Page 28 of The Rose (The Godwicks 2)

“Is this how soldiers behave in battle?” she asked.

“Oh, but you would be surprised.”

“I have heard stories,” she said. “You hear things from servants when they think you aren’t listening.”

She stared steadily at his shoulder. Her fingers were in his hands, his thumbs rubbing her palms.

“Do you know what happens between us tonight?” he asked. “Have you seen it happen?”

“I...” She laughed, nervous. “Horses in Father’s stable. The groom couldn’t cover my eyes in time.”

He dropped his head back and roared a laugh.Gods, what those listening out in the hall must think...

“If horses are what you’ve seen, then you’ll either be relieved tonight or very disappointed.” He glanced down, and she did, too.

She shook her head.

“Well? What is it? Relieved or disappointed?”

“Relieved you aren’t a horse from the waist down? Yes,” she said. “I’d rather we not have centaurs for children.”

“Not disappointed, then,” he said. “Good. Very good.” He kissed her hand again, met her gaze. “Perhaps...pleased?”

As she looked into his eyes and he into hers, he lowered their joined hands and wrapped her fingers around him. She tensed in surprise, blushed deeper. He was hard in her hand, hard and soft at the same time. The flesh was soft, smooth, like a woman’s skin, but stiff, a core like iron.

“There,” he said. “Like that.” With his hand around her wrist he guided her fingers where he would have them go. Around the center of the shaft, holding firmly. Then he let go of her wrist, but she did not release him.

“What do I—”

“Just touch,” he said softly. “That’s all.”

With both hands she lightly, ever so lightly, stroked his organ. It was upturned, which she’d heard tell of—one of the girls had joked that the statues in the courtyard were never happy to see her. Upturned and moving, shifting in her hand like it had a will of its own. She pushed against it and it pushed back. Perseus made a sound in his throat, a pained sound, and she looked at him, questioning, but he replied, “Don’t stop.”

He seemed to like it when she gripped it, so she did again, and he inhaled once and sharply before laughing at himself. As she stroked him he touched her hair, her cheek, with his fingertips. His gaze was intent and almost tender.

“I will put it inside you,” he said. “You understand that?”

“I...think so?”

“From where you bleed,” he said. “Do you bleed?”

She nodded. How strange it was to talk of these things with a man. For her whole life it had been forbidden and now, with the speaking of a few words, it was no longer forbidden but, it seemed, required.

“For some time now. Father’s turned away all the suitors. His brother made the best claim on me.”

“Until I made a better claim.”

She smiled, kept stroking. The flesh was darkening. He had thick hair around the bottom and a line of it to his strong navel. She touched it, the hair, with the back of her hand and found it soft and warm.

“It may hurt,” he said. “When I go inside you.”

“Will it?”

“You’ve heard it will. Surely.”

“I have heard. But those are women who...”

“Who what?” he asked. He tugged her earlobe to make her smile.

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