He was kissing her so ardently, stirring that chord deep inside her, then her neck, her breasts, all over, every single touch of his mouth heightening the urgency. “You’re frustrating me again!”
He laughed. “There is much to be said for anticipation—but, perhaps not when you’re so new to this. Shall we”—he paused to give her one more long kiss—“celebrate now?”
“Yes!”
He mounted her, slipped easily inside, then slowly turned over so she was lying fully on top of him. But she wasn’t sure what to do up there so she sat up to have more options, at least gain some control, but that was a mistake—or perfect, because it put him even more deeply inside her and her eyes closed as the orgasm washed over her.
“You’re amazing,” he said, sounding a little awed. “Can you slow down now?”
“I can sleep now.”
“Bite your tongue!”
She grinned and slowly rolled her hips. “I was teasing. You can proceed at your preferred pace.”
“After that incentive, you must be joking.”
He flipped her on her back and thrust only twice before he exhaled deeply and put his forehead to hers to whisper, “You surprise me at every turn.”
“Is that why you think I’m amazing?”
“That and in so many other ways. I think it would take a lifetime to know them all.”
She smiled dreamily as he rolled to her side then snuggled her against his side. She’d like to give him that lifetime, but that wasn’t a subject to broach when they were both influenced by sublime bliss. Perhaps tomorrow, when logic and reason would prevail to ensure he had no regrets.
But it wasn’t long before she heard a noise downstairs. He heard it, too. “The hour isn’t that late. Perhaps your father is returning, after all?”
She nodded her agreement. He added, “I’ll just check to be sure. If you fall asleep, I’ll carry you back to your room.”
How could she sleep after that thrilling experience they’d just shared? She did.
Chapter Fifty-three
BEFORE MONTGOMERY REACHED THEstairs he heard the clanging of swords downstairs. Practicing at this hour? But when he came around the corner for a full view of the hall below, two things caught his eye immediately. Rickles, the butler, was pressing his full weight against the front door as if he expected intruders to push their way in. And Charley was engaged in a sword fight with a stranger. Instead of helping, Arlo just stood back out of the way!
Montgomery bounded down the stairs, but before he could say anything, Charley knocked his opponent’s weapon from his hand and pointed the tip of his sword at the man’s throat. A lot of whispered gibberish spilled from the obviously terrified man’s mouth, so Montgomery waited for it to end before demanding an explanation.
When Charley finally lowered his sword, he glanced back at Arlo and said quite drolly, “They wish to be forgiven before you go on a rampage of head chopping. They got word before we did that the uprising is over, the palace has been reclaimed for the monarchy. This one, seeing only one of us armed, made one last attempt to take a hostage so they wouldn’t have to beg for their lives.”
“I thought head chopping was your prerogative, Charley,” Montgomery remarked dryly.
The boy turned with a grin. “That was just one of my many exaggerations, my friend, to embellish my role. But my king doesn’t chop heads, either.”
“Your king?” Montgomery said, and cast an incredulous look at Arlo, who gazed back at him with an inscrutable expression. He turned back to Charley. “Then who the hell are you?”
Charley bowed with his usual flourish. “Sebastian Bahmann, from a long line of Bahmanns whose sole duty has been to defend Feldland’s royal house. I have spent all of my life training in the lethal means to perform that service, to protect my king at any cost.”
Montgomery snorted. “Should I be impressed by all of seventeen years’ training? Make that seven years, at the most, maybe nine—you know bloody well you weren’t training as a child.”
Charley chuckled. “If age matters, I’m actually twenty-seven, older than you, I believe? Seventeen was merely a number we determined would better match my pretty face—as you termed it. And it did, didn’t it? Not once did you doubt seventeen was the age of this package,” he added, waving a hand over his body.
Montgomery pinned Arlo—or was it Charles now?—with an annoyed look. “I suppose you aren’t seventeen, either?”
“Nineteen, and don’t be angry with Sebastian. Swapping identities allowed us to come to England safely.”
“I was charged withyourcare, not that of your bodyguard servant who apparently can protect himself. Can you?”
“He doesn’t need to when I protect him,” Sebastian said in a deadly serious tone Montgomery hadn’t heard from him before. “You were charged with secreting us away, which was my idea, not you in particular, just someone of your caliber to help us deal with the riffraff.”
