Free The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch by Shelly Thacker Page B

almost three hundred years, one
of many small kingdoms scattered across the Alps between France and
the Holy Roman Empire—”
    “I mean current information. There used to
be a large keep near the town of Aganor, southeast of here. Do you
know how it fared in the war?”
    “Nay, I do not.”
    “Do you at least know how the town fared in the war?”
    “Nay,” she repeated, “I do not know.”
    He did not speak for a moment, as if he had
been stunned into silence. “How is it possible that a member of the
royal family could know so little about her own realm? Have you
been so busy with your philosophy and your music that
you have no room in your head for practical matters? Do you not
care—”
    “Nay, that is not true at all! It is because
of the war that I am unfamiliar with my realm. I have never even seen most of it.”
    “You were born and raised in Châlons. You
have lived in this kingdom for nineteen years—”
    “Aye, but despite your taunts this morn
about pleasure trips and cruises down the river in the royal barge,
I have experienced neither in my lifetime. Since childhood, I have
lived in the palace, surrounded by courtiers and—”
    “Shh.”
    “I will not be interrupted, sirrah! Never in
my life have I been so—mmmph.”
    “When we are not alone,” he whispered
tightly, one gloved hand clamped over her mouth, “you will at least
refrain from discussing your grand life at the royal palace.” He
nodded toward a muddy pasture on their right where dozens of serfs
were at work. “If you recall, we are trying to keep your identity a
secret.”
    When he removed his hand, Ciara lifted
trembling fingers to her lips, so shocked at being thusly … manhandled that she could not speak.
    The peasants straightened to watch them
pass. Several called out greetings, but Sir Royce remained tense
and nudged Anteros into a gallop.
    Even after they had left the serfs far
behind, he did not relax. “How great a risk is there that people
might recognize you?” He tugged the hood of her cloak forward to
better conceal her face.
    “None.” She pushed his hand away. “Châlons
has been at war for seven years. As I was trying to explain,
I have been cloistered in the palace since the age of twelve for my
own safety. My subjects are no more familiar with my face than I am
with theirs.”
    “Good.”
    With that terse comment, he fell silent.
Ciara muttered an oath in ancient Greek and gave up trying to hold
a civil conversation with the knave. As they rode on, she sought
distraction in the passing scenery.
    Fortunately, there was much to see, all of
it new to her. They traveled through vast, green meadows. Fallow
fields studded with rocks. Tall grasses that flowed like waves in
the wind. Now and then a flock of birds would explode from beneath
Anteros’s hooves to fill the air with color and noise.
    In the distance, she could see pine trees
clustered around the hills as if on sentry duty, emerald lances
aimed toward the sky. And icy lakes that flashed like silver coins
in the sunlight.
    It touched her deeply, in a way she could
not explain, to finally see for herself the legendary beauty of her
country. This sensation of the horse galloping beneath her, the
wind in her face, the ground flying past felt so fresh, so free . Under other circumstances, she might have found it
exciting. Exhilarating.
    But she could not forget that every mile
they traveled carried her away from her homeland, toward
Thuringia.
    Fighting the wave of sadness that washed
over her, she made a decision: she would not allow her
ill-tempered guardian to ruin what could be a pleasant journey.
During the next fortnight—for the first time, and the last—she was free.
    Free of her crown and her robes and all the
rules that went with them. Free to fulfill her heart’s most secret
dream: to experience real life, to be like any other woman.
For the next two weeks, she could steal a brief taste of the world,
the adventures, the fun that had always