Of course I acknowledge that there are things beyond human comprehension. I accept that there’s an energy called “magic,” which can be harnessed by gifted people using spellcraft. And I know that many people in this kingdom believe in faeries or demons, malevolent entities that exist to counterbalance the gods. That’s why they call the creatures I summon “demons,” because they’re inexplicable and abnormal, so of course they must be evil somehow.
But is anything truly evil, or is “evil” merely a matter of perspective?
A large hand sweeps my place setting aside, interrupting my thoughts. A dish clunks down in front of me—thin slices of roast pork with crispy edges, apricot jelly, and steaming dumplings so stuffed with seasoned vegetables that they’re nearly bursting.
I’ve got a dumpling in my fingers before Beresford even sits down. “Thank you,” I tell him through a mouthful. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted. Husbands are so useful.”
He laughs. “You’re far too easy to please.”
“Oh, I plan to be more demanding tonight.”
Fire leaps into his eyes. “I’m looking forward to it.” His hand grasps my inner thigh, and I suck in a quick breath, warmth blooming between my legs. His lip arches, a feral hiss issuingbetween his teeth as his fingers push toward my center. The table, cloaked in white linen, hides what he’s doing, but I can’t let this go any farther, or I’ll lose my mind. The wagons are coming into view. We have to behave ourselves.
“The guests are arriving,” I whisper. “You can’t touch me here.”
He leans close and says in an undertone, “I’d like to clear this end of the table, lay you down, and put my cock into that slick little cunt. Let our guests watch me fuck my wife senseless and boneless. The perfect feast.” His fingers cup me through the layers of the wedding dress.
“Beresford,” I whisper.
“You can call me Theron, you know.” He rubs my pussy firmly.
“I like your last name. I’m used to it. Oh gods… please…” It’s either a plea for him to stop or keep going—I’m honestly not sure which. His hold on me is such that if he really wanted to fuck me publicly, I might let him. I don’t understand how a few touches can bring me to the edge of madness like this, but I can’t help fervently rejoicing that his hands are now mine, his mouth is mine, that beautiful broad chest is mine. His tongue won’t ever taste anyone else. His cock belongs inside me, and me alone.
Anne and Mama are approaching, ready to take their places of honor beside us. Beresford casually places both his hands on the table, and I rearrange my skirts to hide the dent he made between my legs. Before my family reaches us, I whisper, “I fucking adore you, do you know that?”
“The feeling is utterly mutual.” His tone is low, fierce, almost vicious. When I glance between his legs, I spot the telltale bulge of his desire for me. He clears his throat and readjusts a fold of his coat to hide it better as a servant advances to pour drinks for us.
As delicious as the food tastes, as congratulatory as everyone claims to be, and as delightful as the music is after themeal, I can barely keep my mind off Beresford’s body. I haven’t seen him naked in far too long. There are experiments I need to conduct, explorations to complete, sensitive spots to find. Not to mention how eager I am to finally see the house I’m going to call home.
Anne keeps stealing looks at me, and when Beresford steps away to greet some of our guests, she finally leans over and hisses, “Just go. I know you want to.”
“But the dancing has barely started.”
“Your ankle might be better, but you still shouldn’t dance. Go home with your husband. Explore your house. Get some good rest, after…” She raises her brows significantly.
I’ve been immeasurably lucky today. I didn’t trip, didn’t twist my ankle, and didn’t summon anything. I only had to deal with a few barbed comments that were honestly milder than I expected. Theron and I should leave now, while our luck holds.
“Should we make a speech, or just slip away?” I whisper to Anne.
Mama, who is sitting between me and my sister, gives me a quizzical look over her cup of wine. “Go on, you two. Keep pretending I’m not here.”
I laugh and kiss her cheek. “Sorry, Mama. What do you advise? Should we declare our departure, or simply escape?”
“If I were you, I’d run off quietly with my new husband.” She gives me a sad smile. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Valenkirk is only a short ride away from home by horse or by carriage,” I remind her.
“For you, home is Beresford’s mansion.” Her gaze flicks to him as he stands nearby, conversing with a pair of guests. “I want you to know that if anything happens, if anything troubles you, if he ever—” She cuts herself off and grimaces. “I want you to know that you can always come home.”
“Mama.” I place my hand on her cheek. “I will be fine. He’ll take good care of me.”
“He fucking better,” says Anne. “When can we come visit your new house?”
“We might want a few days to ourselves.” I feel the blush rising to my cheeks. “I’ll send word when we’re ready for visitors. And you’ll send word if you hear about any other disappearances, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Anne assures me.
“Don’t go into Wormsloe,” I warn. “Neither of you should have any reason to follow that path. Let whatever lives there exist quietly without interference. It’s safer for everyone.”
