Trusted (14 page)

Her father seemed excited as well. Normally a staid man, he was brimming with good cheer. Contrariwise, Jesso, who was usually quite jovial, seemed more serious and quiet sitting at her right elbow.

“Are you well?” she asked him.

“I am well. I am concerned about my king.”

Alarm hurried through her. “Is he not well?” She looked to the king and saw he was staring at her. He looked to be robust enough. If anything his intense regard was making her feel a little fluttery in her stomach.

“He is in good health. But other troubles weigh on his mind. I would see them relieved.”

“As would I,” she said with a sympathetic frown. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“You above all others have the power to ease his mind.”

“I do?” she was surprised and flustered. “I don’t see how I could ease the mind of a king.”

“Don’t you?” he countered simply.

It made her think. She supposed she was a source of trouble for the king. Did Jesso mean that she should relax her vigilance over her honor and simply sleep with the king? Is that what was troubling the king? His sexual frustrations caused by her?

But that was on the king, not her, she thought anxiously. True, she had said something very provocative to him today. But she did not intend to lead him on. It had simply slipped out before she could think twice about it. It had been an honest sentiment. Were it not for her feelings on the matter, she would give in to him. He made her body burn in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Just his kiss had the power to weaken all of her resolve. Perhaps she was being childish, clinging to her virginity so adamantly. Would it be so bad to be lover to the king? No one would look on her badly. No one…save herself. And that, in the end, was the only one who mattered. She was determined to give herself only to her husband. That would not change.

“I will not give in if that is what you mean,” she said sharply. “And you should be ashamed of yourself for pressuring me that I should.”

Jesso’s brows lifted in surprise, but then he laughed out loud. He leaned in and touched a finger to her cheek fondly.

“I would never do that. Indeed, I find your morals refreshing. You are an honorable woman and I would not have you any other way.”

“Well then, what did you mean by—“

“Sarea!”

Chapter Thirteen

Sarea jumped in her seat when the king’s voice boomed out. The sound of his chair pushing back reached her even before she could turn her head to see him getting to his feet. He rounded the table and was at her elbow in seconds. Sarea watched as the king leveled an angry glare on Jesso. Then he held out his hand to her.

“You will come with me,” he commanded her.

“But…we have not eaten,” she said in confusion.

“I see you would prefer Jesso’s company to mine, but I must insist.”

She looked to Jesso who was looking at the king with amusement. He was unfazed by the king’s temper. Yet it was clear what was wrong. The king had seen Jesso touch her, had seen them talking with their heads together and now he was…was…

Jealous? Could he actually be jealous? Over
her
? And just what did he think she would do? Give to Jesso that which she had denied him all along? What did that make her in his eyes?

Her temper sparked as she stuck her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and hastened to get her out of the room. They crossed the hallway into the ballroom, walked through the echoing space and headed out onto the terrace. The minute she was assured they were alone she pulled her hand free of him and rounded on him.

“What is the matter with you?” she demanded of him. “Are you truly acting jealous because of a little touch?”

“I do not like the idea of other men touching you. I like the sight of it even less.”

“So then you are jealous!” She was astounded. “Why? Why would you think I would play you so falsely? What have I ever done to deserve such doubt?”

He had the presence of mind to look instantly contrite. “Nothing. I did not say you deserved my censure. Nor did I say it was a rational mood.”

This mollified her a little. She sighed and moved up closer to him. She rested her hands on his forearms where they were crossed over his chest.

“I would never purposely hurt you.”

His frown eased and he reached to touch her face, running his knuckles over the rise of her cheek then down along her jaw. His thumb touched her nose briefly.

“Not on purpose,” he said softly. “But I fear you will hurt me all the same.”

“I wouldn’t! I would do anything to see to your happiness, my king,” she said earnestly.

“Then call me Garrick. Please. Let me hear my name on your lips.”

“Garrick,” she said readily, even though she felt strange saying it. Still, after all that had passed between them, he was just a man with a man’s desires and a man’s name.

“I love to hear that,” he said softly, cupping the side of her head in his hand. She always felt so small when he did that, as though her head were a fragile thing perched within his large palm.

“I will strive to say it more often then,” she said.

