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 wood pressing against her spine as his mouth moved away from her lips, down to her throat.
‘There’s no reason for you to be afraid,’ he said against her skin. ‘Not of the Saracens. And not of me.’
She ventured a shaky smile, catching his hands. ‘I can’t stop my fear. Whenever I’m near you, I can hardly breathe.’
He moved in, pulling her hips to his. ‘That isn’t fear, ma chère. It’s desire.’ His mouth moved to her throat, kissing her softly. ‘I don’t want you to breathe. I want to possess every part of you. And were it not a sin, I would claim you tonight.
‘We’ll wed in the Holy Land,’ he swore. With another smile, he added, ‘You’ll have to travel on a different ship than me, Berengaria. Otherwise, I won’t be able to keep my hands from you.’ He stole another soft kiss and released her. He brought her the gold-and-ruby-encrusted cross necklace,
