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He’d be that someone. He’d be the one to protect her.
How can you? When you can barely even rule a country adequately?
He thrust hard, deeper, ignoring the voice in his head. ‘Again, sweetheart. I want to hear my name.’
‘Augustine,’ she gasped.
He gripped her hips, tilting her slightly, angling her so he could go even deeper, the sound of his name in her soft, husky voice making him feel possessive and raw. ‘And who do you belong to?’
She was shaking now, so very close to the edge. ‘You.’ The word escaped on a moan. ‘I belong to you.’
He liked that, he liked that far too much. It felt right, as if it was something that had always been right.
He’d never been a man to get possessive of a woman. He’d never wanted to be. But Freddie was different and maybe she’d always been different. And maybe she’d always been his, too, he’d just never recognised it.
Whatever, he couldn’t take his eyes off her so he didn’t, watching as the orgasm came for her and she screamed in his arms, his name echoing off the walls.
Then he let himself go too and joined her in the ecstasy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WINIFREDWOKETOthe sound of Augustine’s deep voice talking quietly to someone, and it took her a moment to orient herself, not quite sure where she was or what was happening.
Then she remembered.
She’d woken early and gone wandering on the battlements and she’d met him. And...
Oh, no. She’d told himeverything.
It was enough to make her want to go straight back to sleep again and let unconsciousness take it all away, but of course that was impossible.
She’d fallen asleep in his bed after they’d made love for the third time—or possibly the fourth?—and she hadn’t meant to. She’d been so wrung out after the emotional storm that had taken her up on the battlements, and he’d wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in close to the reassuring heat of his body and she’d just...fallen fast asleep. As if some part of her knew she was finally safe.
Are you sure about that?
Winifred shoved the thought away and opened her eyes.
Augustine had just shut the door behind one of the palace servants, and now he turned, coming over to a tray that had been put on a low table near the window. A breakfast tray by the looks and smell of things. Coffee. Bacon. Eggs. Pastries and... Was that waffles? Oh, how she loved waffles.
She swallowed, suddenly starving.
Cautiously, she sat up, holding the sheet up around her, which was a little like closing the stable door after the horse had bolted, but still. She felt exposed and a bit vulnerable.
She’d said a lot to him up on the battlements and she’d wept, and then she’d let him take her to bed...
A wave of heat went through her.My Augustine, she’d whispered, when he’d made her say his name. What on earth had possessed her to say that? To his face? He’d been above her, inside her, looking down at her with the most incredible intensity, and she’d felt suddenly possessive.
He is yours, though.
She did think of him that way, it was true. She worked for him, but she hadn’t considered it work for some time, more like helping him and caring for him. Yes, she was a lovesick idiot in love with a king, but she was making his life easier and that’s exactly what she wanted.
But she should never have said it to his face. She’d rather die than have him know how she felt about him. Her love had to be kept secret, because it put him at a safe distance. Safe from her.
Augustine turned from his contemplation of the breakfast on the table and turned, smiling at her. It was one of his wonderful warm smiles, making her heart squeeze tight in her chest.
‘Good morning, beautiful.’ He came over to the bed and sat down on it next to her. He was wearing the same jeans and T-shirt combination he’d been wearing before and he was the one who was beautiful. Not her. ‘Are you hungry? I had the staff bring some breakfast to us. We need to talk about the wedding.’
She blinked, unconsciously wrapping the sheet around her a bit tighter. ‘A wedding? You mean you still want to marry me? After what I told you?’
