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  Lionheart’s Bride

  Michelle Willingham

  King Richard and Princess Berengaria, 1191

  Princess Berengaria’s lady-in-waiting, Adriana, takes her duty to the future Queen of England seriously—she will defend her to the death! When their sea voyage to the Holy Land ends up in shipwreck and capture Adriana knows her only hope lies with the mysterious Irishman, Liam MacEgan.

  Liam escapes to reach Richard the Lionheart and together they plan a rescue mission. Nothing will stop these warriors from succeeding—their future brides are captive on Cyprus and they’ll raise hell to claim them!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Author Note

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Pamplona, the Kingdom of Navarre, 1187

  ‘I didn’t know if you would come,’ Richard said, reaching for her hand. He had removed the chain-mail armour he’d worn earlier and wore a blue silk tunic trimmed with fur. His dark mantle rested over his shoulders, and even in the moonlight, Berengaria could see the cool grey of his eyes and the reddish glint of his hair.

  ‘What choice did I have?’ she accused. ‘You stole my ring at the tournament when you kissed my hand.’ Holding out her palm, she sent him a warning look. ‘I want it back.’

  ‘I wanted an excuse to see you again.’ He sent her a slow smile that quickened her pulse. Opening his hand, he revealed the emerald and gold ring. ‘Is this what you want?’

  When she tried to seize it, he curled his fingers over his palm. ‘Come closer, and you shall have it.’

  ‘Do not play games, Your Grace. I’ve no interest in them.’

  ‘If that were true, you wouldn’t have come. You’d have sent a servant for the ring.’

  ‘And you’d have refused to return it.’

  He drew closer, pressing the ring into her hands. ‘Do you think me such a villain?’

  ‘I don’t know who you are.’ Though her hands were gloved, she could feel the heat of his skin. Something about this man intrigued her, slipping past her defences like the warrior he was.

  Don’t stay, Berengaria warned herself. Leave now. Her father, King Sancho, would be furious if she knew she was standing in the garden with the Duke of Aquitaine, the son of King Henry Plantagenet of England.

  ‘I want to know you,’ Richard said slowly. ‘No woman has ever dared to speak to me in the way that you do.’

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘You aren’t my betrothed husband and never will be.’

  ‘You’re right.’ His hand moved up to her cheek, and when she tried to move away, he held her in place. ‘Berengaria, you remind me of Eve. You tempt me with the tartness of your tongue. The flashing of your dark eyes.’

  She shivered slightly, and her mind warned her again to move away. But his voice held her captive, while his thumb edged her cheekbone. ‘I admire your spirit.’

  Richard tipped her face up to look at him. Then he leaned in closer, resting his forehead against hers. ‘You should know that this is your last chance to walk away untouched. If you stay, I’m going to claim a kiss.’ He released her and stood motionless, waiting for her decision.

  Her mind cried out for her to flee, even as her feet remained rooted in place. Richard was not a man who was free to court her. He was already betrothed to another woman.

  But she wanted to experience the forbidden taste of a kiss from a man who wanted her. Not her kingdom, nor her wealth, for he could have neither. Richard knew what it was to be caught in a world full of rules, a world in which they had no freedom.

  His lips covered hers, and at the first moment of the kiss, she forgot all the reasons why this was never meant to happen. Richard rested his hands upon her hips, drawing her body nearer. ‘Close your eyes,’ he said softly. ‘You’re not a princess anymore. And I am not a duke.’

  She obeyed, and the barriers seemed to vanish between them. Against her mouth he murmured, ‘If you were my betrothed wife, I’d steal away from my duties to seize moments like this. And you’d never tell false compliments to me, would you?’

  ‘Your arrogance is great enough, my lord.’

  ‘Richard,’ he corrected. This time, he captured her lips like a ruthless invader. There was nothing kind or polite about the kiss. She opened her mouth, shocked at the wild feelings that coursed through her. He trapped her face between his hands, kissing her as though he wanted to shred all of her defences and find the woman beneath.

