Kinlee woke with a glorious smile, her arms slowly stretching. Snuggling deeper beneath the blankets, her mind drifted. Suddenly, she sat up in the enormous bed, one hand holding the sheet to her bare breasts. Her mane tumbled in disarray around her shoulders in a golden halo. Rising panic flooded her. He couldn't have.
He wouldn't have.
Kinlee forced herself to breathe. She felt both clammy and flushed altogether. She didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry. Or kill Draven. Perhaps all three, but determining the appropriate order was beyond her right then.
Her maid, alerted to her princess's wakeful state, fluttered about her. Kinlee sat on the wide bed, gazing blankly at the far stone wall in horror.
Kinlee lifted the sheet and gazed down in disbelief, past her pink nipples and belly, before quickly slapping the sheet against her breasts. Faintness stole over her.
"Find me my most awful gown," Kinlee managed shakily.
"My lady," her maid looked at her questioningly, as though Kinlee had lost her senses. Kinlee waived an impatient hand at her, yet still the maid looked upon her doubtfully.
Draven had done the unthinkable, calling for drastic measures. Kinlee rose from the bed after gathering control over the trembling of her limbs and flung back the sheet. She strode to the adjoining chamber where her gowns could be found. At her maid's pitiful gasp, Kinlee knew what the other women spied. Kinlee was naked, all creamy perfection and womanly curves, except for the intricate golden chastity belt clasped tightly about her hips.
"Oh, my lady..."
Anger fairly crackled from Kinlee as she began riffling through the dozens of colourful silks.
"Put a stopper in it, Drea. There's no help for it. At least not right this moment. Help me find me something to wear."
There would be hell to pay if Draven thought he was getting back into her chastity belt.
~*~
"Ewwww," Kinlee moaned to herself, her toes squirming in the cold, wet mud seeping though the leather soles of her boots. Boots that, in hindsight, were more suited to decorating luxurious rugs and sweeping palace steps, not the rugged forests surrounding Giliane. And if it weren't for Draven, her horrible, unfeeling husband of less than one day, it was where her boot-shod toes would otherwise be.
Upon learning from Drea that her husband had fled her bed to join his warriors in a hunt and would not be expected before eve, Kinlee decided to leave as well.
Kinlee had foolishly thought that caving into Draven's demand of marriage would be the end of her chastity belt days, giving her the freedom to discover what had always been denied her. But noooo.
Kinlee stomped up the steep bank, imagining Draven's tanned face beneath her foot each step of the way. The plain dress Drea had sneaked from the laundry maids itched where it wasn't torn. Her golden hair was a twisted, tangled birds nest, complete with leaves and twigs. Her mid-morning apple had barely scraped the sides of her rumbling belly, but she was too angry to consider eating. Her face, arms and hands wore the scratched and bleeding evidence of her ill-planned plight. And to make matters worse, the sky had darkened as the sun ducked behind the far mountains.
Unbeknownst to Draven, there were two keys that unlocked the gold chastity belt that was the source of her frustration, both figuratively and literally. That she didn't exactly know where the second key was, or more precisely, the carrier of that key, wouldn't deter Kinlee. It didn't take an idiot to guess where self-serving crusty Vargos, the thorn in her side that was her father's steward, had fled with her sister. The Queendom of Harkness was the only country not embroiled in her father's and Draven's differing views on procuring a bridegroom.
Yet what had seemed an adventure that morning had long since waned into mild disturbance when she pondered bedding down on dirt and leaves amongst the not so quiet animals stirring the forest floor.
Everything ached, even her hair, and exhaustion plagued her from her endless trek. Taking a horse, which could not be considered stealing even though her father's kingdom had been siezed by Draven, would have been the preferred mode of transportation. However, a chastity belt did not lend itself to comfort while on horseback.
