Convenient Bride For The King

CHAPTER THREE

HE WAS GOOD at this. Aury had warned her. He knew exactly what to offer in order to make her heart thump with painful hope and longing.

‘Let’s talk about this somewhere without the avid audience,’ he muttered.

She glanced beyond him discreetly, only to realise he was right. Those who had yet to leave seemed to have no intention of doing so with her and Theo putting on a show right in front of their eyes. Even Augustus was staring at them, his eyes full of clear warning.

Don’t make a spectacle of yourself. Remember your place.

Don’t embarrass me.

Don’t make me regret that we’re related.

‘Five minutes,’ she said to Theo, as she nodded minutely at her brother—message received—and headed for the door.

Moriana lived in a wing of the royal palace. She’d furnished it to her taste, raided the palace’s art collection until she was satisfied with the result and had purchased whatever pieces she felt were missing. Augustus could complain about her spending—and he did—but her ledger was in the black.

In the space of five years she’d tripled the value of the royal art collection and outlaid only a fraction of that cost. She wheeled and dealed, had an eye for a bargain and the sensibilities of a curator. And, of course, she had the throne of Arun behind her.

She had dual degrees in politics and fine arts. Connections the world over. She was the ambassador for a dozen different charities and she took those roles seriously. She was educated, accomplished and blessed with favourable looks, or so she’d been told. She was in a position to make a difference.

And nervous. Dear heaven, she was nervous as Theo prowled around her sitting room, staring at her furnishings and possessions as if they held secrets he wanted to know.

‘You wanted a drink?’ she asked.

‘If you’re having one.’ He put his hands in his trouser pockets and continued to study the sculpture on a small side table. ‘It’s fake,’ he said of the copied Rodin.

‘I know. But it’s a good copy and it’s still very beautiful.’ She’d paid a pittance for it. ‘How do you know it’s a fake?’ Not many would. Not without examining it thoroughly, and he hadn’t.

‘Because my father gifted the real one to my mother on their tenth wedding anniversary.’

Oh, well. There you go. ‘I have Scotch.’

‘Perfect.’

She poured him a serve and then doubled it because it wouldn’t do to have her serve be twice the size of his.

He was standing by the fireplace and she crossed the room with all the grace she could muster and handed him the drink.

‘I like this room,’ he said. ‘It’s more comfortable than I thought it would be.’

‘I use it,’ she said simply, and tried not to look at his lips but they were impossible to ignore now that he’d put the idea of kissing into her head. ‘I like jewel colours and textured fabrics. I like comfortable furniture.’

‘Your taste is exquisite.’ He sipped his drink. ‘Does Augustus know you serve his special Scotch?’

‘Does he need to know?’ she countered. ‘Because, frankly, he’s slightly precious about it.’ She took a sip of hers. ‘You sent me a form letter proposal.’

‘I had it specially made just for you.’

‘Now you’re making fun of me.’

‘Not really. The scions of the House of Liesendaach always put their marriage proposals in writing. It’s the rule.’

Byzenmaach didn’t have such a rule and neither did Arun. Her and Casimir’s engagement had been more of a verbal agreement between their parents than anything she’d signed up for. Maybe there was some small merit to Theo’s form letter after all.

‘A marriage proposal is usually accompanied by a ring,’ she said. There’d never been one of those between her and Casimir either.

Theo slipped his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small wooden box.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. I suppose you had that especially made for me too,’ she said.

‘Yes.’

He was the best liar she knew. And she’d been surrounded by courtiers and politicians since birth.

‘What?’ He looked anything but innocent. He was inviting her to enjoy the joke, but she couldn’t.

She turned away.

‘I’m putting it on your mantelpiece so you can think about it.’

‘I’ve thought about it.’ She’d thought of little else all day. ‘I’ve decided I’d rather pursue a different kind of life. I’m going to take half a dozen lovers, one for every day of the week, and I’ll rest on Sundays,’ she continued. ‘I’m going to throw debauched parties and seduce the unwary. I’ll use you as my role model.’

‘You don’t want to do that.’

‘Oh, but I do. Purity is a construct of my own inhibitions. It’s time to let those inhibitions go.’

He smiled tightly. ‘As much as I agree that you should definitely explore your sensual side, I’m not a fan of your proposed method of doing so. May I suggest choosing one person to take you on that journey? More specifically, me. We could aim for one new sensory experience a day. I could teach you everything I know. Assuming you enjoy our kiss and agree to marry me.’