  Though inwardly she knew that he had an insatiable need to win, to conquer, she hardly cared. The rush of need provoked a tremulous response inside her. She couldn’t catch her breath as he plundered her mouth. And when she began to kiss him back, he softened the intensity. Warm and wet, his tongue slid inside her mouth. He drew her hips against him, and she could feel the hot length of his arousal against the folds of her skirts. The knowledge, that he wanted to claim her body, made her tremble. She clung to him, so afraid of the feelings that ran untamed within her.

  ‘Innocent,’ he murmured against her skin. ‘I knew it when first I saw you.’

  She caught her breath as his mouth travelled over her cheek. ‘I must go now.’

  ‘You should.’ But he didn’t release her from his embrace, and she wondered what he intended. His palms moved up her spine, and when he kissed her again, she sensed that this was farewell.

  But now, she had a memory to call her own. One that her father could not govern or take away from her. And as she kissed him for the last time, Berengaria thought to herself, I’m glad it was Richard.

  Chapter One

  Off the coast of Cyprus, April 12, 1191

  Liam MacEgan hated ships. Though he’d spent many years of his life exploring the waters of his native Éireann, being trapped aboard a wooden vessel for months was somewhere between purgatory and hellfire.

  It was your idea to go on Crusade, he reminded himself. He’d believed he was embarking on an adventure, to see the Holy Land and fight to free Jerusalem. His family had been firmly opposed to it. His father, King Patrick of Laochre, had demanded that he face his responsibilities as a future provincial king.

  But he’d needed an escape from his homeland. He’d grown up listening to the stories of distant lands, told to him by his uncle Trahern. He longed to see the glittering foreign cities and taste new foods. He needed this last chance to see the worlds that were forbidden to him…to feel the sting of desert sand against his face…to learn the secrets of exotic women.

  And so, defying his family’s wishes, he’d slipped out one night and arranged passage to France, to join in the service of the King Richard, Coeur de Lion.

  Liam stared out at the fierce blue of the Mediterranean, and a bittersweet tang of homesickness caught him. The sky was a dark grey, and clouds rolled in the distance. He was dimly aware of a woman moving along the side of the boat, just behind the oarsmen. Her long dark hair was covered by a veil, but the length of it stirred in the sea winds.

  Adriana, daughter of the Vicomte de Manzano, was one of the Princess Berengaria’s ladies. She was a dark beauty, with olive skin and raven hair. He watched as her hands curved over the wood of the ship, and she turned back to stare at the waves.

  He wanted to go and talk to her, but he sensed it would be an intrusion of her time alone. Her eyes lifted to the darkening skies, as though she were afraid.

  Instinct made him glance behind him, and he spied the Count of Berduria staring at the young woman. The unrestrained lust on his face made Liam cross over to Lady Adriana’s side. Though she shied away from him, he said in a low voice, ‘Don’t be afraid. I came to offer my protection, not to disturb you.’

  Wh
en she sent him a confused look, he added, ‘The count is watching.’ At that, Lady Adriana settled her gaze back upon the sea. Liam wasn’t certain whether or not she wanted him to stay. ‘Would you rather I left you alone with him?’

  ‘Stay,’ she whispered. ‘Unless your intent is the same as his.’ She shivered in the wind, rubbing her shoulders. Liam unfastened his cloak and settled it around her shoulders. It was meant to offer her warmth, but it also sent an unmistakable message to the count.

  She pulled the cloak around her. ‘You’re one of King Richard’s men, aren’t you?’

  ‘I chose to fight at his side, aye. But I am not his vassal.’ He refrained from mentioning anything further, not wanting to admit his own rank. During this journey, he’d told no one that he was an Irish prince, save King Richard. He wanted to experience life as a common man, as a soldier. It had meant giving up the luxuries he’d come to enjoy, but in return, he’d seen a side of life that his family had tried to protect him from.

  ‘Has King Richard spoken of the princess?’ Adriana asked. ‘My lady Berengaria worries that he seems so…distant, ever since the new betrothal.’

  Liam shrugged. ‘His Majesty is preoccupied with the journey to the Holy Land. He’s eager to fight for Jerusalem.’