Then, before she could anticipate he was going to do it, his mouth was on hers. She melted into the kiss, her entire body going instantly boneless as he pulled her up against his hard body. She was instantly brought to the same place of heat and passion as she had been that afternoon. Every time he kissed her it got harder and harder to resist him.

The next thing she knew she was walking backward several paces, pushed there by the forward motion of his body. Her back came up against the rough stone of the castle and his body pressed hers into it. He kissed her again, and she suddenly felt his hand on her bodice, his palm cradling her breast, massaging her tightly until her nipple grew turgid beneath his touch.

He drew away from her mouth and she took the opportunity to gasp for breath. But she gasped again when his mouth drew down over the exposed areas of her chest, sucking lightly, biting even more lightly at the tops of her breasts where they plumped out over her neckline.

Her hands came up to his head. He had his long hair dressed in a braid tonight and she burrowed her fingers into the woven strands. She didn’t know if she was trying to hold him from or hold him to herself. But she did know she didn’t really want the heat he made her feel to stop.

She felt his hands on her skirts, dragging them up until he could put his hands on the bare skin of her thighs. She gasped as he ran his palms up the outer line of them, on up to the bare curve of her hips. His fingertips grasped at the cheeks of her backside.

She squirmed. No one had ever touched her so intimately. Allowing him such liberties could allow him to think she’d changed her mind about remaining true to herself.

“Garrick!” she cried, squirming some more. But she was trapped between his big body and the immoveable stone wall of the castle.

“No!” he hissed at her. “You will feel what I have to offer you before you call halt to this.”

Then the next thing she knew she could feel his fingers raking through the curls at the apex of her thighs. She tensed, torn between pushing him away and wondering what he was going to do next.

His fingers slid forward, parting her most intimate flesh. She gasped, blushing hotly, embarrassed and unsure.

“Garrick…”

“By the Joyous One, you are so hot,” he whispered against her skin. Then his mouth was on hers again, stifling all her protests…if she had any. She wasn't sure she did. She wasn't sure she didn’t.

Then pleasure began to unfurl inside of her in slow, languorous waves, waves that matched the slow, languorous movement of his fingers. She gasped into his mouth as he touched a certain spot…a spot she felt only she knew about…giving her ten times the amount of pleasure she got when she touched herself there. No. More than ten times. She had never felt anything like it. She felt herself go weak and wet, his fingers becoming slick. She moaned and he caught the sound on his tongue, kissing her so deeply she felt she would be lost forever. His fingers swirled around that one little bud of flesh that so stimulated her, and she began to feel as though she might come apart.

“Your passion’s bud is so fat,” he whispered heatedly against her lips, his teeth pausing to nip at her bottom lip. “Just the feel of it makes my cock hard with longing.”

He reached up with his free hand to snare one of hers. He brought it down the front of his body to the distinct bulge in his pants. She sucked in her breath at the feel of him, remembering what the sight of him looked like, feeling how hard he truly was.

“You do this to me,” he said. “And I do this to you.” He swirled his fingers around her bud once again and the tension in her body climbed. Then he moved his hand deeper between her legs, his fingertips rimming the outer edges of her vagina. He slipped a finger inside of her slowly and she instantly orgasmed, her entire body springing loose, a torrid cry wrenching from her lips. “By our god, you’re so tight,” he hissed. “So responsive. I can just imagine myself sliding inside of you.”

She could imagine it too. All too well.

“Please…we must stop,” she panted. But then she moaned as his finger thrust deeper. “Garrick…please!”

“You ask the impossible. You ask me to leave you when I know you want the opposite. You want me as badly as I want you.”

“Yes,” she cried. “Yes, I do, but it changes nothing!”

“It changes everything.” He slid his touch away and she couldn’t help but cry out at the loss. “I needed to know you want me as much as I want you. I have pressed myself on you time and again…but I didn’t know if you truly wanted me.”

“I do,” she breathed. “Please believe that I do. But…”

He caught up her hands and pressed them to his chest. Then he drew her in close. He kissed the protests away from her lips. Made her melt into him once more.

“Marry me,” he said.

Sarea froze. She wasn't sure she’d just heard him right. He couldn’t possible have said what she’d thought she’d heard.

He caught her gaze and smiled. “You heard me right. I’ve asked you to marry me.”