‘I’ve yet to agree to kiss you at all, let alone all the rest. What if I enjoy the kiss and refuse to marry you? What if I ask you to teach me everything you know regardless? Would you do it?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Yawn.’ He stared into his drink and then drained it in one long swallow before setting the delicately cut crystal tumbler on the mantel next to the ring box. ‘It’s not what I want and it’s definitely not what I need. I meant what I said about commitment. I’m prepared to pay close attention to your wants and needs and see that they’re met.’

She wanted to believe him, even if she couldn’t quite bring herself to. ‘And you expect the same from me.’

‘Face it, Moriana, you’ve spent a lifetime making sure other people’s needs are met. It’s ingrained in you.’

He made her sound like a particularly comfortable leather chair. ‘That’s about to change. I’m on a Moriana First kick.’

‘It’s about time.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I happen to believe a person can be both kind to themselves and committed to the people they care about. But first things first. What is it you think I can’t give you?’

Where did she begin? ‘You’ve never been exclusive with a woman before.’ Understatement.

‘I’ve never asked one to marry me either, yet here I am.’ He met her gaze, and there it was again, something hard and implacable and patient in his eyes. ‘I happen to think we’d make a good team. There’s fire between us; there always has been. We rub each other the wrong way. We could also rub each other the right way—so much so that there’d be no room for other lovers. That’s what I believe. I’m attracted to you. I may have missed that point in the form letter.’

‘You did.’

‘I’m making it now.’

He was. ‘Theo, you’re attracted to a lot of people. You’ve proven that quite spectacularly over the years. Kissing me and enjoying it would prove nothing.’

‘You’re wrong. A kiss could prove extremely informative for us both.’ He smiled that charming smile. ‘Come on, Moriana. You have nothing to lose and only experience to gain. Don’t you want experience?’

‘Yes, but I’d rather have it without strings.’

‘No strings.’ She’d never seen him so obliging.

‘There’s an engagement ring on my mantelpiece,’ she said drily.

‘That’s a measure of my sincerity, not a string.’

‘We get this wrong, you go away,’ she said firmly.

‘You have my word.’

It sounded so deliciously reasonable. He was offering up his warm, willing and very attractive body for experimentation and, for all her fine talk of acquiring a legion of lovers, she didn’t have the faintest idea how to actually go about getting even one lover in place. Men did not approach her. They never had and she had no idea if they ever would. One kiss. She could probably learn something. ‘So...how do you want to do this? The kissing.’

‘You tell me. However makes you comfortable.’

He was laughing at her; the little crinkle at the corner of his eyes gave it away.

‘Maybe if you sat.’ She waved her hand at a number of sofa and armchair options.

He unbuttoned his jacket—nothing a gentleman wouldn’t do before being seated. And then he made an utter production of taking it off completely and draping it over the back of a chair. He made an even bigger production of rolling up his sleeves, his blunt nails and long fingers making deft work of it. His royal signet ring stayed on and so did his watch. He’d probably been a stripper in a former life.

‘Well?’ he said when he’d settled in the middle of a crimson sofa, legs wide and eyes hooded. ‘What next?’

‘You said I could touch you as well as kiss you.’ She didn’t stammer, but it was close.

‘You can.’

‘Right. Good. So.’ She didn’t move. Instead she sipped at her drink for courage, only she sipped a little too deeply and almost choked on the fire in her throat.

To his credit, he let her flounder for a full minute before breaking the silence. ‘Put the drink down and come closer. It’s hard to touch and kiss someone from such a distance.’

Distance. Yes. Was she really going to do this?

‘What do you have to lose?’ he murmured, and the answer was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

She set her drink next to his little ring box and his empty glass and turned her back on them. She crossed to the sofa he’d claimed as his own and sank to her knees between his wide open legs, pleased when his breath faltered and his lashes fluttered closed. Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous? He wasn’t the virgin here and, frankly, she was nervous enough for both of them.

She didn’t even know where to look. At his shoes? The subtle sheen of his very expensive suit? His legs to either side of her? Anywhere but the not so subtle bulge in his pants. Then there was the not so small matter of where to put her hands. On his shoulders? His waist? Where? He looked altogether unsettled. ‘Is this okay?’

He ran a hand over his face. ‘Yes. Continue.’

