"No!" Princess Esmeralda stamped her silver shoe on the precious Persian rug and clenched her fists.

"No," she repeated. "I’m not going to marry. You cannot force me, father."

King George straightened his back, looking at his wife Queen Leonore, who was sitting on the golden throne next to him. Leonore shrugged and King George turned his face back to his rebellious daughter.

"You have to, my child," he said, pity in his voice. "This kingdom needs an heir."

"I’m your heir," Esmeralda snapped. "I’m the Princess Royal here."

"That is why you have to take a husband," Queen Leonore explained. "Your father is getting old and...."

"I’ve heard more than enough of that crap, mother." Esmeralda spit the words into her parents’ faces. "I will never marry. Period. I don’t want some dirty man to ... to.…"

She grabbed her long skirts and rushed out of the throne room. She even tried to slam the heavy oak wooden door behind her, but that didn’t work.

"She is so stubborn," Esmeralda heard her father say. Pricking up her ears, she bent her head toward the door.

"She’ll be eighteen tomorrow," her mother’s voice toned. "Prince Arnulf of Scotia doesn’t want to wait any longer."

Esmeralda bit her lower lip. They wanted to coerce her into that rotten marriage. But she didn’t want a husband. A man entitled to ... to touch her wherever he pleased.

Her belly cramped in agony.

She’d better take a ride to cool down and think it over.

She turned, walked to the stables, and saddled her black-and-white Appaloosa with quick and agitated moves.

Swinging herself into the ladies’ saddle, she left the low building and spurred the horse into a slow trot.

The air outside was scented with blooming roses and purple lavender.

"Highness, stop!" a stable boy called out. "It’s not safe to ride out alone. There are tramps and outlaws all over the woods."

"Outlaws." Esmeralda pouted her mouth. "I can handle them. I’m a big girl."

She knew the stable boy didn’t hear her reply, but what did it matter? She needed to ride alone. She must think about this scary situation.

Okay, she was going to like the wedding day. Being dressed up in the most beautiful gown she had ever worn. That was fun. She loved long, romantic gowns, and dancing until her feet hurt. But after the party, terror would come.

A man, her husband, would tell her to take all her clothes off. Everything, including her undies. She would stand in front of him. Naked. And he...

A shiver crept up her spine and she eased her stallion onto a narrow sandy road framed by huge pine trees. It smelled of fir cones and blooming heather. She took a deep breath and shivered again.

She knew very well what would happen next. She had seen it happen, a few years ago, somewhere back in the herb garden. Her chambermaid Annabella lying down in the grass, her legs parted, her gaze fixed on the huge red thing down at the belly of an unknown man. Esmeralda swallowed. He was well-built and handsome. He looked so nice. But he wasn’t. Without any warning he thrust his swollen hardness into Annabella and the poor maid screamed. In agony, of course. Why else should she cry out if it weren’t for pain?

Esmeralda’s nether lips cramped at the memory, and vague feelings of shame filled her chest. Instead of helping the poor maid, she’d run away as fast as she could.

Her restless hand wiped over her nose. No, she was not going to allow anyone to touch her body in such a horrible way. Never.

"Now, look at that," a man cried out next to her. "What a nice little chick. And so alone in the woods." A sun-tanned hand grabbed the reins and forced her horse to stop.

Another hand seized her arm. A dirty, unwashed hand with black fingernails.

"Get down, sweetie," an uncivilized voice ordered. "Let’s have some fun."

Esmeralda felt her heart miss a beat, then it began hammering in her throat. Oh my! There were at least six men around her. Soldiers. Soldiers from Greenland. Her mortal enemies.

"Get down," the soldier repeated.

"Leave me alone, you bastard," she hissed. She pulled her foot from the stirrup and kicked him.

A sharp pain flashed through her toe, when it was almost crushed on his iron armor. "Ouch!" she moaned.

The soldier grinned. "It’s no use, little wild cat. Come down." His other hand grabbed her waist and before Esmeralda could do anything to prevent it, he lifted her from the saddle and pulled her close. The iron armor was hard, unyielding, cold. And the man within it smelled of sweat, bad fish, and rotting molars.

"Put me down," she snapped. "You’re hurting me."

"I will hurt you a lot more if you don’t cooperate," he promised. "I’ll even kill you if you don’t obey."

"Obey?" she said indignantly. "You? Never! And if you dare touch me, you’ll die on the scaffold."

He burst out laughing and put her down. When her feet reached the ground she immediately began to run.