by Randol, Anna
Ian’s lips made her skin hum with sensation. With pleasure.
She ran her hands over his chest, then down his back. Smooth. Hard. Hers.
His hands found her breast and she moaned at the sensation, arching against his hand. “There may be some things I cannot change, but I can do something about this blasted wrapper.” He moved his hands to the buttons down the front, freeing one after the other, stripping the dress from her shoulders and letting it slide to the ground. “If we don’t have much time, then I don’t want to waste any moment you could be gloriously naked.”
She stilled as he removed her shift. And so did he. His gaze traveled down her naked body. “Hell’s bells, Jules. You’re perfection.” He caught her up and carried her over to the bed with three swift strides.
He dropped her in the center with a grunt. “Sorry, that was supposed to be more romantic but my arm stings like the devil.”
When he started to lower himself next to her, she caught him and rolled him onto his back. “Then why don’t you lie here and rest?”
When she pressed a row of kisses down the center of his chest he groaned. He tucked his hand behind his head, a grin on his face. “So I can just lie here and do nothing?”
Oh, he thought to taunt her, did he? She could play his game. “Yes.” She leaned over him, pinning his arms over his head and bringing her breasts inches from his lips. “You are not allowed to do anything.”
He lifted his head to kiss her breast but she pulled back. “Ah-ah. Still.”
His already hooded gaze narrowed until his eyes were mere slits. “Sorry, Your Highness. I’m afraid you have no authority in this room.”
She squealed in a rather embarrassing manner as he suddenly flipped her onto her back. “Your shoulder,” she protested.
“To hell with my shoulder. I plan to enjoy every inch of you before the morning comes.” His lips ruled hers, teasing and tasting. And his hands skimmed over her hips.
She bucked against him. “Hurry.” There was a pressure growing inside her that she wasn’t sure she could bear.
But again he ignored her plea and listened to her body, seeming to know exactly where to touch. Which area needed more pressure. The warmth of his mouth. The gentle rasp of his teeth.
And he proved as apt a teacher in this as he had in spy work. She was able to quickly return the pleasure, learning his body’s reactions. She loved the tension along his spine. The thick shudder that rumbled through him when she did something he particularly liked. The way he briefly clenched his eyes shut.
But when his hand slipped between her legs, the bliss was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. And so for the first time in her life, she let go. All the responsibility. The duty. The burdens.
Nothing mattered but being in this bed with Ian.
The humming in her body increased until it danced on her skin. Blurred her vision. She could do nothing but try to keep breathing.
Ian’s grin had disappeared and he watched her with raw possession. “Tell me you’ll remember this. When you are being bedded by your prince, tell me that this will be in your thoughts.”
“Yes.” It was nearly impossible to speak yet she managed to force the words out. “My heart has chosen you even if I never can.” She never wanted him to think that she had parted from him by choice.
His fingers increased their tempo.
Her hands clenched in his hair, needing an anchor to keep her in once piece. She needed something to hold on to so she didn’t fly apart. She tried his shoulder. His waist. But none of them were enough. The wildness tossing within her only grew.
Then it was too late.
Ecstasy slammed though her body, pouring through her veins, robbing her of her thoughts.
When her brain could function again, Ian was still there. His hands tracing slow caresses over her skin.
“That was glorious,” he said.
She followed the curve of his smile with her finger. “For me. I don’t think it was nearly as pleasurable for you.” She ran her hand up the front of his thigh. “And fairness is a virtue in a queen, is it not?”
He thought he managed to nod his head. She was wrong. It had been pleasurable for him. Watching her as she’d come apart in his arms had been the most exquisite thing he’d ever experienced. He’d damned near cried. But that might have been awkward to explain so he’d refrained. Instead, he poured his adoration into his hands.
She might not need him after this mission was over, but she needed him in that moment.
Now her hands were on him. He’d thought to gently lead her along the paths of passion, but she was more than able to find her own way, stripping him of the rest of his clothing. Exploring his body with the same determination with which she did everything.
Ian bit back a groan as her hand finally found his arousal. She ran her finger along his length, then swirled her finger over the top. And when her hand wrapped around him and she gave a tentative stroke, he barely held on to his control.
And she looked damnably thrilled by that, too. Her eyes glittered as she pleasured him with her renewed arousal, but with something deeper as well.
She needed him. She needed this. She took as much pleasure pleasing him as he had her.
It was that emotion that made him lose control; he bucked under her hand and she gripped him tighter as his body exploded with bliss, spilling on the soft skin of her stomach. The room spun, tilting everything about to and fro until he finally collapsed on top of her.
When his heart stopped trying to escape his chest, he rolled off her and retrieved a wet cloth. He slid it over her skin, fascinated by the way her skin pebbled under his ministrations.
“Is it always as good as this?” she asked.
“No.” She was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
She dropped her head back, her soft sigh spilling over his skin. “Oh.”
There would be no sadness in her voice, not while he had the power to banish it. So he lowered his head to her breast. “The rest is even better. Shall I show you?”
