The Diplomat’s Bride by Samantha Cayto
Book 3 in the Treaty Brides series
General Release Date: 23rd Aug 2022
Word Count: 50,612
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 181
Genres:
ACTION AND ADVENTURE,EROTIC ROMANCE,FANTASY,GAY,GLBTQI,ROYALS
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Book Description
Being a bride is a state of mind, not of body.
Prince Ronan of Moorcondia knows he is one of the luckiest boys alive. As the king’s second son, he has status and wealth without the heavy weight of the crown. Every man admires his hedonistic ways, but his behavior masks a shame that he feels. What he really desires is a quiet life with a man whom he can love.
Jarl Tarben is on a mission to save his people from starvation. Efforts to forge a treaty with Moorcondia have come to naught. In a desperate bid, Tarben has been tasked with abducting Ronan and forcing him into marriage. As distasteful and dishonorable as the scheme is, duty demands that he obey. He refuses to bed the prince by force, however, leaving it Ronan’s choice.
Ronan vows not to succumb to the temptation that Tarben presents. Pride alone dictates that he remain chaste, even as he grows closer to the barbarian. Tarben is everything Ronan ever dreamed of, and the lure of him grows stronger with each day that politics keeps them together.
When unseen forces threaten to consume them both, they must put aside pride and join forces to protect both their peoples.
Reader advisory: This book features an instance of sexual assault and a forced marriage.
Ronan sat cross-legged on the pallet in the small room that the woman who ruled this abbey had allocated to him and Tarben for the night. It was sparse and cold, with only one wall-mounted lamp to give it any light, because there was no window. He supposed a pious person living in the abbey would be content with it. For him, it was nothing more than a cell in which he was locked. Although he could open the door, one of Tarben’s men stood guard outside. The man was as big as the mountains for which his country was named. There was no way to get past him. Of Tarben, he’d seen nothing since he’d escorted his new ‘bride’ to this place, which was all to the good given what was going to happen once the man did arrive.
It was funny how he’d envisioned for a long time what it would be like to be swept into a man’s arms and made love to. He’d pleasured himself at the thought as much as his imagination allowed. Now that the reality was here, it made him sick to his stomach. He’d only managed to pick at the rather meager meal a smiling nun had brought to him earlier. Its remains sat on a plate in one corner, along with a bowl of water and a cloth. He had no interest in cleaning himself for his abductor’s pleasure. Because he had no sense of time in this place, he wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a late midday meal or an early supper. Either way, Jarl Tarben would come to him soon, he was sure. Why wouldn’t the man? He had someone waiting for him upon whom he could slake his lust. Ronan shuddered at the notion, and he hugged himself for a small amount of comfort. There was no way he could fight the man.
When the door suddenly opened, he scrambled into the corner as far as he could go. Tarben came in, and the sight of him derailed Ronan’s fear for a little while. The man looked so different. Gone was the battle helmet, giving Ronan a clear view of his face for the first time. It was quite handsome for all its fierceness, and his hair hung down in freshly washed waves to his massive shoulders. Every bit of the man’s strength was open for observation, despite his loose-fitting tunic and trousers. There were no weapons to be seen. Not surprising. He didn’t need any to subdue Ronan, and why risk them being turned on him? Ronan had half hoped that he would have that opportunity, although whether he would really try to kill Tarben or not was unknown. It would mean his own death, and surely living was better, no matter what. So long as he survived his ordeal, he had a chance of being rescued.
Tarben frowned at the sight of the barely touched meal. “You didn’t eat.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
Tarben was clearly displeased, but he merely picked up the plate and handed it to the guard outside. “The jarlina is done with this. See that it doesn’t go to waste.” He shut the door again and stood staring at Ronan. “We’ll leave the water. You might want the use of it later.”
Ronan’s stomach lurched at the implication. “After you defile me, you mean.” Tarben opened his mouth. Ronan rolled over him. “What did you refer to me as just now? I am Prince Ronan.”
