Possessing Allura Page 6

  That is, after she’d gotten this charade of a ceremony over with. Montreico had already kept them waiting about in the audience hall, and frankly she found it infuriating she should have to be kept hostage like this. What was the point? Obviously he would offer her marriage and the matter would be concluded.

  ‘Uncle, why do you not send the guards for him?’ she asked churlishly. ‘Clap him in irons for insulting my person in this way. And yours.’

  The Grand Duke Fortragian gave her a cross look, one she’d never seen before. ‘That will be enough out of you, young lady.’

  Allura bit her lip. The man had told her off, like a common serving wench or a child. If she weren’t so shocked she might well be indignant.

  ‘Good morning, grand duke.’

  The hair on the back of Allura’s neck stood on end. It was him, waltzing into the chamber in one of his absurd hunting outfits, this time a pair of tight buckskin breeches and a loose weave shirt of forest green, the V-neck tied by loose leather strings. He had his sword belt and a medium-sized cutting knife, and clearly he’d been hunting in the early dawn.

  ‘Baron, we are pleased to receive you.’ Fortragian offered a low bow.

  ‘We would have been more pleased a half hour ago,’ snapped the princess.

  ‘Allura, silence!’ snapped her uncle, and the princess, avoiding Montreico’s stare as he moved to stand beside her, kept her eyes straight ahead. She swore if she were to see even the slightest trace of his smugness right now she would tear him to shreds with her bare hands.

  ‘Baron,’ continued the grand duke, ‘if it please you, may I offer you welcome into this hall, the home of the family which has offended you, and may I further offer the deepest apology, as that family’s senior member for the dishonor done to you and your house?’

  ‘As the offended party,’ Montreico replied, continuing the formal discourse employed in such situations, ‘I accept your family’s hospitality and apology, as well as the wisdom you bring as senior member.’

  ‘With your permission, then, may we proceed with the matter at hand?’ asked the grand duke.

  The baron inclined his head. He smelled of fresh morning dew and of the forest. The scent of manhood, of conquest and of the kill hung about him in a way that made her weak-kneed and distinctly uncomfortable. ‘I do grant this permission.’

  ‘Allura, face your accuser.’

  She did so, keeping her face a mask. As for Montreico’s, why hadn’t she remembered it as being quite so handsome, with its etched lines, capable of worry, laughter and, quite likely, deep passion?

  ‘Do you admit your offense, before these witnesses, that you did soil yourself, yielding to your feminine heat?’

  The words rankled unbelievably. ‘Uncle, you don’t expect me to—’

  The duke threw up his hand to stop her. ‘Enough, niece, my hands are tied. You will do as is required or this matter will be turned over to the magistrate.’

  The magistrate; legal redresser for the poor, keeper of the prison court where even an ugly hag could expect abuse not only from her jailors but her defense attorney as well.

  ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she challenged, without real conviction, for one look at his aged face said he would. ‘Very well,’ she huffed, ‘I will play your game, but know for the record I think this is all a sham.’

  ‘I am waiting,’ prompted the baron, something in his tone making her react.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I, Princess Allura, of the House of—’

  ‘No title required.’ This time it was the baron who interrupted. ‘You will use your given name only.’

  ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I, Allura, before these witnesses do confess my crime, that I have soiled myself and yielded to… to my…’ She balked at the sight of Veeta being led into the chamber on a leash by a man in hunting gear like that of the baron. What was she doing there? ‘To my feminine heat,’ she concluded.

  ‘What are the details of your crime?’ asked her uncle, pretending not to know.

  Allura’s cheeks flushed; this was exactly where Veeta had stood for her own false conviction, when Allura could barely contain her glee as the girl was found guilty and subsequently rejected by Porfino. Openly sweet young Saraveeta had wept at the reading of her sentence. ‘I… I touched this man… Baron Montreico.’ She faltered at saying his name, for the shame of arousal being exposed was more than could be borne. ‘I pressed my lips, my body against him.’

