Page 9 of The Ocean's Heart
“We’re too late,” Petyre calls from across the deck. “They’ve taken the princess.”
Urchin runs across the deck toward me, his dark hair plastered to his skull by the downpour. “The boats are missing.”
That means that someone got away. Maybe the princess. “Search the ocean. Find those boats.” I give the deck of death another sweep, my heart heavy with this loss of life even as hope blooms with the possibility that the savior of my people may not be lost to me.
I’m about to turn away when a flash of blue catches my eye, the color bright and defiant against this gray landscape. I’m drawn toward it, and my pulse races as I spot a bare slender arm trapped beneath the bulky frame of a man.
Oh…Tides.
I hurry forward and shove the dead man to one side to reveal the woman beneath him. She lies so still that I would think her lifeless if not for the slight rise and fall of her chest and the light in her sea-green eyes. Her skin is frosted, her lashes sparkling with the crystallization of cold. Her features are striking, sharp planes and angles softened by full lips that are a pale blue right now.
Tides, I need to get her warm. My gaze catches on the broach pinned to her dress. I know that emblem. Its image graced King Bronan’s last correspondence to me. Only a royal would be permitted to wear it thus.
This is the princess.
Anger rages through my veins like fire because if she lies here, then it is clear that she was abandoned by those charged with her protection. Cowards who fled by boat leaving her to…to fight…Because there is a sword clutched in her other hand.
I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe the ice from her face.
“Ah, there you are. I am sorry we did not arrive in time to save your virtue and your entourage.” I scoop her up into my arms. She weighs barely anything, and yet her body feels firm and strong in my grip. Her head falls against my shoulder, and I catch her scent, a sweet, floral aroma like the sea peonies that grow on the cliffs of Merida.
“I have her! Everyone back to the ship.” I cross the deck, doing my best to shield the princess in my arms from the last of the elements.
A whimper of pain drifts from her frozen lips. A wave of protectiveness washes over me, and before I can check myself, I’ve pressed my lips to her temple.
“Worry not now. You’re safe, Little Princess.”
* * *
“Her wound is dressedand packed. It will heal,” Urchin says, glancing at the door to my quarters where the wounded princess is now ensconced. “The wound was not deep and did no damage to vital organs. She will heal in a few hours.”
The sea mage is the best healer we have—his herbal remedies are strong indeed—and the news that the princess will recover is a relief. And yet he continues to look perturbed. “What more is there? Tell me.”
“The princess’s body temperature is much too low for a human. If we cannot raise it, she may die regardless of our efforts.”
“Then raise it.”
“We are trying to do so with furs, but I fear the chill is bone deep.”
No, I will not have this boon ripped from my grasp over a little chill. I won’t allow her desperate bid for survival to mean nothing. “There must be something to be done.”
“Body heat shared could work,” Urchin says, but once again, there is an unease to his expression. “Both parties must be skin to skin. I fear it is not appropriate for a maiden to?—”
“It is less appropriate to let her die. Her virtue has been taken; I will not let her lose her life over the quibble of a little skin.” I shove past him to the door. “See that we are not disturbed. I would have her preserve her reputation. Speak of this to no one else.”
He nodded. “Yes, sire.”
I slip into the room lit by a single candle and move toward the shivering pile of furs. The click-clack of teeth is audible in the relative silence.
“Little Princess, can you hear me?” She moans a soft plea that tugs at something within me. “I must lie with you a while. To warm you. I must divest to do so, and so must you. It is the only way to save you.”
She peeks out from beneath the furs, her sea-green eyes catching the candlelight. “Please…I’m…so….cold.”
“I know.” I kick off my boots and reach over my shoulder to pull off my shirt.
She gasps, and my stomach tightens at the sound. “Take off your clothes.” My voice is gruffer than intended, and I recognize the spiraling low in my belly as arousal. I grit my teeth as she vanishes beneath the furs once more to oblige. The furs move as she undresses, and my cock jumps. I will it to be still. I am no nave to fall slave to my primal demands. I am a king. One who will ensure that he fucks more often in the future so that shivering princesses, intended to be his daughter-in-law, don’t evoke such inappropriate responses.
She belongs to my son.
