Daryl Devore's Black Dorn on WIP It Up Wednesday #wipitup

Welcome to Erotic Notions and WIP It Up Wednesday. This snippet is a continuation from my erotic medieval romance - Black Dorn.

Set Up – After being lost and shocked by what she witnessed in the maze, Brawnyn is about to meet her future.
(Dictionary - for those who haven't started at the beginning with this – Duna means instructor –  so Duna Trea is Branwyn's instructor. A Dune is one who is to be instructed - Dune Branwyn. Gon means King.)A horse's snort startled Branwyn. She rose and hurried toward the sound. Two magnificent beasts—human and animal—stood beside a small creek. The black horse, dusty from the trail, drank as the man wiped his chin and returned a wineskin to his horse’s saddle. The man stood in profile to Branwyn but seemed a fine specimen. His face had a pleasantly formed brow, nose and chin and curly, black hair skimmed his shoulders. His arms and chest looked strong enough to easily manage the large sword hanging at his side. The horse turned an ear toward her, lifted his head and whinnied. Startled, the man returned from his reverie and looked at her. Branwyn scurried over. "Oh please, sire. My name is Branwyn. I come from Black Dorn. I am newly arrived and have gotten lost. Can you please direct me?" His brow wrinkled. "If you live at Black Dorn, who is your serving girl? Your duna?" "Leah serves me. Duna Trea is to…to…instruct me." "Explain why you’re so far from Dorn." "I wandered about the flower garden and entered the maze. Once there, I got lost." Her eyes filled with tears and she lowered her head. "Did you enjoy the maze?" His voice made her want to giggle. Branwyn shook her head. "No? But it is a place of games and pleasure. Did you not go there to seek pleasure?" "No, I found no pleasures there. Only games I do not understand." She wiped away a tear. "Please sire, I am tired and hungry and feel I may soon collapse. Which way must I travel to return to Black Dorn?" His horse nudged him in the back with his nose. The man placed both strong hands around her waist and lifted her to his saddle. He mounted the horse, tugged on the rein and directed his horse back to Black Dorn. When they entered the courtyard, Leah ran across the cobblestones, skidded to a stop and dropped to her knees. The horse halted a few feet in front of her. Branwyn slipped down from the stallion, curtsied to her escort and walked to her serving girl. "Leah." His voice boomed across the courtyard. Still kneeling, Leah quivered. "Do not let your dune wander about freely. She needs guidance." As he turned, a stable boy reached for the reins. He tossed them over, dismounted and strode toward the castle. When the sounds of his footsteps faded, Leah stood. "I do not need guidance," Branwyn snapped. "I got lost. What a rude, arrogant man. He did not have the upbringing to know to introduce himself." "Dune Branwyn," whispered Leah as she led her into the castle, "That is Gon Lacke’s eldest son. He will inherit the castle, lands and people. There will be a feast tomorrow to honor his safe return. But now, I must get you to your room. You must be exhausted from your day. A bowl of mulled wine will soothe you."
Tiredness did not creep up on Branwyn, it ambushed her.




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