SAVING PRINCE KILLIAN

What can you do when your dreams come true, but it's not quite like you planned?

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little princess named Emma. Like many young girls, she dreamed that one day she would meet a handsome prince. He would fall in love with her, marry her, and they would live happily ever after. They would tirelessly work together to care for and improve the lives of their subjects, especially the poor, meek, and humble. Everyone would love them, and songs and poems would be composed to celebrate their devotion to their people and their abiding love for each other.

One day, not long after the advent of her first womanly time, Emma was running and playing in the forest with her two younger brothers and some of the pageboys. She had surreptitiously dressed in her brother's clothes for comfort and ease of motion and snuck away from her governess for the afternoon to play a shrieking game of knights and bandits, hiding behind trees, splashing through streams, and rolling in the dirt and leaves. Her golden hair was mashed into messy braided pigtails and she wore a laborer's cap to keep it out of her way. Still gawky and undeveloped, she unmistakably resembled a skinny, dirty boy.

As she was racing away from one of her pursuers pretending to be a fearsome bandit, she ran headlong into a tall young man of about twenty practicing with his bow on the castle's archery ground, knocking him off balance as she fell headlong into the dust at his feet. Knocked momentarily breathless by the fall, she lay there for a moment, panting and embarrassed by her faux pas. She'd be in trouble for sure.

Although caught off guard, he'd quickly recovered his balance and now stood over the dirty urchin. "Are you hurt?" he asked kindly. He reached down with a strong hand and pulled the boy to his feet.

Gratefully, Emma accepted his hand and scrambled upright. Looking down, she began dusting the dirt away from her formerly white linen shirt. "Oh God, I'm going to be in such trouble," she wailed, "I'm so very sorry, sir, please forgive me! I never meant to…"

As she apologized, she raised her eyes to his face and beheld him for the first time. Her jaw dropped and she felt gobsmacked, rendered even more breathless than when she'd hit the dirt. He was so beautiful! He had dark, thick, almost black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. He had full lips that were smiling at her with mild amusement, and he bore a small scar on his right cheek. But it was his eyes that most captivated her – a clear, dazzling blue she felt could look right through her. She was suddenly conscious of his nearness, the heat from his strong body, and the hands that gripped her shoulders. She felt an unfamiliar, not unpleasant tingling that began somewhere between her legs and rose up, quivering into her belly.

Realizing that the clumsy lad was unhurt, he breathed a relieved sigh. "That's all right," he said, more amused than angry, "just try to look where you're going next time, lad." He gave the boy a playful cuff on the ear, accidentally knocking his cap.

"You're a girl!" he exclaimed, finally noting the long pigtail, and the delicacy of features beneath the dirt on her face. Otherwise, she was indistinguishable from the other lads larking about. "Who might you be?" His voice was friendly, though, and his face was warm and open.]

Deciding to make the best of a bad situation, Emma drew herself up with as much dignity as she could muster – which wasn't much under the circumstances, admittedly – and said, "I am Princess Emma, daughter of the Queen and Prince David. I thank you for your kindness sir. May I ask your name?"

"I am Killian, Prince of Albion and Duke of Ravenswood," he bowed gallantly. I am here with my brother, the Crown Prince Liam to pay our respects to your parents."

She just stood there, still struggling with the unfamiliar sensations he had awakened in her and unsure what to say next.

"I am very pleased to meet you sir, and you are very welcome here," she said, remembering her manners at last, "only, please, can you not tell anyone else about what happened? I'm supposed to be doing my lessons and…." Her last words tumbled out in a rush.

Smiling, he touched a long finger to his nose and nodded solemnly. "Don't worry, I'll say nothing. It seems only a short time ago I was doing the same thing! Now run along and play."

Emma ran off again, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Killian resumed his practice with the bow, the girl forgotten moments later.

That night, Emma hid herself on one of the balconies overlooking the castle ballroom and peered through the filigreed railings to the dancing, colorful crowd below. She was too young to attend as she was not sixteen and would not "come out" into society for another three years. She saw her parents chatting with another young, unfamiliar man, richly dressed. He must be Crown Prince Liam. Although she did not know it then, one of the purposes of his visit was to speak with her parents about Emma's hand in marriage when she came of age. The alliance would be advantageous for both their realms

But she had eyes for one person only: Prince Killian. She watched him as he danced gracefully and flirted with the court ladies and conversed seriously with the gentlemen. She noted his happy, open smile and warmth towards others. And she observed the court ladies watching him as covetously as she did, each vying for the favor of his attention or a place on his dance card. His manners were excellent, his countenance noble, and he was dressed sumptuously but elegantly in black and grey silk, his cravat white and gleaming in the candlelight. He was the very beau ideal of the Prince of her every fantasy.

As she watched him, she felt that pleasant tingling sensation first experienced earlier in the day. Finally put to bed after a scolding by her governess, she dreamed of him all night, and in her dreams the tingling sensation began to kindle into a burning flame.

In the morning, she awakened to the sounds of people murmuring and horse hooves clopping. Looking out of her window into the early morning mist, she saw Crown Prince Liam along with some of his retainers. Then her heart skipped a beat. Prince Killian cantered up from the area of the stables, looking magnificent in his riding attire on a large, spirited black horse. Then the entire company departed the castle and headed toward the High Road.

That morning, Emma made a resolution. She knew with total conviction that Killian was the Prince of her dreams and the man intended by Destiny itself to be her True Love.