  ‘Do you, baron, acknowledge this offense?’ asked her uncle.

  ‘I do, your excellency.’

  ‘So be it. Accused, state for this assemblage your understanding of the implications of your action, stemming from the unleashing of your female heat.’

  Allura’s mouth was dry with anxiety. The baron’s gaze upon her was so masterful, so utterly implacable. She dared not read into it or seek to understand. ‘By touching this man and unleashing my heat, I have disgraced my ancestors and myself. I am deserving of nothing more than slavery and nothing less than death, depending on the d-decision of my judges.’ She stammered the last few words, ancient and unchanging, memorized by every child as an early warning against future misdemeanors.

  ‘Accused, by the graciousness of the gods, there is one chance open to you for redemption from your sentence,’ her uncle pronounced. ‘Should the man you offended claim you as his bride, then you shall be neither killed nor enslaved. Instead, you will be delivered over and made subject to him in all things. Do you understand this reality?’

  Allura quavered at the word ‘subject’. She had not thought of marriage in such terms. Surely such a thing would be unenforceable. ‘I understand, yes.’

  ‘And you further acknowledge that this man is under no obligation to take you? That he may, if he wishes, cast you away?’

  Her, cast away? Never. ‘I know all this, yes,’ she said, somewhat curtly.

  ‘In that case, before the gods and these witnesses,’ recited Fortragian, ‘I now require you to acknowledge your indebtedness to this man. You must now beseech him.’

  Allura drew her shoulders back proudly. Now would she begin to recoup herself; now would she shine as she ought, dazzling the loathsome man and all the others. Surely even the likes of this iron-hearted baron would melt in the face of such a largess on her part. Weak as her position might be, given that the man could have her or not, there could be no mistaking the honor befalling him.

  ‘I, Princess Al… I, Allura,’ she corrected herself, ‘do beseech you, Baron Montreico, to accept my favors, knowing that I humbly seek to belong to you in the state of matrimony, before the gods and these witnesses, till death do us part.’ She paused briefly before adding the following sentiment of her own to the formula. ‘Marry me, baron, by the light of my blue eyes under witness of my beating heart, and let us rule together, now and always.’

  A murmur went through the assembly, and Allura allowed herself a discreet smile.

  ‘Baron, having heard these proceedings, being aware of your rights and privileges, are you prepared to render your decision?’

  ‘I am,’ he replied without emotion.

  ‘In that case,’ Fortragian declared, ‘I bid you speak.’

  ‘I, Baron Montreico, son of Alexo, do hereby reject this female,’ said he, ‘in front of any gods and witnesses you may wish to present… now and forever.’

  Allura felt as though the floor gave way beneath her, and in a swirl of velvet she collapsed, her attendants rushing to her.

  ‘Good day,’ bowed the baron to the grand duke. ‘Your hospitality has been most appreciated.’

  Allura heard the retreating footsteps. ‘Get off me, you imbeciles!’ she snapped, slapping away the many hands fawning over her. ‘Montreico, I forbid you to leave this room! Do you hear me? I will not permit it.’ He had reached the door. ‘I… wait, please. Don’t go.’

  Th
is final entreaty caused him to stop, and he turned, a look of interest on his face. ‘What reason have I to stay, princess, when my decision is made?’

  ‘But you must marry me; unmake your decision.’

  ‘Are you giving me an ultimatum?’

  Allura’s heart pounded. She had not fully realized until this exact moment how little leverage she had anymore. ‘No,’ she sought to swallow her venom, ‘I intend no disrespect. I only ask that we have a chance to discuss the matter. Alone.’

  Her head span with ideas. There was much she could offer in the way of bribes. With her at his side, as an ally, he could become king, powerful and effective. And she would rule behind the scenes. But first she must survive as a free woman.

  ‘Anything to be said may be done so in the presence of this court,’ he stated uncompromisingly, returning to stand in front of her.

  She looked around at the inquisitive, nosey onlookers. A pin could be heard to drop amidst the eavesdropping silence. ‘I can give you a kingdom,’ she whispered.

