Mistress Of Innocence

By Therese A Kraemer

Thirteen year old, Princess Nicolette Zalmer is forced to marry an arrogant young prince who had no qualms about cruelly.
After the wedding she manages to escape but is hit by a horse-drawn coach occupied by a childless widow who takes care of her.
After five years have passed, Nicolette attends a ball in her honor and she's approached by none other than her husband. 
Prince Storm Wzaerk tries to seduce the most alluring creature he has ever met. He unknowingly showers his own wife with gifts to become his mistress
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spangaloo Publishing
• Release date: Jun 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533781048

Therese A Kraemer

Because I am dyslexic, I find writing a challenge, but my love of writing has inspired me to write more than sixty children’s stories, over two hundred poems and thirty-seven Romance Novels. I have also illustrated two story books used by primary teachers and students as a part of a vocal hygiene program at University of Arizona’s Department of Speech and Hearing Sciences.My credits also include four stories published by McFadden Publishing Co. in NYC. I wrote, illustrated and published two books of poetry used as fund-raisers by the Leukemia and Multiple Sclerosis organizations. I wrote illustrated and published in one book, forty-two children’s stories.I had an exhibition at the King Center for the Performing Arts in Melbourne, Fl of my pen and ink drawings of animals. Recently, I have had three E-Book Romance Novels and a book of short stories published on the Spangaloo.Com website and another on the Smashwords.Com website. I make my home in Melbourne, Florida where I continue to write and illustrate

Book preview

MISTRESS OF INNOCENCE

Thérèse A. Kraemer

––––––––

Copyright Therese A. Kraemer 2016

Spangaloo Publishing

Spangaloo Edition

http://spangaloo.com

Standard Copyright eBooks are strictly protected works. You must not perform any actions, including copying, printing and distribution without the author’s written or printed consent (the author may have already granted certain terms in a statement within a book.) Some of our eBooks are cleared for personal printing if this option has been enabled, The unauthorized sale of Copyright works in any form is illegal.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, incidents, and places are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, people, or events is purely coincidental

Cover Design: James Bryron Love

Ebook Formatting : Alan Thriete

Editors Note:

Many characters in this book have accents and or different speech patterns. The author has attempted to illustrate this phonically. These are not spelling errors.

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

EPILOGUE

About the Author

Other Books

ONE

Papa, again I say this custom is barbaric! I will not willingly go forth to wed that churl! If mama were alive, she would definitely agree with me; ’tis the eighteenth century for goodness sake!"  His teary-eyed, Nicolette protested with a sneer and folded her arms belligerently across her flat chest. There was no mistaken the insolence and anger in his daughter’s voice.

Such large tears, my precious pearl, intoned Nicholas Zalmer. He was King of Kolf Keep, and cared not if he sounded sarcastic. His child had finally managed to prick his calm exterior and his frustration was rapidly shifting into anger. Nicholas tried desperately not to lose his temper, but his spoiled daughter was certainly making it very difficult. He clutched the silver goblet so tightly, his knuckles turned white and his face reddened.

Do not mock me! Anger brought a bite to her tone and she stuck out a little pink tongue for effect. And, stop calling me that! I’m thirteen, not a baby anymore. And, my name is Nicolette, papa! she groused petulantly, sniffling into the hem of her dress.

Saint’s blood! She was not pleased being named after her father, Nicholas, knowing he wanted a boy and she hated him for calling her his precious pearl when she knew better. Precious, indeed! If he loved her, she would not be having this frustrating argument with him for the dozenth time. No, umpteenth time! What had she’d done to deserve this terrible punishment?

Aye, it was a punishment, though her father thought it just an inconvenience to get what he wanted. Bah! She had tried everything short of jumping out the tower window, but then, that might be her last resort; anything was better than marrying that arrogant Prince Stormwell Wzarek. He was a spoiled boy of seventeen when she’d seen him last. She was certain he hadn’t added any nicer qualities to his character over the years, especially when she heard how women chased and craved him. Well, they can have him! Nicolette cast a fulminating glance towards her father, opening her mouth to say as much, but he forestalled anything she would say with a brisk reply.

You tax yourself overmuch for naught! He kissed her fleetingly on her brow as if that would put all to right.

