Alchemy

by Camille Oster

  At times, his arrogance was astounding. He obviously firmly believed that he could simply keep putting children in her belly. An involuntary fission shook down her spine, because she couldn’t entirely refute the fact that she might at some point want the heat and desire he generated in her.

  “If you have a brood of my children, your objection to our marriage will seem more and more paltry.” He smiled. He was toying with her.

  “You are much too assured with yourself.”

  “That you wish to be in my bed? It is where I wish you to be. It is the one thing we seem to do with complete unity.”

  A blush crept up Ashra’s cheeks.

  Lorcan sipped his claret. “I want you to know that aligning with me would never disadvantage your child—Tabain. I wouldn’t hurt someone you love. Whatever you think of me, know that is true. I’m not a complete brute. I respect his sovereignty over the Greve estate.”

  Ashra watched him. There was complete sincerity in his face. It would be a complete showing of faith putting her children’s future and prospects in his hands. That was what marrying him would entail. She would be handing over all her power to him.

  Chapter 33

  They dined on venison and it was delicious. The meal was perfect, the flavors perfectly married. Still, a part of her felt guilty for dining so well when there were people starving. At least she had forced the courtiers to provide the shortfalls. Although she could imagine that without her there, they would simply slip away from that responsibility.

  “I can’t stay here,” she finally said as the meal ended. “There is too much at stake.”

  “Why is it that you must take responsibility for steering the nation through this? None of this is your fault, and none of it is your responsibility.”

  “If not me, then who? I am actually one of the people that Raufasger felt such disdain for. If not for some chance of circumstance, I would be one of them, out there, hungry and reduced to dependency, waiting for bread so I could have something to eat.”

  Lorcan exhaled and twisted his glass of claret by the stem. “The wheat will be delivered. None of us can afford mass uprisings right now. Wierstoke knows this just as much as you do. You don’t need to be there to oversee it. As I said, self-interest always shines through.”

  He rose and indicated for her to do the same, taking her to the next room, which was a parlor. He poured himself a whiskey from the mirrored tray where the liquor decanters stood. Ashra sank down on one of the plush sofas, resting along the side of it. Sitting upright in a chair had taken effort. Reluctantly, she had to admit that despite being here under duress, there was a comfortableness between them.

  “Still, you can’t just simply keep me. I am not yours to keep, and even if I were, I would never agree to be hidden away in the country.”

  “You used to be.”

  “That was different.”

  “Why?”

  Ashra didn’t actually have a ready answer. “Because I am not the young girl I was. I know too much now. I know the threats, and I will never rely on a man to manage them for me.” She looked him in the eye to communicate how serious she was.

  “Was it not you who once said what a lonely life it must be not trusting anyone? That you would never want to go through life that way.”

  Ashra smiled and closed her eyes. He was using her words against her. How much had she changed in that time, mere months?

  With her eyes still closed, she could feel the weight of him coming down on the sofa. “I think we are very much coming together,” he said.

  “Oh?” she said with surprise

  “You are moving toward my position, and I am moving toward yours. We are meeting in the middle.”

  “Doesn’t count if it’s just words. How is the emotional development going? Any twinges of guilt for forcing your will on others, putting your own concerns ahead of everyone else’s? It is all fine and dandy to say so, but actually doing it is so much harder. Trust is such a big part of it, and let’s face it, you don’t trust me to tie my own shoelaces.”

  “Perhaps I am simply not willing to take any risks. Risk-taking is not the same as trust.”

  “Some things are worth fighting for.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “And this has become my priority. This is worth fighting for.” She hadn’t intended on him using her statement against her, but he warped and twisted it to suit his purposes. Lightly grabbing her ankle, he brought it to his lap and began to rub. Ashra’s eyes swam closed, enjoying this too much to pull her foot away. Her feet ached unbearably and his fingers were so very soothing. Bastard.

  “I didn’t mean kidnapping, lying and cheating,” she mumbled.

  “How am I cheating?”

  “How about the whole: my feelings are softening. I am going to suffer if you don’t give me what I want.”

  “Not so much softening right now,” he said. “Perhaps more the opposite.” His hand stroked up her ankle, sending shivers of sensation up her body. Moving her foot, she gently, but firmly, pushed his hand back toward him, pinning it to his side.

  “Do you truly think I would make such an awful king?” There was an earnestness in his voice. Was he toying with her? Was all this part of his strategy? “What is it I have done to make you believe I am such a terrible person?”

  “If you cannot cajole or manipulate, how about getting what you want by royal edict?”

  “There is more to this than just you and me. Besides, if I were king, wouldn’t that make you queen?” His eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “I have absolutely no interest in being queen.”

  “You act like you do.”

  She raised up on her elbows. “Do you think you could stomach the changes I would make? Wierstoke would balk, and the rest would follow. I would actually be a liability to you.”

  “The radical queen. Join with me.” He leaned toward her, reaching for her.

  “No,” she said and Lorcan groaned with frustration. “I would be a liability. You know that, don’t you?”