  ‘What of the Princess Alys? He broke his betrothal to her only a few months ago. Does he desire to reconcile—?’

  ‘Given that his father took Alys as his mistress and she bore him a daughter, rest assured, King Richard had little desire to take her to wife.’ Liam sent her a sidelong glance. ‘Berengaria didn’t tell you?’

  Adriana shook her head. ‘She didn’t know. Queen Eleanor never spoke of why the betrothal was broken, but it was she who brought Berengaria to become the king’s bride.’

  ‘And what of you?’ Liam asked. ‘You intend to travel wherever the princess wishes to go? Even to the Holy Land?’

  She nodded. ‘She has no choice, any more than I do.’ The young woman clasped her hands together.

  ‘You could marry or return to your family,’ he suggested. ‘Jerusalem is dangerous for a woman.’

  ‘Not for me.’

  He stared at her, and she sent him a confident smile. ‘I have four brothers. I know ways to protect myself.’

  ‘How?’ He moved closer, until his knee brushed the edge of her silk gown.

  The tip of a knife touched the soft skin above his throat. ‘Like this.’ Adriana’s dark brown eyes were dancing with amusement. ‘You wouldn’t be likely to harm me now, would you?’ She removed the blade and offered it back to him.

  Son of Belenus, it was his own blade. She’d somehow stolen it from his belt without him even sensing her.

  ‘How did you do that?’

  Her face transformed with a knowing smile. ‘You should know better than to underestimate a stranger. I am one of the princess’s guards, just as you protect His Majesty.’

  It was rare for a woman to surprise him, but he found himself fascinated by Adriana. Her full mouth drew his attention, and her scent reminded him of aromatic spices, like a heady mulled wine.

  ‘Men are often distracted by a woman,’ she said. ‘Just as you were.’

  ‘You are a distraction,’ he agreed. Her expression shifted, and he saw the wariness in her eyes. She wanted nothing from him; that much was evident.

  Stepping back, he asked, ‘What if your enemy overpowered you? Your strength would be no match for an attacker’s.’

  ‘I rely on myself. And I protect the princess when there is need of my blade.’ She squared her shoulders and removed his cloak. ‘Take this back. You’ll be cold.’

  ‘It’s far colder than this in my homeland. I’m accustomed to it.’ He nodded toward the aft side of the ship. ‘Are you wanting me to escort you back to the princess?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Lady Adriana took a deep breath. ‘She gave me leave to do as I please for the next hour. I’ll go back soon enough.’ She donned his cloak once more, and the wind buffeted the sails, the sky turning ominous. Within minutes, the rain began to fall. The change in the weather was enough to send the count away from his pursuit. The lady lifted her face to the droplets, smiling wryly. ‘Isn’t it my ill luck to have rain during the only moments of freedom I’ve had?’

  Liam ignored the rain and studied the waves. The seawater reflected the grey skies, and as they continued eastward, the waves were rising. ‘You should go below, a chara. The storm is going to get worse.’ Already the oarsmen were fighting the winds, their arms straining to keep control of the ship.

  As if in response to his warning, the vessel lurched, and Adriana went flying. Liam caught her before her head could hit the deck, and he steadied her on her feet. ‘Are you all right?’ She nodded, but he kept her hands at her waist for balance. ‘You need to go back to the princess. I wouldn’t want you to be swept overboard.’

  Her face had gone pale, and she glanced out at the waves. ‘How far are we from land?’

  ‘Don’t think about that now.’ Aye, it was likely that if the ship capsized, they might drown. Liam was a fair enough swimmer, but it was spring and the water would be uncomfortably cold.

  Adriana removed his cloak and handed it to him. ‘Take me back to the princess.’ Liam donned the garment and walked behind her as she returned to the princess’s tiny chamber.

  ‘Stay with Her Royal Highness,’ Liam said. ‘And tell her not to be afraid.’ Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were unconvincing. He was struggling to remain on his feet, and when the ship tossed again, Adriana struck the wall hard.

  She rubbed her shoulders, wincing at the pain. ‘I’ll be all right,’ she said before he could ask. ‘But promise me something.’

