She looked into his beautiful face, met the glorious silver blaze in his eyes. And then she moved, watching the flames in his eyes burn higher and higher. Kissing him tenderly and gently, she let her hands stroke his shoulders and his chest, loving the feel of him. Surrounding herself with him.
The pleasure grew, building high and hot, and there was an urgency to it but also a gentleness, and a sweetness that made her want to stay like this for ever. Then, just as it began to get too much for her, he slipped his hand between her thighs, down to where they were joined, and stroked her. At the same time his other hand settled heavily into the small of her back, holding her to him.
The pleasure broke, exploding slowly and beautifully like a firework, a peaceful, inexorable tide that made them both shake before touching down lightly back to earth.
She put her head against his shoulder, leaning bonelessly against him as his hand cupped the back of her head, his thumb moving gently over the curve of her skull.
He didn’t speak, and neither did she, both of them content to sit in the small bubble of peace they’d created for themselves. And beneath her hands she felt the hard muscles of his shoulders and chest finally relax.
‘I can’t help feeling,’ he said, his voice deep and rough with the after-effects of their passion, ‘that I have been expertly seduced by my own wife.’
She smiled against his shoulder. ‘Yes, you have. And I’ll have you know I’m quite pleased with myself.’
‘So you should be.’ His hand slid down to the back of her neck, stroking her idly. ‘I’m sorry about your pretty dress. I will get you another.’
‘I don’t care.’ She peeked up at him. ‘It sacrificed itself for a good cause.’
He glanced down and smiled, his gaze sparking with something that wasn’t physical desire, yet had elements of it. And also elements of something warm and tender and utterly glorious.
Her heart tightened painfully, and a kind of wonder moved through her that he’d chosen to give such a smile to her.
‘I’ll buy you many sacrificial victims, in that case,’ he said. ‘You can offer one up to me every evening.’
‘Please do.’
She sighed, then moved, shifting herself off him and wrapping the remains of her dress around her. He made a growl of protest, reaching for her to pull her down with him as he lay on his back on the rug. She propped her head up with her hand and she leaned an elbow on his chest.
‘Did you really spend all your childhood learning how to be a king?’ she asked idly—though the question wasn’t idle in the slightest. She was taking advantage of his relaxation.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘My father knew it would take time to get the throne back, so he had to start early. He’d initially planned to take it back himself, but then he got sick.’
‘So you had to be the one, then?’ She picked up an olive from the bowl nearby and fed it to him. ‘That must have been difficult.’
‘It was. It took longer than we’d hoped, since getting support for our cause took some time.’
She thought for a moment, then picked up a grape and fed that to him. ‘My father used to make fun of you. As a way to reduce the threat you presented, I think. He called you weak and ineffectual.’
There was a satisfied expression on Tiberius’s face that she secretly thought looked far too good on him. ‘I’m glad he did. It meant your father’s supporters underestimated me.’
Guinevere picked up another olive and ate it, trying to decide what to ask him next. Something that wouldn’t make him tense up or scare him away. But she burned to know so much.
‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ she said carefully. ‘It must have been hard to grow up without her.’
‘I was too young to remember her—and my father didn’t talk much about her—but I certainly felt the lack when I was younger.’
She watched him, noting the shadows cast over his face by the sun and the branches of the tree above them. Gilding the long, sooty length of his lashes, highlighting the strong lines of his forehead and nose.
‘My mother died young, too,’ she said after a moment. ‘And I don’t remember her either.’
His gaze rested on hers and there was concern in his eyes. ‘Did you have anyone, lioness? Anyone to care for you?’
A lump rose unexpectedly in her throat and she had to swallow hard because, again, this was supposed to be about him, not her. ‘No. I was safer being alone.’
He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. ‘I’m sorry you had to deal with that. But know that you’re not alone now. And that you’re not a prisoner here. You may leave the palace whenever you wish.’
She badly wanted him to tell her that she had him, but he didn’t, and that made her heart clench unexpectedly.
‘You know that you’re not alone either, don’t you?’ she couldn’t help saying, leaning into his touch. ‘That I am here?’
