by Georgia Fox
"Do it harder...faster."
Despite everything they'd done together, to have him watch her do that
seemed the most erotic. She thought suddenly of that page she'd begun to read of Lady D'Arbanville's writing. Her breathing deepened.
"Fingers inside," he murmured, his gaze focused on her pussy. "Fuck yourself with those lovely long fingers. Yesss. That's the way. I can see how wet you are again. Look at that pretty cunny. You're still filled with my cum, aren't you?"
She nodded, biting her lips. Pushing her hips forward she quickened her fingers and felt her arousal mounting fast. Even the sound of her fingers moving wetly in and out added to her excitement.
"Wait now." He grabbed her hand and wouldn't let her finish. Instead he smirked, staring. "So pink, so wet and swollen with need. I can see it trembling." He leaned closer and released her hand again. "Now hold your cunt open for me and let me pet your clitty."
"My what?"
"Do it," he growled.
So with uncertain hands she held open her quim.
"Wider." And then, after making her wait, barely able to breathe, he slid his tongue inside to touch the tip against her naughty pearl. She almost cried out, but aware of the near escape they'd already had, she must choke it down.
Reaching for something to help her balance, she knocked her hands against the dressing screen and it tumbled over with a bang.
It was a very good thing that didn't happen earlier, she thought.
Yes, Ram was a risk-taker. She would have to rein him in a little. Somehow.
Chapter Fourteen
The Council of twelve men met that afternoon and Ariana asked for the coronation to be brought forward.
"My husband, King Septimus, would have wanted it thus. He would not want the country wallowing in grief any longer. He always looked to the future. The past is done, he would say, and the present is over the moment one thinks of it. But the future has promise. A man looking to the future is ever moving forward, and one must never stand still for that is when the arrow strikes."
Humboldt de Bonneville, of course, objected to the haste, as did Medlar, Diaz and Bosworth. The lines were clearly drawn, men taking sides, preparing for battle.
"Where is the Prince?" Bosworth demanded. "If you're afraid to have him here, why would you want the coronation brought forward? He'll have to return to the palace then and face his opposition."
"She has sent her son away with The Thruster's men. They have him in the country somewhere," muttered Lord Medlar.
This pricked Humboldt's temper to a thin rage that bristled his nose hairs. "You trust the boy with that uncouth beast and not with the members of your husband's council?"
Ariana faced him bravely. "Yes," she said simply. "I do."
"If the boy is ready to rule, he's ready to face the Council himself," said Medlar, smug.
She could see she would have to bring Gaston back to the palace. But when she told Ram later, he was not happy. "You should let me strike against your enemies now and dispose of them, before the Prince returns. You need a clean sweep."
"I told you I don't want bloodshed to mark the beginning of his reign."
"You might have no choice," he murmured. "He's a boy of nine. A slim, untried, innocent boy of nine."
She took his hand and kissed his rough knuckles, because they were alone for a moment and no one would see. "You care about Gaston, don't you?"
He winced. "Why would I not?"
"I thought you had no heart and were incapable of such caring."
"Hmph. It doesn't happen often."
Ariana decided not to tease him further, but it pleased her that his interest in this job was not merely based on access to her bed.
* * * *
He caught Lady D'Arbanville after supper. "You write, do you not, woman?"
Lips pursed, she glared for a moment. "Yes. Why? Plan to have me arrested for it?"
"I need you to send a message to Matthias Falconer for me and I can't write."
Her brows arched high. "Falconer?"
"I need him to speak to the Council. I can't. They won't pay heed to a common fellow like me, but he can speak their language, their words, and address them on their terms. The Queen needs him here. They're all men against her."
"Is there no one else who can write to that grumpy old man for you?"
"No. Ariana trusts you. Therefore so do I."
This seemed to appease her somewhat and so she agreed to write his message to the tutor.
"And put it into his hands yourself," Ram added. "Don't entrust the deed to anyone else."
At this she groaned deeply. "If I must. For Ari, I'll do it. But I have no desire to see that arrogant fellow and have him tut-tut at me, as he so likes to do."
"Excellent. And I must ask of you yet another good deed, my lady."
She rolled her eyes. "Indeed? The soul of my firstborn perhaps?"
"You exaggerate, madam."
"Yes. I'm a writer. That's what we do."
* * * *
That evening, Ram had her smuggled out of the palace in an empty barrel with help from his merry friend Slam Hardy, posed as a drunken tradesman. Slam took her back to the little room above the quayside again, where her lover joined her half an hour later.
"Your blonde friend has agreed to let us have the place until the coronation," he explained. "But we'll have to be careful. You can't be recognized on the street, so keep well covered."
Ariana nodded, thrilled by the secrecy. She'd never done one naughty thing in her life until a few days ago. Her only worry was that she might start enjoying herself too much.
It would all have to end one day, would it not?
When Slam had departed, she said, "You didn't ask me whether I wanted to come here with you. I thought I was being kidnapped."
"It's our agreement. Remember? I have you every night until your son is safe and secure on the throne."
"I don't believe I actually agreed to that."
"I believe you did."