Yes. Continue. Let’s just seduce the playboy king with her untried self because of course he’d find her tentative floundering attractive. ‘I don’t—’

‘Touch me.’

‘Where?’

‘Anywhere.’

‘I thought you were supposed to be patient.’

‘I am patient. I have the patience of a saint.’

‘Hardly.’ She put her hand on his leg, just above the knee, and felt his muscles shift. Even through the fine fabric of his suit she could feel the warmth of him. Cautiously, she circled her thumb over the inseam and slid her hand an inch or so up his leg. She’d never been this close to a man before. She’d never been invited to touch and explore.

He felt good.

She placed her other hand above his other knee and braced herself as she leaned forward, stopping just before her lips hit the juncture between skin and the snowy white collar of his shirt. She closed her eyes and let her other senses take hold. ‘You smell good,’ she murmured. ‘What is it?’

‘Soap,’ he rasped, his hands now clawing at the velvet upholstery before he deliberately let out a ragged breath, tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

She drew away slightly to study his face, the frown between his eyes and rigid cord of his neck. ‘Did you close your eyes so you can pretend I’m someone else?’

He opened his eyes specifically to glare at her. ‘I swear on my mother’s grave, Moriana, you’re the most infuriating woman I know. I’m thinking of you. Get used to it.’

She could get very used to it. She moved her hands up his thighs until her fingers brushed the crease where hips met legs, her eyes widening as he gave a tiny rolling grind of his hips in response. ‘You seem very...ah...responsive.’

‘Yes.’ A harsh rumble of a word, nothing more.

‘Are you always like this?’

He had no answer for her.

She rolled her fingers, he rolled his hips, and that proved a powerful incentive to become even bolder in her exploration. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Theo’s eyes being closed allowed her to look wherever she wanted to look without being caught. He’d never know. And if he didn’t know, how could he possibly reproach her for it?

She looked to his crotch, fascinated by the size and shape of him beneath the fine cloth. She flexed her fingers and dug into firm flesh, just a little, just below where she truly ached to touch, and he sucked in a breath but kept his eyes closed.

‘Touch wherever you want,’ he whispered harshly. ‘I’m not going to judge.’

She traced her hands over his hips to his waist, up and over his powerful chest and the lines of his neck, she looked her fill until she reached his lips. He was biting his lower one and she didn’t want that, so she touched her fingers to the spot and smoothed out the crush. His chest heaved and a broken sound escaped his lips as he turned his face towards her touch, eyes still closed, and he was beautiful in his abandon.

Was this sex? This utter acquiescence to someone else’s touch?

She cradled his jaw and felt the prickles from invisible whiskers against her palm. She dragged her thumb across the seam of his lips, inordinately pleased when he parted them for her. She wanted to kiss him and keep touching him in equal measure and didn’t know if she had the co-ordination for both.

She started with her lips to the underside of his jaw, close to his ear. It seemed safer than starting with a kiss to his lips and if she dragged her lips across his skin it would hardly count as a kiss at all, merely a warm-up.

‘That wasn’t a kiss,’ she murmured against his skin. ‘I’m working my way up to your lips.’

His tongue against her thumb was her only reply so she kept right on exploring, opening her own mouth and employing her tongue to learn the taste of his skin and find the pulse point in his neck, there, right there, fast and strong, and she sucked, just a little, and he groaned and the world burned that little bit hotter because of it.

She went up and over the cleft of his jaw, emboldened, but that wasn’t her only area of exploration. She was working on two fronts here as she traced the long, thick length of his erection with unsteady, barely-there fingers. She let her fingertips dance lightly over the crown and finally, finally pressed her lips against his.

One kiss, just one, because this was Theo and she believed him when he said he wouldn’t judge her, and that if she didn’t like it he would leave. She felt strangely safe with him.

She wanted to make the most of the opportunity he was offering.

His lips were warm and softer than she would have believed possible. He didn’t invade; he let her take her time and adjust the pressure to her liking before moving forward. The tiniest tilt of her head allowed for a better fit overall. The lessening of pressure allowed her to tentatively touch her tongue to his upper lip, and the taste, oh, it was deep and dark and hinted of Scotch and flavours she wanted more of. Further exploration with her tongue was followed by the shifting of his body beneath her hand so that she cupped him more firmly, and maybe she was supposed to stroke and kiss and breathe all at once, and she probably could if the heat coursing through her body wasn’t quite so overwhelming.

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