  “We would temper each other. It is what we do.” His lips pressed to hers. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want it. She ached for the kiss. It was just the broader deal she couldn’t deal with. The kiss deepened, his tongue reaching into her mouth. This part was easy, much too easy. At least, right now, there would be no devastating consequences. That had already happened. The idea of him siring a whole brood was more disturbing, but it wouldn’t be an outcome tonight, and right now she felt selfish.

  “I’m a terrible person,” she panted as his lips traveled lower, teasing the sensitive skin of her neck. She should absolutely not be succumbing to him, this man who was using her for his own objectives, wrapping it up so prettily in joint aspirations, trusting alliances and even love. Love, the concept he had adamantly said he would never have anything to do with.

  The gown was so flared, it gave him no resistance at all, although it was tight around her bust, the material now fighting her deep, ragged breaths.

  His warm hand stroked up her thigh, past her drawers and up along her bump. His head drew lower. “I never thought I would find the pregnant form so sexy, but it is every definition of luscious. I worship every curve.” He moved lower down her, his mouth traveled lower, taking the pearl in her wet folds and mercilessly kneading it. She gasped with the exquisite sensation. He was right. This part they could do in absolute unison.

  He teased her mercilessly, until she couldn’t breathe and became enslaved to the culminating pleasure. Powerful surges washed over her, drawing her down in the undertow, fruitlessly gasping for air. Bliss flowed through every part of her, both enlivening and sating the hunger for him she had consistently denied.

  Tremors of pleasure resonated throughout her body as he shifted to her side. Bad things happened whenever she succumbed to him, but she couldn’t help it. That want was there and he played it like a tune.

  Searching lips found hers and she craned her neck to reach back as he settled behind her. The buttons at
her back gave as he undid them, giving her frame room to breathe, but also room for his hand to cup her breast, slowly knead until fire ignited in her again and she pressed into the touch. Merciless fingers teased the stiff bud to aching hardness until her breath drew tight again.

  Languid kisses stroked along her shoulder and his hardness pressed into her backside. The dress barely covered her now and she arched into him, feeling the rising tension of wanting him properly. With unhurried movements, he readied himself until he pressed into her hot, molten core. Surging sensations enslaved her again, claiming every part of her consciousness. It was just him and her that existed in that moment. Everything else faded away.

  Deep strokes worked in and out of her, building the urgent need inside her. It had been so long since she’d given into this, had refused to acknowledge the dreams that had wanted him, the jealousy when she’d thought he was sharing this with someone else.

  “Ashra,” he whispered as strong arms held her to him. Strong pulses clenched around him inside her, seeking to draw him closer, to take more. Her pleasure mounted as he faltered—harsh, ragged groans of pleasure joining his release. Her own release was stronger than the last, the waves extending on and on, washing through her with crashing ferocity.

  His arms stayed around her as the torrent calmed, shuttering after quakes wracking both of their bodies. He didn’t move to pull away from her, softening inside her, still kissing along the back of her neck.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his voice roughened. If she did, she wouldn’t sleep that night. Part of her knew she shouldn’t, shouldn’t have let this unfold at all, but another part wanted a night together. Not some dark and shaded corner, but a night together where they kept the outside world at bay. Although sated, her body still wanted him.

  The problem was that if she stayed that night, she would be staying the next as well. It was only sex, but it was compelling. Maybe there was a little more than just sex. She wanted him, just for a while. For now, could she have her cake and eat it too? No doubt, she would have to pay for this at some point. It was just that they seemed to fit so well together. In truth, he was the only person she could see herself with. She just didn’t know if what she felt was true—if this was true.

  Ashra turned and faced him, tucking her hands under her head. He looked beautiful like this, flushed and undone.

  Chapter 34

  Ashra woke when she felt Roisen move. Mild sun was streaming in through the window, showing it was dawn. A week they had spent together in this house. During the day, he would see to the estate, then come home and they would dine. All in all, they spent more time in his bedchamber than anywhere else.

  But today was different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was a change.

  Roisen shifted, placing his wrist behind his head. Reaching out, she felt his warmth under her hand.

  “This is over now, isn’t it?” she asked. This week had been a reprieve, a step away from responsibility.

  “I have to go back.”

  “I do too.”

  He shifted to his side, his skin almost glowing in the soft light from the windows. “It isn’t safe there for you.”

  “It isn’t safe there for you either. It isn’t safe for anyone.” Ashra shifted up on her elbow. “And there is too much danger that we fall back into the same old patterns.”

  “As lovely as your idea of governance without a leader, it’s only a dream.”

  This was an argument they’d had over and over again. All the time, she’d hoped he would come around to her way of thinking. For a while, it had seemed as if he’d been accepting her position. But his way was that power was the only thing that kept them safe. The more, the better. He wasn’t giving up on his campaign to rule, even if he saw and acknowledged her side of the argument. He just didn’t believe in it.

  Reaching his hand over to her cheek, he kissed her. Soft lips pressed to hers and she felt the desire that beckoned underneath. For a week, she’d given into that desire, had nurtured and fed it, all the time knowing that their fundamental differences had in no way been resolved.

  “Don’t leave me here,” she pleaded. She didn’t plead because she felt powerless; she pleaded because she wanted him to consider her wants.