Chapter Thirty-five
Juliana didn’t think she could move. Every fiber in her muscles had been dissolved and replaced by strands of pure pleasure.
She burrowed as close as she could to Ian until, if she held very still, they seemed like one being.
She didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to do anything that would signal an end to this. That would make them remember this couldn’t last.
Because nothing would ever be more important. More perfect.
There was a loud knock on the door. “Your Highness?”
It was Apple.
“May I come in, Your Highness?”
After a quick kiss to her neck, Ian rolled out of bed and yanked on his trousers and tossed her shift at her.
“You may enter,” Juliana called out as she slipped the garment over her head.
Apple waited another half a minute before opening the door. By then, Ian had his shirt on and was sitting by the window.
He’d even smoothed out his section of the bed with a quick tug so there was no evidence he’d just taught her of passion beyond imagining.
Apple kept her gaze straight ahead as she entered.
Juliana remained silent. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid she would sound aggravated at the situation and Apple would think it was directed at her instead.
Luckily, Ian seemed to have maintained his normal charm. “Did you drag a laundress out of bed to ask about the linen?”
Apple’s shoulders relaxed when she saw him clothed, but then she seemed to find her toes of great interest. “I only had a short time to invent an excuse.” She dug the toe of her slipper into the carpet. “I didn’t intend to come back, of course, but Princess Leucretia insisted I inform you that Prince Wilhelm has returned.”
Juliana’s stomach dipped at the mention of the other man. As if reality had suddenly descended onto her insides. “He is not supposed to return until tomorrow night.”
> “Apparently, he had a change of heart. He is most desirous to speak with you.”
“Now?” The room was dark so she had to squint to see the clock.
“It is only just past midnight, Your Highness. Many of the men are still lingering over their cigars.”
Even Ian’s residual warmth was gone from the bed now. “Did my aunt say why?”
“No, Your Highness. Shall I fetch you a gown?”
Juliana looked to Ian, needing something from him, some sign. Anger. Jealousy. But he was watching Apple, his face carefully blank.
“Yes, the cream silk. It will be the quickest.”
Apple hurried into the dressing room.
Ian didn’t look at her. He didn’t wrap her in his arms and demand that she stay by his side. He didn’t consign Wilhelm to the devil. He remained by the window, one hand resting on the frame, the other on his hip.
Neither of them spoke.
Finally, Juliana kicked off her blankets. “I can stay if—”
“Go.” He dragged his hand through his hair in a rough motion that left it sticking out in uneven spikes. “We both knew this would happen.”
She wanted to smooth his hair. She wanted to pull him back into bed. But the key to her county’s future might be awaiting her downstairs.
The only problem was that the key to her happiness was here.
She reached out and laid her hand on his back. “I—”
He surged to his feet, eyes blazing. His hands gripped her shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Damnation, Juliana, only the slimmest of self-control is keeping me from tying you to that bed and ruining you so completely you would have no choice but to choose me. Go.”
She fled like a coward.
Apple helped her into the gown, then tucked her hair into the simple knot from the first day.
Wilhelm could be her solution. With each breath, she tried to steel herself to do what she must. She’d never thought herself selfish, but now she had to admit that it might be one of her most fatal flaws because she didn’t want to do this.
She wanted her heart to remain whole. She wanted to be happy. She wanted Ian.
But she had to chose Wilhelm. Her country, her people’s lives were at stake.
She could do this.
Her parents had sacrificed their lives. She would sacrifice her choice of marriages.
She would do this.
The litany kept her feet progressing until she found Wilhelm and her aunt in the library. When Juliana entered, they stood. Wilhelm bowed deep, his face creasing into a smile.
Leucretia nodded. “I’ll just leave you two alone for a few minutes.”
Then she slipped out.
Wilhelm bowed again. “I know you had retired for the evening I hope I didn’t wake you.”
At least she could be truthful in this. “No, I was still awake.” Gasping, moaning, and screaming, to be precise.
Wilhelm reached for her hand. His hands were warm and strong, callused on the fingertips from his music, but Juliana wanted to yank hers away. Even holding his hand seemed disloyal to Ian.
Which should have been backward. Why didn’t everything she’d done with Ian make her feel like she’d betrayed Wilhelm?
Because she loved Ian.
The words twisted and roiled in her brain, gaining strength like approaching thunder.
No. Ian was simply a man she admired. A man she fancied. A man she lusted after. A man she cared for.
Even as she fought the realization, she also had to accept that some part of her had known for a long, long time.
But now, she had to forget she’d ever labeled that emotion. It had to be set aside.
Wilhelm led her to a settee, and when they sat he still held her hand.
He studied her closely. “I found the violin was suddenly less important than other things.”
She begged her heart to skip. Just once. She would have accepted the slightest bump.
Nothing.
“I’m not a man to waste time when I decide on a course. I believe we are both in need of a spouse. I find you in tune with myself. I think we could be compatible.”
