He laughed, then pushed upright, propping himself on his elbow to look down at me. “Did you just call me simple, and accuse me of having my needs met by a tavern wench?” Amusement lightened his tone. “Tell me, Ellie, how many men have you slept with?”
I grimaced, sensing the tables turn. His use of my nickname didn’t go unnoticed. This was a private conversation between friends. No harm would come of it.
I hoped.
“Did you keep score?” I asked the darkness. “Surely you counted–”
“I assure you, I take myscorewith all seriousness. I know my number well.”
“Likewise,” I huffed.
A pregnant silence followed, Sainte remaining still beside me. My heart pounded in the quiet, anticipation mingled with uncertainty. Would he return to the floor? Stay on the bed? Push for more?
“How many?” he asked.
Something changed in his tone. The playful mask slipped, and I suddenly didn’t want him to think poorly of me.
“A few.”
“A few?” His voice pitched higher, strained, as if he struggled to remain calm.
“There were a handful in the ports that I experimented with.”
By experiment, I meant I tried to flirt, to find the same connection I had with Sainte. Each time, I fell short. I sought that blend of respect, adoration, and attraction, but it always eluded me.
At Lyana’s suggestion, I even kissed one or two. Each encounter left me feeling dirty and used. The experiences were uncomfortable, to say the least.
None of them were Sainte.
“I’m not sure I want to know how youexperimented.” His words held an edge of curiosity that he wasn’t willing to admit.
I huffed, desperate to take the heat off me and my past choices. “Well, what’s your score?”
“Not afew,” he mocked, settling against me.
He didn’t hold me as tightly as before, and guilt pricked at my skin, as if I let him down somehow.
“So more? And you mock me for my few!”
“I’m not mocking you, Elspeth. People have different needs.”
“No, no. You don’t get to take the high road, Sainte.” I jabbed my finger into the darkness, wagging it as if he could see. “How many women have you been with?”
“None.”
My hand froze mid-air, and I went rigid. “What?” My voice squeaked on the word.
“None.”
“You’ve never–” Horror crept into my tone.
“Never.”
I jerked upright, taking this discussion far more seriously than I ever intended. “Fine, well let’s be clear–”
“No, Elspeth, I’ve never bedded a woman—never rutted like a dog in heat.” His words were dry, clipped, as if angry. “I choose to believe I’m above that kind of behavior.”
“Are you like Piers? Do you prefer–”
