by Sarah Makela
With the various activities that went on at court, she knew what sex encompassed, but she’d never experienced it herself. She wasn’t sure what he expected of her. Perhaps remaining in the moment and being an active participant as she’d seen from other females during the various orgies at court?
Doyle pulled at the strings of her corset and shoved aside the fabric covering her breasts. He bent his head to her chest, teasing her hardened nipples with his lips as he worked at the cord on his pants. With them out of the way, he nudged her thighs open even wider. His thick cock pressed against her entrance, and she tensed in surprise.
How would she be able to accommodate him?
“Relax, Niamh,” he murmured against her flesh. “I won’t hurt you.” Positioning his hips first, he eased inside her in one clean stroke, breaking past the wall of her virginity.
She gripped his shoulder, biting back a whimper.
He froze on top of her. Disbelief filled his eyes for a moment before he blinked the emotion away. “You’re a virgin…were a virgin.”
Niamh nodded, not sure what else to do. The pain of him penetrating her had eased, and she wanted more from him. Did he think she’d fooled him? A woman of her high station typically didn’t engage in sex, because her virginity was expected to be given to a future husband. Some did, but the queen wouldn’t be happy with her giving her body so freely. Yet she’d chosen Doyle.
He opened his mouth as if to speak further, but instead he covered her lips with a kiss. He eased away before he slid back inside her, taking on an easy rhythm.
She wrapped her arms around him, kneading the steel muscles cording his back. He was so hard, and yet capable of being so gentle with her.
He slipped his hand between them and rubbed her clit in circles. She gasped at the building pleasure he stirred within her. She met his thrusts, and with each passing moment, his caresses became firmer and faster.
He broke the kiss. His breath came out in harsh pants, mirroring her own.
Climax climbed closer, tensing her limbs, and she dug her nails into Doyle’s back. Her pussy clenched as release ripped through her. She opened her mouth, but he smothered her cries with a kiss.
He thrust within her a few more times before pulling out. His body was tense as he came in the grass between her legs.
She was disappointed, but logically she knew neither of them needed a bastard child, even if the act dampened the amazing moment between them a little. From what rumours there were around the court about him, she knew why he more than anyone would be careful about those possibilities.
Doyle helped her up. The way he held himself had changed. He was a bit edgier now.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sweeping her gaze over him as he adjusted his clothing.
“Nothing. No need to worry,” Doyle said, his voice steady and neutral. He wasn’t telling the truth. Something had changed between them. Only a moment ago, he had been smiling and warm. Now he’d resumed his professional role, as if the warmth she’d glimpsed had cooled before her very own eyes.
She sighed, allowing Doyle to help her dress. Had she mistaken his intentions and feelings for something else?
Part of her wanted to run into her room and slam the door, but when they made it indoors, her cook had already prepared dinner, and Sadb and Maeve were at her side ushering her to the table before it became cold.
Doyle had politely declined dining with her, but after the fussy cook and maidens had started talking, trying to convince him to stay, he’d seemed to give up on getting away from her dining table. Part of her wished they hadn’t kept him there. She’d at least have had more peace. All she currently felt was the warm tingling sensation between her legs and a wanton desire for more of him, even if he didn’t want her.
As they dined, Doyle kept his eyes focused everywhere but in her direction. He stared down the hallway, at the windows, took in the manor’s décor, everything but her. They talked little during the meal, and she neither felt nor saw any of the warmth he’d exhibited before.
“Is something on your mind?” she asked, trying to understand what had gone wrong. They’d both received happiness from their…encounter, right?
He finally met her gaze, and she almost wished he hadn’t. He looked at her hard, but he appeared more distracted than anything. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure I didn’t do anything—” She cut her words off and glanced around. If she spoke too much about what had transpired between them, she could get in trouble. She shouldn’t have made love to him when he was far from an acceptable suitor, yet she couldn’t help but fancy him.
He raised an eyebrow and glanced towards the kitchen where silence had befallen the previous chatter. “No, I’m just a little preoccupied.”
Niamh felt helpless to figure out what she’d done, if anything. He barely tried to convince her otherwise, but from the way he acted, there had to be something. Sighing, she shoved her plate away, no longer hungry.
She made her way to her room. The hair stood up on the back of her neck—she knew Doyle was watching her. His goblet clinked onto the table and his chair scraped the floor.
She turned at the chamber’s door to see him behind her. “My maidens will find an appropriate place for you to sleep. Good evening.”
His lips twisted into a frown, and he glanced over her shoulder. “The windows in your room…”
“I know how to check them.” She shut the door in his surprised face.
Chapter Four
Doyle stared at the closed door. He placed his fist against it, wanting to beat it down, but he’d leave her alone. After what he’d taken from her…
Distraction plagued his thoughts. His parents had abandoned him shortly after he’d been born. Those who had trained him had drilled into him the need to not get involved with anyone related to his assignments. He couldn’t allow himself that with Niamh. He’d dealt with his body’s desires, but there was no room for emotions in his field of work.
