Free A Prince to be Feared: The love story of Vlad Dracula by Mary Lancaster Page B

for?”
    “Sixteen,” Ilona corrected, affronted. But it was an easy question. “For a husband and family, if she doesn’t already have one. What were you waiting for at sixteen?”
    “For the sultan to free me and give me an army to win back Wallachia.”
    “You didn’t need the army,” she remembered.
    “True. Your uncle was kind enough to take Vladislav out of my way. On the other hand, I doubt the sultan would have let me go without the army to keep its eye on me.”
    “My uncle took Vladislav to war,” Ilona protested, “not on some expedition of pleasure!”
    Since his only response to that was a subtle wink she wasn’t even sure she saw, she added, “Weren’t you afraid to go back? After you lost Wallachia again?”
    He shrugged. “I was in no danger from the Ottomans. They’d no reason to keep me anymore. My father was dead.” And even before he died, the fact of the sultan holding his sons hostage hadn’t prevented the elder Vlad from fighting the Turks. How in God’s name had that felt to young Vlad? Betrayal. Terror, surely. No wonder he’d raged against the world. “And the sultan had already decided I was best causing trouble here instead.”
    Maybe, Ilona thought. And maybe not. He hadn’t been sure what would happen, but he’d gone anyway.
    “When did the sultan decide that?”
    “After he saw me fighting, of course.”
    “Are you boasting?”
    “I thought I’d give it a try. See if it impressed you.”
    She smiled. I like you, Vlad Dracula . She was so used to speaking her thoughts as they occurred that for a moment she was afraid she’d actually said the words aloud.
    “So who’s the husband you’re waiting for?” he asked. “I hope he’s a good man.”
    “So do I. But nothing has been arranged.”
    He nodded thoughtfully, though exactly what those thoughts were remained a mystery. His head turned upward to the nearest tower. “I hope it’s worth the wait.” She no longer knew if he meant Wallachia or her marriage. And before she could ask, he said, “Take me back to the fray, Ilona Szilágyi.”
    “And don’t tell anyone you used such a word to describe my aunt’s hospitality?”
    A quick smile crossed his face, lightening the care. “I like frays,” he said.
    ***
     
    Dinner turned out to be an emotional sleigh ride. For the occasion, she was regarded not merely as the countess’s attendant but as Hunyadi’s niece and Szilágyi’s daughter, and so she found herself placed next to Vlad. The excitement of that was new to her, as was the physical disturbance when he sat down next to her. Unfamiliar butterflies fluttered around her stomach, and for some time, she found it difficult to breathe properly, let alone think of anything interesting to say to him. Instead, stupid anxieties rippled through her mind, mostly to do with her appearance, how mature she looked, and how pretty.
    The green gown was new and worn over the simple white underdress, showing puffs of contrasting white between the silver buttons of the green sleeves. She rather liked it. She’d fastened it at her breast with a pearl brooch given to her by Countess Hunyadi. She should have felt important and regal, but she didn’t. She felt ridiculously tongue-tied and totally confused.
    Fortunately, at the beginning, most of his attention was given to Countess Hunyadi on his other side, allowing Ilona time to gather herself. Although he was not a particularly big man, he seemed so when he was this close, the physical manifestation of his forceful personality. Vlad Dracula was just a little too overwhelming to be comfortable. In fact, so strongly did she feel this that it took her some time to connect her powerful response to Vlad with those far fainter flutterings of attraction she’d felt for one or two of Hunyadi’s handsomer knights. And then she didn’t know whether to be appalled or excited. For an instant, it felt more like agony .
    So she did what had always helped her over difficult or