He sighed and motioned for her to come to him. Hesitantly, she let him pull her down on his lap and leaned into his arm.
“Your mother is manipulative, my love. She’s going to beat that drum as long as it makes you jump.”
“So you don’t think it’s true?”
“I think that your being forced to attend your mother’s social carnival is unlikely to result in my removing the bodyguards from her door.”
She digested that. “My mother also claims it makes you look better in ‘the people’s’ eyes.”
He shrugged. “I think my making responsible choices will make a bigger impact.
You’re welcome to try, though.”
She twisted around to frown at him. “You’re not making me feel very important, here.”
He smiled. “I didn’t make you mine in order to please the political harpies, sweetheart. I made you mine to please me. Fortunately for both of us, you seem to enjoy it.” He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, a glint in his eye.
She moved her head away, but was firmly caught. “You sound sure of yourself.”
“You’ve done nothing but boost my confidence. In honor of that, I’d like to boost yours.” He released the hair and began stoking her neck, the long muscle under her left ear.
“How?” She was drowning in sensation, her body humming. The night had grown quiet, intimate.
He smiled. “Stand up. Strip for me.”
She blinked at him, thinking about that.
He winked. “Something new, sweetheart. Be bold.”
Trembling a little, she drew a breath for courage and stood up. His direct stare made her blush as she worked the fastenings on her gown, clumsy with anticipation.
“Slowly, love,” he purred.
Daring herself to meet his eyes, she slowly peeled the bodice of her gown apart, let it slide to her elbows and wiggled free. The gown clung to her hips.
She desperately wanted to cover her breasts.
His eyes darkened. “Lick the tips of your fingers.”
Her eyes widened.
His narrowed. “Do it.”
She obeyed, shivering at the feel of her tongue on her fingers.
“Pinch your nipples.” His look compelled obedience.
Unable to meet his eyes, she pinched her nipples, hissing at the shock that zipped through her. They were stiff, standing at attention. She’d never realized how pebbled they were.
“Cup them, raise them, squeeze them together.”
With each order, she blushed harder, but he wouldn’t release her. Her breasts were heavy, silky, and she squeezed them really hard to try and soothe the ache. He was watching her!
“Raise your hands over your head and slide them through your hair.”
Biting back a moan, she let the silky strands tumble through her fingers.
“Slide your hands down over your breasts and grip your butt. Wiggle out of your gown.”
Her hands were more eager this time, her body more desperate. The feel of her hands gripping her butt made her moan aloud. Naked, she fell to her knees between his spread legs. “Please.”
He smiled and stood, leisurely stripping out of his clothes. He sat back down and canted his head at her. “I’m all yours.”
She made a hungry sound and crawled astride, kissing him to forget her embarrassment, aching for him to fill the damp hollow his watching had primed. She fumbled with him.
He laughed and set her back, slid her down until her knees settled on the rug and her breasts cradled him. His finger rubbed her lips, slid inside. He withdrew the finger, touched it to the tip of himself and hissed at the contact. When she looked at him questioningly, he repeated the gesture, and then caressed her breasts with a growl.
She’d never liked the idea of taking a man inside her mouth, had never done it. It had always seemed dirty, gross. There was nothing bad about the way he was making her feel, though. There was no force, only seduction.
Tentatively, she licked the tip.
His entire body hardened. He said a muffled curse. When she hesitated, he caressed her hair, her face, her breasts, encouraging her.
She kissed him with little, careful kisses. When she finally grew bold enough to close her mouth on him, his head fell back with a moan.
It was a new power, the ability to make him weak, but that first time was about exploration, of discovering him with hands and mouth and tongue. Oddly enough, the experience only intensified the ache between her legs, causing her to cry out with sudden climax.
Jayems’ head came up with a snap. In seconds he had surged to his feet and tossed her over his shoulder.
He took off for the bedroom at a dead run.
* * * *
The next few weeks passed in a happy blur. Jasmine and Keilor’s romance progressed, Wiley became better at fending off her mother and Jayems found endless ways to make love to her. Wiley was even starting to make some friends among her peers, though she gravitated to the ladies her mother found less than suitable. Oh, they were ladies all right, but they were very into sports and highly physical, or else had a wicked sense of humor. Worse, they had little rank. Two of her favorites were Shanra, daughter of a preeminent musician, and Kayless, whose mother designed many of the dresses for women of status. In their middle twenties, the women still lived with their parents as was the custom. When they weren’t hanging out at Wiley’s suite, they visited at each other’s houses or went shopping. Three days before the public celebration of Wiley’s wedding, the girls were lounging around Shanra’s house.
“I’m in love,” Kayless said, admiring her newest sketch. “Such a pity Fallon will never notice me.” She was seated on a floor cushion, her red hair French braided into pig tails. There was amused resignation in her blue eyes.
Shanra laughed as she tried another combination on her lap harp. “Last week you were in love with Lord Keilor.” Of medium height and a brunette, she seemed to think she was nothing special. Wiley often thought she’d be surprised to know men noticed her laughing green eyes and long lashes.
Kayless shrugged and played in the smoke from the tripod incense burner. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave him to Jasmine’s tender mercies. It’s obvious they’re in love, even if they don’t know it.”
