Free Charming the Prince by Teresa Medeiros Page B

be enough to bring Willow marching up the stairs to his tower, demanding to be released from their vows. He would then play the part of wounded husband, flattering her with his passionate protests before reluctantly agreeing to petition Edward for an annulment.
      Bannor recaptured Willow's hands in a grip too tender to resist. "On the contrary, my lady. I'm simply suggesting that I give you some time to become better acquainted with my children."
    "With the children?" she echoed wanly.
    "And with me, of course," he hastily added. Even as Bannor uttered the lie, regret coursed through him. He could never hope to know her in the one sense he most longed to—the biblical one. Desperate to escape before he betrayed himself with a whispered endearment or careless caress, he brought one of her callused palms to his lips and pressed a gallant kiss upon it. "Forgive me for tarrying so long, my lady. 'Tis late and you must be exhausted from your journey. I shall leave you to your dreams."
      He was already drawing the door shut behind him when Willow's reply came, so soft he might have imagined it. 'Tis far too late for that, my lord."

Seven
      Willow fully expected to be awakened before dawn by the fretful squalls of a hungry babe. To crawl out of bed and stumble blindly to the castle kitchen where she would dole out lukewarm gobbets of porridge to Lord Bannor's whining brats. To spend her day enduring their howls and dodging their kicks when they were denied even the smallest indulgence.
      She also expected her slumber to be as devoid of dreams as her heart, but her sleep was invaded by a dark stranger, more phantom than prince, who brushed her lips with his own, then vanished into the mist.
      Willow rolled to her back, groaning as she sank deeper into a rose-scented cloud. Golden warmth flickered across her face, warning her that the cloud must be drifting too close to the sun. She pried open her eyes. Sunbeams slanted through the glazed window of the tower, reproaching her with their midmorning brilliance.
      She saw that an earthenware basin had been left upon the table for her. Tendrils of steam drifted up from the ewer beside it, curling around a stack of linen towels.
      She bounded to her knees in the middle of the enormous bed, swiping a rose petal from the tip of her nose. Perhaps 'twas not a baby's hungry cry that had awakened her, but Lord Bannor's bellow of rage as he discovered his bride was naught but a shameless sloth intent upon starving his precious children.
      At that moment, the chamber door flew open to reveal two squires carrying a large chest between them. She snatched the sheet up to her chin, her eyes widening in alarm as the oldest boy let his end crash to the floor.
      "Watch my toes, won't you?" his companion whined between gasps for breath. "I've only got ten o' them."
      The gangly lad gave his sweaty forelock an obsequious tug. "A thousand pardons for disturbing your rest, m'lady, but the wagon just arrived from Bedlington and Lord Bannor thought you might have need of your garments. Make haste, Rob," the lad barked, jerking his head toward the door. "We've one more to fetch."
      Rob groaned and rubbed the small of his back. "Maybe we should use a pony to haul it up the stairs."
      When they were gone, Willow clambered down from the bed and padded toward the chest. She couldn't fathom why it would be so heavy. Her stepmother, had had ample time to plunder its most costly treasures. Willow had expected it to arrive at Elsinore barren of all but a few stray threads and a puff of dust. She was reaching for the leather latch when her ears caught a faint rustle from within.
      She froze, cocking her head to listen, but heard nothing more threatening than the whisper of her own breathing. Shaking away her fancies, she once again reached for the latch.
      And heard a scrabbling too violent to be produced by even her overactive imagination. Willow stumbled backward, seeking to put as much