I take a beat before I answer. “I never used to be.”
He slides his hand behind my neck, drawing me all the way forward. I take a quick, shuddering breath and close my eyes. I don’t care how much this will hurt once it’s over. I’m going to let it happen.
Our lips touch, my mind sighingfinally. Simon’s mouth moves over mine in an unhurried rhythm that lulls me into a deeper haze. I slip my hands farther up his chest, and the firm surface trembles under my touch. When I rake my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, I’m rewarded with a muffled groan in his throat.
His languid nips increase in pressure, and I match every slide of his insistent mouth. His lips slant over mine as his tongue strokes inside. A dizzy, coiling sensation knots in my stomach. I slip my tongue forward to meet his, and he drags me impossibly closer. It’s like I’m free-falling. If I had a parachute, I’d throw it off.
He keeps one hand pressed to the back of my neck while the other slides to my hip. His grip tightens on the waist of my gown as he pulls me up flush against him. Lightheadedness clouds my mind and all I can think is that giving in never tasted so sweet. I can feel every inch of Simon against me, including his hard length. He nudges closer as his fevered mouth travels the line of my throat. I forget that anything exists outside of this. All my worries and fears evaporate into a searing fog. We’re invisible to everyone but each other.
I arch my back and mold my body into his. He has to duck low to reach me, his lips never parting from my skin and savoring every inch he can reach. He drags a hand up over the fabric of my bodice as a low tugging feeling starts to unfurl inside me. I inhale sharply when he squeezes my breast. More. Everywhere. That’s what I want and where I want it. Words seem far away, so I bring his other hand to the stays at the back of my dress. Maybe he can rip them open. His middle finger slips under one of the strings when a voice calls out over the music.
“Catherine?”
It’s a girl’s voice, right outside the tent. Simon and I freeze, neither saying a word until we hear it again. “Catherine? Where are you?”
It takes me two seconds to realize that it’s Cecily.
“I can’t stay,” I blurt out. I begin to backstep in a panic, but Simon slips a hand to the small of my back. He holds me steady, his eyes a mix of hunger and control.
“We’ll leave together but separately,” he says, his voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it. “You go out through the front, and I’ll leave from the back. I’ll stay unseen as I make sure that you reach your companions and that you all get back to the palace safely.”
He lets me go, and I follow his instructions even though it physically hurts to leave this tent. Still, I lift the flap and walk. I’m a little wobbly as I exit, and the music-filled air hits my flushed face. Everything is a blur. The people. The lights. And Cecily’s body as she hurls herself into me, swearing that she doesn’t know how we got separated. Lady Rochford is glaring at me over her shoulder, and I repentantly step in front of her.
“Is our little adventure done with, then?” she asks.
I nod and straighten my hair. She shakes her head and spins me around to begin walking back toward the palace, pulling my hood down in front of me.
“Keep your wits about you,” she says. “In this court, those who are governed by their hearts are the first to lose. You are playing for your life now, Catherine, and the game never stops.”
Her words send a nervous wave through me, helping to cool my overheating skin. I know that she’s right. I need to focus.
I do my best to appear composed, and not like someone who was minutes away from have moaning, screaming, summon-the-ancestors tent sex with a courtier named Simon Gainsford while in the completely wrong century.
Chapter Twelve
William, Bartholomew, and Cecily are off to bed, and Lady Rochford and I are dropping Bessie off at her room.
She claims to be flying high from all the delicious food she ate, but it’s more likely due to the generous amount of ale that she downed.
“That was so much fun,” she muses, her arms wrapped steadily around our shoulders. “I have honestly never had more fun in my entire life.”
Lady Rochford grunts as she lifts Bessie up higher. “I’m glad we all enjoyed ourselves.”
Bessie giggles as she pulls us closer. “Is this what it’s like to be a man? You can go out when you want, you can do what you want, and you don’t get in trouble for any of it?”
“Basically,” I answer.
Bessie sighs. “Incredible. Well, at least I have something to look forward to. I should think that I’ll have more liberty once I’m a married woman.”
Lady Rochford barks out a laugh. “That’s some wishful thinking if I ever heard it.”
“No, it’s true,” Bessie insists. “I’m going to marry someone level-headed and kind and not a tyrant. Catherine is going to help me.”
If it wasn’t borderline illegal for Lady Rochford to roll her eyes at me, I’m positive she would. “Right, because Catherine’s husband selection skills are so extraordinary.”
“I resent that,” I tell her.
“I’m sure you do.”
