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“Never,” he said. “Not even a kiss.”
“Not even a kiss?” she asked. Better and better.
“The girls I know, they’re all servants in my home. My father said it was wrong and ignoble for a prince to chase a serving girl. Even when they flirt, he said, it is because they are frightened of losing their place in the household and are willing to do anything to keep it. It wouldn’t be right or fair, my father said, to force myself on a frightened girl even for a kiss. But I’m afraid I come to you with no idea what to do or how to do it.”
She warmed at his words. Her heart danced. Such a considerate and gentle prince. Why weren’t there more considerate and gentle princes? Perhaps they would conceive one tonight. And perhaps in time she would give birth to an entire army of considerate and gentle princes who would conquer the world—but considerately and with great gentleness.
“It’s fine,” she said, pleased beyond words. “I’ll teach you all you need to know.”
“Good,” he said. “Thank you.”
Thank you? He thanked her? Oh, she would love him every day and every way for the rest of eternity.
“Would you like me to teach you now?”
“Yes, my Lia.”
She took him by the hand and led him to the bed.
“Sit,” she said as she gently turned him so that the back of his thighs touched the bed.
He sat and sank his hands into the soft covers.
“It’s nice,” he said.
“I had it made for you. I had everything made for you. There are horses for you in the stables, and a hound waiting to walk with you every day and the foods you love to eat and all the wine you wish to drink.”
“You will spoil me.”
“Every day,” she said as she placed her hands on his face.
She tilted it up and stole a kiss from his lips, a deft theft she repeated a dozen times. At first as they kissed, he did nothing but sit there with his lips parted to let her kiss him. But as the kisses grew deeper and hotter and heavier, he began to pant, and his hands reached up to the hands that held his face. He found her wrists, her arms, and stroked them.
“Your skin’s like silk,” he said. And she wanted to say,I know, but she didn’t. She was learning.
“Thank you, my prince,” she whispered, and stole another kiss or ten.
As the kisses went on and on, he inched closer to her and even closer and dared to press his legs against hers. She ran her hands through his hair and removed his golden circlet, tossing it over the top of the bedpost.
She caressed his neck, his throat, his shoulders, all through his linen shirt.
“The shirt has got to go,” she said as she tugged on the fabric.
“Of course, my lady,” he said, and tried three times to untie the knot at the neck. She batted his hands away.
“Let me.”
“I don’t mean to be so nervous.”
“I like that you’re nervous,” she said. “It’s lovely to me, your modesty. To see a boy covered in maidenly blushes is a joy. More painters should paint virgin grooms, but all they care about are virgin brides, and frankly, I’m a little sick of them.”
“I’m no Hercules,” he said. “I fear I won’t impress you.”
“If I wanted Hercules, I would have married Hercules. I wanted you.”
She lifted his shirt and he raised his arms to let her pull it off. He was thin, of course, but not sickly or weak, only young. His arms, however, were sinewy with new muscle and his chest was beginning to broaden as he neared full manhood.
“You please me very much,” she said. He smiled. “But what is this?”