She gasped in a breath.

“No! You can’t mean that! Please don’t tease me. It is unkind!”

“I am not teasing you. I am really quite serious and I do mean it very much.”

“But…but I’m just a…a country girl. When you marry it must be for political gain. You…you should marry a woman of importance. I am nobody!”

“You are not nobody to me,” he said sternly. “And once we are wed, you will be a woman of great political import.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she said in a small voice.

“Do you not want me? That is the only reason I will accept for turning me down.”

“I…I don’t know what I want! Of course…you mean a great deal to me.”

“Do I?”

“You are my king,” she said softly.

He frowned. “But as a man? What do I mean to you as a man?”

“You mean everything,” she said all in a rush. “Absolutely everything.”

“Then you cannot turn me down,” he said firmly.

“But there’s so much more to consider!”

“I have already considered it all.”

“But I have not!”

“I will not give you time to tell yourself all the ways in which you are not good enough for me,” he said sternly.

“Please…I need time to consider my answer. Won’t you please give that much to me?”

He shook his head. She could see by his expression that he didn’t want to. But then he eased back and said, “I will give you tonight to come to terms with my proposal,” he said. “But remember the only way you can turn me down is if you don’t want me…the man…not the king.”

“You cannot separate the two!”

“I can and will. I am the king. I can do anything I wish to.”

He made her laugh and she knew he had done it on purpose. He brought lightness into the tension of the moment. It was thoughtful and kind.

“I have asked your father’s permission and he has agreed. He dared not turn me down. Your mother…I believe she is beside herself with joy. So they both know I have asked you.”

Sarea sighed. She could just imagine what her household would be like tonight. It also explained their earlier behavior.

“You…you’re genuinely asking me to marry you?” she asked, just trying to reaffirm the surreal situation.

“I want you to be my queen.”

“But why me?” she had to ask.

“I have many reasons. Not the least of which is knowing that with you there will always be great passion in our marriage. You are a passionate creature, Sarea. More so than any man dare wish for. You have more than proven that to me in our stolen moments together. Moments like this one.” He touched his fingers to her lips. “Open your mouth and taste your own passion.”

She hesitantly did as instructed and he slipped a finger into her mouth. She could taste and smell the salty sweet musk of her own body on his hand. She sucked on his finger, her skin burning hot at the naughty, decadent act. He groaned and pulled his finger free.

“Stop,” he said, his breath coming hard. “I imagine your lips around my cock when you do that and it has me hard beyond imagining.”

“You…you would want my mouth on you like that?” she asked in a whisper.

“That and more,” he said hotly. “And I would do the same to you. Touch my tongue to that little bud…thrust my tongue inside you.”

Sarea’s entire body was burning up as she imagined all he was suggesting. She had never known such a fire beneath her skin.

“Stop,” she said on a panting breath. “I cannot take much more of this.”

“Nor can I,” he said. He straightened, made certain her skirts fell straight, then offered her his arm. “Let us walk in the garden together for a few moments to cool our heads and bodies.”

She hesitated. “Do you promise not to kiss me? For, I have much thinking to do and I cannot think straight when you do.”

He grinned at that but then conceded. “I will not kiss you again until you tell me you will marry me.”

“Oh but…what if I tell you no? Does that mean you will never kiss me again?”

“We will handle that problem when we come to it. But I have high hopes this will not go in that direction. Come. Walk with me.”

And they did walk. In complete silence. Which was good because her head was spinning and she wouldn’t have known what to say. When they finally walked back to the castle, people were milling about the terrace. Whispers began and she felt as though everyone must know that they had been doing things only lovers should do. But none of them could know what had truly transpired.

She saw Gersa looking at her with pure disdain on her face, but by now she had learned to discount any feelings the other woman might evoke within her. She thought of what Lord Tyron’s reaction might be if he learned his daughter was never going to be queen. Sarea would hate to be the cause of a civil war.

Garrick brought her to her parents, who looked like they were about to burst apart.

“Well? How are things?” her mother asked excitedly.

“We’ll talk about it at home,” Sarea said in a low voice.

“Oh yes! Of course of course!” her mother said.

Isobol looked at her curiously. Wait until she told her best friend the news! What would she think then?

“I want to go home now,” Sarea said to her parents.