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“You know there is one thing I cannot give.”
“Will not.”
“Semantics.”
“Is it, my lady?” He sobered abruptly, no longer drunk with lovemaking but purely lucid, staring into my eyes as if he could penetrate my thoughts. “I don’t think so.”
Nervous, I sat back on my heels. As that was between his spread and gloriously naked thighs, the regrouping did not give me much peace.
“Three things then, fair Gwynn, and you decide whether to give any or all to your helpless servant.”
I nearly laughed, but it caught in my throat at the intense blue of his gaze.
“You, naked. Your mouth, on my cock. Your loyalty and trust, pledged forever.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, a dare. An acknowledgment that I would refuse him all of this as I had refused him so much else. I climbed off the bed and took up my brandy glass—full again. One really had to track one’s refills. Rogue’s disappointment at my withdrawal tinged the air like the scent of burnt toast. He stared steadfastly at the ceiling again, visibly restraining himself.
“Rogue.” I called his name softly and his indigo eyes snapped to me. I dropped the gown and stood there naked while he drank me in, his gaze clawing over me with near physical force. Arousal swamped me, drenching and heating me. Without him asking, I pivoted, gratified by the admiration and desire in his face.
He said nothing when I climbed back up on the high bed and took his cock in my hand for the first time in naked reality. Strong and hot, it thrummed in my grip, velvet soft as the rest of him, corded iron beneath. I held it up, my mouth just over the reddened tip. Rogue seemed transfixed.
“My people have a saying,” I told him, running my tongue over my lips to wet them. “Two out of three ain’t bad.”
And I took him in my mouth.
*
Later in thenight, some sound woke me and I flung out an arm to find empty space where Rogue should be, the sheets cool where he’d lain. I sat up, my hair whispering over my bare shoulders, and scanned the midnight room. Nothing and no one.
Still, the hairs on my arms stood up, pricking my nerves.
“Rogue?” My voice whispered in the chamber, hissing back from the cold marble. I slid out of bed, the nightgown Rogue had made for me untangling from my legs and falling around me in a slide of silk. When had I put that on? The door to the bedroom stood closed, but light shone underneath.
I went out into the warm light of the sitting room to find it equally empty. A sudden fancy took me and I imagine that everyone in the castle had vanished and I alone remained, a tortured ghost to roam alone forever.
“Rogue? Are you here?” I called out, more loudly. One of outer doors opened and a human soldier—I think the one Starling had flirted with, popped his head in. I hastily wrapped my arms over my revealing lace-covered bosom.
“Is there a problem, milady?”
“Ah, no.” Suddenly my midnight fears seemed childish and foolish. “I just wondered where Lord Rogue had gone.”
“Said he had something to take care of, mum. I imagine he’ll see you for breakfast.”
“Oh.”
“Good night, milady. Sleep well.”
Just before he closed it, Darling squeezed through the cracked-open door, broadcasting cheerful thoughts of dancing and sugar-coated mice. I let him coax me back to bed and soothe me to sleep with his special gifts.
But the feeling of foreboding never completely faded.
Chapter 13
In Which I Misplace SomethingImportant
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