forbidden love

M+A Chapter 9

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“The Prince has been called away.”

“The Prince sends his apologies.”

“The Prince regrets to inform you…”

The lines were always the same—always spoken by Aiden.

I had hoped I might convince myself that what had happened between us in the sitting room had been nothing more than a moment of weakness. A misstep. A trick of proximity and silence.

But with each of the prince’s absences, and each appearance of Sir Aiden in his stead, that illusion grew harder to maintain.

I sat in the solarium, one of my books opened before me, when I heard the soft click of the door.

“Pardon, Princess,” Aiden said.

My fingers tensed slightly around the book. I kept my gaze fixed on the words before me, forcing my attention to the neat rows of ink instead of the way my pulse misbehaved at the sound of his voice. I did not look up.

“Good afternoon, Sir Aiden,” I said, careful to keep my tone even. “What awaits us today?”

He stopped just inside the door, “Whatever the Princess wishes,” he said.

I slid my page marker into place, closed the book softly and set it aside before finally looking up. I regretted it at once.

“We have seen the garden, the library, and walked the courtyard—twice. Tell me, Sir Aiden, what do you suggest?”

He considered for a moment. “There’s an old path beyond the eastern grounds,” he said. “It’s cool beneath the trees, quiet. I walk there when I need space.”

He hesitated for just a fraction, then quietly added, “If you would care to see it?”

I should have declined. It would have been the sensible thing to do. Yet the words that left me were not the ones I ought to have spoken. “I would like that.”

His throat bobbed once before he inclined his head. “Very well, Princess.”

I stood and smoothed out my skirts. Then he offered me his arm.

The path was shaded beneath broad canopies. A gentle breeze occasionally swept through, carrying scents of damp earth and moss. Birds perched high in the treetops, twittered and warbled. Sharp pinpricks of light filtered through the leaves, making them shimmer.

Walking side by side, my arm linked through Aiden’s, we meandered down the path at a leisurely pace. There was no pressure to fill the silence, no need to weigh each word before speaking. After days of careful composure, I no longer felt so restrained.

“This place is beautiful,” I said, sweeping my gaze over the trail. “I can see why you like it.”

“Just wait, Princess. There is more yet to see.”

The trail curved around moss-covered boulders and slipped past clusters of wild mushrooms and berry bushes. It rounded one final bend before opening into a wide, circular clearing rimmed with slender birch trees. At the far edge, a crystal-clear stream threaded its way through the landscape, its gentle movement catching the light.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed.

I unlinked my arm from Aiden’s and took a few steps into the clearing. It felt as though I’d stepped into another world. I turned in a slow circle, taking in the space. When I faced Aiden again, he was watching me, something unguarded in his expression. Not duty. Not vigilance. It felt almost as though he were looking past the crown, past the expectation, and straight to the marrow of me.

My breath faltered. I felt suddenly, dangerously known, yet I did not retreat.

I swallowed, steadying myself.

I turned away, letting my gaze drift back over the clearing. “This is…I’m not sure I even have the words.”

“I understand,” Aiden said, joining me. “It’s my favorite place in Bedford. It’s the one place I can just…be.”

That gave me pause. Not because I didn’t understand exactly what he meant, but because I had never once considered that Aiden might desire anything beyond what he was.

“I know what you mean,” I said. “The gardens are that for me. There I can exist simply as Monroe. I have only ever known you as Sir Aiden. I had not realized there was more.”

His brows rose ever so slightly, as if he were unaccustomed to being seen and unsure what to do with it.

Our gazes held.

Slowly, some of the tension left his shoulders. Mine followed.

Something in the air seemed to loosen, as if we’d both finally let out a breath we hadn’t realized we were holding. Even the clearing seemed to breath with us.

After a quiet beat of shared understanding, Aiden extended his hand. “Join me?” he asked.

Without hesitation, I slipped my hand into his. His fingers curled around my palm, his grip sure and steady. Warmth spread through my arm and settled deep in my chest.

He guided me to the stream’s bank where two overturned stumps rested at the edge. Aiden helped me down and then settled beside me. We sat in silence, listening to the quiet rush of the stream, the rustling of leaves overhead, and the chittering of birds.

“I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he said, his voice so low and soft I almost missed it.

Something tugged low in my chest as though some invisible thread between us had been drawn taut. “I’m glad you did,” I said. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“As am I,” he said, offering a small smile before turning to the stream.

I let my gaze linger on him a moment longer.

It struck me then how different he was here. His shoulders were loose, his posture relaxed, and his gaze no longer sharp with vigilance but thoughtful, at ease. There was a quiet confidence in him I hadn’t noticed before. One not forged by duty, but by belonging.

This was not the disciplined knight who stood at my side in court. This was simply Aiden.