Her father swallowed the mulled wine in one gulp, dregs and all before he sputtered, Another word or pout and I will be forced to lock you in your chamber without your evening meal! Upon seeing her mouth opening again with a retort, he added, quickly, I know you have not eaten in two days and heaven knows you are skinny enough and probably will keep up this starvation, but hear me child! he said, and she saw his temples pulsate, if you continue to behave like the baby you insist you are not, I will force feed you! Saint Sebastian’s staff! You will not be content until you drive me crazy!

Nicolette’s jaw tighten in response to his tone, he had hit a nerve.

You may not be joining me at his meals, but I would bet my last ruble, your nanny has been sneaking meals into your room. We both know how Nanny Vonnie loves you as if you were her own daughter. Nicolette believed that there were times like this he wished she were anyone’s daughter but his.

Now, you listen to me! King Joseph Wzarek and I signed an agreement, a binding contract to pledge you and his son, Prince Stormwell. He needs my army and we need his riches. So you will marry the prince and my words are final! Her father drew himself up to his full height, the one indication of his determination, and she gave a delicate snort.

Like hell they are! Nicolette thought but didn’t say it aloud. Contracts were sacred things that men adhered to, and women were never consulted on. She could not begin to fathom the reasoning of such unfairness.

Go to your room, he ordered, I’m tired of seeing your bawling face and hearing your childish prattle. And stop wiping your nose on your dress! Gadzooks! If only your mama were alive, he barked, rubbing his pulsating temples.

Overcome with frustration, again Nicolette defied him and plopped unladylike onto a chair refusing to go to her chamber. Once again her tears were wiped on her soggy hem and she grumbled, I hate you! And I also wish mama were here, she would not let you sell me as if I were a horse! I will continue to starve myself so when I die you can marry off my body, so there! she railed flippantly and pushed her bottom lip to protrude further than her upper lip as she

Her father clicked his tongue. Such dramatics, little pearl, but we both know you will not perish, so cut out this ridiculous acting.

Ooooh! He left her to sit and stew and she watched him storm out of the room. He was of average height, and portly, but still handsome and still in his prime. Although Nicolette believed he had loved her mother very much, she wondered why her father never remarried. You’d think he’d have more compassion knowing what it was to wed someone you loved. But no! Not him! He cared more for his own welfare than hers.

If her father did not worry so much about his small kingdom being conquered by his enemy to the north, he would not spend all the taxes he collected from the peasants and draft most of the men into his large army. Being a princess of a poor kingdom was not what she considered lucky. Wearing rags and having only two maidservants, including her nanny, did not make a princess, only a title holder.

Pah! Carelessly, she bit another fingernail to the quick, and she damned her future in-law’s riches. Pshaw! Who cares? All the wealth in the world wouldn’t make her like that royal jackass!

Nicolette walked over to the oval window to look out. Humph! You would think with all that wealth, that a king with so much would have his own large army. She sneered at the landscape below as if she could see the neighboring lands. She had verbalized that question to him many times, and many times her father would say, There had always been peace in Joseph Wzarek’s kingdom. Now, it is rumored that my enemy, King Lucas of Grey Castle, has joined King Felix Yamane. They threatened to march across the lands and that they are planning to attack King Wzarek’s defenseless country. These war-mongers are no longer content with trying to conquer our castle but my friends, as well. As you know, King Lucas tried many times before to take over our keep but so far, had failed.

Her father’s army could protect them, so what did she care about others? Stormwell’s father wasn’t very intelligent for not being prepared. Because of his stupidity, she had to suffer.

Men! They were all idiots and her father was not left out of her evaluation. Sighing, she turned from the window, not proud of her thoughts, but damn it to hell! She was peeved. Let that stupid king buy someone else’s army and leave her out of it! Drained from crying, she unconsciously sighed, leaning against the chair, closed her eyes, forgetting all her woes for now.

Nicholas returned only to find his stubborn daughter curled up in a ball, fast asleep in a chair. He carried her to bed, not regretting his decision. She’d learn to love Stormwell. Unbe- knownst to his little princess, his own marriage had been arranged, but he had come to love his wife. Again he wished Grace was here, but he knew she would have sided with their daughter. Grace had babied Nicolette and he wished they could’ve had another child; a son. But his queen had almost died delivering the female child so she never let him bed her again. It was then he took a mistress, but he loved his wife until the day she died.

