Read Online His Highness the Duke by Michelle M. Pillow - Free Book Online Page B

did not
    make it out of bed.‖
    ―The burden of being oldest,‖ Bron answered. It was an old joke between them.
    Ualan was the oldest prince and heir to the throne. They understood each other. They
    both had high expectations placed on them as the first born sons.
    ―One that does not seem so heavy today. We are truly families blessed,‖ said the
    prince.
    Before Bron could answer, a councilman called to the line of new husbands,
    ―Lord Ualan?‖
    ―It‘s done.‖ Ualan stepped forward, lifted his hand high to the council to show
    the glowing crystal before turning to show it to all gathered. The council acknowledged
    in silent approval of him and waited for the next man to step forward. Ualan left the
    area.
    Bron, being next in rank followed his cousin‘s example. Nervously, he took the
    crystal from his neck, praying it wouldn‘t stop glowing as he held it above his head. ―It
    is done.‖ The words were not as strong as Ualan‘s had been, but they were loud
    enough. The elders nodded in acknowledgement. Bron turned to go, sighing with relief.
    The only thing left was to present his bride, and then they could go home and he could
    find a way to restore his honor, but more importantly, he could begin to make it up to
    his wife.

    * * * * *
    Aeron took a drink of wine, wishing it were water but not really caring. She was
    thankful for the torches, though their low flame was no longer needed. Without them,
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    she would have spent the night alone in the alien darkness. Bron had not returned to
    the tent. The fact stung, though not as badly as the reason for his going. In one second
    she had changed everything. Her life was over.
    When she closed her eyes, she remembered the look on his face, the hesitance in
    his expression as she stayed poised over him. He had wanted to stop her. His people‘s
    traditions demanded she stop. But she‘d been the one in control of the situation. She‘d
    been on top of him, rubbing against him, feeling him, needing him. The memory of it
    caused an ache to build inside her. She wanted him again. She wanted the sensations,
    the feelings, the mindless everything.
    And yet with the idea of pleasure came an even more real torment. Mortality.
    She was dying. Her mother had never explained the full bittersweet reality to her.
    Perhaps she‘d been too young to understand it. To experience such deep pleasure,
    surely what was the pinnacle of what life had to offer, was to court death.
    What had been an eternity was now summed up into a few short years. Aeron
    felt a panic inside her. There wasn‘t much time left. There was so much she needed to
    do, needed to say and see and be. She began to pace the tent, pulling at the arm straps
    hanging from her waist. There hardly seemed enough hours in the day now. How
    would she fit it all in?
    ―My lady, may I enter?‖
    Aeron nearly screamed at the male voice. Her heart was beating so fast. ―Yes?‖
    She recognized the servant from the night before. He was carrying a red bundle
    in his arms. Seeing her, he bowed his head. ―My lady‘s gown.‖
    Aeron took it from him and said nothing. She wondered if he knew what she‘d
    done. Logic told her she wouldn‘t look or smell or be different, but still the knowledge
    of it burned so brightly in her mind she was sure everyone else would automatically
    sense it. He left without comment.
    She laid the gown on the bed and went to the tub. The water wasn‘t as hot as the
    night before, but she didn‘t care as she quickly cleaned the restless night from her skin.
    The deep red of the gown was a strange color choice for her, but then she was only used
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    to wearing Federation black. The bodice had a loose fit and the skirt was about two
    inches too long. Still, the gold embroidery along the edges was beautiful. Were the
    stitches meant to symbolize stylized dragons? She couldn‘t be sure.
    Thinking of dragons only made her think of her shifter lover,