And I was unprepared for how deeply I felt the difference.

Chapter Ten

M+A Chapter 8

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My lips parted on a soft exhale, my body responding of its own accord, years of meticulous training to command myself proving insufficient.

We were standing too close to one another, yet it was not close enough. One step, and I could be in his arms. One step, and I would surrender to the pull that had been drawing me toward him since the day I arrived.

His hand lifted slightly, as though drawn by instinct rather than intention. He raised it toward my hand, his control slipping just enough to betray that whatever war raged inside me raged inside him as well.

I did not move away. 

His fingers brushed against my knuckles—light, tentative. 

My fingers shifted without thought, just enough to allow the contact. 

A shiver traced down my spine, goosebumps rising in its wake. 

His fingers lingered at my knuckles, sending sparks skittering across my skin, sharp enough to steal my breath.

His gaze held mine—questioning, searching, and I did not look away. 

He swallowed. Hard.

“Oh! There you two are!” Alice said brightly, her voice cutting clean through the spell.

In the span of a blink, Aiden slipped seamlessly back into the disciplined knight. We looked away from one another and took a subtle step back. My fingers flexed slightly at my sides, as if my body had not yet accepted that he was no longer touching me. 

Despite my quickening pulse, I managed to keep my voice even. “Sorry, Alice. I got a little carried away,” I said, gesturing to the pile of books on the table.

“I’m glad to see you enjoyed yourself,” she said, moving to inspect their titles. Her eyes flicked briefly toward me, as if she were gauging my mood, though she offered no comment. 

“I’ll let you ladies be,” Aiden said, inclining his head as he moved toward the door. His hand paused on the latch before turning it fully. As he stepped through the doorway, I caught his glance back. Our eyes met for a brief, charged moment, and I drew in a quick sharp breath before the door shut.

“Are you alright, Monroe?” Alice asked, her brows knitting together. 

“Yes,” I said, but my answer came too quick, too breathless. I cleared my throat before continuing. “Quite fine. I feel a little worn is all.” 

I moved to the plush settee behind the table and picked up one of the books, my fingers drifting absently over the pages. Alice came to sit beside me, lightly closing the book in my lap.

I met her gaze, and something in her eyes told me that she saw more than I was willing to admit.

“Oh, dearest Monroe,” she said, her tone soft and sincere. “I know these past few days have been hard on you but remember that even the smallest act born of a fleeting emotion can carry consequences you do not intend. Let your mind be your guide, not your heart.”

I stared at her, words failing me. What could I say? To speak at all would be to admit something I knew I could not—not even to Alice. 

She offered me a gentle smile, one that said she already knew. She squeezed my hand once and then left me alone with my thoughts. 

Foolish Monroe. 

I leaned my head against the back of the settee and closed my eyes. 

We could have stepped back. He could have withdrawn his hand. I could have pulled mine away. 

We did neither. 

I waited for guilt to come. For my stomach to clench and my chest to tighten. But it didn’t. And that, somehow, unsettled me more.

What frightened me the most was not that it had happened. It was that I was no longer certain I would stop it next time.

Alice’s warning had come too late.

Whatever had sparked on the road to Bedford had begun to grow into something steadier. Stronger. And I could no longer pretend I did not feel it.

Chapter Nine

M+A Chapter 7

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I woke with a cautious sense of resolve. The flicker of hope I’d felt the night before lingered–not brighter, but steadier, as though I’d chosen to hold onto it rather than let it slip away.

I moved through my morning routine with practiced ease, a quiet anticipation setting in. It wasn’t excitement, exactly, but intention. 

Even as I sat in the small sitting room, a book propped on my lap, I found it difficult to focus on the words on the page. My thoughts kept returning to Alexander’s words, to the possibility that this—whatever this might become—could be enough.

When the knock at my door came, I still smiled, but it was the sort of smile I had learned to wear well.

I closed the book, set it on the table beside me, and folded my hands in my lap as Alice went to the door.

When she returned, she said, “Sir Aiden, Princess,” and he entered the sitting room.

My smile faltered—caught between what I had been expecting and what stood in front of me—before I gathered myself. 

“Sir Aiden,” I said, standing and dipping into a practiced curtsy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Princess,” he greeted, inclining his head. “The prince sends his regards…” He paused. The subtle tug at his lips and quick tick of jaw betrayed his unease. “As well as his most sincere apologies. He has been called away from the court this morning.”

I forced my smile back into place and schooled my tone into aloofness. “That is most unfortunate. Thank you, Sir Aiden, for letting me know.”

I thought that would be the end of it, that he might turn to leave after delivering Alexander’s correspondence. 

He did not. 

“The prince asked that I remain at your disposal today,” he said. “Until his return.”

It was faint, but a tightness formed in my chest.

