Page 98 of Wicked Queen

We lingered in the gallery on a bench, her in my lap while I kissed her shoulders and waited for her to find her way back to the present. When she returned, I helped her into her dress, allowing her time to marvel at the lingering marks on her breasts. I would ask her later what she preferred, but I noted her pleasure at our newest discovery.

“Am I presentable?” she asked, coming out from the loo. I’d waited by the door, guarding her myself, unable to allow anyone else the responsibility for the moment.

“You’re not just presentable,” I said leaning to kiss her. “You’re fuckable.”

“That wasn’t what I was going for.” She pushed against me, “If we don’t go back now, we never will—and we might be missed.”

We strolled through the main hall, not bothering to smother our smiles. Rounding the corner, we met up with Edward who gawked at us.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for an hour!”

I examined my knuckles, remembering how I’d spent that hour. “Was it that long?”

Clara giggled, and that combined with her flushed face made it obvious how we’d spent that time.

“Obviously I need to separate you two in public places,” he said with a groan. “There’s a party and there’s a cake and a lot of people getting grumpy waiting to eat it.”

“By a lot of people—you mean Belle?” Clara guessed.

“Yes. Sarah wants the family to help her cut it.”

“You two go.” She held up a hand when he started to protest. “I need to sit down.”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, keeping my voice casual enough that I hoped my brother didn’t pick up on the double meaning.

“Yes, go! I’m fine. I’ll find Belle.”

I refused to go ahead without her, finally parting with her only once we were back inside and in the sight of security.

As we approached the cake, my grandmother scrambled toward me. “We’ve been looking for you.” Her eyes darted to Edward. “We couldn’t find you.”

I took her gently by the shoulders worried by her disheveled appearance. I’d seen her when she and Henry had arrived, but now she looked ill. A thin sheen of sweat covered her brow and she clutched my arm.

“Why don’t you watch?” I suggested. “We’ll get you a chair.”

“Yes, a chair.” She pointed at Edward, handing off the task.

I heard him muttering something about getting punished for not shagging inside the V&A under his breath as he left.

“I need to talk to you,” she said. “It’s very important, I think.”

“We will,” I promised her, slightly unnerved. Glancing around I looked for Henry. “Let’s find Henry to sit with you while we cut the cake.”

“No! I need to speak with you now. I can feel it.”

“Mother?” Henry studied her with concern. “Are you quite alright?”

She released her hold on me, seeming to calm a little when she saw him. “Yes, I’m going to sit down.”

“That’s good.” He patted her hand. “Then we’ll have cake.”

She smiled, lifting one gloved hand to wipe her forehead. “Yes, cake.”

Edward reappeared with the chair and we placed it near the cake table.

“What was that about?” he muttered.

“I think she’s confused. Henry told me she’s been having difficulty with her memory.” It was something to look into. I didn’t want to be the one to tell her she had to stay home from the parties in the future, but if they were overwhelming her…