The Alpha prince’s true mate (Complete)

Protecting her

I3 years later

*Marsden*

“I despise it when our mothers get conspiratorial,” Ashebury laments, lounging in a chair at a corner table in the Fox and Hare. “Who hosts a ball in the country on Christmas Eve? I’ve a good mind not to attend.”

Greyfur shrugs, “They will leave off if we were married, but we’re not.”

“State the obvious, why don’t you, Greyfur?” I ask, although my focus is not entirely on the conversation. Rather, I am watching the barmaid with the braid of blond hair circling her head, and the efficient way she sways her slender hips to avoid wandering hands. I am having a difficult time tamping down my frustration and anger that anyone at all would dare touch her.

“Tupped her yet?” the Alpha of Greyfur asks, garnering a heated scowl from me.

I shake my head, “We are friends, nothing more.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t tup her. She works in a tavern. And from a certain angle, she’s rather fetching. Maybe I’ll have a go at her.” He grins.

The fury that shoots through me has me clenching my jaw until my words can merely slither out. “Only if you wish to lose your teeth.”

“You can’t imagine she’s a virgin.”

I not only imagine it, I am rather certain of it. Linnie, the baker’s daughter, is not without morals.

Carrying four tankards, two in each hand, she wends her way between the tables, laughing as she goes as though she is having a jolly good time. If she had a free hand, she’d no doubt be swatting at the gents who are bold enough to swipe at her backside as she passes. I am of a mind to break a few fingers, a few noses, a few jaws. Fiercely independent, she wouldn’t care for the direction of my thoughts. Still, I feel an overwhelming need to protect her. She is far too naive to be working in a place such as this.

With a saucy smile, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief, Linnie ambles up to our table, leans over to present an innocent view of her cleavage revealed by the low cut of her bodice, places two tankards in front of me, and one each before Ashebury and Greyfur. “There you are, lads. Figured you were about due for another pint.” She winks at me. “Smile, Marsden. It’s Christmas, and you look all grumpy.”

“It’s not yet Christmas,” I grouse. We have a week to go. My friends arrived only this afternoon so we could catch up on the happenings in each other’s lives before the dreaded ball.

“’Tis the season. Drink up now and be merry.”

With a flourish, she spins on her heel and heads back to the barkeep to fetch someone else’s round, effectively dodging wayward hands. The later into the night we get, the bolder the men become. Animals all. It doesn’t matter that some are aristocrats. They are behaving like heathens.

“She certainly shows a familiarity when speaking to you,” Greyfur muses, a teasing edge to his tone that irritates, but then it seems everything tonight is irritating me. “Are you certain you haven’t tupped her?”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but it’s not as though I’d forget it if I had.” On the contrary. It would be a memory I’d carry with me until I drew my last breath.

It is an act I’ve imagined often enough. I experience shame every time I do, but I seem incapable of warding off the wayward thoughts. She is deserving of so much more than providing the spark for a man’s lustful fantasies.

“Someone’s going to,” Greyfur predicts, and my ire rises.

“She’s a barmaid, not a light skirt.”

“Leave off, Greyfur,” Ashebury orders. He isn’t shy about using his rank to order us about. It has been that way since Eton. “Besides, we have a more pressing issue to discuss: how to avoid the marriage noose. My mother wants my betrothal for Christmas, and she believes it will happen during the ball at the castle. She’s counting on it as a matter of fact, as is yours and Marsden’s. They’ve practically advertised it as the evening that the Undecided Alphas decide.”

“The Undecided Alphas.” Greyfur scoffs. “Why must they come up with monikers for us? I am not in the least undecided. I’ve very much decided that I’m not going to marry before I’m forty.”

“It’s because our fathers died rather young and left behind only one heir each that they worry.” I pick up the tankard Linnie has left behind and down a good portion of its bitter contents. “We must see to the bloodline.”

Ashebury sighs. “Not a very romantic reason to marry.”

“At least they’re letting us choose our bride,” Greyfur says. “I’ve no doubt our fathers would have already arranged a pairing.”

A scream followed by ribald laughter jerks my attention back to the crowd filling the tavern. I see Linnie sitting in a bloke’s lap, pushing on his shoulders while he seems intent on planting a kiss on her mouth. Before I am even aware of it, I am halfway across the room with my hands balled at my sides. “Robbie!”

The large, broad man looks over and grins like an i***t who apparently doesn’t recognize an avenging angel when he sees one. “Cousin!”

“Release her immediately.” I growl.

“We’re just having a bit of sport. She don’t mind, do you, love?”

She shoves hard enough to nearly topple over the chair. “Let me up, you clod.”

“First, give us a kiss.”

“You’re going to be kissing my fist, Robbie,” I declare with enough vehemence that those sitting at the table with my daft relation push back their chairs as though fearing they might be in the path of the blow.

“Don’t be ruining the fun, Cousin.”

I move in, wrap my arm around Linnie’s waist, and extricate her from the oaf’s lap. “Off with you.”

“Yes, my prince.” A tart edge to her voice alerts me that I’ve somehow managed to anger her with my rescue, or perhaps it’s the command I’ve given at the end. She’s never liked me ordering her about even when it’s for her own good.

Robbie glowers at me. “You’re not the king around here.”

“No, I’m the Alpha prince. This village and the villagers are under my protection.”

My cousin rolls eyes as green as mine. “This isn’t medieval times.”

“My estate and land give me a responsibility. You are a guest at my castle, and, therefore, I expect you to behave as a gentleman while you are in the area.” I don’t know why my mother has invited my cousin to come for Christmas unless it’s to remind me of who would inherit if I don’t provide an heir. Robbie’s father served as my guardian after my own father died. His entire family lived at the castle. I had never been so glad in my life as I was when I reached my majority and could kick the lot out. I settled a generous amount on my former guardian that allowed him to purchase a small estate. I wish only that it was located farther away, preferably in another country.

Robbie shoves himself to his feet. “What are you going to do if I’m not?”

“I’ll flatten you.” dear Goddess, I want to. I’ve wanted to ever since I was six years old, and Robbie, three years my senior, tossed me into a pigpen to wallow in the muck.

Robbie glares at me, then looks past me, shrugs. “I was just having a bit of fun.” He drops into his chair. “A concept with which you are obviously unfamiliar. But no matter. I’m content to merely drink.” He lifts his tankard and begins gulping down the contents.

I don’t quite trust him, but still I turn around and come up short at the sight of my two friends standing mere inches behind me.

“I was hoping for a round of fisticuffs,” Greyfur says.

“We could take the whole lot of them out,” Ashebury assures him.

“I think they’ll behave now.” And if not, then my friends and I will deal with them, which would be far easier than dealing with Linnie when the time comes.