  ‘You have nothing to give me, Allura,’ he countered. ‘You are ruined.’

  ‘I am still the crown princess,’ she argued.

  ‘Without my favor you go to the auction block,’ he reminded her. ‘Or that of the executioner.’

  The man was like ice. Would he respond to a show of feminine helplessness? ‘Please,’ she offered meekly, ‘you cannot let that happen to me if you have any honor, any sense of mercy.’

  ‘Mercy?’ He laughed dryly. ‘Like you showed your good friend Saraveeta?’

  Allura reddened in fury. So he knew the story. No doubt the treacherous slave had told him other things besides. ‘Just tell me,’ she stiffened, ‘what I must do. Every man has a price.’

  It was a vicious insult and she feared it would spell her doom. But Montreico merely smiled thinly, pirate that he was, and delivered a counterattack, decisive, degrading and absolute. ‘We will have a kiss, Allura, and then I shall reconsider.’

  ‘Go to the demons,’ she hissed, snatching her head to one side a fraction as he touched her cheek.

  ‘You will look fetching in a collar,’ he went on, undeterred.

  His touch made her insides melt, but she fought against her traitorous reaction. ‘You will die for that insolence, Montreico. Defiling me is the same as defiling the state.’

  Montreico retracted the fingers at his leisure. ‘I am surprised, Allura, that someone of your intellect should come across now as such a stupid girl. You are not the state. You are a slut; your body is already forfeit, to me or whoever else buys you. The choice is yours.’

  Her heart pounded. She ached to swoon into his arms, to be done with the words and simply let him have his way with her, but she was determined to fight him too, and when that was no longer possible, to mislead and deceive. ‘One kiss and then we shall marry,’ she bartered.

  ‘No bargaining. The kiss is merely the cost of keeping the negotiations open.’

  ‘Very well,’ she tried to keep her breathing under control, ‘get it over with.’

  ‘No,’ he rejected her waiting lips, ‘you will kiss me. Passionately and with abandon.’

  Her heart caught in her throat. ‘But you are asking me to…’

  ‘To appear as a whore before the court?’ he supplied. ‘But that is what you are. Unless I marry you and make you mine.’

  ‘I hate you,’ Allura let him know. ‘And I shall always hate you.’

  She rose on tiptoes, terrified to encroach the protective distance between them. Far worse than the shame of the act was what it might do to her inside, to that part of her that wanted to beg for him to take her virginity.

  He yielded not an inch, forcing her to do all the work, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. The first contact was like the crackle of fire. Instant combustion. She did not wish to yield to passion, but she could not help but crave more.

  Montreico seemed so unmoved and unresponsive. She was afraid he did not like it; was she doing it wrong? Did she not know even how to kiss a man properly? But why should she care? If he hated it, all the better. Maybe then he’d just leave her alone and go back to where he came from.

  But she could feel his cock now, pressing against her tummy. They were in their own world, just as they had been last night; the court and her uncle gone. There were no disputes, no struggles, only the rightness of physical lust. And she knew that he knew it, too, that she was ready and hot and completely primed. He need only whisper in her ear, or better still just lower her to the floor and she would tear willingly at her clothes, baring herself for him.

  But he did not intend to leave her in this world, this comforting place of security under the cloak of his power. He intended to expose her, to humiliate and ultimately conquer her.

  ‘You have my ear,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me why I should marry you?’ He released her panting body.

  Allura could barely stand, her breathing labored and her thoughts spinning. ‘B-because it makes sense for both of us,’ she eventually managed, her voice shaking.

  ‘For you, not for me.’

  ‘But surely you wish to marry the future queen?’

  ‘The woman I marry will please me in bed,’ he said. ‘That shall be her only purpose.’

  Allura swooned. She had no hope. ‘Montreico, haven’t you made me suffer enough?’

  ‘Actually, I have only begun,’ he declared, moving like a wolf to her throat, taking a bite that shivered down her spine.