What point was there in arguing? And it was certainly easier for them to be together outside the palace without being caught. She put her arms around him for a kiss. "I owe Lady D'Arbanville for her generosity. I know this is her sanctuary and now she's given it up for us."
"What does she do here anyway? Meet a lover?"
"No." Ariana gestured at the desk by the window. "She writes books. Oh, but you cannot tell anyone. It's a secret."
"Books?" He sniffed.
"Yes. Those things you don't care for. And it's a good thing you can't read these particular books. I think even you would be shocked."
Intrigued by that, he made her read some to him and before too long they were both naked, in bed, with Ariana reading aloud softly by candlelight. At least, she read for as long as it was possible, before Ram could no longer wait for all her attention.
* * * *
They stayed in their secret love nest for the next few days. Slam Hardy brought them supplies and news from the palace where he'd been posted as a spy.
"Nobody takes him seriously," Ram explained, "that's why he can come and go with nobody much caring. He gets into places and confidences where I could not."
Sitting in his lap, Ariana was peeling an apple and carefully slicing it to feed him a piece at a time. "He is handsome, your friend."
His eyes narrowed. "Is he?' Damn it. He knew Slam was too handsome for his own good.
"Yes. Very." Then, catching his expression, she laughed. "But I like you more, naturally."
"You'd better." He almost bit her finger when he took the next slice of apple.
"Has he no wife?"
"Christ no. Why would he want a wife to hold him down?"
"No sweetheart?"
"Thousands."
"Just like you then."
Ram chewed and swallowed. "We're both warriors. We go where we're needed. Can't be pinned down."
After considering this for a moment she cut another slice and said, "But y
ou have stayed in Ersadonia for ten years."
"Hmmm."
"What held you here then?" She held the slice toward his lips, but as he moved to take it in his teeth, she tossed it into her own mouth instead. Cockily, she said, "Well?"
"The King."
Head on one side she chewed her apple. "Why though? Why were you so loyal?"
"I was a skinny lad of eleven when he took me in to work. I had nothing, not even shoes upon my feet. Thanks to Septimus I knew when my next meal would come, and I repaid him the only way I could. I'm sure he told you about that."
"But there were times when you could have left. Times when you surely tired of being stuck in Ersadonia. I know sometimes you lost your temper and Septimus thought you might leave. He worried about it, because of your dark moods. The bull is raging today, he would say to me."
He snatched the remaining apple from her hand and took a large, juicy bite of it. "Mayhap I had a woman here. Mayhap she kept me in Ersadonia. Maybe she was the cause of my dark moods."
Now it was her turn to scowl. "Who?"
"Some pretty, obliging little thing. Well...not always so obliging." He paused, eyeing the knife in her hand— the one she'd been using to peel the apple. "But someone who kept me here."
"How could she? You told me no woman would ever hold your reins."
"Did I say that?"
"Yes."
Carefully he took the knife from her hand and set it down on the desk. "I said no woman had ever held my reins." He brought her fingertips to his lips. "If I remember correctly, I did invite you to try, my lady."
Her eyes widened. He could see himself reflected in the dark velvet pupils. "I wouldn't want you tamed, Ram Thruster."
Never had she looked more beautiful than she did today, perched on his knee, wearing only a shift, her hair loose, moving slightly in a breeze through the window.
"I have been trapped for my entire life in a cage of duty," she continued softly. "Now that I have finally had a taste of the outside world and freedom, I would not deny any soul that right."
He did not know how to reply to that. Words failed him, as they too often had when it came to this woman and his feelings for her.
She put her hands around his face, making him look up at her. "So who was she, this woman who held you to Ersadonia? I want her name."
He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You know it already, woman."
"Do I? I want to hear you say it."
But there was no answer for he had fastened his lips around her nipple through the shift and after a little while they were both too busy enjoying each other to resume this conversation.
* * * *
Soldiers marched along the quayside and she saw Lord Medlar riding with them. They were searching for her, but they did not enter any buildings. Yet.
Apollonia D'Arbanville was cleverly keeping them on their toes with false information and she was fearless. Why would she not be? Her husband may not have married her for love or passion, but he would always protect his wife and stand up for her.
In the meantime, Slam Hardy brought Matthias Falconer to town and smuggled Ariana into the church confessional to meet with him in secret.
"The Council is leaning toward a regency. They fear the instability a boy-king will bring to Ersadonia. But, of course, they will not allow you to stand up alone as Regent for your son. Many of them still view you as a foreigner here." He shook his head and sighed through the carved pattern of the confessional window. "Incredible as it may seem after ten years, they do not see you as Ersadonian. And to complicate matters, you have supposedly promised to wed both Humboldt de Bonneville and Lord Medlar."
"I have done nothing of the sort."
"In the case of Simeon Bosworth and Armando Diaz, they claim that you have embarked upon a scandalous affair with your bodyguard and that you should be stripped of your title and exiled from the country."
"That's one way to be rid of me," she muttered. And they would not let her take her son, of course. He belonged to Ersadonia and she would never see him again if she was chased over the border. They would have Gaston exactly where they wanted him. Totally at their mercy.
"They have no proof of this...dalliance...majesty. But they seem determined to find some. And determined men will often succeed. By one method or another. By fair means or foul. I spoke on your behalf but the deck was stacked against me."
