Well, Joanna did try to set you up with her brother

Tradition does suggest the next in line to the dutchy of Illenda should be considered. In most cases you would bet that with such a long betrothal and such close families it would simply happen by weight of rumor, supposition and gossip. Everyone would expect and so it would be. Yet this time, even before the funeral, Duchess Illenda sent a letter to both you and your mother formally stating she would not seek and would not endorse a betrothal of you to Anton, her own son.

'She hates him almost as much as my own mother does,' that other bit of you thinks.

It's true. And your father also hated him quite a bit for some reason.

For a second you think of Anton, but then you shake your head. Both your mothers would never allow it, so why bother? He's not the only possibility.

'You're the most eligible woman in the country. Every man you can think of will want you.'

Yes, that's true. You even had an offer once. When lady Joanna Kevara arrived in court just over a year ago she was a breath of fresh air. Someone who hadn't seen the worst of your early teenage rebellion. Someone who just saw you as an elegant princess who would be an excellent friend to have. It started off politically, but you and Joanna hit it off. After some months she broached the subject of your betrothal to Lucas. She was very open about the reason - she had never seen Lucas at court so she had no idea if you even liked him. And had you been unhappy she had hoped to convince you to consider her brother.

It was rather sweet of her, at least the way Joanna did it. After that you did talk about her brother and about the Morcal region he rules. Right now, your thoughts tilt toward the brother and what she said of him. He's taller than her, though she said probably a tiny bit shorter than you. He has to be fit, for out near Carrillis every man must be capable and tough. She said he has the same silky blonde hair she has, but inherited their mother's light green eyes. He always keeps clean shaven, which shows off his chisselled jaw. Oh, and he has great equestrian and dancing skills, two things Joanna insists are linked. And of course, according to her he's a huge romantic. He just needs a woman who is willing to give him a chance.

'But do you really want him? Can you even picture him? You only have his loving sister's tales to go by.'

That thought rubs you the wrong way somehow. You were just starting to think how nice it would be if the terrible fate handed to Lucas could grant Joanna's wish. At least one good thing could come of it. You may not know what her brother Dorian is truly like, but he must be quite the man for his sister to love him so much. She sometimes has to remember to breathe if you get her talking about him, though that may also be due to her taste for very tight corsets.

You try to roll over and get to sleep, even though you're sure your mind is too active for that now. All this thinking about Joanna and Dorian and handsome men in general... With a sign you reach down between your legs for a quick check with your finger and it reveals exactly what you thought you'd find. Your desirous cleft is very wet. You'll never sleep now, not until you do something about it. In the dark you mutter, "Do all women have this problem? Is it just princesses, cooped up in our tower bedrooms?"

'It's going to be even harder if you insist on imagining a man you've never met. Are you sure you don't want to go for huntmaster Frederik or maybe Sir Arrick...'

No! No, no, no. Not him. You **** yourself to picture a man with blonde hair and a fine, manly jaw riding across a field toward you on a lovely black horse. He hops down and presents you a perfect red rose in bloom. The scent wafts up your nostrils as he gets down on one knee and takes your hand so he can kiss it. Then he leads you into the large building behind you, into the vast ballroom, so that the two of you can show off your well practiced steps to the delight of the crowd.

He protects you from rough looking men as he leads you up to a room that's been laid out with candles and rose petals. He sits you on the bed and undoes your gown. Not enough to get you out of it, just enough that you can move and breathe easily. Then he whispers sweet promises and poetry in your ear until finally it is you who ask him if he would please, pretty please, touch you.

His strong hands are so delicate as they gently explore your chest. You promise him that you won't break, he can be a little firmer. But he doesn't listen. He goes for a long, deep kiss that leaves you wanting more. Finally you feel his hand slide up under your hem. He starts rubbing one finger, ever so delicately, against the outside of your loincloth. It's enough to drive a girl wild! Your other hand instinctively clamps over your mouth to make sure you don't wake anyone. 'Oh Gods!' you think to yourself. 'How was it so powerful this time?'

'Well,' says that other part of you, 'it has been a while since you took care of yourself. Too bad Joanna didn't have a sketch of her dear brother. You'll need a picture of him if you want to imagine him ravishing your body.'

Oh my. How could you ask Joanna for a sketch of Dorian now? As you start to drift off you think one last thing: You had best work out which man you're going to end up marrying quickly. Otherwise you'll be dreaming of all the wrong ones.