Page 73 of The Consolation Prize

“Una?”

She moved tentatively on him and felt him ease further inside. “All is well,” she assured him. He remained still as she resettled over him, lowering herself, until they were both breathless and face to face, their nether hair intertwined. Then he leaned forward and kissed her, his hands in her hair. She could feel the sheer strength and eagerness in his body, yet still he held himself taut, even when she could feel the urgency thrumming through him.

“Ride me now, Una,” he said, bouncing her on his cock, showing her the motion, he craved. “Bear down on me, my sweet. Use me for your pleasure.”

There was no playful talk of dragons now, she thought, as one hand came to rest over the swell of her breast and the other squeezed her bottom. He was ready to burst and wanted her to reach her peak first. Una started the grinding motion he’d initiated, and he lowered his head to suck one nipple into his hot, wet mouth.

Una moaned, clutching his head as his hand moved from her hip to slide between her legs and he concentrated his circling his thumb on that one sensitive spot between her legs that soon had her panting and gasping with need. Her movements became jerkier and less controlled as the excitement steadily built inside of her. Everything felt connected, Armand’s sucking mouth, the pad of his thumb, and the steady throb of his deep penetration, all of it spurred her higher and higher, until she finally with a cry, she blazed right up and burst in a shower of sparks behind her eyelids.

Then and only then, did Armand roll her onto her back and drive into her four or five times before he joined her in sweet oblivion, collapsing on top of her with a loud groan. After a moment or two, Una found she could muster enough strength to lift a hand and stroke his brow.

“I definitely came out on top in that encounter,” she said drowsily.

“You really did,” he agreed in a gravelly voice, then raised his head from her breast with a slight frown. “Where did you learn to do that?” When she hesitated, he looked alarmed. “Don’t tell me I made you do it on our wedding night.”

“No, of course not,” she spluttered. “You worry far too much about that encounter, you know.”

“Of course, I do,” he said gruffly. “I can’t remember it and you were a virgin.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Weren’t you?”

Una gazed up at him, speechless for a moment. “Of course, I was,” she said shocked, and meeting his hard gaze unflinchingly.

He drew back from her. “Did you have any lovers before me, Una?” he asked, and Una saw a faint color rise to his cheeks. She shook her head. Where was this coming from? “Then how did you know men like that?” he asked.

She hesitated to tell him her knowledge was gleaned from the ribald talk of soldiers. “I … heard things,” she admitted. “You forget I was surrounded by rough soldiers for a good deal of the time. They were not coy when they discussed women.”

Armand’s brows snapped together. “They surely did not discuss such things around their princess!”

“Well no, but … They weren’t allowed to converse with me, you see,” Una said. “And the campaign was so dreary and long, of course they wanted to speak of their wives and mistresses. In the end they sort of became inured to my presence. I think they forgot I was a real person.”

Seeing his thunderstruck expression, she flailed around trying to extricate herself from the hole she had inadvertently dug herself into. “I ought not to have listened, of course. It was wrong of me, but I could not help but be curious about such things. Especially when they talked about how even ugly women could please a man.”

Armand stiffened. “Why should that interest you?” he asked sharply.

Una’s face fell in dismay. Clearly, she was just making things worse. “Armand—” she reached out toward him tentatively. “I-I did not put my mouth on you, on our wedding night, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He huffed out a breath. “That’s not—” He broke off frustratedly. “Gods!” He ran his hand over his face. “Forget it. Of course, you were a virgin.” She read the regret in his expression and nodded. “I was insulting,” he added and moved away from her. For one horrible moment, Una thought he would get out of the bed, but he was only leaning toward the candle to blow it out.

When he resettled next to her, he slid his arm around her waist and drew her close against him. “I’m sorry, Una” he murmured, and she closed her eyes as her throat worked hard to contain the sob that rose up in it. She had meant only to please him. Gods, what had she been thinking of? She lay wracked with self-doubt for a long time before she drifted off to sleep.

12

For once Armand woke first the next morning, while Una still slept the sleep of the virtuous. He felt consumed with burning guilt, shame and confusion. He crept out of their room and dressed in an empty one next door before making his way downstairs.

He was being a jackass. Worse than that. He was being a jealous, suspicious prick, and he had no right to be. Reacting angrily when your lover is better in bed than you expect her to be is ridiculous, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He had never been the jealous type. The best of his past lovers had been either married or widowed. Not for him fair blushing maidens who’d expect him to fix his interests. Usually any passion he felt for a woman burned out after the novelty of a new partner wore off. He’d always been a fickle bastard.

She’d said she was a virgin before him, and he believed her. If he hadn’t seen the bloodstain on the sheets the morning after their marriage, her clear, untroubled gaze would have assured him sufficiently on that score. But that didn’t mean that someone couldn’t have taught her a few tricks along the way and that thought enraged him. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself he had no right to feel this way. For all he knew, she’d been betrothed a dozen times to foreign princes who’d be far worthier bridegrooms than him.

He felt a twisting, burning feeling in his chest when he thought of Una in someone else’s arms. He had no earthly notion why. He’d never begrudged his previous lovers their experience, and he was angry that this time he felt different. He knew nothing about the men in Una’s life before him. She could have been in love for all he knew, with some fine upstanding Northern hero. He gnashed his teeth at the thought. Some principled, noble type who’d never put a foot wrong in his life and deserved to win the hand of a princess.

Not like him, who hadn’t even had the sense to be grateful when she’d landed in his palm like a ripe plum. No, he’d looked a gift horse in the mouth and pulled a face. Hemmed and hawed about how inconvenient it was for him to take a wife right now. He had expected her to bargain and plead with him to even take her rightful place at his side. He turned cold inside, when he remembered how he’d tried to wriggle away from his obligations and just leave her there in that nest of vipers. He felt so full of self-loathing that it stung. Gods, he was a fucking asshole.

It didn’t help that he’d always felt guilty as hell for the wedding night he must have given her. Drunk and practically unconscious, he supposed, was marginally better than drunk and rampaging with lust. But was it though? At least if he’d been in the mood to swive, he’d have given her his tongue or his fingers first. She must have been dry as dust and he must have hurt her a good deal. He swore again. And then, to crown his folly, he’d gone and practically accused her of feigning her virginity!

He was appalled that Una could think she needed to learn additional tricks as she was not pretty enough to hold his attention. Surely it was obvious that he was wildly attracted to her? Having said that, the poison of court had likely wrought some damage even before their disastrous wedding night. He only hoped she had not done anything she found distasteful, in the belief he needed added stimulus to bed her. Had she even wanted to play that damned dragon game with him, or had she felt duty-bound?

Could it be that Una still thought she had to be amenable in all things where he was concerned? He felt gnawed by doubt and closed his eyes a moment, feeling overwhelmed. There was no way he could put all this to rights. The only thing he could promise now was to start treating her with the respect she deserved and should have commanded from him from the very beginning.

“Bad head?” asked Otho with sympathy, and Armand saw his brother-in-law was sat in the great hall buttering bread. Armand grunted and joined him. “You’re up early,” Otho commented, and Armand surveyed him with disfavor. Otho pushed the platter of fried fish toward him. “Help yourself.”