Page 47 of Of Blood & Bone: The Young Queen

He starts to laugh and can hardly contain himself long enough to answer me. “No, that was old Bawnish, which is still spoken in the more remote regions of Ellerban. It was taught to me by Barra, who, by the way, took my knowledge of horses to another level. You should get him to work with your stallion. He’s from Anillean, a remote region of Ellerban where the people are somewhat wilder than in Bawna but are known for their special connection to their horses and their hounds.”

The more I hear about Ellerban, the more I am fascinated by the place and look forward to visiting it someday with the prince. “I can’t imagine a people even wilder than the normal people of Ellerban,” I reply. “You’re significantly more liberated and natural in your ways than the Ardvallans.”

“Oh, believe me, those who hail from Anillean are wilder and fiercer than you can ever imagine, but also loyal and heartstrong. I consider myself lucky to have Barra as one of my elite warriors.”

I think back to my conversation with Barra this morning and his declaration, above all else, of loyalty to the prince. I also find my thoughts lingering on his nut-brown skin and impressive musculature that gave the impression he’d been hewn from the strongest oak tree. Alarmingly, I feel a quickening low in my abdomen as the image of his sapphire blue eyes fills my mind’s eye. Confused as to my body’s peculiar response to my thoughts of Barra, I urge Maneeha forward into a canter, eager as I am to dispel the unfamiliar feeling which is now spreading lower into my womanhood.

The prince quickly falls into place beside me, and as the forest starts to open up into a meadow he grins. “So, you wish to race me?” he asks. “I think I feel another wager coming on.”

I can’t help laughing at his mischievous expression. “I thought you never made a wager you couldn’t lose?” I tease.

“I have no intention of losing,” he declares. “The last one to the large rock at the end of the meadow must bare their naked form to the other and run around the rock three times.” The words are no sooner out of his mouth than he is urging Lia forward, and it’s all I can do to gather my shocked wits about me and spur Maneeha on. There is no way I am stripping naked in the middle of a meadow, even if I have to admit I am strangely aroused by the idea.

He is already two horse lengths ahead of me by the time I get Maneeha into her stride, but I know what my horse is capable of, and despite the possibility of hidden dangers such as stones or ruts I decide to trust her. “Go, girl,” I whisper into her ear as I loosen the reins, raise myself out of my saddle and urge her to run like the wind.

We are halfway across the meadow by the time I catch him, but I’m far lighter than the prince and my horse is the faster of the two, so it's no surprise to me when I fly past him. However, judging from the expression on the prince’s face it's a big surprise to him. I turn and give him a little wave as I easily put a few horse lengths between us, and I can't help the smug grin I flash at him before I turn my attention back to Maneeha. I know if I lose focus he won’t hesitate to capitalise on it. I’ve learned quite a few things about him since he arrived in Ardvalla, not least of which is his competitive nature.

I’m standing with my arms crossed and grinning wildly by the time he reaches the rock and dismounts.

“You didn’t mention that your horse has the wind in her hooves,” he says as he approaches, and he looks decidedly irritated.

“You didn’t ask,” I point out, wiggling my finger at him in a circular motion, “and instead of whining about how fast my horse is, you need to start disrobing, otherwise I shall think you Ellerban men only keep your end of a wager when it suits you.”

“You know, I wasn’t really going to hold you to the naked thing,” he says as he approaches me, “just to run around to the rock three times, maybe in your petticoat.”

I purse my lips and raise my eyebrows, “Oh really? I seem to recall you held me well enough to our wager last night. So forgive me if I don't exactly believe you. Now let me see some flesh.”

Even as I say the words, I feel my heart start to beat erratically and I don't know how I can be so nervous at the prospect of seeing him naked, and yet so eager.

I suspect my nervousness is showing all over my face as he grins, cocks an eyebrow and says, “Very well.”