“I see,” I said. “And what does one do when one is…at a knight’s disposal?”

His gaze drifted past me to the book resting on the settee behind me, then back. “If it pleases you, the library is quiet at this hour.”

“Yes,” I said. “I would enjoy that.”

Aiden nodded and stepped to the side, letting me pass first before sliding into place beside me. 

As we walked the halls, I let myself imagine the rows of books and what kinds of stories lay behind their leather covers—anything to keep my thoughts from drifting to the man at my side.

The library was exquisite. The calm quiet settled deep into my bones, giving me almost the same sense of peace I felt in the garden. I wandered through towering shelves, running my fingertips over well-worn spines and smooth covers. My fingers itched to pull the books from their slots, peel back their covers, and lose myself in them. 

Aiden followed close behind, his broad frame crowding the narrow aisle, making his presence impossible to ignore. 

I stopped in the poetry section, my eyes catching on intricate gold lettering on a spine, just out of reach. I stretched upwards on the balls of my feet, my fingertips just barely brushing the books edge—only for it to be plucked free a heartbeat later. 

Aiden had stepped in behind me, leaving the barest breadth of space between us.

His arm brushed against mine as he reached overhead, the contact setting sparks dancing across my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath, warmth rushing to my cheeks at our sudden closeness—at the heat of his body, the pine and leather scent that enveloped me—and there was nowhere for my awareness to go but him. 

He handed me the book without a word. 

“Thank you,” I said, my voice coming out a shade too breathless. 

I swallowed and tucked the book under my arm. I turned too quickly and continued down the aisle, my steps a fraction faster than before.

Aiden matched my pace, closing the distance between us in a few effortless strides, leaving me little time to gather myself. 

As we browsed the next few aisles, I fought to keep my attention stubbornly fixed on the shelves. Still, despite myself, my gaze strayed toward Aiden more than once before I caught it and forced my focus back to the rows of books.

After we’d moved into a new section, I cast another subtle glance at him. His brow was faintly furrowed, his attention drifting over the shelves with polite detachment.

It dawned on me then that he was enduring this solely for my sake, and I found myself unexpectedly touched by his patience. 

I paused mid-aisle and turned to him. “You don’t actually like it here, do you?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I do not. But I would not stand in the way of your enjoyment nor let you remain alone in it.”

I knew his words were meant to comfort, not wound, but they landed with a quiet sting all the same. 

It was not Aiden’s place to guard my feelings. 

He did it anyway. 

Because the prince had chosen duty over me. 

I did not allow myself to linger in that ache. Instead, I turned my attention back to shelves, choosing to be grateful for Aiden’s presence. For the simple fact that he was here at all. 

I cleared my throat and pulled a book from the shelf. “For an esteemed knight such as yourself, Sir Aiden, I wouldn’t have expected libraries to be your downfall.”

“Nor I, Princess,” he said. “But it seems I have met my match—shelves and silence. I fear that my behavior would shame any of the knights you might find in these books.”

I smiled. “I don’t believe that. I think they would commend you for your bravery and sacrifice for daring to step foot inside.”

Aiden smiled then—truly smiled—and it softened the strong planes of his face. The sight of it struck me deeper than I was prepared for.

“Go on, Princess,” he urged softly. “Choose as many as you like.”

I wasted no time moving to shelf after shelf, piling my arms full of leather-bound books. When they began to tremble under their weight, Aiden scooped them easily into his. 

We made another turn through the library, I gathered a few more books, and then we headed back to the sitting room. 

“You have outdone yourself, Princess,” Aiden remarked as we stood back from the low table, surveying the trove we’d delivered. “The library didn’t stand a chance.”

“Thank you,” I said. “For this. For today. It was…perfect.” 

And truly, it had been everything.

I couldn’t stop myself—I beamed up at him.

Our eyes held and in the span of single fragile heartbeat, time stilled. 

The air between us crackled, charged with longing, restraint—everything we both felt but could not say. 

He took a single step. 

And then, as if he had only just realized it, his breath caught. 

Chapter Eight

M+A Chapter 6

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I didn’t have long to sit with the thought of what I noticed of Aiden in the garden, nor the way it lingered long after I thought it should have faded. The following days were busy with appointments–dress fittings, royal wardrober consultations, etiquette trainings. I barely had time to catch my breath, let alone examine my own feelings–or the way Aiden’s presence had unsettled something I hadn’t known was so fragile.

And today would be no exception. Prince Alexander was hosting a formal luncheon. 

It would be the first time since my introduction to the court that Prince Alexander and I would be seen together in public. There would be no room for missteps. 

After Alice checked—and checked twice more—that every silken strand of my hair was in place, my gown was wrinkle free and flowing just right, she finally gave me her nod of approval. 

