A Royal Marriage. Rachelle McCallaЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter Four

      His arms no longer held her. Gisela shivered, so much colder now that his strong arms were gone. She heard a voice, but it wasn’t the deep, comforting voice of the man who’d protected her. It was Hilda’s voice. The woman’s scent was far more like boiled cabbage than the woodsy, manly scent she’d grown so fond of.

      “Where?” She found her voice after a surprising struggle. “Where has he gone?”

      “Who, my lady? King John?”

      At the sound of his name, Gisela felt her tension ease. Memories returned and chased away the empty darkness. That’s right. King John had kept her safe. His arms had held her so tenderly and so securely. She shivered, missing his warmth. “Yes—King John. Where?” The strain of speaking silenced her question before she could articulate every word.

      “Easy now, Your Highness.” Hilda patted her hand. “The king must see to his men. They’ve posted a watch. I don’t know if he can spare a moment for you. Would you like me to ask him?”

      Gisela struggled to consider the question. Would she like Hilda to ask King John to see her? She imagined she must look awful. Likely she was in no condition to receive a visitor. And yet, she wanted so much to hear his voice and to feel his strong arms again. Her shivering continued uncontrollably. Could King John ease her fever? They’d called him a healer.

      “Yes, please. Ask for him.”

      * * *

      “Patrol the entire perimeter,” John advised his men. “Don’t neglect the far bank of the river. The Illyrians could easily cross the bridge past the mill or ford the creek upstream and catch us by surprise. We can’t risk that. If they attack with more men...” He shook his head, letting the threat linger unspoken. He could see in the eyes of his men that they understood how outnumbered they were.

      In any other situation, he’d have fallen back, emptying the settlement of Millbridge of its inhabitants and fleeing under the cover of darkness to the walled protection of the city of Sardis.

      But Sardis was too far away. They didn’t have the luxury of falling back tonight. Princess Gisela had already suffered far more than she should have. He couldn’t risk trying to move her, not after all she’d been through, not even if they tried to keep her comfortable on the litter.

      Besides, litters traveled slowly. If they were overtaken on the road without even the walls of the inn to protect them, the Illyrians would finish them off swiftly. Prince Luke would have the war he’d wanted, but it would be on two fronts: with Illyria by land and the entire Roman Empire by sea.

      Lydia would be obliterated.

      “Do nothing to provoke them,” John cautioned the men. “Even if they attack, don’t fight back unless they threaten the inn itself. Do you understand?”

      The men nodded solemnly, and the two appointed for the first shift headed out to patrol. John turned to consult with Renwick but was surprised by a female voice behind him.

      “Your Majesty? The princess is asking for you.”

      Warm feelings flooded him. Their suddenness and intensity only increased the guilt he felt after kissing Gisela’s forehead, but he couldn’t stay away if she needed him. He’d hoped to survey the area now that he’d changed into dry clothes borrowed from the innkeeper, but the emperor’s daughter would have to come first. She might not be awake for long.

      John hurried after the maid, dismissing Renwick. “Try to get some sleep. You and I will have the next watch.”

      He entered the private room where the princess lay resting in fresh, dry clothing her maid had brought. Hilda had pulled Gisela’s long hair from its braid. He could see the comb she’d been using to untangle its vast matted wetness. The golden color glowed in the flickering lamplight.

      So did her feverish skin. Everything around her eye was still swollen, but at least the herbs were still packed in place where they could do their work.

      “Your Highness?”

      Princess Gisela turned at the sound of his voice. Relief erased the tension from her features just before a convulsive shiver ran through her.

      “Are you feeling worse?” He rushed to her side and felt her face. It was burning hot. Had he imagined it, or was her fever slightly less intense than it had been on the road? Surely the cold river waters had diminished it somewhat, but he couldn’t risk pressing his lips to her again just to be certain. “What can I do for you?”

      “I—I’m—” even her voice shuddered as chills quaked through her “—so cold.” Her jaw quivered.

      John addressed the maid. “We need more blankets. Tell Renwick to peel the curtains from the litter, if necessary. We’ve got to keep her warm. She’ll waste all her strength shivering otherwise.”

      Her fingers felt icy cold as she found his hand, clinging to it as though for dear life.

      “S-so c-c-c-old.”

      John scooped her up in the crook of his arm until she sat beside him. He pulled her against him and tried to still her shivers. Hilda headed for the open door, her efforts focused more on fretting than carrying out his instructions.

      “Ask the innkeeper’s wife to bring hot water. We’ll have to soak Her Highness’s feet. If they’re half as cold as her hands, they must be like ice.”

      “Yes, Your Majesty.” Hilda lingered in the doorway wringing her hands.

      “Hurry!”

      The woman startled and leaped through the door.

      It was only after she’d gone that John realized he should have run the errands himself. But he couldn’t leave the princess now. She’d burrowed against his shoulder. Her violent tremors stilled until she merely trembled against him, her feverish breaths even against his neck.

      With the pack of herbs still tied tight against her eyelid, there was little he could do but hold her and try to keep her shivering to a minimum. “Is there anything you’d like me to do for you, Your Highness?”

      The princess had grown so still in his arms, her shivering reduced to mere quivering, that John wondered for a moment if she hadn’t lapsed out of consciousness again. But then she clenched his hand more tightly and whispered, “Don’t leave me.”

      The sincerity of her plea, voiced in such a faint whisper, doused him with an overwhelming desire to see her safely through this ordeal. She was more than just a political pawn, an inconvenience whose arrival might bring war upon his peaceful kingdom.

      She was also a woman whose rare bravery had saved her ship. She didn’t deserve to die in return for the good she’d done. An unfamiliar fascination pulled at him. If he could do so without awakening further the emotions buried inside him, he’d like to learn more about the remarkable daughter of the emperor. But