And she was determined that come hell or high water, he would be hers.

For five years she continued to dream of him, stoutly resisting the entreaties and courtship of many, many suitors, including Killian's brother Liam. Her parents, unwilling to compel her into a political marriage, had urged her to marry for love, but began to despair when she turned up her nose at a number of fine young men, mainly sons of their closest friends and allies. Finally, Emma had told them the truth. She had fallen in love with Prince Killian when she was thirteen and she would have him or no one. She had argued with much merit that the match would be advantageous for both kingdoms and that since the current King, William, already wanted her for his son and heir Liam, he should be equally happy for her to marry the younger.

"Darling, I'm afraid it's not that easy," her mother, Queen Snow sighed, running a loving hand over Emma's hair as they sat talking one morning in the solarium. "It would be an insult to turn down the elder son and heir for the capricious reason that you prefer the younger on the basis of a chance meeting when you were but a girl! And besides, you hardly know him."

Emma stuck out her bottom lip just as Snow used to when she was young. "You told me you fell in love with Papa the moment you saw him and look how happy you are! Should I settle for any less?"

"Emma, be realistic," Snow told her daughter gently. "You know nothing about this man, much less whether he could return your feelings. And, besides, while Liam is well known as a good, honorable man who will make a very fine King one day, I'm afraid that may not be the case with the younger brother."

"Why, what do you mean by that?" Emma demanded, surprised.

"Well, there are….rumors…that he has turned very wild. That he has fallen into bad company and spends too much time on his pleasures rather than his duties." She phrased it delicately and left it at that.

"I don't believe it," Emma said, remembering the young man's warm smile and open, honest countenance. "If he is high-spirited, so much the better. I'm more than a match for him. All he needs is the right woman to help him settle down and find his purpose."

Another two years had passed after that conversation. Emma had persisted with her stubborn insistence that she would marry no one but him. Snow and David just sighed.

But her stubbornness turned to outright anger at her parents when she learned that during those intervening years, Liam had married another Princess and then, a year after the marriage, had died heroically, but tragically, during an ambush. He left no heirs and Killian had now assumed the title of Crown Prince.

"Why didn't you tell me!" she had demanded, furious and frustrated. "Surely his father would be happy for an alliance with us still? Why don't you propose that I marry Prince Killian? Would they not welcome such an offer still? He's not married or engaged yet, is he?"

They had been sitting in David's study on two armchairs before the fire, companionably sipping tea. David hesitated before answering. "We didn't tell you because we were worried. We don't think he is the man that we want for our only daughter."

"Why ever not?" she asked, amazed. "Isn't he the heir now?"

"When we met him here five years ago, I'll admit we were deeply impressed with him," David explained to the unhappy girl. "But since that time, his mother died from a terrible wasting disease, and his father the king became so despondent he withdrew into his library and practically never comes out. Before his death, Liam had his hands full running the kingdom and fighting off the incursions of the Northern barbarians who have repeatedly attacked his land."

When she heard David's words, she set down her cup with an angry clatter, stood up and began striding up and down and pulling impatiently at her hair.

"What's the problem, then? I'd think they would welcome our assistance, and it sounds like Killian is all alone and in dreadful need of support," she asked.

David regarded her, unsure how much to disclose. "The young man performed honorably and even heroically in battle and in service to his realm for several years, and was quite popular. But the tragedies with his family have altered him, leaving him bereft and without adequate guidance. I'm afraid he fell into very bad company. He spent more and more time drinking, gambling and wenching with other dissolute young nobles of his kingdom. He shows little interest in the suffering of his own people and is entirely consumed by his own selfish pleasures. I couldn't let you marry a man like that! He'd make you miserable."

Emma was shaken. How could such a fine young man go bad so quickly? What evil influences could he have fallen prey to? It was more obvious to her than ever before that he needed her; that she alone could save him from his own dark impulses.

Eventually, however, a delegation had come from King William of Albion requesting the hand of Princess Emma for the Crown Prince. Unable to keep the news from her, David and Snow had at last given in to her unyielding demands to accept Killian. She argued that the very fact of the proposal was evidence that the Prince had realized the error of his ways and sought a virtuous and noble Princess to fulfill his duties to the realm.

Weary of their daughter's unhappiness, her parents gave in at last and agreed to the match despite their serious misgivings, and it was decided that Emma would journey with her ladies and a small company of guards to Albion where the wedding would take place.

At the last minute, her parents had been unable to accompany her. Snow was pregnant again and having a difficult time. At the same time, some border ogres had been mounting raids into the kingdom and David was needed to lead a band of knights to the rescue of besieged townspeople.

Emma bid her parents and brothers a sad but hopeful farewell, vowing to visit them in the new year. "Don't worry about me," she told them confidently, "He's all that I have ever wanted, and I know I can make him happy."

Bidding her an equally loving good-bye, David and Snow knew no such thing, for they had heard since the engagement was announced an even more troubling rumor. They had heard that Prince Killian was hopelessly in love with the infamous courtesan Milah, Countess of Chartwell, former wife of the Dark One. Supposedly he was a total slave to his older, more experienced mistress, and she had both distracted him from his family tragedies and encouraged his descent into vice and debauchery.

They could only hope that Emma had been right, and that the proposal was a sign that Killian had turned away from Milah and his evil ways.

It was a vain hope.