The weight on the bed shifts as I push myself up and secure the blanket around my shoulders, as if anything short of disappearing completely could hide my confusion and embarrassment.
“You’re very forward, sexually, and I don’t know.” I shrug. “We’re not in a relationship or anything. That’s off the table, you made that clear from the very beginning, but if you wanted to get another woman’s…support, it would be easy for you to do so.” I clear my throat. “I was just trying to be bantery, but it clearly failed.”
“I’m not with another woman,” he blurts. “That’s not what I want. That’s not why I came back to the palace.”
“I didn’t say it was.” I shake my head and tuck escaped strands of hair behind my ears. “I think my attempt to be cute got lost in translation. You’re not here to get a wife. You have to—to—”
“Unseat Four before it’s too late.”
“Yes, right, and I still have to find my purse and the Empress card. Knowing Stephanie, she took it,” I grumble.
Kane’s brow furrows. “Stephanie?”
“Here, Stephanie is Ivy, Four’s hell spawn girlfriend.” I wince. “I don’t know that she’s actually a terrible person. I’ll admit that I might be a tad biased. In my realm, Stephanie is perfect. She’s Successful Barbie: well prepared, well-spoken, and well-dressed. I’m sure she’s never been cheated on or accused of being desperate, and every bra and panty set she owns matches.” I take a deep breath and exhale. “She’s basically everything I’m not.”
“You’re not wrong about Ivy, although she does have her uses.”
“She’s terrible here too?”
He hesitates for long enough to make my heart stumble, the phraseshe does have her usesplaying over andover again in my mind. Would Kane say I have my uses too?
It doesn’t matter, Hannah. This is all for fun. Nothing more. He doesn’t owe you an explanation.
“I don’t truly know her. Although, how well can you truly know anyone?” He combs his fingers through his hair again, smoothing his palm down the nape of his neck. “But if she’s with Four, she must be.”
I study his face, searching for any hint of deception. This might be all about pleasure, and he might not owe me a rundown of his past exploits, but it won’t be okay if he lies to me.
Kane stares back at me, calm, cool, and collected—a combination I seem to fall for every time. Doubt curls around my stomach, and I’m back in the cottage, back with the man who told me not to trust anyone, back with every liar I’ve ever been with and every red flag I’ve ever ignored.
His gaze shifts to a playful glint, and a cheeky grin spreads across his face. “You know, there’s a different kind of magick I could teach you.”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his sly grin and more than happy to set my doubts aside for Future Hannah to deal with. “But I don’t have any magick.”
“I have enough for the both of us,” he says, his tone light and heavy all at once. “And this, Little Fawn, is a spell you won’t cast alone.”
I swallow as he approaches, his palms hot and hard as he pushes me back onto the bed.
“It’s very powerful magick.” He grabs the discarded scarlet laces, and I bite my lower lip. “All about channeling energy and pleasure to manifest desires and intentions, weave spells, break curses.”
He pulls the sheet down my chest, exposing my breasts.
“You’re talking about sex magick.” My breath hitches as he drags the tips of the laces across my bare chest.
“I am,” he says, smiling down at me with that wicked grin I can’t seem to get enough of. “And I think we could be very good at it.”
“Oh, really?” I try to play coy even while a fresh rush of desire drips between my legs.
“Really,” he murmurs. “In fact, I think we should give it a try. What do you say?” His expression is pure mischief as he pulls the sheet lower, his hands already starting to work their magick on my body.
“Yes,” I whisper, my body humming as he loops the laces around my thigh.
“Now be a good girl, Little Fawn, and tell me what you wish for.”
Nineteen
Marion’s sitting room is a cozy nest filled with plush chairs, pillows, and throws in different shades of pastel pink. Delicate porcelain teacups and a matching tea set sit on the small round table between us, next to a golden tray covered with soft doughy pastries.
Warm midmorning sunlight filters in through blush-pink lace curtains, casting swirling patterns on the carpeting Lord Highgate seems determined to wear down to nothing with his heavy, insistent pacing.