She thanked him for his loyalty and asked about her son.
"He is in good spirits, majesty, and eager to ride back into the palace, to take his rightful throne."
"Do you think he is ready?"
"He is young, enthusiastic, full of ambition. But he still has much to learn. As far as he can be ready, he is. Probably as ready as any other man. With the right support behind him, he will manage as he grows. But that Council will not provide him with the support required. They will fight him every way. He needs his own Council, Majesty."
Back at the lodging house she thought about Falconer's comment and it troubled her. He seemed to agree with Ram that this Council must be changed. Ram had called it "a clean sweep", his ruthless meaning clear. Matthias was more subtle, but equally certain.
It was rare for the two men— both so different in their personalities and backgrounds— to agree. But on this matter they were united.
She said nothing to Ram and he asked her nothing; he seemed to know what needed to be done without her word.
That evening, when Slam Hardy arrived for his usual visit, Ram spoke with him out of her hearing and in the early hours of the morning she woke to find her lover gone. In his place there was Apollonia and a trunk full of the Queen's grandest regalia— a robe of gold and ivory silk, and a circlet of rubies.
"It's time, majesty," said her friend solemnly. "It's time for you to take back your palace."
* * * *
She rode with her son, his tutor Matthias Falconer, and the group of men who had been assembled in her name by Ram Thruster. There were now nine men, all of them well armed, skilled in combat, and prepared to fight. They brought with them a slightly hung-over Bishop, dragged from his breakfast at knifepoint by Slam Hardy— who then proceeded to eat much of the kidnapped fellow's breakfast on their route.
"Her Majesty, Queen Ariana has come to crown her son, in compliance with the dying wish of King Septimus," Matthias announced to the guards.
And she rode forward, composed and noble, glittering in her royal finery. "Open these gates in the name of King Septimus, your beloved sovereign."
The guards were too stunned to stop her or the procession. They, like the other citizens, were in a state of flux, unsure of whom they supported.
Her enemies had made two mistakes— they fought among themselves and therefore split the field of competition too wide, and they underestimated the power of a woman's resolve.
It was strange, as observers would later remark, that none of Ariana's most vocal opponents appeared immediately to halt her course. In fact, of the twelve-man Council, only two emerged eventually that day, belatedly throwing on their robes and in some confusion over the events taking place. Before any objection could be raised, the hurried coronation had occurred with witnesses. The crown was set upon young Gaston's head by the trembling hands of the Bishop, and Slam Hardy led a rowdy toast to the boy-king. It may not have been entirely formal, but it was done.
Long live the King.
* * * *
Gaston introduced her to the men who had been guarding him at Falconer's manor house in the country.
"They're teaching me how to fight on horseback," he exclaimed excitedly. "And I've learned a few card tricks too...oh, and some songs about—" One of the men coughed and Gaston added hurriedly, "But they're not for the ears of ladies like yourself, madam."
"I see. Despite all this, I hope you're still attending to your books with Master Falconer."
"Yes. I can do it all," he assured her, chin proudly aloft. "A King must be well-rounded and know all these things.
"
Well, she would just have to hope she'd done the right thing. It was too late now to look back. She was looking forward, to the future, as her husband would advise.
Ram's friends— The Queen's Men— as they now called themselves, all pledged their fealty to her and to King Gaston that day. They were an eccentric group from all walks of life, but they assured her of their deep loyalty to Ramon Villaverde and she knew he was not a man who made friends casually.
"Where is The Thruster?" Matthias asked her, as the celebrations began in earnest.
Where was he, indeed? She wanted him beside her today, but all she had was the memory of his last kiss, which had happened just before she awoke fully and found Apollonia standing in the room with her trunk of gowns. Now he was not there. There was fear in her heart, a terrible anxiety. Nevertheless, she kept a smile on her face as the courtiers came up to bow before their new King. A coup had been successfully staged that day, and she knew her lover had been as big a part of it as anyone.
He couldn't be far away.
* * * *
Captain Revellaux was vastly amused by the rope-bound contents of his hold. "What am I to do with these angry fellows?" he asked Ram as they shared a jug of rum on the deck of the war hero's ship.
"I think a nice long trip across the sea will do wonders for them all," came the reply. "Far, far across the sea. I would have preferred to drown 'em all in a sack, but perhaps a lengthy exile in the savage wilderness will serve the Queen's purposes adequately."
"And the woman?" asked Revellaux. He licked his lips. "She's a tasty piece."
Ram laughed at that. "Lady Marchand will find her own way to survive. She is skilled in the art of switching allegiance to the most powerful man at hand."
"Splendid. I like a woman who knows what she wants."
Distant church bells could be heard ringing out the celebratory peal announcing a new King, and both men paused to listen to the sound. Behind them the sun began to set, the heat of the day dispersing and sinking into the sea with it. From the Captain's anchored ship, the rooftops of Ersadonia's main port city was a jumble of dark red tiles and chimneys. Above that, separated from the city by golden fields, the palace walls rose up into the copper-toned sky. Black crows, seated again among the battlements, cawed and fluttered to the music.
