Page 87 of Sweetling
The words brought a sudden sob, but Molly kept it in her throat. It was silly to cry over not having the prettiest gown—especially when she hardly wore them. Allarion didn’t seem to mind or notice what she wore around the estate, and Molly had always preferred a pair of trou over skirts.
Still, it was a sharp, feminine sort of pain to know that everyone had looked at her and found her lacking. All the hours she’d poured into the embroidery hadn’t mattered one whit to the likes of Fiona Braithwaite; they saw her unfashionably short hair and simple dress and found her wanting.
While Molly did cling to Lady Aislinn’s compliment and her knowledge that she was skilled in a way that Lady Fiona could never be, such gifts and her plain, common clothes were flimsy armor against that stare.
Allarion knelt in silence for a long while, that fae gaze of his intense as he regarded her. Molly bit her tongue for fear of saying something else to make herself feel even smaller. It all may have been a silly thing to be hurt over, but that didn’t stop the bruise to her pride.
When Allarion did speak, it was low and serious, making her lean forward to hear him properly.
Voice thick, he said, “I fear I must ask for your forgiveness again, sweetling. I sent you into battle without proper kit.” His mouth pulled down in a grave line. “I’ve failed you.”
Molly gasped, hurrying to cup his cheek in her hand. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” she assured him, “you didn’t know.”
“But I did. I understand the importance of presentation and how courts are full of jackals hunting for any weaknesses. Dress is far more than vanity, it is a statement.”
Drawing her hands to his lips, he kissed her knuckles. “I will make this right, sweetling.”
“Allarion, it’s all right. I can make do.”
“You absolutely cannot. Whatever you need, you shall have.”
“What, are we going to beat down the door of a dressmaker first thing tomorrow? The council meeting starts soon after breakfast.”
But by the determined set of his sharp jaw, Molly suspected yes, that’s exactly what they were going to do.
Relief fluttered in her belly, even as she sent whatever unfortunate dressmaker they found tomorrow her well-wishes for a restful night’s sleep.
“We will find you whatever will make you happiest. If we miss the council meeting—well, I was summoned to speak with the princess, not attend the meeting.”
“That’s true…”
Nodding, the matter no doubt settled in his mind, Allarion stood and pulled Molly up with him.
“Now, will you let me make my amends?”
“You have nothing—”
With a crooked finger, Allarion lifted her chin. “Sweetling, I want to make you feel good, to show you how beautiful you are to me. Will you let me?”
A flush of heat cascaded through Molly so quickly, her head spun. Arousal dulled her exhaustion as she plucked at the buttons of his tunic.
Looking up at him from under her lashes, she asked, “What did you have in mind?”
That hungry gaze swept over her, his hands coming to frame her hips. “I’m going to strip you down and finally look my fill of you. Then I will lay you back on that bed and please you until you beg me to stop.”
Her breath stuttered in her lungs. “Is that all?”
“For now, yes. When I sink my cock inside you for the first time, we will be in our home, in your bed. Until then, my mouth will have to suffice.”
“I suppose that depends on how well you use your mouth,” she teased.
One of his fine brows arched with her challenge, and a cocky grin, the likes of which she’d never seen on him before, unspooled on his lips to make her tingleeverywhere.
She ate up the sight of that grin as he set about undressing her. First were the laces of her gown, and he helped her step out of the pool of fabric. He laid it with infinite care on the armchair by the fire, ensuring it wouldn’t wrinkle overnight.
His nostrils flared to see her thin stockings and good set of stays, a pretty concoction of soft cotton and silk that molded to her breasts and middle and had cost her months of tips. She’d known it was worth the price for the comfort, as well as the look of any man who saw her in it. Allarion didn’t disappoint.
Those amethyst eyes sparkled as they roved over her curves, and his hands soon followed. With gentle fingertips, he traced down her arms and then up again, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. She could feel the puff of his breath on the tops of her breasts as he loomed above her, and she was flattered by how his breathing had gone deeper.
