BOOK 3 of The Ostler's Boy Series
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Love. Duty. Valor.
Court & Class.
A pseudo-medieval romance through the eyes of a reckless princess.
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After Svana and her Knight, there was a Princess and her love of adventure.
Eliza Rose, the wildes...
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Thursday came and went with no word from my Duke. Then Friday came, and with it, nerves as lucid as the day was long. I stood in front of my floor-length mirror, meticulously picking at every bead and detail on my gown, seeking and destroying every could-be flaw. I wanted to look amazing. I wanted the porcelain shade of my dress to fit and accent me so well that the court whispered about my tailor and begged me for his name. I wanted my Duke to demand that we sneak off just to caress each other the very moment he saw me. I wanted him to run his hands up and down my thighs until he found the dagger I had promised I was always wearing for him, and I wanted Lord Beck to notice when we had snuck out of the room and forgotten his dance. I wanted Lord Beck to think he'd made a mistake by leaving me. To fall back in love with me. To promise me everything he had promised me before, all over again, and then I wanted to tell him no.
Lord Beck kissed my neck. "Shh," he teased, pressing his finger to my lips. "Don't make too much noise." His words were hot against my skin. "It would be hard to explain what we're doing in here."
I shut my eyes, thinking about his pewter ones. I gripped the edge of the wood table that he had put me on. He settled my dress over my legs and dragged me close.
"Wait," I said.
One hand vanished deeper beneath my skirt; the other covered my mouth. "Princess, stop," he ordered me. His face was serious as he released my lips. "We're both adults."
"Yes, but..." I shifted. "I'm so nervous."
"I thought you wanted this?" he teased me.
"I did, but," I bit my lip.
"Princess," he purred. "Princess... Princess... Princess."
"Princess?" Willoughby asked.
He leaned against the wall as Amy tied my corset.
"Tighter," I told her.
"It's already very tight," she explained. "If I make it much tighter, I'm worried you'll pass out."
"I want to look beautiful," I said.
Willoughby folded his arms. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I told him, but with every loop my maid pulled, I thought about that night with Beck.
"Willoughby is always–"
He cut me off. "Honestly, Princess. You talk about your Blade so often I think I should be jealous."
"Of Willoughby?" I asked. "He's just my friend."
I took a sharp breath as the boning bit into my ribs.
