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He held her tight, was painstaking in his consideration of her, exploring every crevice, every recess of her body, then flicking delicately across the core of her desire, and deeper into her body.
The pressure in her built—she was careening toward something explosive, her groans of pleasure turning to pants. He stroked her, sucked her, nibbled until she shattered into euphoria.
She was still gasping for breath as she raked her fingers through his hair. She pulled him up, smothering him with as deep a kiss as she knew how to give. She wanted to cry, or maybe she wanted to laugh, or maybe she wanted to eat a cake with both her hands. She wanted to never be without this, to never be withouthim. She could feel his body hard against her and wanted more than anything she’d ever wanted to carry on, to finish what they’d started. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“No apologies.”
“But it hardly seems—”
“No’ a word, lass. You’ve a greater responsibility than any mortal man.” He kissed her forehead.
She caressed his face. “Are you the same man who pushed me from the chair all those years ago?”
“I’m the same man who beat you to the chair. Are you the same woman who cried foul?”
“I’m the same woman who declared my victory.”
They laughed. He kissed her again, his lips soft on hers now, his fingers gentle against her face.
This was happiness. This was what contentment must feel like, and Justine was amazed to realize she’d never really felt it before now.
He stroked her face, admiring her. “I thought I’d see you once or twice and be done with my charge. But when I was with you, I kept discovering things about myself I didna know were missing, aye? Sides of me I didna know existed. Now I canna imagine no’ seeing you.”
“I can’t imagine it, either. Who will advise me against my wishes? Who will offer opinions I don’t want? Who will give me what I need when I already have everything?”
“No one proper, I’m certain of it. I’ll be forced to write you long letters.”
“I would like that very much. And I will read them as I pace about the throne room incensed that you would have the nerve.”
He laughed. He kissed her again.
And again.
And again.
And when they couldn’t kiss anymore without risking everything, they talked. About their childhoods, about their hopes for the future. Children. Dogs and horses. Archery and sisters, fathers and strange dreams.
They talked abouteverything.
William finally left the hall at half past two in the morning. Justine stumbled up the stairs, her hair half down, her chest red from all the kissing, her lips bruised and her smile so wide that it had to take up residence in her heart.
SOMETIMEINTHENIGHTLila got up to air out a room that smelled of sex and smoke from the hearth. She was naked, her hair down her back. She opened the window to the summer night and breathed in.
That was when she saw Lord Douglas walking to the stables.
Valentin, also naked, stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his hardness against her backside, his mouth against her neck. “I’ve missed you, woman.”
“I’ve missed you, my love,” she murmured.
“Marry off the princess and come home.”
“I’m very close to doing just that.” She watched Douglas disappear into the stables and twisted around in her husband’s arms to kiss him.
ATELEGRAPHARRIVEDas Prime Minister Robuchard sat waiting at the palace for his afternoon meeting with the king.
It was from Douglas, informing him that Prince Michel was a good man with absolutely nothing to offer Princess Justine. That was impossible—Prince Michel had an entire bloody principality to offer. Dante would never have guessed that Douglas would be so bloody unhelpful.
As Dante was shown into the king’s private rooms, the queen was pacing as she often did. She gasped loudly just as Dante entered.
