She fought through the crowd again, the ruckus of men slapping her ass and rubbing against her. Her face was flush by the time she reached the lonely table with the quiet man sitting at it. His blue eyes studied her as she brushed her dirty blonde hair out of her eyes and took a deep breath. Plastering the fake smile on her face, she let her fiery green-eyed gaze studying his stubbly strong jaw. Something stirred in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it away. Her soft pink lips entranced him for a moment.
"What can I get you sir?" Her voice was soft, warm and sensual, like caramel floating on a breeze.
For a moment, he searched for words and found none. The raise of her long thin eyebrow sent his heart racing as he searched for a response. "I'll take some mead please." His voice was quiet, yet commanding. She nodded and turned to head back through the crowd to fetch the mead. He eyes followed her, but once she had fought through the men to the bar, he could only see her braided hair. She held the tray above her head, a single pint of mead sitting on it as she began to push past the men. One stood and blocked her way, taking his time to fondle her breasts and run his dirty hands all over her hips and ass. She glanced up at the quiet man apologetically and in an attempt to get past the man, she dropped the tray and watched the mug shatter.
The quiet man's eyes were glued to her, unable to look away from the panic on her face. The owner of the tavern walked up and raised his hand, back handing her across her high cheekbone so hard, she fell, hitting the ground hard. Her hair fell over her face, hiding her emotions from the quiet man. He stood, the sheer size of him gathering attention from all in the room. He stood about 6'9" and his black cloak brushed his ankles and the gold crest of royalty peaked out from his breastplate. The girl only looked up when she realized the rest of the room had bowed. The look on her face moved from panic and pain to horror and embarrassment. She lowered her head again in respect before He spoke.
"This woman did nothing to deserve any of the treatment I have seen her just receive. I am a merciful king and for that, I will let you all live. But if I hear of another woman being treated as such ever again, so be it, I will send you all to the torture chamber! She is coming with me and no one is to say a thing about that." His words rang out in the silent room and he moved to her, she could only see his shiny boots. He bent down and helped her up; his touch was soft and firm. As she stood, she straightened her tattered dress, trying to quell the flutters inside her. He looked at her softly, speaking quietly to her again. "Are you ok?" His hand brushed across the red mark on her face. She kept her head down, partially in respect and partially in fear of looking in his eyes and seeing something there. She nodded slightly.
The king nodded at her, took her hand and strolled out of the tavern, she glanced back and only saw the shocked face of the owner of the tavern, everyone else had not found the courage to look up yet. His hand was firm on hers as he led her to his horse; a guard was standing close by and the guard jumped to attention when the king walked up. He spoke quiet orders to the guard and picked her up, setting her on the horse. He mounted behind her, his body pressed close to hers as he reached around her waist and held the reigns, the guard mounted as well and with a kick, they were galloping through the streets of the village and out into the wilderness. The horses slowed to a trot and they rode in silence, she kept trying to think of something to say, but his warmth was so close it kept her from thinking much.
Her breath quickened when she felt his scratchy stubble brush against her neck and push her hair away. His lips were so close to her ear as he whispered. "What is your name, girl." She shivered as his breath washed warmly over her ear and neck. She swallowed and tried to compose herself.
"Jocelyn, Milord." He chuckled as he heard the huskiness in her voice. He arms tucking closer to her side. The faint smell of roses surrounded her and filled his nostrils. He involuntarily growled a bit at the sexiness of this woman in his arms. He heartbeat quickened and he pulled off the trail, calling an order to his guard to stay at the road. He led his horse to a stream and slid off, reaching up and pulling her down to him, their bodies close. His hands stayed on her waist and hers were resting on his big arms, she lifted her gaze to his, blushing slightly. His smile was warm and comforting and she slowly melted into him. Her nipples were hard and pressed against the thin fabric of her dress.
"Come, sit with me Jocelyn." His voiced carried warmth and concern as his horse drank and he sat on the grass.
"Yes Milord." She sat with him, close enough to not look like she was trying to stay away, but far enough to feel free from the intoxication he made her feel.