  ‘Oh, god, no more…’

  ‘Now,’ he said, pulling back from her, ‘I suggest you attend to your affairs. You have one hour before we leave for my castle.’

  ‘S-so you will marry me?’ she gasped eagerly.

  ‘I shall take the matter under consideration. Now go to your room and await my final decision.’

  ‘Send every available servant to my quarters,’ Allura told the chamberlain upon entering the castle, having taken a few quiet moments to herself in the gardens, despite the baron having ordered her directly to her room. ‘I shall be packing for an immediate departure.’

  A confused expression fell across his face. ‘But, Baron Montreico…’

  ‘What about the baron?’ she demanded, barely able to stand the pronunciation of his name.

  ‘Baron Montreico has already ordered all of your effects to be packed, princess.’

  ‘By what right?’ she fumed. ‘How dare he touch my possessions?’

  ‘But, princess,’ he spluttered, ‘the baron said clearly he was your fiancé; surely that gives him the authority?’

  A flurry of conflicting emotions lurched in Allura’s stomach. So he was intending to marry her after all. She was free – at least from all the others who might want to own her enslaved body. But why had he not told her himself? Had he not just a few moments ago said he hadn’t decided what he was going to do with regard to her?

  Allura’s expression froze in rage as she looked up at the sweeping staircase. The baron’s rough and ready guardsmen, forest men in leather boots and breeches were bringing down piles of her clothes. They were carrying them like rags, without the slightest respect for her station or for their exquisite value.

  ‘Put them down!’ she cried, attempting unsuccessfully to interdict one after another. ‘Those gowns are worth more money than you will see in a lifetime!’

  ‘Do not interfere,’ warned the baron, following his men down the stairs as though he owned the place, ‘or I shall be extremely annoyed with you.’

  ‘You are a monster,’ she spat. ‘How can you let them ruin my finest clothes like this?’

  ‘They’ll be fine. Or new ones can be made in their place, if need be.’

  She rushed at him, throwing her fists at his chest, but he twisted her easily about, pinning her arm high up her back. ‘Let go of me!’ she shrieked.

  ‘Not til
l you stop making a little fool of yourself. Have you no pride?’

  ‘More than you,’ she countered. ‘Very well, let go and I’ll behave like a good little wife. Oh, wait, I wasn’t supposed to know that, was I?’

  ‘One day we’ll have to do something about that sarcasm,’ he said, releasing her.

  ‘You need only cut out your own heart and hand it to me,’ she told him, ‘and I will be quite calm and pleasant once again.’

  It was then that Allura caught sight of the cage being carried down by a pair of burly men. Inside it, wide-eyed and nervous, squatted Veeta. ‘What are you doing with her?’ she demanded.

  ‘This slave is part of your personal effects,’ said the baron. ‘I therefore claim her as part of your dowry.’

  ‘You can’t have her,’ Allura complained. ‘I forbid it!’

  Montreico laughed. ‘You are in no position to forbid me anything, princess. Besides, what difference does it make to you? You can still make use of her services as a handmaiden as often as you like.’

  ‘But you’ll have her,’ accused Allura. ‘You’ll fuck her.’

  ‘This is what one usually does with slave girls, yes,’ he mused.

  ‘Fine, then take her and leave me behind. Since you haven’t the decency to accept my offer of marriage to my face, I hereby rescind it. I’d rather kill myself.’

  Montreico’s eyes darkened, storms brewing behind them at the mention of death. What nerve had she touched?

  She dared not think of the real power of this man, the suffering he might have seen or the harshness with which he might be capable of acting. How many had he killed, she wondered, and how many had he seen die at his side in battle?

  ‘You are coming with me, princess,’ he said in determined tones that brooked no form of argument whatsoever. ‘Either gowned as you are, on your feet as my fiancée, or huddled naked in a cage as my slave. The choice is yours.’

  The princess clenched her fists in impotence. He was trying to provoke and she must not give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘I am ready to go now; you will take me from here this instant,’ she said flatly.