Page 78 of Sweetling
She knew it would be spectacular—if he was half as good at it as he was at kissing, she’d enjoy herself. Molly also knew that they were betrothed and therefore it’d be expected for them totest those waters,as it were. There was no true reason not to take him to bed if she wanted him.
And with each passing day, Molly became surer that, yes, she did want him. Badly.
Deciding to stay on the estate with him had implications that she meant to be his wife in all ways. She intended to give it her best consideration, and taking her fae betrothed to bed wouldn’t be a chore. Still, crossing that threshold with him had implications of its own. A finality.
But with each passing day, Molly was coming to understand that that wasn’t something to fear or dread. Indeed, as they spun and danced around that room to the music, her mind finally caught up to what her heart had been trying to tell her.
She wanted more than just kisses.
Old habits died hard, though. First, she needed to know if there was a line she couldn’t cross. In her experience, every man could only be pushed so far. Molly needed to know where Allarion’s was, for although he’d been nothing but patient, of any man she’d ever known, he had the most power to hurt her.
So as much as she enjoyed their kissing and dancing and cuddling, Molly had to be practical—at least this one last time—for her own peace of mind. But nothing said she couldn’t have fun while doing it.
Allarion sat in his library, a late autumn storm blowing outside. Loose detritus clinked against the walls and windows, and the wind howled through the trees just beyond. All their activities had been housebound today, and even Bellarand had sought shelter inside—much to Molly’s chagrin.
He couldn’t help a grin remembering the ferocious argument as the unicorn went rooting around the kitchen looking for food as Molly tried to push him out the door. Allarion finally intervened when someone threatened to defecate on the clean kitchen floor and then someone else threatened to make horse jerky.
After dinner, Molly shooed him from the kitchen, and so Allarion wandered into the library. He hadn’t found anything overly productive to do yet, instead consumed by staring at the missive that had arrived yesterday from Dundúran. He almost wished it’d been delayed a day, for if the words were washed away with the day’s storm, he couldn’t be faulted for missing the message.
With the end of autumn fast approaching, it would soon be time to leave for Dundúran to attend the seasonal council meeting. As a landholder, Allarion was beholden to attend at least twice a year. He’d been dutiful, attending at every opportunity.
That had been before Molly, though. An excuse to be in Dundúran was an opportunity to search for a possible human wife. He also enjoyed the company of Lady Aislinn and her blacksmith-turned-lord husband.
Allarion hadn’t mentioned the message to Molly, nor their impending departure, for he wished neither to be so. The truth was, he didn’t want to leave the estate. Everything had been going so well,finally. Every day with her was a boon as she found new little ways to surprise and delight him. Each day revealed a new aspect of hisazaihe savored, and he could feel the bonds between them strengthening.
He couldn’t predict what a trip back to Dundúran might mean for their delicate courtship.
Allarion might have thought to forgo it altogether—he’d already attended his two council meetings this year—were it not for the underscored last line of Lady Aislinn’s letter.
Your presence is required, as requested by Princess Isolde Monaghan.
Even with the seriousness of the message, Allarion stalled. He’d given himself the day to come up with an excuse, but alas, had found none. He couldn’t deny, either, that his curiosity was piqued over what could be so important that the princess required him.
Still, upsetting the balance of his growing rapport with Molly wasn’t something he relished. His reluctance to cause any more obstacles to their strengthening bond had led to his prevarication, yet he knew…he had to tell her. She’d asked for total honesty from him, and although fae never lied, omittance could still be a falsehood.
Slumping in his wingback chair, Allarion brooded on the letter. It sat on the desk, deceptively innocuous. He wanted to believe that such a trip away would mean nothing to their bond. He knew, rationally, that for the bond to have any hope of being truly set and strong, they would need to be away from the estate sometimes.
He’d assured her she wasn’t his prisoner, and that had to be true even when he was receiving her kisses.
As if his thoughts summoned her, the door opened a moment before Molly breezed into the library. Straightening, Allarion smiled to see her coming to him.
His skin prickled with awareness that something wasdifferent.
Her hips swayed hypnotically as she walked, and her lids had fallen low over her sultry eyes. She still wore her customary billowy linen shirt and cotton trou, but rather than tucked under her embroidered stays and waistband of the trou, her shirt hung loose to her thighs.
Allarion’s gaze snapped to her heavy breasts, his mouth running dry to see how they swayed with her gait, unbound. The smallest crescents of shadow curled beneath where the soft peaks of her nipples pressed against the fabric.
His breathing deepened, and he could feel his pupils dilating.
“Good evening, sweetling,” he said.
“Good evening,” she replied, not stopping until she’d come to stand beside him on the far side of the desk.
He gazed up at her hungrily, marking how her growing curls framed her heart-shaped face. Those brown eyes held a seductive glint in the warmth of the fire- and candlelight as she looked upon him. Allarion’s palms itched to reach out and grab hold of her flanks, draw her between his spread knees, but he waited.
His little minx of a mate was testing him. Had been for days now. Perhaps she always had been, in different ways, but he recognized her subtle seductions. Finding ways to touch him, brushing her breasts against his arm or back, rounding those doe eyes at him, plumping her plush lips for a kiss.
He was immune to none of it, of course. She hardly needed to put effort into seducing him. One word would be enough.