He’d told himself not to feel anything for her when he’d first seen her, and yet their moment in the garden had made him happy for the first time in a long time.
The amazing passion he’d shared with Niamh was something he hadn’t expected. However, he’d let himself get distracted, leaving them open for attack—physical and political—and putting them in a very compromising position.
Their encounter had also awoken his need to keep his distance and not spawn a bastard child like him—one who was welcome in neither court, and was cast off. That sobered him. Yet no matter what his head told him, he knew there was something about Niamh. The seductive magic when they’d pressed against the tree, the soft glow of her skin—he’d been caught in her web.
He pulled away from the door. Niamh’s elven maidens quietly watched him. The younger, slightly shorter one had curiosity in her eyes, while the older sister appeared unsure of him.
“If you would follow us, sir, we’ll help you get settled here,” Maeve said.
He bowed his head. “Thank you, ladies.”
While they showed him around and set up a bed near the hearth for him, he couldn’t stop thinking about Niamh’s insistence on knowing what was wrong. While he knew he shouldn’t connect with her, he hadn’t enjoyed brushing her off.
Their union could have consequences, especially with Queen Titania involving herself in Niamh’s matchmaking. The Queen might have him locked up, or worse. He’d learnt that much from Sadb and Maeve’s chatter. If he failed, he wouldn’t just be screwing up his assignment, he’d be losing someone he was beginning to care for.
That was too much to bear.
He needed to refocus. Niamh could wait until he cleared his head. If he didn’t, they’d have to go back to court. He wouldn’t be able to keep them safe, and he wouldn’t chance his emotions becoming their downfall.
“If you need anything, let us know, sir,” Maeve said, looking up at him from beneath lowered blonde lashes.
Her sister elbowed her discreetly in
the side, but Maeve cast Sadb a look before curtsying to him.
Sadb curtsied then walked off towards the kitchen and Niamh’s humming cook.
“Good evening, sir.” Sighing, Maeve followed her sister and disappeared into the kitchen.
Doyle stood in the main hall alone. He’d been in other Seelie manors, and Niamh’s home was more neutral as opposed to overly bright and cheery. Only the grand garden convinced him of her heritage. Then again, he had felt something in her during the magical spark…something darker.
He pondered that as he checked the entrances and windows for the night. The sun was only now dropping below the horizon, but he knew nightfall would descend quickly. If the fae who’d attacked her had been Unseelie, he would attack again under the cover of night, and having the locks in place helped take the edge off Doyle’s nerves.
He sat at the dining table and waited, hoping for an uneventful night.
* * * *
Niamh leaned away from her door. The pinch of jealousy she’d felt at Maeve’s interaction with him unnerved her. He’d been pleasant, but he hadn’t talked much. That had kept her from losing her nerve and stomping out of her room to give him a piece of her mind.
From the chair’s soft scrape on the floor, she guessed he had seated himself at the table again.
Her thoughts returned to the garden. It had seemed like a genuine connection, but now she wondered if he’d only been satisfying his needs. He’d been the one to instigate it…or had she?
She sat on her bed and replayed the events over and over again. They’d shared something precious. Something she’d never experienced with anyone else, and yet her heart grew colder.
Had Doyle simply used her, or was what they had real? Now that her virginity was gone, Queen Titania might have no use for her. Even if she came to want a husband in the future, she was now ruined.
Chapter Five
Niamh awoke to the sound of loud knocking on her door. Her dreams had been pleasant enough, however now cold reality seeped back into her life again. The knocking persisted, and she knew Doyle wasn’t going to let her get back to sleep. She climbed out of bed then threw a robe over her nightgown.
With a sigh, she cracked open the door. “Yes?” Annoyance bled into her tone before she could stop it.
“Lady McNamara, the sun has already been up for a few hours.” Doyle frowned at her. “I needed to be sure you were okay.” He remained distant and professional, like nothing had happened yesterday.
“I was still asleep.” She crossed her arms under her breasts. “And I’m fine. Why don’t you arrange for breakfast?” She closed the heavy oaken door before he could respond. If things were going to be that way between them, then she wanted more time to herself before having to spend another day with Doyle.
She heard him draw a few harsh breaths before heading down the hall towards the kitchen. Since it would take the cook a while to prepare something for her, she went to the window near her bed and looked out at the horizon.
The dark woods that spread around her home were wild and untouched, yet on the horizon, barely visible to her, she saw a faerie garrison. At her manor, she was removed from her kin by distance and heart, but the man who she’d grown close to seemed more distant than the stone structures flying the summer court’s colours.
Part of her couldn’t comprehend the fact she’d been so snappy to Doyle, but he’d built the wall between them. So be it. If he needed the space, she would provide it for him. He could keep her safe, but she wouldn’t wait for his cold words or distant eyes to warm.
Even those courtiers had been friendlier. Her heart hurt at the thought, but now she wished she had someone to talk to and smile with.
Lost in her thoughts, she jumped when Doyle knocked on the door again. “Breakfast is ready, my lady,” he said.
She’d enjoyed his voice when it had carried warmth. Now it was like a cool stone in a riverbed. Not harsh, more like his Unseelie kind, devoid of the summer.