The queen was a beautiful woman and he had hoped his precious daughter had inherited her mother’s looks and coloring, but she had not. Maybe, Nicolette should’ve been the boy she believed he had wanted, but she was wrong, and naming her Nicolette was Grace’s idea, not his.

As he placed her on the bed, he studied her face, picking up a lock of her black hair, feeling its softness. Her dark eyes were her best asset. If only she looked more like his grace instead of him. Well, it mattered not because she would be wed in a couple of days to a handsome prince. Why couldn’t his child see how lucky she was? The ache in his heart deepened.

TWO

She and Stormwell sat side by side in the great hall to watch and listen to their fathers talk. Joseph agreed to the nuptials taking place here, with no frills and no gala celebration afterwards. As they exchanged plans, which did not interest her, Nicolette glanced sideways at the young prince a few times and wished she hadn’t. He wore dark grey tights, a white silk shirt; carelessly unbuttoned to show off his hard chest; and a jeweled scarab was strapped to his narrow waist. Nicolette had tried awfully hard not to notice his long, muscular legs in his tights and his biceps, but her eyes had a will of their own. His features were that of his father’s, rough and angular, but the thrust of his jaw was more arrogant and demanding. His reddish brown hair hung below his ears, and he had grown taller. To add to her misery, if possible, he was more handsome then she remembered.

Good looks do not make a man, her smart-self reasoned.

Think you? Who are you kidding? Her conscience nagged.

She ignored her self-chastising and Stormwell ignored her also, which irked her more. What annoyed her to the brink of screaming was the way he cleaned his nails with his teeth, spitting particles onto the floor.

Ugh! What a pathetic cretin, uncouth cad! She sniggered to herself. This arranged marriage did not seem to faze him, causing her to fume inside. She squirmed on the bench and brought to mind the meeting when the Wzarek’s first arrived.

The prince bowed, smiled unpleasantly, feigning politeness, but she was wise to him. He had asked to be called Storm and looked down his straight nose at her as if to see better what was on the end of it. Those blue eyes, which he had no right to own, seemed to go darker with disgust. She bristled under his gimlet gaze, wondering what he expected; she was only thirteen, not yet fully developed under the shapeless, brown homespun gown. Damn her father. Let their enemies have the arrogant prince and the king! What care had she for the dolt! And the dolt’s father! Nary a one.

As she sat here now, she wiggled her fanny again as more rage filled her. Look at him in his fine clothes as he prided himself on his good looks. She looked at her tattered, dull dress and winced. If he thinks he can treat me like nobody just because I dress in rags, he has another thought coming! Stormwell! Ha! Even his name was stupid! She ranted inwardly.

Nicolette feeling as if she would explode, stood and marched out doors, if only to get away from him. She was muttering to herself and cared not a fig if it annoyed her father. The need for fresh air was greater than obedience, and the stale aroma of the stable was better than the cold air in the room. Making haste, she nearly collided into a maidservant who was bringing up a flask of wine from the undercroft. Crippled old Aria merely smiled with stained teeth and waddled away, but Nicolette knew she was being cursed silently. If there were not quests in the room, she would’ve been reprimanded by the old crone.

On her way to the stable, Nicolette spied six of her father’s men practicing their fencing. Tears threatened to spill again, but she stiffened her spine. She’d not let them see her cry, she had some pride, besides, they were her friends, especially Captain Brock, the commander of the garrison. He had taught her the art of dueling, and had made a special saber for her. It was light and four feet in length, since she was tall for her age.

Again she cursed her fate. She’d not only lose her self-respect and family, what family she had but, also her best friend, Brock, who was like an uncle to her. Not wanting to disturb him and the men, she went to the barn and took her sword from off its hook. Her father was not pleased about her fencing lessons and forbade the weapon in her room, so she kept it there. Bah! It seemed her sire did not like anything about her. Satan’s horns, if only she were a boy. She’d have more freedom. She’d be a warrior, fight her father’s enemies instead marrying hers.

"En, guarde! Nicolette sliced the steel blade at an imaginary opponent, but gave it a face. The prince was getting a good slashing. Swish! Swish! She lunged forward a few times. Take that, and that, you scoundrel! Slime-bellied asp!" Swish! Swish!

Ha! What in hell do you think you’re doing, imp? Swatting flies?

