Crown Jewels THE PRINCESS BRAT Ellora's Cave ISBN: 1-84360-823-5 Order ebook! Order trade paperback Excerpt Fanny was a disgrace to the royal family, an untamed hoyden who refused to be gracious or cooperative. Fanny's father needed someone to train the young woman and make her presentable, but her temper and sharp tongue have driven away countless tutors. The king will pay generously the person who can tame her. Handsome, urbane Baxter was a lord's penniless younger son. Training the princess should be the perfect job for him. But when two strong wills collide, they strike sparks off each other, igniting a fire that threatens their hearts and souls as well as their plans for the future.

Prologue

The tavern was crowded and noisy, but the two men in the corner paid no attention to the chaos. They'd discussed the usual mundane things over an excellent dinner of stew and fresh bread: women, the stingy pay from the lords who hired them, which champions would participate in the tourament next week, women, which tavern had the best ale, women, and what their next jobs would be.

Both were young, single, attractive, and scions of noble families. Baxter had the greater looks, but little money. Ryal had sufficient money for his needs and looks usually adequate for drawing female attention. Both had dreams, ideas, and schemes, though Baxter's always seemed more practical than Ryal's. He was at an impasse at the time, however.

Once they'd finished dinner and were deep into their mugs of ale, Ryal got down to his purpose in asking his friend to meet him. "I heard the king is looking for a tutor for his younger daughter. It's the opportunity you've been seeking." Ryal looked up and signaled the tavern wench to bring another round of ale. "It's a way to get into the Grimmerson Court."

"It's an invitation to hell. " Baxter smacked his tankard down on the table. "I've heard the stories about Princess Fanny. Spoiled brat was the kindest description anyone's given her."

"All the better an opportunity. You get her sorted out, and the king will grant you anything you want." Ryal looked at Baxter. "He might even make you a knight."

"I don't want to be a knight. You have to practice with swords and lances. I've done all of that I ever want to do in this lifetime. And armor…Armor's hot and heavy and it clanks when you move. I don't want to clank. I want gold. I've an idea for a business to bring merchandise to the country."

"I know. And you want to find the scurvy bastard who killed your papa," Ryal pointed out.

"And kill him," Baxter added.

"And kill him. How will you do that if you don't want to practice with a sword or lance?"

"My dagger." Baxter pulled out the weapon in question and laid it on the table. The tavern wench delivering the ale saw it and pulled back for a moment. Baxter smiled at her. She blushed and put Ryal's fresh tankard in front of him instead.

"Dagger's no match for a sword." Ryal grabbed the ale and frowning at the girl.

"From behind. Same way the bastard killed papa. I'm not stupid."

"Not very honorable, though."

"Honor's worth naught to you if you're dead," Baxter answered. "I prefer to stay alive."

"That's a lower class attitude for a baron's son," Ryal commented.

"A baron's sixth son. Papa was a randy old rooster, but he didn't deserve to die with a knife in his back. And he raised hearty sons. Many of them. With five living older brothers, I'm looking to secure my own future. I need gold to invest in my merchant plan."

"But being a baron's son, even if it is a sixth son, you have a nobleman's education. You would qualify for the job of making the princess presentable to the suitors the king's rounded up for her."

"I can't produce miracles, so I am not qualified," Baxter insisted. "And I've no wish to do other than tup the bratty princess, perhaps after I've thoroughly tanned her bottom. This is not the job for me. I'll find another way to get into the court and the king's good graces."

Ryal studied his old friend with a thoughtfulness born partly of copious quantities of ale and partly of a natural cunning. "I do believe this is exactly the job for you. The king wants a strong man to take her in hand as she's apparently run off every female and elder he's had work with her. You're strong enough for it, and that ridiculously pretty face of yours seems to have every woman you come across swooning to do whatever you will. Why should she be any different? At least go and speak with the king about it. Perhaps you'll see another way while you're doing so."

"Perhaps." Baxter drained another tankard of ale. "It might serve, at least to get me into the court. I'll talk to him."