  “When things are sorted, when they’ve calmed down, you can come back.”

  Disappointment bit deep inside her. He wouldn’t budge on having his way on this. From his perspective, he wanted her to stay here, give birth to their child and wait for him to return, or be called to him. It was everything he wanted, even perhaps more than securing his throne and putting him in a better position to claim the throne. Her lands would make him more powerful than Wierstoke.

  Tabain, however, didn’t measure into the equation at this point, and wouldn’t for at least twenty years. At some point, Roisen would honor what he’d said and the Greve land would revert to him, provided there was no risk to the Lorcan position. He might even tell her to bring him here, so she could care for him under his protection.

  Roisen hadn’t compromised on anything he wanted.

  As she watched, he rose to dress, pulling on the dark clothes, reverting to the ambitious and ruthless creature of court. A part of her had to wonder if this had all simply been a seduction. He had, after all, placed her exactly in the position he wanted. The tender lovemaking had touched her heart, she had to admit, but she still didn’t know how much of it was real and how much was artifice.

  “You should rest,” he said. “I will have them bring up breakfast for you.”

  “Don’t go,” she said, rising from the bed.

  “I have to. I can’t be away longer. There is so much to do.”

  Shifting closer to her, he kissed her, his clothes cool against her bare skin. They felt like a barrier, but it was more than the clothes. They were moving out of this little bubble of softness and togetherness. The world beyond was intruding, or more correctly, was being invited in. For now, she was to be stashed away, kept out of harm's way.

  His warm hand stroked her bump. “Take good care of yourself,” he said. “All will be well, you’ll see. Just let me fix things.”

  By fix, he meant defeat Wierstoke, and by stealing her away, he had placed her cards on the table. Even if she’d fought him tooth and nail, the fact that she was here with him, in his manor, meant she was on his team, irrespective of whether she had agreed or not.

  In a way, he sought to repeat what she’d had with Torunn. She would be here, tending to the children and the estate, while he was off being a courtier. The problem was that she wasn’t the same creature anymore, and she didn’t want the things that he did. Those differences were being spackled over by his will.

  Ashra felt her eyes well up as he walked to the door. He turned and looked at her. What was it he thought he saw—a dutiful wife? What she felt was betrayal. In a way, she couldn’t blame him. He was forcing everything to be what he wanted, but it didn’t make it so.

  Maybe it was her that had gambled, hoping he would change to accommodate her, but he hadn’t. Nothing had changed and it hurt.

  Moving to the window, she looked down below, seeing the carriage prepared for him. He appeared and quickly climbed inside, looking up at her when the carriage took off. There was only one carriage and he was taking it with him, stranding her here.

  It was an imprisonment in silks and warm comfort, but it was still an imprisonment. The bitterness of it hurt. Until a few hours ago, there had still been hope, but those had been for nothing. The means justified the ends in his book, even if the means included seduction and soft whisperings.

  How many times had she told him that seduction wasn’t enough? Yes, his tender touch had melted her, but it still wasn’t enough. She wasn’t the kind of person that gave up on her beliefs for her own comfort and benefit—even love. He didn’t understand that about her, even if he was exactly the same. Her wanting him to give up his ambitions hadn’t made him do it, but he still wasn’t willing to give
up on having her. He wanted them both.

  Looking back, she saw the messy bed they had stayed in. This reprieve was over, the bubble of fruitless hopes dashed. The room smelled of him, reflected his masculinity in its décor. In here, she’d hidden for a while, but it was time to put that selfishness to side.

  The problem was that she didn’t know exactly what to do. Lorcan was probably right that the danger at court was only escalating. Wierstoke wasn’t going to give up, and neither was Lorcan. This baby was also coming. It could distract her completely, probably something Lorcan was banking on.

  Dressing, she made her way downstairs. An elderly woman was waiting for her in the dining hall, slim with neatly combed gray hair.

  “Hello, my lady,” she said with a sharp curtsy. “I am Arele Wishan. The lordship thought it best there be someone here for you, especially as, I understand it, you are coming close to term. I am an accomplished midwife.”

  Ashra ground her teeth. There was to be a prison warden as well, it seemed. The woman watched as Ashra moved to the breakfast buffet table and also as she returned to the table, apparently noting everything she ate. How was she supposed to eat under these circumstances? She completely lost her appetite.

  Rising from her chair with her food untouched, Ashra walked out. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “I don’t think that’s advisable in your condition,” the woman said sternly. Had Roisen realized the woman was a totalitarian dragon? Probably not, Roisen did these things softly. The woman would have appeared a very amenable creature in front of him, Ashra was sure. But now, with orders, this woman intended on fulfilling them.

  “Do you think so?” Ashra said. “Get my coat,” she said sternly to the manservant. This woman had no idea who she was dealing with.

  The wind was brisk outside and Ashra walked, ignoring the woman who was strenuously calling her name in disbelief. Roisen didn’t really know who he was dealing with either, it seemed. Did he really think she would put up with this? Perhaps spending a week in bed with him had given him a false sense of security. Seduction was never going to temper her. She had told him that on a number of occasions.