Layle

This is crazy. I shake my head in bewilderment, trying to clear it from the chaotic thoughts fighting for a place inside my mind.

Tiernan Northgard, the plague of my existence, wants to marry me? Why? It doesn’t make sense.

The jerk reaches over and, using a curved index finger, gently presses against the underside of my jaw, effectively closing it.

My gaze narrows on him. It’s rare that anyone can shock me so thoroughly, and it only incenses me more that it’s him who manages to do so.

“Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private to discuss this,” he says, and my eyes narrow even more. Was that humor I heard in his voice? There’s nothing funny about this, damn it.

Before I have a chance to respond, Tiernan slips his hand between my side and arm, and he gently but firmly grasps my elbow to lead me away from the crowded main room.

My first instinct is to punch him for daring to put his hands on me. My fist even balls up with anticipation, but an extremely shrill feminine laughter reaches my ears, reminding me where I am.

Plastering a smile on my face that I’m sure looks more like a grimace, I lean into him, pinch his side, then growl, “Take your hand off me right now unless you want me to make you bleed.”

Instead of being worried, Tiernan chuckles, but he does let go of my elbow. We head toward the double wood frame doors that lead out to a private patio and garden, and it’s all I can do to keep the smile on my face as we pass several men and women.

They cast a curious glance our way, but it’s not until one thin, blonde-haired gentleman takes a double look at me, his brown eyes widening with surprise, that I realize I’m gnashing my teeth.

With great effort, I manage to relax my lips and shape them into something that better represents an actual smile.

Tiernan opens the door and stands aside for me to proceed. I stand there stubbornly for a minute, wanting him to go first. But good manners, or perhaps better self-control, keeps him standing there patiently waiting for me.

With an inward groan, and a quick glare tossed his way, I walk through the door. A slight breeze stirs the air, but it’s not enough to reduce the heat. The day had started out nice and comfortable, but now it is getting a bit hot.

Tiernan follows me and pulls the doors firmly shut. The stained-glass squares rattle slightly in the wooden frame and draws my eyes to the images on the glass. I want to groan at the depiction of a simpering woman in a pale pink dress sitting on the floor on her hip, her blue eyes wide with adoration as she leans on the knee of a sitting gentleman.

Tiernan’s icy blue gaze shifts between my sour expression and the stained-glass images. He bursts out laughing, then shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, Princess. That will never be you.”

He nods his head in the direction of the simpering female then starts walking away from the entrance doors.

“Come on. Let’s take a walk and talk.”

My slippers don’t make a noise on the brick walkway as I reluctantly follow him. The hem of my skirts, however, swish with every step I take.

Using both hands, I pick up my skirts from the waist until the front hem is just at my ankles. Any higher, and Father would hear the feminine gasps of offended horror all the way back at the palace.

Tiernan leads me down the brick path through vibrant red rose bushes and various lattuce being taken over by bright blue and pink morning glory vines.

The sight brings me back to when my mother would steal me away for the afternoon when I was younger. We would spend a great deal of time going through the castle’s gardens and she would almost quiz me on the different angiosperms.

Now, I am the proud owner of useless flower knowledge, but I’m forever grateful for her. I always look forward to the time spent with her. Her passion is flowers, where mine is protecting the land.

Although, she never entertained the idea of me wanting to fight alongside the men who risk their lives everyday for our land. She has been as stubborn as Father in forbidding me training with any kind of weapon despite how desperately I yearned to learn to fight. I had an army to protect me, so I didn’t need to waste time on so many pursuits, according to him.

Word spread, of course, and the first time I attended Season, everyone watched me with a wary eye. Ladies used their fans to hide their faces as they gossiped about me, the warrior princess.

I didn’t really care. The first six Seasons, I hadn’t been looking for a husband. I’d only been here for Father’s sake. To appease him since I was such a disappointment to him as a princess.

As a daughter, he was proud of me. I could see it in his eyes, the pride he felt when I’d silenced a political squabble between nobles the very first night I’d been invited to attend Father’s side while hearing from the nobility.

But as a princess, well, that’s a different story. I do not have the luxury of fitting the mold of all the dithering noble ladies who’ve come before me. I’ve got a kingdom to lead.

“I think it’s safe to talk here without any ears.” Tiernan stops inside a small nook carved out among the bushes. A white marble bench sits exactly in the middle, although he doesn’t make any effort to sit down.

I stop in front of him and lift my chin. It’s the only way I can meet his eyes since the man is so tall.

“So,” he says, looking directly at me. “About my proposal?”

“Yeah,” I say, my hands on my hips. “What of it? Why should I be more interested in your hand now than I was during our first Season?”

His dark brows rise high on his forehead for a brief second, then his expression clears and he shakes his head.

“It doesn’t seem as though you have that many options, Princess. Besides, I don’t savor the idea of leaving the fate of our kingdom up to chance.” His features harden, his lips compressing slightly.

I know I’m looking at the general now and not the man. His body is slightly rigid, his back straight and shoulders pressed back.

“I prefer to set a plan and execute it with strategy and efficiency.”

Yeah, definitely the general. “So I’m just a plan to execute?” I snap in a low voice. “And when did you come up with this strategy?”

“When you said your father is forcing you to wed,” he answers calmly with no inflection in his voice.

One silver curl comes loose from the pins that were supposed to be holding my hair in place. I start to brush it absently away, but end up twirling it around my finger as I regard him curiously.

“You never said why you asked me to marry you during our first Season,” I say after a few minutes. “It seemed as if you weren’t interested in marrying anyone, as I was.”

Truthfully, though, I wonder because I’m not exactly marriage material, except for my status. Why would Tiernan Northgard, a man so handsome he’s almost painful to look at, want to marry me when he could have virtually any of the ladies here at Season? Aside from the fact that Father is king, of course.

“I’m not,” he answers without hesitation. “But, like you, I have a duty to carry on the family name, and to do so properly, I need a wife. I thought you’d do.”

My mouth drops open at that less than flattering remark. “You thought I’d do?”

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “No one here has the luxury of looking for love. Love may blossom over time for the lucky, but let’s not pretend. . . you need a man, and I need—.”

“The throne?” I challenge.

“No, but it’s a good match,” Tiernan says. “And you know it. Do you think you’ll find a man in there who will tolerate your lack of femininity?” Raising my gaze, I pin him with a warning look.

“I’m not insulting you, Princess,” he continues. “I’m speaking the truth. I don’t care whether you enjoy hosting parties or whether you can knit a doily better than the other noblewomen. I care that the kingdom is in good hands.”

“What makes you think you’re worthy of becoming my husband?” I ask. “To someday rule by my side? Is it because your father is so famous? The great dragon slayer?”

Tiernan’s eye twitches. He’s irritated, as I knew he would be. The subject of his father is always something of a coup de grace when verbally sparring with the man, and all his well thought out reasons as to why our match would be advantageous, has me on the defensive.

“At least my father did something to earn his fame,” he snaps.

I stiffen and raise my eyebrows. “What are you saying?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“Your father, the king, didn’t earn his position. . . he was born into it.”

My blood starts to boil, but I quickly tamper my anger. I came here to find a husband, not to waste my time on Tiernan Northgard.

Without a retort, I turn on my heel and leave the garden. A quick glance backward, and Tiernan is watching me. Snorting, I head back inside and march, as ladylike as possible, across the crowded room toward another pair of tall double doors.