So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)

Stefan shrugged. “But you obviously do.”

“No!” Rupert protested. Holy crap! Did he care? No, it was just lust. Nothing more. “I—you taught me to have a sense of honor. That’s why I object to her being used.”

Ansel nodded. “All right. Since you want to be honorable about it, I’ll perform the marriage ceremony for the two of you.”

“What?” Rupert stepped back. Marry Brigitta? “I just talked to her for the first time yesterday!” And you’ve been thinking about her ever since.

“It’s not a bad idea.” Stefan drank some ale. “After all, the two of you are already betrothed.”

“I’m not marrying her!” Rupert paced away. “Dammit, have you forgotten what her father did? He killed my father, murdered my entire family! Stole the throne from us, and doomed me to hiding in the dark for seven years. The House of Grian must be destroyed!”

Ansel shrugged. “Fine. Since she’s so awful, we’ll ransom her back to her brother. Let some other man get between her legs and—”

“Stop it!” Rupert hissed. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Stefan gave him a weary look. “Why don’t you just admit that you care about her?”

Rupert took a deep breath. “I can’t marry her. But I won’t let Gunther abuse her, either. We’ll stick to the Official Plan, the one we were doing before we even knew she was still alive. We defeat the Tourinian navy, blockade the coast, and completely cut off Gunther’s supply of gold. Once he can’t pay his army, his soldiers will desert. With no gold, the economy will collapse, and the people will turn on him. Then we rally our supporters in the north—”

“That’s where the plan goes awry, and you know it,” Ansel said. “It’s been nineteen years since your father died. We can’t be sure you have any supporters left.”

Stefan nodded. “Gunther killed off any that were vocal about supporting the House of Trepurin.”

“They’re there,” Rupert insisted. “The clans were always close. And loyal. Once they know I’m alive—”

“And what if they want proof?” Stefan asked. “They’ll have only our word for it that you’re the lost prince. We have no idea where your mother hid the royal seal.”

“True.” Ansel sipped some ale. “I hate to say it, but it would be easier to use the girl.”

“No.” Rupert shook his head. “I will not use her. If I did, I would be no better than her bastard brother. The throne is rightfully mine, but I will not lose my honor in order to obtain it.”

Stefan gave him a wry smile as he lifted his goblet. “Spoken like a true king.”

“Aye.” Ansel smiled. “But if he wants to be an honest king, he should learn to admit the truth.”

Rupert groaned. “I know how to be honest.”

“Then admit you’re attracted to her.” Stefan downed his drink.

Rupert scoffed. “Are you admitting you’re lusting for a nun?”

Stefan sputtered his drink all over the table.

Rupert smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Ansel sighed. “Why is my ship so boring? You two are having all the fun.”





Chapter Eleven

Brigitta’s anger festered the more she thought about Rupert enjoying himself in the village while she was trapped on board. His prisoner.

The scoundrel had threatened her sisters with flaming arrows in order to force her compliance. How could she ever think she was attracted to him?

Yes, she was curious about him, even intrigued by him, but that was merely a side effect of the gift she’d been born with. And no doubt, any attraction she might have felt toward him had been caused by her overly dramatic imagination. This sinking feeling in her heart was nothing more than her disappointment over something that had never been real.

The truth was: She should be angry. She should be defiant. Hadn’t she vowed that she would not be a willing captive? It was time for her to take control of her own destiny. The Eberoni shore was close by, and she was an excellent swimmer.

The junior officer, Tucker, had returned with the dinghy filled with boxes of supplies. As he tied the dinghy off, other crewmen wheeled a large contraption to the portside. The machine had a series of pulleys and a rope with a giant hook on the end. When a seaman turned a crank, the rope lowered over the side of the ship. Tucker slid the hook under the ropes tied around a box, then the seamen turned the crank to lift the box into the air. Then other crewmen pivoted the contraption to the side so the box could be lowered into a cargo hold.

“Isn’t it great?” Jeffrey grinned. “Rupert designed it so it would take only one man to lift something really heavy.”

“Aye, ’tis very clever. Excuse me.” Brigitta grabbed Sister Fallyn’s arm to lead her toward a quiet spot.

“Is something wrong?” the nun asked.

“We should escape,” Brigitta whispered, then held up a hand when Sister Fallyn stiffened with shock. “Hear me out. We’re close to the shore. We could swim—”

“We’re farther away than ye think.”

“The tide is going in. As long as we stay afloat—”

“Nay,” Sister Fallyn argued. “Our gowns could drag us under.” She shuddered. “Or sharks could attack us.”

“We have to try!”

“Nay, I will not have ye risking yer life.”

“And ye—” Brigitta struggled to keep her voice a whisper. “Ye would let yer life be controlled by some pirates?”

Sister Fallyn hesitated. “I understand yer frustration, but ye’ll be safer here. Even if ye make it ashore, how will ye travel all the way to Ebton Palace? Ye could be set upon by brigands.” She grabbed Brigitta by the shoulders. “Lass, ye must stay here.”

Brigitta groaned inwardly. She could see the shore. Freedom. How could she give up?

Sister Fallyn patted her on the back. “Go below and rest a bit. Then ye’ll feel better.”

With a sigh, Brigitta headed down the stairs to their cabin. How could she accept defeat? How could she let the Telling Stones, or a sorcerer pirate, or even an unknown brother dictate her future?

She paused at the door, mentally reviewing all of Sister Fallyn’s objections. Her gown was definitely a problem, but she didn’t want to go ashore in nothing but her shift. If only she could wear breeches—her gaze fell on the door at the end of the passageway. Captain Landers’s room. And he was ashore right now. With his breeches off, no doubt. Just like Rupert. Blast him.

She imagined Rupert returning to the ship only to discover that she’d escaped while he’d been busy with all those women. A spark of satisfaction shot through her. Yes, she would do this!

She slipped into the captain’s cabin and found an old pair of breeches and white linen shirt. On his dresser was a small bag. She peeked inside. Gold coins! She might need them. Even so, she hesitated, her conscience objecting to her being a thief. They’re pirates, she argued with herself. The gold was already stolen.