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He didn’t think, reaching instinctively for her and pulling her into his arms. Then he pressed her face to his chest, cupping the back of her silky head in his palm, holding her close while she wept.
It caused him actual physical pain to think of how alone she’d been.
Unlike him, basking in the privilege of being the heir to a throne and having a loving father at his side, she’d had no one. Even her mother, the one parent who should have cared for and protected her, hadn’t.
So, she’d had to do it herself. At sixteen.
He didn’t care that she’d shot someone—she hadn’t meant to kill the bastard who’d attacked her sister, that was obvious. She’d only being trying to protect her. God in heaven, he’d have done the same thing himself if he’d been her.
And maybe another man might have faulted her for giving her sisters into care when it was clear she couldn’t look after them, or for leaving the country rather than turning herself in. Or for lying to him the way she had.
But he couldn’t. Yes, she’d lied to him, but she’d never put a foot out of line in all the years she’d been working for him. He’d put her in a position of great trust and she’d never betrayed that trust, not once. She could easily have let slip some of his secrets for her own gain, for example, and she hadn’t.
She’d protected her sisters. She’d wanted to take care of them. Yes, she could have stayed and dealt with the consequences of the shooting, and she might have got off on a lesser charge, but how would that have helped anyone?
As for the lying, there was no point being angry with her for that. He’d already been angry yesterday and that hadn’t helped either. He didn’t want to be angry anymore anyway. That wasn’t an emotion that was safe for him.
Her sobs had quieted, her breath warm against his chest.
He stroked her hair back from her forehead. ‘You didn’t ruin their lives, Freddie. You saved them. And you haven’t ruined mine.’
She looked up at him, her cheeks wet with tears. ‘I lied to you, Augustine. I just...needed the job. I needed the money. And I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t. I’m going to be the worst mother, I just know—’
Gently he pressed a finger against her mouth, silencing her. ‘You lied to me, it’s true, and we’ll need to discuss that. But not now. Also, you’re not going to be the worst mother—don’t be ridiculous.’
Her lips were unbearably soft, and he couldn’t stop himself from stroking them gently. She was lovely in the dawn, wearing the prettiest dusty pink silk robe, the light and the colour of the silk making her loose dark hair look glossy and her dark eyes even more lustrous if a little red.
‘You don’t know that,’ she said huskily.
‘I do know that. You’ll be amazing.’
‘But I—’
‘Hush,’ he murmured gently. ‘Don’t argue with your King.’
Her scent was all around him, clouding his senses, and he could feel the familiar hunger rise.
It was wrong to feel this while she was upset, but he wanted to comfort her, offer her some distraction, and he didn’t know what else to do. The only thing he was any good at was giving physical pleasure.
‘You’re cold, sweetheart,’ he went on quietly, looking down into her eyes. ‘Let me take you downstairs. Let me warm you up.’
‘How can you want me? After I’ve lied to you? After everything—’
He bent and this time he silenced her with the gentle press of his mouth.
She didn’t move, tense for a long moment. Then abruptly, her resistance melted away and she leaned into him, all soft warmth and sweetness.
He slid his arms around her. ‘None of that matters, Freddie. Not right now. Come downstairs with me. Let me make you feel good.’
She shivered and let out a breath. ‘Okay.’
So, he took her hand, threading his fingers through hers and he led her down from the battlements.
His bedroom was still dim, the way he preferred it, and as soon as they were inside, he kicked the door shut. Then he pulled her against him and covered her mouth with his, relishing how her arms went straight around his neck and how she arched up to meet his kiss, just as hungry as he was.
He got rid of her robe in seconds flat, as well as the pale cotton nightie she wore underneath it, then he swept her into his arms and carried her over to his bed and set her down on the mattress.
He got rid of the T-shirt he’d put on and began with the buttons of his jeans. But unexpectedly Freddie moved, slipping off the mattress and going to her knees at his feet.
