Page 40 of A Crown So Cursed
Unbridled.
Unashamed.
Gwendolyn’s heart beat wildly as his eyes locked with hers, full of promise.
“Well, well! So it appears…someone’s been busy while I was away!” came a familiar voice, and the teasing shattered their private sanctuary like a stone through glass.
Gwendolyn shoved Málik away, cheeks flushing crimson, to face the intruder.
ChapterFourteen
Arrogant and unapologetic, stood Esme, her lissome frame vibrating with barely suppressed laughter. An impish grin trembled across her lips as she stood, hip cocked, with one hand on her hip.
“Oh, please, please! Do not allow me to interrupt,” she pleaded, her voice honeyed and lucid with delight at their nudity. “By all means—carry on! I love a show.”
Blood and bones.
Esme was a deviant.
Her coppery hair was mussed and wild as though she, too, had only just extricated herself from a lover’s embrace. Neither Gwendolyn nor Málik had an immediate response for her, and Gwendolyn was so shocked she didn’t think to dress. Satisfied that she had adequately made a proper entrance, Esme strutted the rest of the way into the chamber, completely without invitation, her fiery hair bouncing around her “Did you miss me?” she quipped, her green eyes alight with mischief. “Or were you too...preoccupiedto think of me at all?” She waggled her brows.
And then, she added plaintively, “Well, so clearly, youweretoo preoccupied to send word of Gwendolyn’s return. I had to hear it for myself.”
Gwendolyn blinked, meeting her sister’s gaze with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. “Your timing is impeccable as always, Esme.”
“Indeed,” agreed Málik. “One would almost think you’d planned your entrance.” He levered himself up and glowered at both of them at once—mayhap because Gwendolyn couldn’t quite wipe the embarrassed grin from her face. Gods knew this was not how she’d wished to meet her sister again, but she was relieved to see her. In fact, her timing couldn’t be more serendipitous. She wasn’t being entirely facetious. They could use her help right now.
For her part, Esme gave a very unladylike snort—a signature laugh, that one that sent most men scrambling for weapons or wine. Sometimes both.
“Is that any way to welcome your sister?” she said directly to Málik.
“Youarenotmy sister,” he argued.
“Whatever—ex-lover.”
His frown deepened. “That was long ago, and my worst mistake!”
“Your worst? Really?” Esme glanced down at his stubborn erection, his desire barely diminished even with her arrival, and grinned. “I would say more delightful, as I recall—pardon Gwendolyn.” She winked at Gwendolyn.
“I see your tongue is sharp as ever,” Málik returned, clearly annoyed.
“Indubitably, it is part of my charm,” Esme allowed, and then her grin widened. “But fear not, brother…er, lover…in-law… Majesty—I amnothere to rekindle old flames. And I was not speaking to you. I was speaking toher.”
Her gaze turned to Gwendolyn, softening. “I can see I’ve interrupted quite the reunion,” she allowed with an approving smile, and her eyes slid brazenly over Gwendolyn’s exposed breasts, her green eyes twinkling with mirth. “And I really must confess that shade of pink suits you.”
Gathering her wits at last, Gwendolyn arose, realizing that Esme intended to remain until she had her say. She retrieved a soft-gray robe that had been laid atop the bed for her—how; she didn’t know. It was as though the room itself sensed her needs. Her cheeks burning as she dressed, she fumbled with the ribbons as Málik dressed as well, less eager.
Reaching for his discarded tunic, he shot Esme a withering glance, and another smile tugged at Gwendolyn’s lips. “I trust there’s a reason for this...drama?”
“How did you know I was here?” Gwendolyn asked.
Smiling, Esme flounced to the bed, plopping herself down upon it, unperturbed by Málik’s glare. “Manannán,” she said. “He was concerned—as a father should be.”
Gwendolyn couldn’t deny the gratitude that washed over her at hearing this. But then again, somehow, the thought of her father—or any father—here in this room right now, whether in spirit, or in the flesh, did not suit her. Really, it should not suit her that Esme was here either, and she should be far more chagrined, but she was not. It was difficult to be embarrassed by anything in Esme’s presence, when at their first meeting, Esme had so rudely squeezed her breast.
“More to the point,” Málik said crossly. “Where haveyoubeen?”
Esme’s demeanor shifted only slightly, her playful visage fading into a more serious mask. “The Lands of Eternal Winter,” she revealed. “Let me tell you, Málik, it wasnothrill. While we sit here pining for our lost homelands, it is not as I remember. There is no peace in that place—neither is the climate suitable to my liking. Cold. Bitter. The Grypes and Wyrms are endlessly at war—and I do mean endlessly!”