Baxter would later conclude he must truly have been in his cups to agree to do even that much. He would certainly have time and occasion to rue his concession.

Chapter 1

He really never had a chance.

The gatekeeper at the main entrance and the guard at the door of the keep asked only for his name and place of origin. They admitted him with no hesitation when he provided the information.

The doorkeeper to the main chamber asked the same thing. But after Baxter had identified himself by name, and as the son of the late Lord Marko of Denzwig and brother to the current lord, the man followed up with, "Your business with the king?"

"I understand the king seeks someone to assist him in certain personal matters."

"Ah." A huge grin spread across the doorkeeper's face. "You've come to take charge of the princess. Think you you'll have more success than the others?"

"I didn't necessarily come…"

The doorkeeper ignored him and called to a woman he spied down the hall. "Lady Syndal, come anon. This lord's son has come to take Princess Fanny in hand."

"But I didn't-"

"I think he might have more success than some of the others," the man continued.

Lady Syndal laughed heartily and bustled up. "Aye." She studied him, running her eyes up and down his form in a way that made him blush. "Sir…Baxter," she added when the doorkeeper repeated his name. "You've a rare face and form. Perhaps that will find favor with the princess. She's had enough sour-faced harridans, old and young, and a few fierce gentlemen. None so winsome as you, by half, though," she said. "Mayhap it will be just the combination to win her cooperation. But can you be strong enough and stern enough to take her in hand? It's a powerful will, she has, and it has defeated all who've tried to tame her thus far. A pity she's not more like her sister, as sweet and pretty and biddable a girl as anyone could want to see."

"My will is equal to any woman's," Baxter said. "But that is not really-"

"Ah well, I hope it is so," Lady Syndal said. "Come, let's go to the king." She took his arm as the doorkeeper opened the portal to allow them entrance. He had no choice but to process down the hallway to the dais at the far end in her company.

Most of the gathered throng took no notice of them, continuing their conversations in small groups scattered around the huge hall. The king sat on a huge throne on the dais, consulting with a group of three men who stood around him. Nearby another group huddled around a very pretty young woman who wore rich robes and a silver coronet on her smooth, dark, glossy hair. She laughed with her admirers, encouraging their flirtations, showing charming dimples in her cheeks and sparkling lights in her blue eyes. Baxter couldn't help but stare at her for a few minutes. The glowing vision was no doubt the elder princess.

"Your Majesty," Lady Syndal said to draw the king's attention, at once curtseying and elbowing Baxter in the side to remind him to bow. "I have here the Lord Baxter, son of the late Lord Marko, who has come to take charge of Princess Fanny. He believes he can take her in hand."

Baxter coughed and said, "Well, in truth, I'm merely-"

"My Lord Baxter! Son of my old friend, Marko!" The king stood up, stepped down from the dais, and came forward to envelop Baxter in a huge bear hug. The fur on the royalking's robe tickled his nose, and he feared the king would smother him in his enthusiasm. Breathing was touch and go for a few minutes until the king finally released him and stepped back. Baxter sucked in a good lungful of air, trying not to be too obvious about it.

"You've heard of my difficulties with my younger daughter?"

"Aye, Your Majesty, but I know not-"

"She's a wild one is Fanny." The king bore on, ignoring his incipient protest. "Try as we might, everyone has failed to make her behave as suits a princess. If you can manage the task, I'll be in your debt. The rewards will be considerable."

"But Your Majesty, I'm not sure if-"

"You may have a free hand in her training. Use whatever methods you deem necessary. Short of taking her life, I give you free reign to do as you will with her." The king sighed and turned away for a moment to stare at the lovely young woman Baxter had noticed earlier. "My elder daughter, Merry." The king nodded toward the girl.

The princess turned and inclined her head in his direction, giving him a brilliant smile.

The king beamed on her. "She's to be married next month," the king continued. ."It would suit my purposes well should Fanny be tamed and trained to suitable behavior by then. There will be a number of nobles there that might be candidates for her hand, and I'd be pleased if she were to show well."

"Your Majesty, I'm-"

"I am truly glad you've come," the king added. "I do believe you're just the man to take Fanny in hand."