Wiley chuckled. She lay belly down on a earth toned, brocade cushion, just listening to Shanra’s magic fingers tease music from the harp. Her new friends had met and liked Jasmine, who returned the affection. “Oh, Jasmine’s figured it out. I think Keilor’s just working up the nerve to do something about it.”
“Regardless, that leaves Fallon. It’s so hard to find a man like him still unattached,” Kayless complained.
Wiley shifted onto her side, the better to smirk. “Oh, yes, tall redheads with blue eyes should complain. That waiter yesterday couldn’t pull his tongue off the floor.”
Kayless colored. “He’s a waiter! I notice you didn’t marry one.”
It was Wiley’s turn to flush. “I didn’t exactly pick him.”
“Granted, but given a choice between the two? There’s just no comparison to a man like that. I mean, he’s handsome, commanding, he loves you … doesn’t hurt that he’s rich, though I wouldn’t need that if I were in love.”
Her friends exchanged looks. Kayless was a woman in love with love, and desperate to have it happen to her. Unfortunately, the right man hadn’t happened along yet. It didn’t help that her mother squelched most men who tried. All she had to do was give them one of her infamous icy looks and they fell back.
Kayless was right--she needed someone with more backbone than a waiter.
Wiley studied her nails. “You know, what we need to do is get out. One of my favorite things to do is go watch Keilor and his men train. Talk about entertainment!
Sweaty men, flexing muscles …”
Kayless wrinkled her nose. “There’s nothing sexy about sweat, my dear. Besides, half the time they’re in Haunt. There’s nothing sexy about that.”
Wiley shrugged and stood up. “Just come along. Too bad Jas still needs her afternoon naps, or we could have her come.”
“How is that coming?” Shanra asked as she put aside the harp. “I thought she was mostly recovered.”
“Oh, she is, but it was near fatal, you know. She’s lucky all she has to do is take naps.”
Shanra grimaced in sympathy. “Poor thing.”
The ladies headed for the practice field via the gardens, taking their time, Wiley’s bodyguards trailing behind. They were joking, laughing, when all of a sudden a huge gray body jumped over the stone wall and flattened Kayless.
Wiley’s bodyguards jumped forward, but it was too late. The runaway stag had knocked Kayless flat, and she was lying on the ground, gasping for breath.
Just then a man vaulted over the wall, looked frantically around. “Oh, no! How bad is she hurt?” He dropped to his knees beside the girl, elbowing aside the concerned guards.
Kayless drew in a shuddering gasp, then groaned.
“I’m sorry! Lie still.” The stranger started looking for broken bones.
“Who are you?” Shanra demanded. “What do you think you’re doing, letting that animal run loose? You could have killed somebody!”
His jaw tightened. “My cousin lost control of the beast and it jumped the fence. I was trying to stop it before something like this happened. The other riders should catch it shortly.” Satisfied that nothing was broken, he offered Kayless a hand up. “I can take you to a medic, if you like. My name’s Hytal, by the way.”
Wiley looked at him with interest. She’d heard of the red sash Hytal. A loner famed for his skill with a blade, he was every maiden’s dream.
Kayless staggered back and pulled her hand away. “Don’t touch me!” She hunched over and wrapped her arms around her ribs.
His expression hardened as he looked at the guards. “I’m going to take her to the
medics. Radio for a chair.” He looked at Shanra, who had an arm around her. “Let’s find her a seat. They’ll be here in a minute.”
Unable to help without getting in the way, Wiley had the luxury of watching the warrior fuss over her friend. It was obvious he felt badly, though technically the accident wasn’t his fault. More interesting was watching her normally flirtatious friend hissing and spitting at one of the most eligible bachelors in the Citadel.
By time they’d whisked Kayless off to the medics and sent word to her mother, Wiley was feeling tired herself. She joined the others in the waiting room until word came that Kayless was resting, her worst injury a couple of broken ribs. In a few weeks she’d be fine, they said. As only her mother was allowed to stay with her, the rest of them went home.
“I’m tired of my friends getting hurt,” Wiley grumped to Jayems that night.
“With luck, you’ve met your quota,” Jayems soothed her. “That sort of thing doesn’t happen every day.”
“Thank God.” She sighed. “So, are you ready for this wedding thing?”
He laughed and snuggled her close. “I’ve already had my “wedding thing.” The celebration is just in honor of it.”
He smelled so good. She snuggled her nose into his chest. “I’ll be glad when it’s over. I don’t like being the center of attention.”
“Oh, you won’t be. Didn’t I tell you? Keilor and Jasmine are celebrating their vows at the same ceremony.”
“What!” she sat up in bed. “What are you talking about?”
Even in the moonlight, Jayems looked smug. “I got word earlier. They’re celebrating their wedding night right now.”
Her mouth dropped open. “She didn’t tell me!”
He chuckled. “It sounded as if they just couldn’t help themselves any longer. I doubt she meditated on it before she gave herself to him.”
Wiley just stared at him. Jasmine, married! “Well, she should have found a way to tell me. I’m her best friend, after all.”
He pulled her down for a kiss. “Some things are better celebrated in private,” he murmured suggestively, then rolled her on her back.
* * * *
She found her wedding celebration anticlimactic.
Yes, there was food, music and a few people she knew there, but she would have been much happier if the crowd had been smaller. As she thought about it, she began to plan a more intimate gathering of friends for a later time. It helped to get her through her mother’s posturing and the endless line of people waiting to greet her.