s the way you are going to be, then fine, but I’ll just have to tell Sir Branford you are refusing any help.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied, her sharp words stinging me.  My mind told me to stop being such a fool—there was a noble here trying to help me, and I was all but refusing her assistance.  I reminded myself that this was a different kingdom with different customs from what I had been exposed to before, and I needed to fit in.  “I’ve just never worn such a thing before.”

“Trust me,” Kimberly purred as she leaned a little closer to me and tilted her head.  “I know exactly what Branford likes, and this is going to drive him wild.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but her tone and emphasis on Branford’s name without his title did not leave me with a feeling of comfort.  However, I didn’t want her to think me ungrateful, so I nodded quickly.

“Let me fix your hair a bit,” Kimberly said as she adjusted the combs and smoothed out a few escaped strands.

“We’re ready in record time!” Kimberly exclaimed.  “You should wait about an hour, and then come in the main entrance.  Do you remember how to get there?  Or do you want me to send an escort to bring you?”

“I remember, Lady Kimberly.”

“Good!” she exclaimed, and her eyes brightened.  “We’ll see you at dinner, then.”

She quickly hustled Nelle out the door and closed it behind her, leaving me in this most revealing dress with no idea what I was going to do to occupy myself for the next hour before I was to enter the main hall.  Since I couldn’t bring myself to even look down at my dress, I stared at the wooded area visible from the windows closest to the bed I now shared with Branford.  I couldn’t even bring myself to think of what he might do with me later that evening, for when I did, I was mortified to see my blush was not just on my face, but on the top of my chest as well.  If I blushed during dinner or while we were dancing, it would be clearly visible to anyone who looked.

I forced thoughts of the dress out of my mind.  If this is what the ladies of the court, Ida, and Queen Sunniva herself would be wearing, I wasn’t going to insult them by not wearing the gift they had provided even if it terrified me to be seen in such a state.  Still, when it was finally time to join everyone else in the great hall, I found it difficult just to open the door.

There was no one in the hallway, thankfully, and I assumed most everyone was already in the hall, waiting for my entrance.  I looked down at my exposed skin once more and grimaced a little.  I took a deep breath, sealed my determination to at least look fashionable even if I still didn’t know exactly what would happen during the feast.  Branford has assured me all that was required was my entrance, eating, and dancing.  As long as he was leading the dance, I thought I would be just fine.

I made my way to the entrance and saw the two guards standing outside the huge pair of doors leading to the hallway.  I dropped my gaze to the ground as they looked first at me, then at each other.  Trying to keep my nervousness in check, I walked up to the center of the two doors and glanced up at the guard on the left side.  I felt my teeth trying to puncture my bottom lip and made myself stop.

“Are you…um…ready to enter, my lady?” the guard questioned quietly.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice equally as soft.

He nodded once, then met his counterpart at the center of the doors and swiftly pulled them apart.  I took one last deep breath, tried to hold up my head, and walked quickly into the grand room.

As soon as I entered, all eyes turned to me, and the room was drenched in complete and total silence.

Not knowing if the quiet was to be expected or not, I continued walking swiftly, but as my eyes met the expressions of some of the people in the room, my stride began to slow as a chilling sense of dread started at my shoulders and cascaded over my body, making me feel heavy, as if I had donned a suit of armor.

Indeed, I was beginning to wish I had.

On the far side of the table, away from the others, was Kimberly with Nelle at her side.  They had both changed their dresses and now wore matching cream and rose-colored dresses with high collars and long sleeves.  Nothing but the very tops of their necks was exposed.

As soon as I saw them, I knew.  I knew before I ever shifted my gaze to Ida’s shocked expression, the look on the face of the King of Silverhelm, the wide-open mouth of his queen, and my husband’s furious eyes.

“Excuse me a moment.” Branford’s dark voice floated over the table and down the hallway to my ears.  He stood, tossing whatever had been in his hand down to the table as he shoved his chair back, circled the end of the table, and stalked toward me.  I took an involuntary step backwards as he approached and cringed as he reached me, took me roughly by the arm, pulled me down the hallway, and yanked me through the doorway.   Once we were in the corridor beyond, Branford turned abruptly, his fingers digging into the flesh of my arm through the sleeve of this obviously inappropriate dress, and hauled me up the stairway toward the private wing of Branford’s family.

“There can only be so many accidents, Alexandra,” he hissed low in my ear.  “I don’t know what it is you are trying to accomplish, but we’re going to have to have a little discussion regarding your loyalties.”

And that is when I knew some people truly couldn’t be trusted.