“Ready, Your Highness?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. I raised my chin and straightened my shoulders, a faint smile touching my lips when I caught Alice’s proud look from the corner of my eye. 

The great hall had completely transformed for the luncheon. It radiated elegance and finery, every gilded piece of furniture and décor gleaming brilliantly. 

Alexander was speaking with a small group of men, and I couldn’t help but be in awe of him for how he commanded the attention of those around him. Even as he left them to come to my side, the men’s gazes followed him, reluctant to let him go.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Alexander said, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. 

His gesture was polite, proper, expected, yet it stirred nothing like the restless spark that Aiden’s touch had set loose beneath my skin—sharp, electric, and impossible to ignore.

“Your Majesty,” I replied, curtsying regally.

Leaning slightly, his voice low and steady, he said, “You look magnificent, Princess.”

“And you,” I replied.

“Shall we?” 

I nodded and let him lead the way to the long dining table in the center of the room. 

The luncheon unfolded with practiced precision. Plates were exchanged, wine glasses filled, voices rose and fell in easy rhythm. I answered when spoken to, smiled when expected, laughed softly at the right moments. 

The conversation rarely lingered on me. It moved around me—trade, border disputes, the coming winter—matters I had been trained to understand but not invited to weigh in on.

More than once, my gaze drifted toward the edges of the hall before I caught myself—an instinctive, foolish search for a familiar presence that had no reason to be there. 

Alexander would occasionally glance my way, but his gaze never stayed, already pulled into new conversations. 

It was easy to understand why he was so admired. He spoke with confidence, each word laced with conviction, but there was a lightness to him too, a warmth beneath the authority. He was charming in a way that felt effortless—the embodiment of a true leader. A prince. A king. 

I should have been grateful that I was to marry him. He was everything he should be, everything a princess should want. But as one course blurred into the next, I found it harder to convince myself of it. 

It wasn’t long until I faded into the background completely. Alexander’s quick glances ceased, and whatever small exchanges I had been a part of dissolved as conversation moved on without me. 

It’s all part of the role, I chastised myself, knowing that my place here was to be more decorative than essential. I had known this. Expected it. Still, I hadn’t anticipated the loneliness that settled over me in a room full of people. It was a loneliness I hadn’t felt in the garden, standing beside a knight whose solid, unspoken steadiness had made me feel less alone without ever trying to.

Relief washed over me when Alexander rose from his seat, signaling the end of the luncheon. “Guests, if you would please,” he said smoothly. One by one, the nobles and courtiers gathered their belongings and filed out of the hall. 

I exhaled, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease as the room emptied. 

“Princess Monroe,” Alexander said. “May I escort you to your chambers?” 

“Of course,” I answered, and Alexander fell into step beside me as we walked through the hall. 

“I know these last few days have been…busy,” he began. “It hasn’t left much room for anything else.” Soft blue eyes met mine, warm and attentive. “I hoped we might take a walk through the castle grounds once things settle.”

A faint flicker of hope stirred in me, imagining something beyond protocol and expectation.

“I would like that,” I said, feeling my lips curve into a genuine smile. 

Perhaps, finally, there would be a moment that felt like it belonged only to us–one that might quiet the thoughts of a man I had no right to carry.

Chapter Seven

M+A Chapter 5

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I stood beneath an arbor wrapped in flowering vines at the start of the winding cobblestone footpath, mesmerized by the beauty around me. Colorful petals stirred in the breeze, tree branches swished overhead, and stone fountain statues burbled nearby. 

A soft wind wafted through the air, carrying the scents of lilac, honeysuckle, and jasmine. I closed my eyes, lifted my face to the sun, and breathed them in.

When I opened them, Aiden was beside me, his attention fixed on my face.

“We don’t get many days like this in Celermare,” I explained. “It’s perpetually rainy.”

“Bedford has its share of rain,” he replied. “But days like this are worth waiting for.”

I smiled and stepped onto the winding cobblestone path. Aiden fell into step beside me, his stride perfectly in time with mine. 

Neatly tended beds lined the path, their symmetry only broken up by soft bursts of color—clusters of blooms arranged with deliberate care. I slowed near a patch of forget-me-nots, their delicate powder-blue faces nodding in the breeze. 

“These have always been my favorite,” I said, almost to myself. 

His gaze lingered on the blooms, and for just a moment, the corner of his mouth curved—so faint that I might have imagined it. 

“A wise choice,” he said. 

I followed the path deeper into the garden, the first section giving way to a secluded area where flowers spilled over their borders in chaotic abundance.

I slowed my pace, letting my gaze wander over the riot of shapes and colors. 