Nicolette froze, groaned inwardly, then turned, mortified to be caught in her play, especially by, of all people, him! Blaze and damnation! Can her life get any worse?

You should know better than to say that! She reprimanded herself. Don’t let him intimidate you. Damn him anyway!

Aw, nothing, she answered his gloating question with a straight-face fib. The sword was quickly hidden behind her back and she fought to keep the humiliation off her face. She produced her most innocent look, as innocent as one could muster after being caught in the act of foolery. Nicolette saw the teasing glint in those hypnotic blue eyes and she boldly met them. Cornflower blue, she mussed, and then groaned inwardly.

Remember, he’s the enemy! Warned her smart-self.

With a nasty grin, Stormwell chuckled. Aha! Nothing, eh?

It is none of your business, she hissed. She raised her chin and hoped she did not look as flushed as she felt. You’d think someone had lit a torch in her head. You are an arrogant fool, Stormwell!

Arrogance is my birthright, he smiled wickedly. And I prefer you call me Storm! But, regardless, most women, in your case a girl, would cut off an arm to wed me.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Thank God I’m not most girls, so I prefer to keep my arm, thank you very much! 

With a significant lifting of his brows, the prince took a quick step towards her. He tried to reach behind her, but she was just as fast and jumped back. Appearing extremely annoyed by her impudence, he snickered, You might as well have been born a boy, because you’re shaped like one! he mocked.

That did it! She was so angry, that if she was a fire-eating dragon, she could blow smoke out of her mouth. Her saber appeared so swiftly against his chest; he gasped and drew his weapon, and snarled, Now, no one makes a fool out of me!

Ha! Too late or that! she retaliated.

"En, guarde!" he simpered. One corner of his mouth lifted on what passed for a knowing smile. That smirk riled her to no end. So the arrogant fool believes he can best me! Does he think her a dolt? Nicolette thrust forward to show him he had thought wrong. I’ll tear out your conceited heart! she warned. Her promise only widened his grin.

Swords clashed for some minutes. Storm was snarling at her, toying with Nicolette. She knew what he was thinking. A mere child, especially a girl, would never best him. They parried out of the barn and into the yard.

The clashing of swords caught the attention of the men-in-arms and Captain Brock. He and his men stopped their practicing to watch with great interest the scene being played out before them.

Captain Brock, said a soldier, should we not stop this?

Nay, the princess can handle herself, she had a good teacher, as you well know. He puffed up his chest.

But, he’s the prince, her betrothed, the soldier insisted.

It matters nae. That cocksure young man should be put down a few pegs, and your mistress just might be the one to do it. 

He smoothed his droopy black mustache and insisted, But, he’s so much bigger than she.

Brock simply shrugged. Aye, but I taught her well, he repeated with a pleased smile.

He is young, so his arrogance might be excusable, but he is about to eat humble pie, he added. He and his soldiers continued to watch the two danced around each other holding their own. Clank, clank. Swish, swish. They parlayed to and fro. Brock smiled and thought.

Nicolette would someday admit to herself that her father knew best. But for now she was going through a time, not realizing that her body was changing and she was unconsciously fighting an attraction to the prince. There was such a thin line between hate and love.

Nicolette saw her adversary’s blue eyes ablaze with too many emotions, one which frightened her and momentarily she lost her focus; only for a heartbeat. She almost tripped over the hem of her gown making Storm grin. But her dress wasn’t a deterrent and she lunged forward hoping to wipe that self-righteous smirk from his handsome face.

Stop thinking about his good looks, keep your body and mind as one, she warned herself.

As Storm Wzarek parlayed with the princesses he was mussing over his first encounter with Nicolette Zalmer and he had rather forget it, if he could. The princess’ big dark eyes were comically too large for her features. Her hair was as dark as raven’s feathers and she wore no head covering. Her hair lay plaited down her skinny back. But, it was the expression of vexation pinching her pink mouth that annoyed him the most.

She had stared at him but it was understandable, he was quite good looking. When the elders left he saw his chance to speak with the girl alone. It was imperative she know that he wasn’t in favor of this marriage. He wanted her to know that he was doing this under his father’s orders and love of his land. No way in hell would he marry a skinny ugly duckling, and if she had any fantasies of him liking, much less loving her, she had better get it out of her head now. He was determined that she was going to see the error of her ways, especially when many beautiful women fell at his feet. To be saddled with the likes of her was his worst nightmare. The sooner the skinny princess knew this, the better!