Compatible?
“You know the situation with Lenoria?”
“Yes. I can guarantee five thousand soldiers to aid your cause once we are wed.”
Compatible?
“Why do you wish to wed me?”
He looked a bit baffled. She suspected he hadn’t planned beyond his declaration of compatibility. “It is expedient.”
“Why?”
“That blasted Miss Scott says it is.”
“Wait, who?”
“My daughter’s tutor. The one who claims she can help my daughter learn to move about in the world unaided. Did you know she took her away from my house to a public inn of all places? Can you believe it? My daughter has never left that house in her entire life. It isn’t wrong to shelter her. I’m protecting her—” He tapped his fingers against his knee in a rhythmic pattern, like he was playing the pianoforte in his head. He probably was.
Whether he realized it or not, he had more passion for this governess than he did for the woman he was about to propose to.
“I cannot do this.” Not to Wilhelm. Not to Ian.
Not to herself.
The words should have been agonizing. Damning. Instead, they floated off her tongue, lightened her soul.
“What?” Wilhelm asked as if he genuinely thought he’d misheard her.
“I cannot marry you. I’m sorry for misleading you, but I’m afraid my affections are engaged elsewhere.” True, she hadn’t said where, but she’d spoken of them aloud.
Finally.
And it had felt wonderful.
“Ah.” Wilhelm leaned back on the settee slightly. “Then it isn’t because you find me a pompous and overbearing block of stone?”
Juliana was a bit confused at his phrasing but she shook her head. “No.”
“Ah, good. Then she was wrong.”
“How old is this Miss Scott?”
“That’s the thing. She’s barely out the schoolroom herself. She is hardly an authority on men. Then she has the gall to try to drag my daughter to this house party to harangue—” Wilhelm’s fingers pinched, silencing his words. “I’d ask you reconsider my offer.”
She should ask him to reconsider his governess, but she remained silent on that. “I’m sorry. I cannot accept.”
Wilhelm was somber, but hardly seemed destroyed by her refusal. “Will this man bring the military alliance you need?”
“No.”
“Then what will you do about Lenoria?”
If Sommet could find a way to get both nations to agree to accept Gregory, that meant that there was space for negotiation despite what they’d been telling her this past year. “I’ll stop waiting for a prince and save my country myself.”
He could hang the man by his bollocks from the chandelier. He could use his entrails to . . . to . . . but the tortures Ian concocted for Juliana’s prince did nothing to calm him.
Next, he tried reminding himself that Juliana had never been his.
But that didn’t work, either.
She had been his this evening. She’d given herself to him. And now he’d thrust her into the arms of another man.
A bloody rich, handsome, noble prince.
“You are proving to be a blooming disappointment,” Apple said. She handed him a slice of bread she’d pilfered from the kitchen.
“Sorry, I’m too bloody bitter to care.”
Apple snatched back the bread. “Lawks, but you’re hopeless.”
“Again, my skin is like leather. And mind your accent, it’s slipping.” But that was because she was comfortable with him. And he found a tickle of pleasure at the thought. He reached for the bread, only to have her neatly dodge him.
“All them stories about how the Wraith took whatever he wanted. A bunch of rubbish.”
He might be feeling sorry for himself but he wasn’t about to let her impugn his reputa
tion as a thief. “Those stories are true.” As were many more she had never heard.
“Then why don’t you get the princess?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then you only get things that are easy? Your reputation’s falling to bits here.”
He stared at her. “I’m trying to be noble.”
“You aren’t noble. You’re clever. That’s a right touch better.”
“I don’t deserve her.”
“Not even close. But she likes you. Are you really going to give up a woman who’s that batty?”
A slow smile grew on Ian’s face.
No. He was not.
And he wasn’t going to leave her in the arms of another man a single moment longer. While he couldn’t stride through the corridors to retrieve her, he could skulk very rapidly.
But as he reached for the handle on the door, it opened.
Juliana strode in. Her face was bright. Her cheeks glowing.
He couldn’t be too late. He refused to believe he was too late. “That was quick.”
“I refused him.”
“You what?”
“He proposed. Well, almost. And I told him no. I told him my affections were engaged elsewhere.”
Apple winked and darted from the room, shutting the door behind her.
Ian strode over to Juliana. “Where precisely are these feelings engaged?”
She hooked a finger in the waistband of his trousers. “My moaning didn’t give it away earlier?”
He slid his hands up her arms. “There was quite a lot of it. Perhaps I missed that specific moan.”
“Do you want to try to find it again?”
More than he wanted food. He tucked his finger under her chin. “Jesting aside, what do you want?” He wasn’t sure he could manage the same restraint this time, not when his heart was racing, ready to burst like a sack of week-old wine.
The smile on her face was radiant. “You.”
“Then you’ve got me.” She didn’t seem to be bothered by the eagerness in his kiss. She tilted her face instead, deepening it.
“I’m a scoundrel and a reprobate,” he reminded her as he worked his way down her throat.