For the first time in days, I realized I hadn’t thought of politics, duties, or obligations. I hadn’t even been aware of Aiden—until now, when I caught myself glancing at him, sunlight catching in the chestnut strands of his hair. And yet…there was no fluttering of nerves, no tightening of my chest. None of the earlier fear or awkwardness I had expected. 

Instead, I felt…free. As if the garden had eased all the tension I’d been carrying. I no longer felt like I was merely existing as a dutiful daughter or princess. Here, I felt like myself. 

We passed into the next section of the garden, where the path curved between low hedges and around bubbling fountains. With each step deeper into the immersive garden, I felt my body relax—my shoulders loosening, my steps growing less deliberate, even my breathing coming easier. 

I trailed my fingertips over the smooth stone of a fountain, no longer so mindful about posture or poise. 

“You seem more at ease here,” Aiden remarked. 

I glanced at him, surprised. Not just by the observation, but by how true it was.

“The gardens suit you,” he added.

“I—” I cleared my throat, suddenly dry. “I hadn’t realized I was that obvious.”

“I’m quite perceptive, Princess,” he said. “I would not be much of a knight if I weren’t.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I said after a moment. 

I sighed softly and then continued, “I suppose too, that it’s been some time since I’ve felt like the girl I used to be. This place, it—”

Something brushed against my wrist. 

I froze. 

My breath caught as I looked down. A bee rested there, wings still, oblivious to the havoc it had just wrecked.

“Sir Aiden,” I said, my voice barely more than air. Then again, sharper this time, panic lacing my words. “Aiden. I—there’s a bee. I can’t—”

My chest tightened, breath coming in short and choppy bursts. 

He was there instantly.

“You’re okay,” he said quietly. “Don’t move.”

“Allergic,” I huffed out. “Aiden, please.”

“Look at me, Monroe.” My eyes snapped to his, filled with reassurance and unshakable calm. His hand closed gently around my wrist. “You’re going to be fine. Steady now.”

I could only nod. 

His gaze never wavered as he lifted his hand, guiding the insect away with careful precision. 

Only once it was gone did he exhale. 

“You’re okay,” he repeated. 

His hand lingered on my skin, and when I looked up, I found his gaze had not strayed from me.

There was unmistakable concern there, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had been frightened too. Not of the bee, but of what might have happened to me.

Aiden cleared his throat. “We should get you back inside, Princess.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I think you might be right.”

We retraced our steps through the garden, and I noticed Aiden had shifted closer, his eyes scanning the garden for any new danger—bees, or anything else. 

My chest tightened, but in an entirely different way. He had learned of a new threat and would be ready to step in at moment’s notice.

It struck me then that he wasn’t just knight sworn to duty. He was watching me, truly watching me. And that both unsettled and reassured me.

Chapter Six

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M+A Chapter 4

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The room felt smaller than before. 

I stood with my forehead pressed against the wood as if the chill might leach the heat from my thoughts. It did not. My pulse refused to settle, thrumming too loud in my ears. 

I straightened at last and crossed the chamber, shedding the careful composure I had worn all evening like a second skin. The candles flickered as I passed, their warm and steady light mockingly calm. 

This was foolishness, I told myself. A passing curiosity. Nothing more. 

As I unpinned my hair, I repeated the words, as if their mere repetition would make them true.

Loosening the stiff bodice of my gown, I took my first full breath, inhaling more freely since my arrival at Bedford. 

I closed my eyes, yet all I saw was him. Not his face, not fully, but the sense of him. The weight of his presence lingering behind me, measured and controlled, as if restraint were something he carried in his bones. 

I sank onto the edge of the bed and pressed my palms to my knees. It meant nothing. I was tired. Overstimulated. Far from home. Anyone would feel unsettled after such a day. Anyone might mistake vigilance for significance, discipline for depth.

And yet, my fingers curled into the fabric of my skirt as my mind betrayed me, replaying the sound of his voice—low, even, utterly composed. The way he had kept his distance, as though stepping closer would have been a transgression neither of us could afford.

I exhaled sharply and stood again.

This was dangerous ground. I knew it instinctively. These feelings, unnamed and unexamined, were indulgences I had never been allowed I had been raised for alliances, for duty, for sacrifice dressed as honor.

Tomorrow, I would wake and remember who I was meant to be. Princess Monroe of Bedford. Future queen. A woman with no room for foolishness.

I moved to the window and stared out into the darkened grounds, where torches burned low and the castle settled into an easy quiet. Somewhere beyond these walls, Aiden would be standing watch. 

And he certainly would not be thinking of me. At least, that is what I told myself.

I turned away at last and extinguished the candles one by one, leaving the room cloaked in shadow.

Still, long after I lay down, sleep would not come. No matter how firmly I closed my eyes, the space beside me felt anything but empty.

I opened my eyes to buttery light filtering through my bedroom window, its rays dancing along the floor. 

