The morning came much too early for Rafe. The first pink rays of dawn were spreading across the sky when two guards came to release him from his bonds. Rafe nearly snarled with foul temper as he waited impatiently while one of the guards untied him from the bed. He had managed only to nap fitfully during the night, waking frequently from his lustful dreams. He was exhausted and frustrated, and he was in no mood to tolerate the situation any longer. However, he could not see any opportunity for escape at that moment.
Rafe saw to his morning needs and washed his face and hands. He was grateful that the water in the basin in his room had chilled overnight. He welcomed the bracing cold to clear his head and his libido. He ran a hand through his hair and exited the bedroom that had served as his overnight torture chamber.
The queen was seated at the small table, eating her breakfast. Her apparent serenity served to irritate him even further. He plopped into the opposite chair and reached for a cup of strong coffee. He gulped some of the fortifying brew, glaring at her over the cup's rim.
Eleta scanned his appearance with outward calm. His hair was dishevelled, and his jaw was covered by two day's growth of black whiskers. He looked thoroughly disreputable. She should have been repulsed by his appearance, but instead her pulse quickened with desire. She thought he looked even more devastatingly handsome than when she had first seen him. She dropped her gaze to hide the hunger in her eyes.
"Did you sleep well?" she inquired sweetly.
"Not at all, your Majesty. I'm afraid your hospitality leaves much to be desired."
"I'm sorry, your Grace," the queen replied. "I would not have had to tie you to the bed if you had not tried to escape."
He merely stared at her with a mocking brow raised. She could not fault him for making the escape attempt. She would have done the same. She cleared her throat and changed the topic.
"Have something to eat. We have a long day ahead of us."
She offered him a plate of warm scones, but he made no move to take one. He merely continued sipping his coffee while subjecting her to his brooding glare. Eleta heaved a sigh and addressed him as she might a naughty child.
"I insist you have something to eat, your Grace."
"I respectfully decline, your Majesty."
His sneering use of her title was anything but respectful. Eleta wondered whether her plan to seduce him would succeed after all. He certainly didn't seem enthused about being in her company this morning. The possibility that he would so thoroughly reject her had not been factored into her careful preparations. For the first time, she began to worry that she might fail. She pushed that unpleasant thought to the back of her mind. There was nothing more she could do until they reached the royal lodge. Once she was alone with Rafe, she would launch her full scale seduction. She shrugged her shoulders as she resumed her own meal.
Rafe seethed as he watched her calmly eating her breakfast. She was dressed in a red velvet riding habit. The skirt draped in elegant folds that conformed to her slim hips and thighs and drew attention to her full bosom. A long sleeved jacket buttoned snugly over the bodice, hugging her from throat to waist. Stark white lace adorned the cuffs and collar, accentuating her dramatic coloring. A red velvet hat perched on her head, and a long white feather lent it a jaunty air. The flirtatious hat was tied beneath her chin with a satin bow. She looked good enough to eat, and Rafe felt his loins beginning to tighten yet again.
It infuriated him that she could so easily arouse him. Even when her bosom wasn't on display, he still couldn't seem to look at her without lustful thoughts suffusing his head. He had never experienced such single minded obsession and the sexual frustration that went hand in hand with it. He wished he could banish her from his thoughts. The sooner he got away from her, the better. Hopefully, he could escape before he lost the last semblance of his self-control.
The queen quickly finished her meal, and Rafe was bustled outside, surrounded by six burly guards. Rafe watched as the guards saddled several horses. One was clearly intended for him and another was outfitted with a side saddle, presumably for the queen. She stood beside him, waiting calmly until they were ready to depart. She looked so desirable, with her fur-lined cloak fastened beneath her chin.
Rafe turned away once more and took several deep, steadying breaths. He inwardly cursed, thinking that she would look desirable no matter what she was wearing. To take his mind off his obsession, he scanned their surroundings.
The inn was surrounded by heavy forests. Rafe had no idea where they had taken him, but he assumed it was in the northern part of the country. The air was more cold and crisp, and the area was mountainous. Although the terrain was unfamiliar to him, Rafe felt confident that if he could just escape and evade his captors, he would be able to find his way to safety. Perhaps once he was mounted, he would find an opportunity to break free from the guards. With luck, the dense woods might provide enough cover to lose them in a pursuit.
When all was ready, Sir Eric stepped forward to lift the queen onto her horse. Rafe felt an irrational burst of anger, as he watched the man's hands linger just a moment longer than necessary on her tiny waist. Rafe's temper flared even hotter when the guard closed his fingers around her dainty ankle and led her foot into the stirrup. The queen appeared unaffected by the man's touch. She arranged her heavy skirts and then accepted the reins with a regal nod of thanks.
The commander of the guards turned to him, and Rafe could have sworn the other man's expression was one of smug antagonism. Rafe knew in that moment that Sir Eric was in love with his sovereign, and he clearly viewed Rafe as a rival for the queen's affections. That realization caused Rafe to be even more puzzled about the current circumstances.
"Mount up," Sir Eric commanded gruffly.
Rafe obliged and swung onto the back of his mount. The chestnut gelding appeared strong and fit, and once again, thoughts of making a run for freedom flitted through his mind. They were quickly squashed when a guard came to secure Rafe's mount between two other horses. When he was finished, Rafe was sandwiched securely between two guards. There were loose ties between all three bridles, and he would have no chance to break free. Rafe ground his teeth in frustration and reluctantly realized that he would have to wait even longer to make his escape.
Sir Eric mounted his own horse and called for his men to do the same. He saluted the queen, and then he led the procession from the clearing. The queen rode just ahead of Rafe, and he had little choice but to watch her hips sway with the motion of her mount. He tried to look away, but his gaze returned repeatedly to the fetching sight of her. He began to fantasize about her naked and perched atop him. He longed to plunge into her while she rode him in exactly the same fashion she rode her mount. The more vivid his imaginings became, the more painful it was to sit his horse, and he bit back a revealing groan.
Eleta could feel the heat of his stare, and she struggled with her own reactions. The jacket of her riding habit felt suddenly too tight, and the soft velvet chafed against her sensitized breasts. She felt an increasingly familiar hunger settle in her loins, and she surreptitiously ground her hips against the saddle trying to gain some relief. The friction only heightened her desire, and she bit her lip as the crotch of her silk drawers grew damp. She was glad Rafe couldn't see her flaming cheeks.
Thus, the morning passed slowly for both Eleta and Rafe, as they each struggled with their desires. Around noon, they reached a small clearing, and they paused for lunch and to give their horses a brief rest. Once again, Rafe watched with displeasure while Sir Eric lifted the queen from her horse. She gave the guardsman a regal nod of thanks and walked into the woods. Rafe watched her until Sir Eric stepped in front of him, cutting her off from his sight.
