‘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 offer 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.’
She wasn’t looking forward to their travels to the Holy Land. Though she understood that this Crusade meant everything to him, she knew that as his queen, she would be the target of assassins.
‘I’ve never been so far from Navarre before,’ she admitted. ‘And I can’t say that I wish to live so close to the war.’
His face hardened. ‘You doubt my ability to keep you safe?’
‘No. But if you are away fighting—’
‘I protect what belongs to me,’ he asserted. Taking her hand, he led her away from her ladies and his attendants. A tall Oriental screen, decorated with flowers and birds, stood in the corner. Richard took her behind it, giving them what privacy he could.
‘Berengaria,’ he whispered, framing her face with his hands. ‘From the first moment I saw you, you cast a spell over me.’ His hands slid down her cheeks, and the caress made her breath catch. When she touched his hands with hers, he leaned in for a kiss.
Just as before, the brush of his mouth was searching, kindling a response that she didn’t understand. He drew her against the far wall, the