In those few, precious seconds between sleep and waking, it felt as though nothing had changed. I let myself savor them, relishing the stillness, the peace, the quiet of my own mind. 

As I bathed and dressed for breakfast, I moved with renewed confidence. The unease of my arrival had faded, and I was ready to settle into the rhythm of my new routine.

Alice escorted me to the dining hall, all the while issuing me a constant flurry of guidance and encouragement. “Remember, my lady…” she began once more. 

I stifled a chuckle and cast her a glance. “I’m quite surprised you have any advice left to give, dear Alice.”

“You joke, but one day you will thank me for it,” she smiled. 

Alice’s voice flowed beside me, soft and steady, punctuated by the occasional huff of breath as she straightened my sleeve or smoothed a wrinkle only she could see.

“Did you see the tapestries in the hall yesterday? The embroidery on the Bedford crest was exquisite—careful, don’t catch your hem.”

I smiled faintly at her words, the cadence and hum of her voice a comforting anchor as we moved through the castle.

Polished stone walls rose into high, vaulted ceilings, and the morning light streaming through long narrow windows painted streaks of gold across the floor. Knights passed at regular intervals, their boots echoing softly against the stone. 

I nodded absently as Alice continued, remarking about silverware and servants, horse stables and farms, manners and posture. She remained oblivious to my wandering gaze as she chattered on, her words blending into the steady rhythm of our steps. 

Alice’s steps slowed as we neared the tall dining hall doors. She paused outside them and adjusted my dress one last time. She smiled at me, leaning in to issue me a final piece of advice. “Mind your manners, and don’t forget to breathe.” 

I nodded, managing a small smile. 

She curtsied and stepped back.

Prince Alexander stood at the head of the long, narrow table, a pleasant smile already on his face. “Good morning, Princess Monroe,” he greeted. “I’m glad you could join me.”

“As am I, Your Majesty,” I replied. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He gestured to a seat. “Please,” he said, waiting until I had settled before taking his.

“I hope you slept well, Princess,” he said. “The first night in a new place can be unsettling.”

“I did, thank you.” 

He nodded courteously.

A brief silence followed—not awkward or uncomfortable, just still. “I hear the weather is beautiful this time of year,” I said.

“It is. You’ve come at just the right time, Princess. Spring suits Bedford. The mornings are mild, the evenings cool, and the gardens are soon to be full of bloom.”

“I’m looking forward to touring the gardens this afternoon,” I said. “I’m sure they’re lovely.”

“I’m certain you will,” Alexander replied, his smile faltered just slightly. “But I must apologize,” he continued. “An urgent matter has come up unexpectedly and I’m afraid I can no longer accompany you today.”

A small seed of disappointment took root, but I nodded, words of assurance and understanding already forming on my lips. “Of course, Your Majesty, I—”

The dining hall doors opened, and Sir Aiden stepped inside. The words caught in my throat. Just for a second. 

I swallowed and forced my eyes forward, focusing on Alexander’s face. “I understand,” I finished, fighting to keep my voice even. 

Alexander gave no indication that he had noticed my momentary falter. His gaze shifted to Aiden and his expression brightened, his blue eyes glinting as his smile widened.

“Perfect timing, Aiden,” Alexander said, rising from his seat. He stepped toward him then turned back to me, as if the solution had only just presented itself. “Since I cannot accompany Princess Monroe to the gardens today, you shall do so in my stead. I would not have her miss the opportunity.”

My stomach plummeted. It took every ounce of restraint to keep my face neutral.

I spared a quick glance at Aiden. Beyond the barest tick of his jaw, he remained a picture of control—unwavering, infuriatingly composed. 

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Aiden answered, his tone as calm as his expression.

A bead of sweat slid down my spine as the realization sank in.

I was going to be alone. 

With Aiden. 

Chapter Five

M+A Chapter 3

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For a single, immutable instant, time stilled around us.

Aiden’s green eyes met mine, something unreadable flickering there before his expression smoothed back into discipline.

“Let me introduce you,” Alexander said, his voice pulling me back to the present. 

I couldn’t argue, so I let him guide me towards Aiden.

He looked even more striking than before. His chestnut-colored hair fell just above his shoulders, half of it tied back, the rest loose and unruly. His green eyes seemed brighter now, reminding me of the rain-soaked hills in spring. He no longer wore his travel-worn armor but a formal uniform, the polished silver breastplate bearing Bedfords insignia, edged in gold. 

The sight of him stirred something inside me too dangerous to name. 

As we approached, he bowed, the warm candlelight glinting off his breastplate. “Your Majesty,” he addressed Alexander.

“I’d like you to meet Your Highness Princess Monroe,” Alexander said.

It was a miracle I remembered my manners, let alone how to speak. I smiled politely and curtsied. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Aiden.”

