The Duty of a Queen Read Free Page B

making
her gasp. She had not thought to react to his touch. It was physical only, none
of the emotion that came with Jonas's touch. Still, she thought it may be
enough.
    When he removed his hands, she turned to find him taking off his
shirt. She watched in silence as he revealed a firm, muscular torso. His skin
was not as scarred as Jonas's, but as he bent to remove his trousers, she saw a
criss-cross of scars on his back. She knew what made those marks, though she
did not know who would dare to whip a prince.
    She did not ask, but as he straightened, he offered an explanation.
“My father did not take kindly to my reservations about coming to the island.”
    Astrid's eyes widened.
    “I do not say this for your pity, only so that you will know that I
did not come lightly.” He took her hand. “Another time, I will tell you of all
that lead to our meeting. Tonight, however, I wish to make you my queen.” He
paused, then continued. “If you do not object.”
    Astrid sat on the edge of the bed and pushed herself back to the
center. The fabric beneath her hands was softer than any she had felt before. The
children of her village would love it. Perhaps this union would do more for her
people than only top the war. She leaned back on her elbows and parted her
legs. She was not ready and, from what she saw, neither was he, but they would
make this happen. She had seen his desire, had felt her body's physical
response to him.
    His touch was hesitant at first, but she could see that he was only
worried about her reaction, not that he did not know what he wanted. There was
none of the confidence she and Jonas had experienced their first time, the
surety of knowing that their touch was welcome.
    Slowly, though, she and Oliver gauged reactions, watched their
partners' faces and bodies. How Oliver sucked in a breath when Astrid scraped
her teeth over one flat nipple. The way her breathing stuttered when he pressed
his lips against that spot below her ear. When he finally entered her, she was
wet and trembling. He was gentle, though she could feel the strength he was
holding back. A strength that promised something with an edge, something like
the primal couplings she and Jonas had experienced after a fierce battle or a
rousing training session.
    The wave of pleasure caught her by surprise as the prince rolled his
hips and he brushed something inside her that she had never felt before. She
cried out, biting down on her lip so as to not say a name. She could not call
for Jonas and did not want to call for Oliver. The prince's hips jerked against
her, and his body went rigid in her arms. Astrid's breathing stuttered as she
felt her husband empty himself inside her.
    Tears burned at her eyelids and she blinked them back. She would not
cry. She was Princess Astrid of the Grey Stones, a warrior. She forced down the
emotions threatening to overwhelm her. When the prince raised his head from her
chest, her eyes were clear and she was once again in control.
    The motion of the ship lulled her to sleep, but a jolt tore her out
not too long after. Moonlight streamed bright through the cabin window and
Oliver slept at her side. The need to feel the wind on her face was strong, and
she slipped from the bed. Her clothing had been packed away by her hand-maidens
who slumbered in their own quarters. She did not wish to disturb the prince and
so she picked up her dress from the floor, and put it on. She did not bother
with her sandals, preferring the feel of the rough wood beneath her feet as she
left the cabin.
    The smell of salt was strong, and the scent made her sad. Wistfully,
she thought of the thick pines that surrounded her village. That, she thought,
would be behind her forever. The future would contain many things, but the
fresh pines would not be among them. The wind whipped her dress around her legs
as she walked to the railing. The sea had calmed and she found that the
movement was more soothing now.
    Astrid closed her eyes, letting the