When she walked away without a word, he had followed the chit. He had been ready to fight with words not swords, but this was more fun. Her lower lip full and petulant, there was no mistaking the princess’ brown eyes glowing like hot cinders. And Storm watched those big brown eyes for her next move but all he saw was determination. Then it happened, he felt the pain in his upper arm.

Surprise, disbelief, then humiliation all fought for an expression, but it was her proud smile that made his features filled with rage. Hoping to retaliate, Storm lunged but anger replaced his caution. The girl dove for the ground and rolled under his legs causing his weapon to fly out of his hand; the hard ground came up to his face, knocking the wind out of him.

Orf! He spit out dirt. With a burning curse, he turned wanting to choke her. His grinning opponent was pointing her sword at his groin. He gulped never feeling so vulnerable in his life. How the hell had this slip of teenager gotten the better of him? This unbelievable, prosperous embarrassment will follow him to doomsday. Damn!

Enunciating every word with deliberation of one speaking to an idiot, Nicolette proclaimed, Since you think I should’ve been a boy, how about I make you a girl!  She used sarcasm to finish off her felled opponent. Storm sucked in a gulp of cool air as the tip of her viper came dangerously close to making him a eunuch. She saw Brock and a soldier exchanged weighted glances wondering. They knew she was capable of carrying out her threat. Then the men hooted with laughter.

Storm rose and growled at the insolent guards, Silence! I’ll have your heads! That proclamation earned him more hooted guffaws.

Luckily, Nicholas had turned in time to catch his daughter leaving the room. Tarry not, he called over his shoulder but his words did not stop him from recalling another heated confrontation they had that morning. His only peace of mind was the fact that in three days, she’d be gone and he’d have some serenity. He smiled ruefully at his guest, hoping Joseph had not noticed Nicolette’s sour expression and cool manners. He thanked Ara for the ale and poured a drink for his friend, wondering if he should say something in his daughter’s defense. But then, he believed it best not to bring attention to her if Joseph said naught either. She was young. It was all the explanation he needed for her rudeness but then Joseph opened the door.

I gather the princess is not pleased with our arrangement, Joseph stated the obvious.

Nicholas used the only excuse available. She’s young and like an immature female she threatened to jump from the tower but she will come to mature in time and be happy. Now if only he could believe his own words. For some foolish reason, he thought to pad some qualities a little. My Nicolette is a gentle and soft soul. Breezes whisper and doves coo in her presence and the stars and the moon shine.

Joseph chuckled and raised his hand. The contract is sealed, so save your modesty and father’s love. Damn him for his clear-sightedness. Nothing he could say could camouflage his daughter’s true character. He saw the prince follow his daughter a few minutes ago. Then, Nicholas pondered over whether the prince was happy over the union. He didn’t seem very enthralled either, but he didn’t want to prolong the shaky conversation. Anyway, he had no cares of what Stormwell thought.

Now, as Nicholas offered well-strained wine for a toast, Nicolette’s voice bounced off the stone walls. The calmness in his keep was about to come to a screeching halt! He winced, with that thought.

That knave! she cried. Joseph, his mug touching his mouth gave Nicholas a bemused look. He did not miss the other man’s lopsided grimace that might have been considered a smile. Nicholas shrugged, swallowing his trepidation. He was about to eat his lies. Rogue! the cry came closer, and Joseph lifted a brow.

He’s berserk, I tell you! His daughter stopped short under the large curved arch and glowered at them.

Nicolette, my s-sweet, he stammered, Remember your manners and....

She smiled with chilly politeness. Sorry, King Wzarek. Then his daughter’s mouth skewed with distaste and she hissed, Your son has pretty eyes... for a boy.

Nicholas hoped his anger did not show on his face. Apparently it did because too late his daughter thought of caution seeing his ire. So without another word, she turned and stalked from the great hall.

Doves cooing, eh? ’Tis more like turkey vulture’s squawking. King Wzarek laughed in little snorts.

THREE

Storm had never been so humiliated. Nicolette had threatened to lacerate his manhood, and that’s exactly what she did with her words and actions. He made