He bowed again. “Your Highness.”

Alexander turned and smiled. “Sir Aiden has served the crown with distinction. You are in capable hands, Princess.”

His hand fell to the small of my back as he said to Aiden, “I’m placing something of great value in your hands.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Aiden replied with a curt nod.

Alexander’s attention shifted toward oncoming courtiers, “It seems we’re being summoned.” Then quietly to Aiden, “Stay close,” and Aiden fell into silent step behind us. 

Conversation continued around us, but I found it hard to focus, too aware of the knight at my back. He said nothing, did nothing to draw attention, yet the space around me felt altered as if the air had shifted.

Without meaning to, I glanced over my shoulder. Aiden’s gaze was already on me. Not openly, not boldly, but it was there all the same. 

Heat rushed to my face, and I turned forward at once, my pulse stuttering. 

Foolish, Monroe.

As the event drew to a close, I was out of pleasantries, compliments, and small talk. My cheeks hurt from forced smiles, my feet throbbed, and my mind could no longer distinguish one noble from the next. Blessedly, our farewells were swift. 

“It has been an utmost honor, Princess Monroe,” Alexander said. “I have matters to attend to this evening, so I must turn you over to Sir Aiden’s care. I do look forward to our next meeting.”

With that, he brought our joined hands to his lips and pressed a polite, modest kiss to my knuckles. 

“The honor was mine, Your Majesty,” I replied.

Alexander smiled brightly, his blue eyes shining. “Sir Aiden will show you to your chamber. Good evening, Princess.”

I curtsied for a final time, and when I straightened, Aiden stood before me. 

His features remained impassive, neutral, betraying nothing more beyond strict discipline and obedience to his duty. “This way, Your Highness,” he said, his tone measured and reserved.

All the way through the great hall, through the castle, and into the winding corridors beyond, Aiden maintained a respectful distance—never more than two feet away. Yet I could feel his presence as something separate from him entirely. 

The walk to my chambers felt both too long and entirely too short. When Aiden came to a stop in front of the ornately carved door relief washed over me, followed by something I had no right to feel. Disappointment.

“Thank you, Sir Aiden,” I said.

“Rest well, Your Highness,” he replied. 

I lingered a moment longer, looking up at the man who had stirred something dangerous to life within me with nothing more than a few restrained words.

My mouth opened, then closed.

 Footsteps echoed down the corridor, drawing closer. 

Aiden’s jaw clenched. Then, without a word, he bowed and turned away.

I slipped into my chambers, closed the door, and pressed my forehead to the cool wood. 

Foolish, Monroe.

Chapter Four

Review: Sinners Anonymous by Somme Sketcher

/ feralbookster / Leave a comment

Sinners Anonymous by Somme Sketcher (Book 1 of 4)
Genre: Forbidden Love, Dark Romance, Mafia Romance

From the very first chapter, I was hooked. Rory, the FMC, made an unforgettable entrance — and her immediate run-in with a mysterious man had me glued to the page. What I loved most was watching them both desperately try to deny the obviously undeniable attraction… and then when they finally connect, their chemistry is explosive.

I also adored Rory herself, a bird lover who curses in bird puns that somehow cut through the darker moments and add just the right amount of light, comedic relief. The mood of the story is dark and somber, but it never becomes overwhelming. The violence is there but it’s not overdone, and the spice level hits just right.

If you’re interested, you can grab the book below!

Sinners Anonymous

🔥 Hot Tip! It’s free on Kindle Unlimited!

M+A: Chapter 2

/ feralbookster / 1 Comment

Castle Bedford rose before me, massive and imposing, its light-gray stone gleaming in the sun. Bedford’s red, yellow and white banners, hung from the ramparts on either side of the tall wooden gates, fluttering slightly in the breeze. The carriage rocked over the gravel road as we passed through the gates, where Bedford knights in polished armor stood like sentinels. Unease slithered through me at their watchful eyes.

“Is it too late to throw myself from the carriage, Alice?” I whispered.

“Quite, my lady,” she said apologetically.

We stopped along the winding curve of the drive in front of the castle’s main entrance where additional guards and attendants waited for me. 

“You look every bit the princess, Monroe. Breathe. You’ll do fine,” Alice said. 

I had only a moment to compose myself into the princess they expected before my carriage door was opened and a gloved hand was extended to me.

I took the attendant’s hand and let him help me from the carriage. As I emerged, my eyes swept over the line of attendants and Bedford Knights. They stood rigid, their years of mastered discipline and authority evident. A flicker of disappointment tightened in my chest—none of them were him. 

A tall man in navy velvet robes and polished boots stepped forward, bowing low. “Princess Monroe, welcome to Bedford,” he greeted, extending his hand to me, and I let him guide me along the courtyard. Courtiers watched silently, their eyes measuring every step. 