“In Moorcondia, yes. Here you are Jarlina Tarben. An unusual official style for a man, I’ll grant you, but we have no other point of reference. You are the wife of a jarl and therefore, carry the feminine version of my title under our law. For better or worse, your identity is tied to mine.”
Ronan balled his hands into fists. “I am not your property.”
‘No one said you were.”
“I’m not your wife, either.” Ronan put as much venom in his voice as he could.
“There, I have to disagree.” Tarben sat on the floor and started taking off his boots. “We are married, Ronan. That is fact.”
Suppressing his fear, Ronan argued the point. “I said no vows.”
“We don’t here.” The man set one boot aside before starting on the other. “Marriage is a covenant between the couple and the All Mother, facilitated by the officiant. In this case, that was Reverend Mother Mauve. There is nothing for us to say because we asked for the union the moment we knelt at the altar. Everything after that was the blessing of the All Mother and her admonishment that we live our lives true to her as a married couple.”
“I don’t believe in your All Mother.” He’d never heard of such a thing. There were many gods, some of whom took on a female aspect, but not this overarching female the Dark Mountain people seemed to worship.
Tarben put his second boot with the first and sat cross-legged, much as Ronan did, albeit more at ease. “It doesn’t matter. Either she exists or not.” He shrugged his shoulders. “This is a matter of my people’s law, and in that, we are married.”
Ronan didn’t bother to respond to that point. It was hard to even form a thought through his growing fear. As disheveled and smelly as he must be from his ordeal, Tarben clearly wanted him. The loose trousers were tented by his erect cock. The sight of it made Ronan’s own dick and balls shrivel in response. There was nothing enticing about being with a man under these circumstances. He was a prince, however, and he pulled out his pride.
“I will not give myself to you freely. You’ll have to take me by force.”
Tarben looked more sad than disappointed. “I understand your feelings on the matter. And I will not take you against your will.”
A rush of relief made him almost dizzy before he saw the trap. “That’s a lie. You have to consummate the marriage for it to be valid. Your entire scheme depends on it. You might not use outright violence, but you will try to pleasure me to give the illusion of consent.”
“Good Mother!” Tarben’s eyes went wide for a second. “I will do no such thing. I understand you have no reason to believe this, but I am a man of honor.”
Ronan couldn’t help snorting. “Yes, that is hard to believe, not that it matters. Your whole plan only works if we are truly married in a way my father cannot annul—other than by having your head cleaved from your body, that is. You have no choice in deflowering me.” He winced inwardly at the stark admission. With his friends, he pretended that he’d bedded many women. The truth was, he’d known no touch other than his own.
“What you say may be true in your country, but not here. Sex is not a requirement to bind a marriage. The abbey has recorded our union that was witnessed by warriors and nuns alike. Our legal joining stands, no matter what we do or don’t do on this pallet.”
Ronan couldn’t trust those words, and he felt strangely conflicted about them for a moment or two before reminding himself that rape wasn’t something to desire. “If that is true, then you will sleep elsewhere.”
Tarben shook his head. “No. It is my right to at least bed down by your side, and that pallet will be more comfortable than the ground my men are camped out on. A good night’s sleep will be welcome. We have many days’ journey to reach my father’s castle.” With that, Tarben moved over to lie down on the pallet. The man’s large body left little room for Ronan, who still cowered in the corner.
“Do you intend to remain upright for the entire night?”
“No.” Ronan laid himself out from pride alone. He didn’t want this man to see any more of his fear. There was room, but their bodies touched here and there. “This isn’t comfortable.”
Tarben rolled onto his side away from him. “Better?”
“Yes.” Ronan did have more room but also perversely missed the warm contact. “You won’t touch me?”
“Not unless you ask me to.”
“That will never happen.”
“Unfortunate, yet your prerogative. Now go to sleep, wife.”
Ronan bit back a retort about how he was no such thing and he’d sleep when he wanted, not when commanded. Yet, the defiance ran out of him, and soon he couldn’t do anything other than obey.
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Samantha Cayto
Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.
She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don’t understand why they can’t read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.
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