When finally Kinlee could walk no more on blistered and aching feet, the twinkling stars hidden by branched arms stretching far above her, she slid down to rest on her bottom against a tall tree with a hollow at its base, tears gathering on her lashes. Damn Draven, the impossible rogue. She hated him for doing this to her. For it was his fault that she found herself alone, weary, hungry and sore. With every fibre of her being, she truly really hated him.
~*~
Draven was not in a fine humour. He had returned early eve, intent on bedding his exquisite wife before holding a fine feast in her honour, only to discover the wilful minx had disappeared. He had expected a certain amount of animosity over the chastity belt, and came prepared with a precious necklet, but the extent of her childish happenstance was entirely unexpected.
Draven was a practical man intent on protecting what was his. And Kinlee was his. That she came to his bed that first time out of curiosity, and the second time out of hunger, was not enough to bind an inquisitive and sheltered princess like Kinlee to her husband's arms alone. He intended bedding her until she had no thought of anyone but him. And only then would he remove the chastity belt.
That she was ignorant of the depths of men's lusts for her fragile golden beauty only further justified his actions. Without his protection and guidance, Kinlee could easily find herself subjected to abuse at the hands of someone much stronger than herself, a man who paid little heed to her cosseted upbringing and playful whims. Quite what he had done in the face of her enthusiasm, thoughtlessly overlooking the signs of her inexperience as he plundered her maidenhead and hurting her.
When it was discovered Chasity was not to be found in the castle, Draven struggled to contain his frustration. Her father had little light to shed on the subject from his luxuriously appointed cell in the dungeon. Garbin had simply shaken his head and chuckled, confiding that Kinlee and her mother were cut from the same cloth, and the mother had led him a fine merry dance over the years.
As Draven and his men re-saddled their horses, he couldn't push from his mind the thought that perhaps Kinlee hadn't gone willingly. As his wife, a princess in her own right and as yet uncrowned Queen, Kinlee was ideal for political leverage. That her captors wouldn't tolerate her mischievousness went without saying. Ransomed alive did not guarantee unharmed. The images of a drugged, beaten Kinlee flashed before his eyes, making his blood turn cold.
When they found her sole tracks going in circles in the forest, his relief was quickly replaced by another fear. Wild boars, snakes, ravines. The list of tangible dangers were endless.
Time passed slowly until with relief the soft hoots of an owl reached his ears, a signal from one of his warriors. He swiftly changed direction, finally reaching the gathering of his most-trusted warriors. He slid from his horse before it had halted and pushed through the hushed circle to stand over his wife. A wife that was dirty, dishevelled, and sleeping curled at the base of a tree like some lost forest sprite.
Fury and relief battled within him. He couched down beside her, his fingers brushing back a clump of blonde hair that was caught in the corner of her softly parted lips. A soft graze marred her cheekbone, and her nose and chin were smudged with dirt. She didn't so much as stir.
Even like this, his princess exhausted and grubby, his desire for her was unmatched. Perhaps it was because Draven had never bedded a virgin before his rebellious princess, or it may be the insatiable curiosity that peeked out from flashing gold eyes that teased and tormented him. He didn't understand the magnetic draw she held for him, driving him to lead his men to conquer a palace just so he could have her again. Draven knew he would be in for a hell of a time when Kinlee discovered the power she had over him.
He gathered the sleeping beauty in his arms, and walked toward his waiting horse. She stirred slightly, rubbing her cheek against his warm leather jerkin. He thought he heard her mumble "weasel". Edric smiled, having caught the words as Draven eased her into his second's arm. The smiled quickly vanished at Draven's scowl. Draven missed her warmth as he climbed upon his horse before Edric handed her up into his waiting arms.
The path back was travelled swiftly and carefully by his men. The moon was high as they rode beneath the raised portico, his men tired but too well trained to grumble at their fool's errand. He would ensure the ale was plentiful as they filled their bellies with trenches full of steaming meat and bread.
He carried Kinlee to her tower room, quietly ordering water, poultice and towelling on the way. When he laid her on her bed, an old crone came bustling in the room followed by a young maidservant carrying soft towelling and a bowl.
