“Very well,” Verice murmured. He stretched out, pulling her warm, unresisting body to his, and claimed her lips in a gentle kiss.
She smiled against his mouth. “Not time to get up yet, is it?”
“Not in the sense you mean,” Verice said, tracing a line of kisses along her neck.
Warna laughed, then matched his every demand with one of her own.
Later, much later, Warna stared down at the account books, her eyes half-closed as she remembered the previous night. And awakening this morning. Remembering Verice’s touch, his skin, his mouth—
Ersal coughed.
She brought herself up with a jerk. “Ersal? Did you say something?”
“Well,” Ersal was looking at his own accounting, trying to hide his amusement and failing. “I did ask a question a few moments ago. Did Janella include new napkins in the order for the table linens?”
Warna blinked. “Did we place that order yet? I didn’t think we had.”
“I’ll check,” Ersal said.
Warna returned to her accounts. But honestly, how was she supposed to be able to work? How was she supposed to focus on anything except how Verice made her feel?
Somehow, she felt like she’d been let in on a huge secret, one that made the entire world feel bigger than she’d ever dreamed. She wanted to sing of it, but she’d never be able to find the words to communicate the experience.
Or that she’d be able to sing in public.
But in private, now. In the privacy of their room, with just she and Verice, she could sing to him, of her feelings, her longings.
She hesitated at that thought.
No, that wasn’t fair. She wouldn’t burden him with those things. She wouldn’t cling. She’d made a bargain and she’d live with the terms. She’d keep her songs to herself, to be sung...later. When the troth was broken. When she’d left this place. After Verice had shared all the physical aspects of lovemaking with her.
Because she did want to know all of it. Verice had awakened her with kisses and touches, and brought her to shuddering pleasure with just his hands. He’d promised more of the same tonight, leaving her sated and gasping in their bed.
He might be determined to move slowly, but Warna had her own feelings on the issue. Her skin tingled at the thought.
She fought to bring her mind back to the task at hand. There were two weeks before the Festival started, and so many decisions had to be made. She needed to be thinking about the work before her, and not about enjoying the time she’d have with Verice.
And wonder what else Verice had to share with her.
“Then there’s the matter of the ale to be ordered,” Ersal’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Given the crowds, I’d thought perhaps two duns, but maybe we should consider three.”
Warna sighed. “Three would probably be best.”
Narthing was pleasedto be back in his regular chambers in the barracks. But he was even more pleased to see Lord Verice looking more relaxed.
Not to the degree that he was laughing or smiling. But his shoulders were looser under his brigandine, and his eyes warmer.
At least until he started talking about the security for the Festival with himself and Constable Ricard.
“I want everyone trained,” Verice stood, his arms crossed over his chest. The maps of the barony had been replaced with the schematics of the castle and keep. “I want everyone drilled in responses in case of attack. Everyone, from the clerks to the stable boys. Where to go, what to do.” Verice leaned on the table, his eyes now sharp as daggers. “I’ll not be caught again. Not ever again.”
“Agreed,” Narthing said.
Ricard nodded. “Easy enough to do, Lord Verice. We can see to it over the next few weeks.”
“The Lady Warna, as well,” Verice said. “I’ll train her myself.”
“If they attack, they’ll rue it,” Narthing said.
