She shakes her head to dispel the thought, taking a seat on the chaise longue. “Nothing. It’s wild to even imagine it.”
I sit next to her, covering her hand with mine and raising my head to meet her gaze. Somehow this simple touch feels more intimate than what we just did. “Am I an idiot thinking this is evengoing to work? Has holding you, touching you really made it easier to ask you to do this unspeakable thing for me?” I run a hand through my hair, tempted to yank it out in frustration. “Am I just deluding myself to think this is possible? Giving myself an excuse to keep seeking you out?” The need to see her, to touch her, is almost overwhelming, and yet I can’t fully give myself over, can’t let myself fall.
She scoots even closer to me, cupping my cheek with her free hand. “That was a lot of questions, Your Highness.”
My shoulders hunch in on themselves. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She takes my hand in hers, flipping it over so our palms meet, linking our fingers together. It’s another simple touch, nothing compared to the way my hands skirted over her bare skin or the way my fingers pleasured her mere minutes ago. And yet it somehow means more. Feels like more. “I don’t know if us spending this time together, being intimate with one another will make it easier for you to ask me what it is you need. And to receive whatever it is once you’ve asked.”
I squeeze her hand and push the rest of my questions aside. I don’t need answers, I need honesty. And to get honesty, I need to give it. I might be a fool, but if there is one lesson I’m learning this week, it’s that no words should be left unsaid. “I’m sure you will think me an idiot for saying this, and I can’t imagine it will be your first time hearing these words, but I feel like there is something between us, Caterine. I want you, of course. I can’t imagine there are many who don’t. But I also find myself wanting to tell you things and hear your thoughts. I find myself longing to just be in your company.” It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to give voice to this feeling, this inexplicable link between us. The way that, even after just a few days, it’s hard to imagine a time when she won’t be in my life. “If I’m alone in this—”
“You’re not.” Her answer is quick and sharp, but laced with something soft. “You’re not alone in your feelings, Callum.” She hesitates before pulling away, slipping her hand from mine. “But feelings don’t really matter. I don’t plan to remain at the club for much longer, and you clearly have much bigger plans than anything happening in this room.” She gives me a sad smile. “There is no future for us beyond what has been paid for, Your Highness.”
I suck in a sharp breath, her words a direct punch to the gut. “Right.”
She brushes a stray curl out of my eyes. “But I will help you with whatever you need, and I will fulfill my part of the contract.”
“Sex lessons.”
She shrugs with a coy raise of her eyebrows. “Or something more, if you’d prefer.” She rises and stands in front of me.
Something more. The something more that I’m beginning to allow myself to want—the something more I’ve wanted since the moment I watched her dance across the stage of the club—is not the something more she is offering. It could never be what she’s offering.
I want to press her further, but if I stay in this room for one minute longer, I might never be able to convince myself to leave. I hesitate on my way to the door. “Thank you. For everything today. Not just that,” I gesture helplessly to the bed. “But for everything.”
She stands on a tiptoe, pressing her lips to my cheek. “It was my pleasure. Quite literally.”
I chuckle, but the sound is lacking humor. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
I stride out of the room and down the grand staircase, out to the cobbled street and into my carriage. Lady Caterine is everywhere.Her scent on my clothes, her lips on my skin, the imprint of her mouth on my cock, and over my heart. She consumes me. And after tomorrow, after I take my father’s life, everything will change. A sick feeling of dread washes over me, clinging more fervently than even the ghost of her presence.
—
I don’t sleepthat night.
Breakfast in the dining room is a silent affair, the four of us sitting with our thoughts without being able to share them.
Dom keeps her eyes on her meal, but every so often I catch her looking at our father, drinking him in like this will be the last time she sees him. I guess it might be.
Father tries to pretend nothing is wrong, reading the paper—the headline reminding us that the Scotan killing period begins at midnight—and eating his toast as if it were a normal morning. Not many people wake up knowing a certain day will be their last. Does that make it easier or harder, I wonder.
Alex watches me. Several times I catch him opening his mouth as if to speak, but he always shuts it shortly after. He knows there’s nothing left to say.
I try to eat, but even the plain toast I choke down sours in my stomach.
Finally, my father rises. He looks at each of us, one by one. “I’m not one for big emotional speeches, but let me just take this moment to tell you all that I know this is the right outcome. For Scota, and for all of you. I ask that you feel no guilt for your actions; spend your time and energy instead on uniting Avon and bringing the ideals of our province to the country at large.” His eyes flit between me and Dom. “I get to go be with your mother now.”
Dom sniffles, though she tries to hide her tears.
I keep my back straight, forcing myself to be the kind of man my father thinks I can be, the kind of man I want to be.
He looks right at me. “I will see you tonight, son.”
Wordless, I nod, my hands clenched in tight fists at my side.
He exits the dining room, leaving the three of us to sit in pained silence.
