Page 33 of The Royal Curse

I didn’t even remember him settling down into bed with me. He might just as easily have slept in his own room, or knowing him, in a chair or on the floor—and I found myself pitifully grateful that he’d chosen to join me instead. Another chance at this kind of intimacy might never come my way. Feeling Andreas pressed against me so closely, from head to toe, was a kind of magic not even the most skilled practitioner could create.

His hand tightened on my waist, and then he let go, tracing over my hip, along the curve of my ass, teasing into the very top of the crease with a finger.

“I know you’re awake,” he said. “Your breathing changed.”

Well, that was…under other circumstances, I’d have thought it alarming to be observed quite so closely. On the other hand, I couldn’t possibly be closer to him. And he cared enough to pay attention to how I breathed.

My heart gave a stupid little flutter.

Gods, could I be any more pathetic?

“I slept too,” he went on. “But it’s getting close to dawn. I always wake up right before the sun. I’ve been staying still to try not to disturb you.” He turned his head and nuzzled into my hair. And that might have been a kiss to the top of my head.

With any luck he’d stopped listening so carefully, because the flutter became a vibrato, and my breathing sped up.

Yes, yes I could be more pathetic, as it happened.

“I slept well.” I cleared my throat, hoping to rid myself of that soft, fond tone along with the slight roughness of sleep. “You kept me warm. Perhaps I should pay you more after all, if you’re willing to tolerate my weight on you all night.”

Damn it. That hadn’t worked at all. I couldn’t have sounded needier and more desperate if I’d tried, practically begging for reassurance that he’d tolerate me even if he weren’t paid to do so.

A short silence fell. Had his heart sped up too, or was that simply my imagination?

“It was my honor, Your Highness,” he said at last, his tone rather stiff. “All of it.”

All of it. His honor? He felt…honoredby having fucked me in the ass with his cock and his fingers and his tongue, and his cock again? Honored. I couldn’t help the way my nails dug into his chest, the way I went tense against him. That answered that question, anyway. He might like me well enough. In fact, I was sure he did. He’d been genuinely friendly since we started preparing for the journey. And he hadn’t been faking how much he wanted me, either. But apparently he wouldn’t be lying here in bed with me, caressing me, comforting me, acting like a lover, unless he felt it was his duty to do so. After all, you couldn’t fuck the virgin and then walk away, could you? That wouldn’t be gentlemanly even if he hadn’t been paid to take care of me.

My pulse pounded in my temples. With an effort, I forced my fingers to unclench, and I rolled away from him, turning partially onto my back. That trapped his arm under me. Fuck. And the blankets had slipped down as I moved. My chest and stomach and cock felt cold and bereft, the chilly air of the bedroom hitting me like a slap on skin that had been cozily pressed to Andreas for hours.

I cleared my throat again, since now it had a horrid lump in it.

“I’m very grateful,” I said, summoning all of my training, extensive and from birth, in the art of remaining formal and polite even when you were screaming inside. “You probably saved my life, Andreas. I’ll never forget it. And I couldn’t ask for a more faithful guard.”

My voice wavered on the last two words, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

He tugged his arm out from under me, letting me drop down to the mattress, and I shivered as he sat up and took the last of his body’s heat with him. I tried to keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling: that same cobweb from the night before drifting in the draft, the faint gray of dawn through the window beginning to cast the corners in gloomy light. But I couldn’t help tracking Andreas out of the corner of my eye. He rolled out of bed and stretched, the muscles in his shoulders and back shifting and bulging mesmerizingly, and then bent over to pick up his clothes. The swing of his cock and balls between his legs almost had me begging him to come back.

Instead I tugged the covers up to my neck, trying to capture some of his residual warmth. It didn’t work. I was chilled down to the bone, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

When I finally dared to look up, he’d made himself surprisingly presentable given how we’d spent the night and how carelessly his clothing had been removed. His tunic hung a bit crooked, and he held his sword with the belt wrapped around it.

But he’d put on his boots and looked more or less ready for his day. My last little shred of hope that he might get back in bed with me, take me in his arms, and kiss me senseless laid down and died.

Our eyes met and held. Gods, his face really didn’t give much away. Washed out under his tan, and a bit pinched, but who wouldn’t be after such a late night, and all the excitement? Besides, an overcast dawn flattered no one. I probably looked like death warmed over.

“You ought to go back to sleep, Your Highness,” he said abruptly. “We’re not going anywhere today, obviously. And you need your rest after—” Andreas stopped even more abruptly, his cheeks going from pale to brick red—as if even speaking about it embarrassed him now that we weren’t in the throes of arousal and magic.

Gods fucking damn it all. Shame hit me directly in the solar plexus, and I might’ve doubled over if I hadn’t been lying down.

He’d spent the night with me. First caring for me as I became ill, and then fucking me because I needed it to survive, and then holding me while I slept and watching over me—even if he’d wished he could be elsewhere, he’d stayed. And he truly had saved my life in the process.

Andreas hadn’t chosen any of it. We’d joked about his committing “treason,” and I believed him when he said he didn’t feel obligated by his position as my guard, but in the end…he truly did receive a wage. From mymother. Thequeen.

The least I could do to thank him would be to summon rather more of that deeply ingrained royal courtesy I knew I possessed and allow him to withdraw in good order.

Preferably without flinging myself on the floor, wrapping my arms around his booted legs, and forcing him to drag me across the room as I pleaded with him to stay. To give me a few more hours to pretend that I had a lover, a life, someone who desired me and cared for me.

“I am still very tired,” I said, and half-faked a yawn that became real after a moment. The flash of relief that passed across his face made my chest hurt, but at least I knew I was doing the right thing. That could comfort me in my cold, lonely hay bale of a bed, couldn’t it? “You should rest more too. I give you my word of honor I’ll send for you if I need anything at all.”

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