  Liam rested his hand against the wall for balance. Adriana stood only inches away, her dark hair resting over the shoulder of her crimson gown. He waited for her to speak, though his gaze was caught by her lips and soft skin.

  ‘If the ship is going to sink, I want to know. We may lose the king’s treasure for the Crusade, but I don’t want him to lose his bride.’ She knew, as he did, that this ship was one of two that held the king’s gold and treasure to fund the Crusade.

  ‘If the storm seizes the ship, I’ll do what I can to help the sailors,’ he said.

  Adriana dipped her head in a nod. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Liam MacEgan.’

  She studied him, and her expression held doubt. ‘You’re not like the other men I’ve seen aboard this ship.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You don’t behave as though you serve the king. You carry yourself like an equal.’

  ‘Perhaps I am his equal,’ he said in a low voice.

  Though her gaze said she didn’t quite believe him, there was enough hesitancy in her face to suggest that she knew he was not as he seemed to be.

  ‘I’ll come for you if the storm worsens,’ he promised. Lifting her gloved hand, he pressed his mouth upon it. ‘Guard your princess. And I’ll guard you.’

  But the worry didn’t dim in her eyes. If the storm worsened, as he suspected it would, there was a very real chance that all of them would die.

  All through the night, Berengaria clung to her bed, praying. She hadn’t slept at all, but she clenched the gold-and-ruby-encrusted cross necklace Richard had sent as a gift. Though she’d given him her own token, she didn’t know if he valued it in the same way. Her fingers ran along the edges of the jewels, as if they held the warmth of Richard’s hands.

  She still couldn’t believe he had asked for her hand in marriage. Within a matter of months, her life had been utterly changed. Queen Eleanor had escorted her to Sicily, and later, the king’s sister, Queen Joan of Sicily, had joined their party as her new companion while Eleanor returned home. The months of travelling were gruelling, but Berengaria’s greatest fear was seeing Richard again.

  Her predication had come back to haunt her: You aren’t my betrothed husband and never will be.

  How wrong she’d been. Her father had seized the marriage o
ffer from Richard, leaving Berengaria to wonder whether it was Queen Eleanor’s idea…or Richard’s. She’d been unable to stop thinking about the stolen kiss in the garden. He’d awakened such feelings within her, tremulous thoughts that made her blood quicken.

  On their arrival in Sicily, he’d stood awaiting the ship. And later that day, he’d arranged for a private meal with her.

  ‘For once, I can make a royal alliance that pleases me,’ he’d said.

  Though Berengaria wanted to believe him, her doubts held strong. The table was set so that her chair was at his left, and during the meal, he’d touched her hand several times.

  ‘My lord, why? There are dozens of princesses who would make a stronger alliance for you. Some wealthier than I.’

  ‘It’s true that your dowry will help our Crusade. I won’t lie about that.’ He kissed the knuckles of her hand. ‘But I remembered you, long after our ways parted. I wanted you then, just as I do now.’

  Her nerves tightened as Richard pulled her to stand. He remained in his chair, his hands sliding about her waist as he drew her to sit on his knee. He was taller than most men, and it brought her face even to his. ‘Was I wrong to ask you to wed?’

  His steel eyes held hers, and she shook her head. ‘I don’t suppose a marriage with you would be any different than any other king.’

  ‘It would, ma chère. And you know this already.’ He brought his hand to caress her cheek. ‘I prefer a wife who can speak her mind. One who desires me, as much as I want her.’ His fingers stopped at her chin. ‘I demand your honesty, Berengaria. Is it your will to be my bride?’

  She covered his hand with her own. ‘I’ve never been permitted to choose my husband.’ Fear trebled her heartbeat as she lifted her face to his. ‘But although you intimidate me, there is no other man I’ve wanted.’

  His mouth curved in a smile. ‘Were it not Lent, I would wed you this day.’ He brushed a light kiss against her mouth, and she shivered at the sudden rise of heat within her. ‘As it is, we’ll wait until after Easter and marry before I bring you to Acre.’