He led me into the castle, past banners and long narrow hallways, my heels clicking loudly on the polished stone floors, until we reached a quiet corridor. There, he gestured toward a small private chamber. “Your chambers, Your Highness. A moment to compose yourself before the formal audience,” he said, bowing again before stepping back. 

The quiet of my private chambers pressed against me, the silence ringing loud in my ears. I exhaled, long and slow, letting the tension in my shoulders dissolve with every breath. 

A moment. That is all I need. A moment to remember myself as Monroe before stepping fully into my role.

I thought of what this arrangement meant, not just for me but for my kingdom. They relied on me to see this through…not that the choice was ever truly mine.

A soft knock rapped at the door. “Come in,” I said, straightening my shoulders. 

“It’s just me, Your Highness,” Alice said, poking her head through the door. “It’s time. Are you ready?”

I smoothed a hand over my dress, the silken fabric soft against my fingertips. “Yes,” I said, jutting my chin up. I took one final, steadying breath and left the calm quiet of the chamber, feeling like I had left a piece of myself behind that closed door. 

Moments later, I was escorted through the towering doors into the Great Hall where the quiet hum of guests stopped abruptly and dozens of watchful eyes turned toward me at once. 

Castle Bedford’s Great Hall was exquisite. Candlelight, warm and bright, filled the hall, and elaborately made tapestries and eloquent paintings hung on the high walls. Nobles and ladies of the court filled the grand expanse, their fine clothing and jewelry denoting their status and wealth. Senior Knights and guards were stationed around the edges. Musicians, with untouched instruments sat quietly in their corner.

As I was led to the raised dais where Prince Alexander and his court were seated, I let the years of practice and training ingrained in me take over. I moved automatically. My steps were slow, measured. My chin was lifted just enough to convey confidence without arrogance. My back was straight, my shoulders squared, my body composed, but not rigid. My gaze remained fixed just below the dais, respectful and subdued.

How a woman should be–my father’s voice again.

The walk felt eternal. I could feel the weight of the stares from each guest on me—observing, judging—with each deliberate step I took. Their evaluating stares were a reminder that I had no real power here. Suddenly, I felt as if I were being delivered to the prince, presented to him as if were nothing more than cattle, to be inspected and deemed worthy.

The thought was almost enough to make me stumble. 

My escort stopped in front of the raised dais. “Your Majesty, may I present to you, Her Royal Highness Princess Monroe of Celermare,” he said, his voice booming through the Great Hall.

When the escort stepped to the left, I got my first full look at Prince Alexander. He appeared only a few years older than I was. He was quite handsome—wheat-colored hair, striking blue eyes and soft, welcoming smile. Dressed in a dark navy, tailored suit, he carried himself with easy authority. 

“Your Majesty,” I said, curtsying. 

Prince Alexander bowed. “Your highness, it is an honor to meet you. Welcome to Bedford.”

After my introduction was made, Prince Alexander descended the three steps and came to stand beside me, offering his arm. I smiled politely, as I’ve been trained to, and took his arm. 

The evening unfolded exactly as duty demanded. Polite conversation flowed easily, but it was without substance—questions about my journey, my home, my health—each delivered with practiced smiles. Compliments were offered, pleasantries exchanged, and expectations silently measured. It was all perfectly proper. Perfectly dull. And yet, I responded as I had been taught. Every word was chosen with care, every expression carefully crafted.

As Prince Alexander spoke, his tone warm and attentive, my gaze cautiously drifted across the great hall. I scanned the gathered knights and guards along the edges of the room, searching for a familiar figure in immaculately polished silver armor. But he was nowhere to be found. Each time my eyes returned to Alexander, a faint and unwelcome disappointment settled deeper in my gut. He smiled down at me, and guilt swiftly replaced disappointment. Prince Alexander was to be my future husband. Whatever curiosity had taken root within me had no place here. 

We took a final turn about the room. I nodded appropriately, smiled when necessary and only spoke when spoken to. My attention firmly remained with Alexander, where it belonged. 

Until I saw him.

A Bedford Knight, broad-shouldered and unmistakable. He stood at the far edge of the room, half-shadowed near the stone wall as if he had been conjured there from nothing. His attention was fixed on the hall itself, his posture alert and controlled.

He did not look at me. My breath caught anyway.

“Ah,” Prince Alexander said, following my line of sight. “Sir Aiden.” He turned back to me, his expression pleasant and composed. “He is one of my most trusted knights and closest friends. I’ve assigned him to serve as your personal escort while you remain at Bedford.”

As if Alexander’s words had carried across the hall, Aiden’s gaze finally found us. Me. My chest tightened. The world tilted. 

Oh. Crap.

Chapter Three