“Sausage,” Daphne interrupts. “Can’t start a revolution without a good sausage.”
And she’s back…
Chapter Eight
Daphne
After our cozy fireside picnic, I hold Gwyneth tight, as if she might vanish into thin air. She chuckles as she pulls away and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’m going to be right next door,” she tells me. “If you holler, I’ll come running.”
I squeeze her one more time before she leaves with Charming trailing after her. My brows draw together as I climb to my feet.I don’t think so, Prince Poopfloof.
Malachi catches my hand and shakes his head. “Your sister is more than capable of gutting a prince with wandering hands. Trust her to be safe.”
Hart smirks as the door closes. “And if he tries anything, I’ll hold him down while you murder him in some chaotic way.”
I glare at the door for a tempo, trying to give offarchitect of your futurevibes to ensure the prince realizes it’s me he should be frightened of, not any Idols.
The brothers drift together so they are facing me, a line of stunning maleness that makes my stomach somersault. But in all fairness, it could also be from the combination of sausage, cheese, and Hallows cakes.
I swallow as I take in the dark looks each of them gives me.
The capons squawk and take off into Hart’s chambers. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot hovers as if he’s unsure of his role in this moment. I jerk my head. “Go keep an eye on Eugene and Hamish.” He darts off, grateful to escape the tension drawing tighter as the knights move toward me.
The genie raises his finger. “I need to supervise my cleaner. I swear she stole my favorite shorts last week.”
How does he wear shorts without a bottom half? Does he lay them over his wispy part?
“Alone at last,” Nash rumbles.
I tilt my chin in the air, daring them to act on whatever sinful thoughts are floating inside their minds.
“Whose chambers are you sleeping in?” Malachi asks.
I knew this was coming, and between the history lesson, resurrection talk, and Idol dismantling, I came to a few conclusions.
“None.”
Malachi shakes his head. “Not acceptable, Daphne. You’ll never sleep alone again.”
“I didn’t say I’d be sleeping alone.” I’m pretty sure they don’t have any intention of sleeping what remains of this night.
“Explain,” Hart demands, his voice rough with restraint.
I nod at the glowing fire. “Gather your furs and pillows and join me in here.”
“That works,” Nash agrees.
Thank the Idols, because I can’t choose. Not tonight.
I lean against the armchair as they work in harmony, bringing mountains of blankets, furs, and pillows to build a nest in front of the fire.
Malachi shrugs off his coat and peels his shirt over his head, and my mind goes fuzzy at the expanse of golden skin and muscle before me. Hart mirrors him, and then they are both offering me a hand in welcome. I go willingly and share a searching kiss with each of them. It’s sweet, unhurried, and indulgent, unlike the desperation of earlier, but no less addictive.
Hart undoes the laces holding my bodice together while Malachi kisses my neck.
My eyes catch on the eldest and darkest knight among us. He leans back on the sofa, a smile curving his lips as the twins strip me to my underwear. I had put little thought into this reunion, grabbing the white lace placed on top of a drawer filled with my garments. But it doesn’t fail to make me feel powerful when he looks at me like that.