He first reaches down to his boots and throws them onto the grass, quickly removing his stockings. Then, all the while keeping his eyes on me, he loosens his britches and lets them fall to the ground. His legs are long and muscular, and I feel a stirring of desire deep within my abdomen. He releases the belt from around his waist and reaches over his shoulders and removes his tunic and undershirt in one swift movement.

I gasp as the last of his garments falls to the ground. He is the first man I've ever seen naked and I’m struggling to visually take him in all at once – from the breadth of his shoulders to the honed muscularity of his arms, the tight ridges of his abdomen and the dark pubic hair of his manhood. He is a heady combination of masculine perfection, and I need to force myself to breathe.

However, just as I take a gulp of much needed air I notice the scars. An angry looking red welt runs from the outside of his elbow to the inside of his wrist on his left forearm. A circular indentation sits just below his left clavicle and I guess it's where he was punctured by an arrow. An older looking scar runs from just over his hip bone to his lower abdomen, but it's the barely healed gash that runs from the middle of his abdomen andaround his ribs to just underneath his heart that really grabs my attention.

I slowly exhale the breath I was holding and move towards him, my right arm outstretched, instinctively needing to touch him. He doesn't do anything to stop me and I gently place my fingers on the hideous looking scar, wondering if it has something to do with the terrible event Barra spoke of earlier.

“What happened to you? How did you survive such a wound?” I ask in a low whisper.

He places his hand on top of my fingers. “Don't fret over it, Elinor,” he replies, a hollowness to his voice. “We'll speak of it some other time, but today my heart is happier than it has been for a long time, and I wish to simply enjoy the rest of the day with you and not speak of things that will sadden me.”

He pulls me close and before I can ask any other questions he places a soft kiss upon my lips. “And now I will complete my wager,” he says as he turns and starts to run around the rock. He does so in comical fashion, running in the silly manner of the court jesters, and I start to laugh so hard I fear I will collapse to my knees. However, on his final lap he fails to reappear.

“Prince Ronan?” I call out. “Prince Ronan, are you all right?” Silence. I move towards the rock. “Prince Ronan? Prince Ronan, are you there?” Again, silence. I walk around to the back of the rock, and much to my concern there's no sign of him. For a fleeting second I consider all the myths and stories surrounding this place and wonder if something has happened to him. Then I hear a roar behind me and the next thing I know my feet are off the ground as the prince encircles me with those strong arms, pulls me to his chest and lifts me into the air.

“Gotchya!” he declares as I squeal with both fright and delight in equal parts. He places me down so that my feet once again rest on the ground but he doesn't release me from the holdhe has on me. Instead, he squeezes me closer and places hungry kisses on my neck. Their effect is instant and lightning bolts of desire shoot through me. He continues to kiss the back of my neck and even nibbles the tender flesh with his teeth. I sigh as ripples of pleasure start to move through me. His left hand cups my breast and I moan with desire.

He pulls me even tighter to him and I can feel his hunger for me as his kisses get more feverish and his fingers knead my breast.

“Oh, Elinor,” he groans into my hair, “you make me feel things I never thought I’d feel again.” Then he spins me around and devours my mouth. Such is the ferocity of his kiss I find myself lightheaded and grab onto his shoulders for support. However, as my fingers make contact with his naked skin, I find they itch to explore the rest of his flesh.

So I let them wander freely over his shoulders, down the muscled planes of his back, across the tight ridges of his torso and upwards towards his rock-hard chest. Each touch and movement only serves to inflame my desire even more, and by the time my right hand is resting over his heart I am aflame with need.

He instinctively seems to understand and his kisses move to my neck and his fingers to the ribbons of my dress which he quickly loosens. He tugs on the fabric and one half of the dress falls from my shoulders, exposing my right breast. A guttural sound comes forth from his mouth from somewhere deep inside him, and he descends upon my breast with a merciless need that leaves me gasping for breath and weak at the knees.

Somehow, in the height of his desire, he senses the weakness in my legs and leans me back against the rock for support, but not for a second does he stop licking and sucking me. He places both my arms out to the side of my head and pins me against the rock as I writhe in need.

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