The door pushed inward, and she turned to face him, clutching her robe to her tighter. “I’ll be out in a moment,” she said.
He filled the doorway, but he moved aside to let in Sadb, who quickly made her way to Niamh, standing in front of her to cover Niamh’s body. As if they had that to worry about that now. He’d seen her naked, had touched her intimately.
The memory conjured a heat that rose up to her cheeks.
He must’ve noticed, since his eyes sparked with warmth before he shut down that emotion. He closed the door for Sadb to dress her in privacy.
“My lady, I’m not sure about that man,” Sadb said in hushed tones.
Niamh sighed. “I’m not either, but he’s my guard appointed by the queen. We’ll have to manage.”
When she was fully dressed, she made her way through the warm hallway towards the garden, where she enjoyed breakfast during the summer months. The birds and squirrels that ran among the nearest trees typically made her smile, but now she found no comfort in the presence of nature. The assortment of fruits and pastries she ate had little taste. She paid more attention to the sky, keeping her gaze away from Doyle.
At a soft rustle of leather, she glanced in his direction. He had his attention focused on the road beyond the garden. Was he that good or just arrogant? Unable to decide, and feeling her mood foul even further, she sampled another pastry. Her thoughts always seemed to try to find something fascinating about him.
“A messenger is arriving,” Doyle said, his eyes intent on the road. A few moments later, she spotted him. Her servant at the stables hurried to take care of his horse.
Curious, she made her way to where the messenger was already waiting. Dressed in the Seelie Court’s colours, he bowed at the waist and gave Niamh a letter before heading back into the stables. Doyle followed the messenger out, speaking to him in a low voice. She couldn’t make out their conversation.
The letter in her hand piqued her interest, and she took a better look at it. The letter bore the seal of Donoghue—one of her suitors—and while she’d turned him down, that had not prevented him from trying again…and again.
Maybe that was a good thing. Perhaps he actually fancied her.
She broke the seal and scanned the text.
Lady McNamara,
After our previous time together was cut short, I’ve thought of you often, and I’d like to see you again. Perhaps we could meet in the palace garden and become better acquainted.
I’ll be waiting for you.
Yours,
Alfred Donoghue
The casual request caught her off guard. Donoghue had always been stiffer and more formal.
Maybe this was the opportunity she needed to open up to someone else and have her own distance from Doyle. She folded the letter then walked back inside and informed Maeve to prepare her things for the ride back to the palace.
On their way, Doyle didn’t question her desire to head back to court, nor did he ask what the letter contained.
They arrived at the palace in the early afternoon. With all of the festivities, the stables were busy. Messengers, courtiers and various traders milled around the courtyard.
Niamh slipped away from Doyle as he talked to a stable boy. She made her way across the bridge to the Seelie Court proper. Sadb and Maeve followed her.
The beehive-like activity flowed around her, but she paid little attention to it. Her goal was the gardens on the other side of the courtyard. While most of the fae headed to the inner gates towards the court, she walked around the side of the palace, closer to the outer gates.
Reaching the walled gardens, Niamh noticed her maidens weren’t with her. They must’ve become separated in the crowd. She headed towards the roses, a well-known gathering area amongst those of her stature. The nearby trees protected the guests from the view of those at the entrance, making it the preferred location for lovers or suitors to meet their ladies.
She didn’t have to wait long for Donoghue as he made his way to her with long sauntering stride
s.
“I’m so glad to you accepted my invitation, Lady McNamara.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, but his touch didn’t send chills through her like Doyle’s had. “I’ve longed to see you again.” His gaze dipped to her neck before meeting hers. “Are you well?”
She brushed her hand over the faint bruise on her throat in reaction to his stare.
“Lord Donoghue, it’s very nice seeing you again too. Yes, I am feeling well. I have faith in the queen’s guard to track whoever did this to me. May I ask why you wanted us to meet at the garden?” she asked, her gaze dropping to a set of snow white roses.
“The place is well hidden from view, a private location for us to spend time in summer’s beautiful splendour. It gives us a chance to enjoy our conversation without the watchful eyes of the court.” His attention rose to somewhere over her shoulder.
“Ah, yes. I know exactly what you mean. The gatherings and feasts are wonderful. However, I prefer also to balance it with solitude.”
Donoghue’s eyes sparkled. “I’m sure you don’t get that much these days.”
She opened her mouth to question him when a masculine cough sounded behind her.
Doyle stood near the tree closest to her. His eyes swept back and forth between the two of them before landing on Donoghue.
“You again,” he said, his voice quiet.
“I formally requested Niamh’s presence here to get to know her better. In private. She approved.” Donoghue looked smug.
Doyle clenched his fists at his sides, and his face took on a slight red tint. “I am here to keep Lady McNamara safe by order of Queen Titania,” Doyle said. He turned his attention to her. “My lady, you should have mentioned this earlier. I cannot protect you unless I know where you are.” He could barely mask the agitation in his voice.
“Doyle, I’m fine,” she said, her voice cracking a little.