While Baxter was trying to frame a suitable reply, the vision of loveliness that was Princess Merry drifted over to join them.

"Did I hear correctly?" she asked in a soft, almost childish voice, addressing the question to Baxter. "You've come to take my sister in hand and train her?"

Baxter found himself near speechless in the presence of such perfection. "Aye, Your Highness." He almost tripped over the words.

"You have my most absolute admiration," the princess said. "Fanny has been such a trial to all of us. Mucking around in the dirt all the time, screaming at people, driving away all who would help her and teach her more civilized ways. She insists on reading books and messing conversing with her plants rather than coming to state dinners and fulfilling her duty to assist my father in matters of state and entertaining his guests."

"I believe I can succeed where others have failed.," he assured Princess Merry. He turned back toward the king and added, "I must have your complete support, however, if I'm to have a chance. Some of the things I do may seem a bit… outrageous to you. I must have your assurance that if Princess Fanny complains to you about them, you'll lend me your support. And I must be able to call on some of the resources of your household."

"Whatever you need," the king assured him. "You have but to ask. I'll give you a token to present to anyone in the castle to get whatever you need. As I said before, short of taking her life, you may do as you wish with her. She'll get no support from myself or my household in any battle with you."

Baxter had a momentary twinge of sympathy for Princess Fanny, who apparently had no loyalty from her family. It didn't last long. She'd had numerous opportunities to win their sympathy and had instead alienated all. In any case, he needed a completely free hand to put in place the plan beginning to take shape in his mind.

"My thanks, Your Majesty," he said. They dismissed him.

Lady Syndal showed him to a suite of rooms that adjoined Princess Fanny's quarters and gave him a key to the princess's own apartments, then left him to get settled.

After putting away the few belongings he'd brought with him, Baxter went in search of the things he would need. It took him most of the rest of the afternoon to acquire the equipment, but by the time the gong rang for dinner, he was satisfied with what he'd accumulated.

Instead of joining the household for dinner, he let himself into Princess Fanny's bedchamber and settled into the only comfortable chair in the room. While he waited, he surveyed the room, trying to get a feel for the young woman who was soon to be his unwilling pupil and charge.

The trappings were pretty much what he would have expected of a princess's chambers. An enormous huge bed was hung with yards and yards of velvet from the canopy, while the windows, too, were draped with the rich blue fabric. A plush, woven carpet covered most of the floor. The dressing table bore various pots and trays, but most all were pushed to one side and appeared not to have been used.

What struck him most forcefully about the room, however, were the drawings. Charcoal sketches of plants and flowers covered nearly every surface. Twenty or more of them were tacked to the wall, while others were stood against the mirror on the dressing table and the back of the writing desk. The drawings were skillfully executed and showed considerable detail. He recognized a few of the more obvious ones, though he knew next to nothing of gardening or horticulture.

He had a good bit of time to study them and was beginning to doze off when the rattle of the door latch roused him. He was sitting upright and staring alertly when the door opened and the princess walked in.

Though he'd been warned, he still could barely contain his astonishment when he got a look atsaw her. He couldn't imagine a young woman who looked any less like a princess. Her clothes were old, threadbare, and filthy. Mud caked her worn boots and splattered her clothes and face. He sniffed as something unpleasant assailed his nose. Was that dung he smelled clinging to her?

She pushed strands of reddish brown hair out of her eyes. It had been hastily twisted and pinned to her head, but small streams fell loose around her ears, dripping down onto her shoulders, showing streaks of mud there as well. Her hands were filthy.

He winced at the sight of dirt caked under her short, ragged fingernails. There was a great deal of work to be done here. He'd seen scullery maids with better grooming.

Still, without the mud and the windburn that roughened her cheeks, she might be passably pretty. Her features were well-shaped and the sparkle in her eyes could be appealing. Fanny started to pull off her cloak, but stopped, frozen in the motion of removing it when she spotted him.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm your new tutor." He waited for her to object or scream or run away.

Instead she stared at him for a moment, then said, "No, you're not. Get out."