by M. J. Scott
“If she manifests, she’ll have some more training be- fore she’s handed over to whoever the lucky man is, won’t she?”
“And if she doesn’t, she’ll be married before the turn of the year,” Eloisa snapped. “And I’ll get some new country bumpkin who doesn’t know a hairpin from a hatpin to attend me.”
Ah, so that was what was bothering her witchness. She didn’t want to lose a friend. “You think she won’t?”
Eloisa shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You’re sure about that?” Eloisa’s gift ran strongly to psychic abilities, but she tended to keep her premonitions close to her chest when she thought it best to do so. It drove her father, the king, wild.
“Yes. I haven’t seen anything about Sophie.”
Well, that was good. Then he replayed the sentence in his head. Perhaps not. “Does that mean you’ve seen something else?”
She shook her head but didn’t look at him, instead toying with the midnight-colored pearls circling her wrist. “Nothing important.”
“Highness . . .”
Silk rustled as she came out of her chair and crossed to him. The wild smoky rose scent filled his nose, making his pulse speed a little.
“All I see,” she said with a wicked smile, “is a man who is wasting a perfectly good opportunity.” She tilted her head back and looked up at him. “What’s the matter, Cameron? Out whoring last night, were you?”
She pressed her hand against his chest, and he struggled to keep his train of thought. “You know I don’t . . .”
Her hand trailed lower. “Saving yourself for me? That’s sweet.” Fingers slid beneath the waistband of his breeches, and his cock rose to meet her. “Why don’t you show me?”
“Witch.” He picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. The princess might not want to marry a minor lord, he thought as she started unbuttoning his jacket, but she surely didn’t mind fucking one.
Liked it? Find out more about The Shattered Court and the Four Arts series at M.J’s website.
