“Lord’s bollocks.” Angharad shivered. “I must find my husband.”
Chapter 43
Whatever the eyeswouldn’t do for him, I conjured in the privacy of my chambers.
Vervain, damiana, and jasmine went into the chalk circles. I sat in the center of it and held a candle, closing my eyes as I thought up my incantation. The Lord of Night sat before me, intrigued and silent, and as I blew out the candle, I felt his shadows caress the whole of me.
Bless me with seduction, Lord of Night. Until sunrise, let me be irresistible to man’s desires.
Then I put on a robe and went out, Marcy following close behind. I swear the woman never slept, or perhaps she did so standing up; there was never a time I did not find her stationed outside of my chambers, as vigilant in the dead of night as she would be in the middle of the day.
Sieur Eldridge double-took when he saw me, then made an uneasy assessment of my Queensguard. He cleared his throat and began to announce me, but Marcy shushed him and opened the door.
“Let us go for a walk, Sieur,” she ordered, and I slipped though that entrance as he joined her.
Nicolas was buried in a book, candlelight illuminating the pages. He didn’t notice my entry until the shadows lashed out and extinguished the flames, a little assistance from the Lord of Night. Then he flinched with alarm, his attention snapping up. There was just enough light in the bedside lamp that he could see who I was, but he was too startled by my little trick to respond to anything else.
“How did you…?” he asked, turning his eyes to the candle while he shut his book.
I let the robe slip from my shoulders, revealing the thin silk nightgown beneath. Nicolas’ eyes widened, the book thudding to the floor as I approached with deliberate slowness.
“Alana, what’re y—”
“Shh.” I pressed my finger to his lips, then traced from his chin down to his chest. My eyes never left his—Sahra’s first lesson. His pupils dilated in the lamplight as his breathing hitched.
I kissed him, only once; I pressed deep, parting with just the faintest hint of tongue, and lowered myself to my knees before his chair, hands resting on his thighs. Through the thin fabric of his nightclothes, his muscles tensed.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, but his voice was rough. Agonized. His pupils swallowed the color of his eyes.
“No?” I slid my hands higher, remembering Sahra’s instruction on slow, soft massages. I found him through the fabric, pleased by the way he gasped. “Are you certain, my king?”
I kept my eyes locked on his as my fingers worked, watching his resolve crumble with every little stroke. He gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles whitening, and when I leaned to kiss the inside of his thigh, he sounded like I’d strangled him.
“Alana, the baby—”
“Is safe,” I murmured against his leg, fingers moving to the ties of his pants. He was straining against them now. “Trust me.”
I took hold of the laces and pulled them through the eyelets. His length sprang free, pulsing with his heartbeat.
My breath caught. I’d never done this before, and only now was I really comprehending the action. Glancing up through my lashes, I found Nicolas watching me with raw need that far overshadowed his curiosity.
I leaned closer, letting my breath fan over him. He shuddered, reaching as if he wanted to touch me and wasn’t sure how. Emboldened, I pressed the softest kiss to his bare inner thigh, then another slightly higher. My fingers wrapped around his shaft, angling him just right.
When I finally took him into my mouth, he bucked involuntarily and tangled a hand in my hair, as if he needed to tether himself.
Nicolas arched his back, his legs shifting slightly apart, and he let out a deep, guttural groan that sent shivers down my spine.
The door crashed open.
“Your Majesty! I heard—” Guardsman Russel stood in the doorway, sword half-drawn, before his brain caught up with what he was seeing. His face went from alarm to mortification in an instant. “I-I-I thought—”
I was still on my knees. Nicolas’ hands moved to cover himself. The guardsman was frozen, unable to look away yet clearly, desperately wanting to.
“Guardsman,” Nicolas began, taking a deep breath. “Out.” Russel stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet.
“Yes! Of course! My apologies! I’ll just—”
“Wait.”
