them.
Blaise wheeled around. “Princess, what are you doing here?”
“Saving your life, I think. He almost kiled you.” She pointed
to Brochfael with menace in her eyes.
Laughter bubbled up in Blaise’s throat. “Branda, this is the
practice yard.”
She looked at him with a blank expression.
He rested the point of his sword on the ground and leaned his
hand on the hilt. “As your sire drils his men, so do we.” He
watched her arch her brows. She was getting there. “My brother
and I hone our sword skils.”
“Wel, you could have let me know.” She flung her arms into
the air. “I ran in haste.” She flipped her hand onto her hip.
“Almost fel, I did, and what do I find? You didn’t even need my
help. What say you?”
He hadn’t a clue. Blaise held his hand to his brow. “What say
you, Princess?” he asked, hoping she’d explain it but he didn’t
care. He enjoyed the warm, pleasant sensation, the tingling in the pit of his stomach when she was near. As he gazed at the wealth
pit of his stomach when she was near. As he gazed at the wealth
of shiny hair, wel-molded face, wide blue eyes ful of innocence,
the creamy expanse of her neck, jutting breasts and narrow waist
flaring into her shapely hips and thighs, he felt vibrant, buoyant, alive.
“Brother, I think she speaks a Saxon riddle.” Brochfael
crinkled his face in an expression of both bafflement and mirth.
“Branda, does your father not have a practice yard for his
men to work their sword arms?” Blaise sheathed his sword.
“My sire would never alow me to watch the soldiers. I must
stay inside each day. Scan is the only soldier father lets me talk to.”
Blaise couldn’t hold back his laughter. He clutched his bely.
Brochfael grinned.
The Princess threw her shoulders back, folded her arms
against her chest and swung her head to the side.”Oh, laugh then.
I can find better ways to spend my time than in your company.”
Blaise chuckled louder.
“Men! This is what I get for my troubles. It’s always so; I
know not why.” She wheeled around, her long glistening hair
rippling across her back.
“By the Gods, you are lovely!” Blaise caled out as she
sauntered away. “Branda, do you not want to watch our sword
play? I am very good.”
Brochfael sheathed his long blade and slapped his brother’s
forearm. “Good luck with her; you shal need it.”
“I need no luck with the ladies, brother.” Blaise turned and
strode toward the rear gate, yet he could stil hear his brother
chuckling.
* * * *
“Daffodils,” Blaise mumbled, glaring down at his fisted hand
clasping newly picked wild flowers. Why had he picked daffodils
for the Princess? Wel, growing wild along the hilside as they
were, someone would have picked them, so it might as wel be
him. Bless Bran’s head! Now he was thinking like her. He
cupped his brow and walked up to the grianan door just as Leri
opened it. He felt the burn of embarrassment upon his cheeks as
he held out the daffodils.
“A child picked these for the Princess. Make sure she gets
“A child picked these for the Princess. Make sure she gets
them.”
“A child?”
Blaise did not like the lift in Leri’s tone and the way she roled
her eyes. No, he did not like that at al. She looked like she
knew what he was about. No, that was not good. If Leri
suspected he picked these flowers then she would tel Brochfael,
he would laugh then tel Carthann, who would tel Elisedd. The
King wouldn’t laugh, not at al. He would cal for the Druid to rid
his younger son of bewitchment. By the Gods! How did Leri
come to know what he was up to? She’d never struck him as
overly bright.
“Brochfael picked daffodils for me when we were first
betrothed,” she said with a smug smile on her face.
He did not want to know that and Brochfael certainly did not
want her speaking of such nonsense. “A child plucked these
flowers,” he said slowly.
“What child?”
“A
Blaise wheeled around. “Princess, what are you doing here?”
“Saving your life, I think. He almost kiled you.” She pointed
to Brochfael with menace in her eyes.
Laughter bubbled up in Blaise’s throat. “Branda, this is the
practice yard.”
She looked at him with a blank expression.
He rested the point of his sword on the ground and leaned his
hand on the hilt. “As your sire drils his men, so do we.” He
watched her arch her brows. She was getting there. “My brother
and I hone our sword skils.”
“Wel, you could have let me know.” She flung her arms into
the air. “I ran in haste.” She flipped her hand onto her hip.
“Almost fel, I did, and what do I find? You didn’t even need my
help. What say you?”
He hadn’t a clue. Blaise held his hand to his brow. “What say
you, Princess?” he asked, hoping she’d explain it but he didn’t
care. He enjoyed the warm, pleasant sensation, the tingling in the pit of his stomach when she was near. As he gazed at the wealth
pit of his stomach when she was near. As he gazed at the wealth
of shiny hair, wel-molded face, wide blue eyes ful of innocence,
the creamy expanse of her neck, jutting breasts and narrow waist
flaring into her shapely hips and thighs, he felt vibrant, buoyant, alive.
“Brother, I think she speaks a Saxon riddle.” Brochfael
crinkled his face in an expression of both bafflement and mirth.
“Branda, does your father not have a practice yard for his
men to work their sword arms?” Blaise sheathed his sword.
“My sire would never alow me to watch the soldiers. I must
stay inside each day. Scan is the only soldier father lets me talk to.”
Blaise couldn’t hold back his laughter. He clutched his bely.
Brochfael grinned.
The Princess threw her shoulders back, folded her arms
against her chest and swung her head to the side.”Oh, laugh then.
I can find better ways to spend my time than in your company.”
Blaise chuckled louder.
“Men! This is what I get for my troubles. It’s always so; I
know not why.” She wheeled around, her long glistening hair
rippling across her back.
“By the Gods, you are lovely!” Blaise caled out as she
sauntered away. “Branda, do you not want to watch our sword
play? I am very good.”
Brochfael sheathed his long blade and slapped his brother’s
forearm. “Good luck with her; you shal need it.”
“I need no luck with the ladies, brother.” Blaise turned and
strode toward the rear gate, yet he could stil hear his brother
chuckling.
* * * *
“Daffodils,” Blaise mumbled, glaring down at his fisted hand
clasping newly picked wild flowers. Why had he picked daffodils
for the Princess? Wel, growing wild along the hilside as they
were, someone would have picked them, so it might as wel be
him. Bless Bran’s head! Now he was thinking like her. He
cupped his brow and walked up to the grianan door just as Leri
opened it. He felt the burn of embarrassment upon his cheeks as
he held out the daffodils.
“A child picked these for the Princess. Make sure she gets
“A child picked these for the Princess. Make sure she gets
them.”
“A child?”
Blaise did not like the lift in Leri’s tone and the way she roled
her eyes. No, he did not like that at al. She looked like she
knew what he was about. No, that was not good. If Leri
suspected he picked these flowers then she would tel Brochfael,
he would laugh then tel Carthann, who would tel Elisedd. The
King wouldn’t laugh, not at al. He would cal for the Druid to rid
his younger son of bewitchment. By the Gods! How did Leri
come to know what he was up to? She’d never struck him as
overly bright.
“Brochfael picked daffodils for me when we were first
betrothed,” she said with a smug smile on her face.
He did not want to know that and Brochfael certainly did not
want her speaking of such nonsense. “A child plucked these
flowers,” he said slowly.
“What child?”
“A
Similar Books
