“It doesn’t matter what I want, or don’t want. Someday I shall be King.”
“No more running around the countryside as Talac.”
“No, he’ll have to be retired.”
Alia could hear regret in Talac’s voice. Most who craved power didn’t understand until too late that with it came a loss of freedom and the never ending weight of responsibility. She, more than anyone, got it. Huh, Alia never thought there would come a day when she would feel sorry for the Prince of the Realm.
Perhaps Talac had sensed the direction of Alia’s thoughts, because his lips nuzzled the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, sending her dark thoughts scattering, striking a spark to the inferno currently slumbering low in her body. Bringing it back to a scalding level almost instantly with the touch of his lips against her flesh.
“Now, about my many, many transgressions…?”
Rolling over, Alia pinned Talac to the mattress, staring down at the hard planes of his handsome face. His eyes glimmering with heat and the promise of passion. Fanning her inner inferno even higher.
Determinedly pushing aside an insidious niggling thought that clamoured at her, questioning if one night with Talac would be enough to quench the fire that now burned deep within her… for him.
Leaning down to kiss Talac, Alia couldn’t shake the feeling that she had somehow gotten snared in her very own trap. Cruddy hell.
Chapter Thirty
“I don’t like to be one to say I told you so.” Perri nudged her sister, as Alia stifled yet another yawn. “But the two of us would have made dreadful nuns.”
The rough laughter that erupted from Alia made several heads at the luncheon turn in their direction. Alia making a point of meeting Regal’s gaze, gifting him a broad amused grin.
Her soon to be ex brother-in-law seated on the far side of the room between two heiresses, was having a hard time keeping a pleasant countenance. Not just because of the smirks Alia kept sending him, but because the ladies seated on either side of him were probably not what Regal had in mind, when he decided to pursue a suitable wealthy new bride.
The lady on his left dripped with diamonds, but had to be twice his age, and a little deaf. The lady to his right was dressed in head to toe mourning black and hadn’t stopped crying since entering the dining room. Occasionally lamenting rather loudly that Snowball had gone before his time, at the age of twenty-two, and that she wasn’t sure a cat owner was supposed to outlive their beloved pet.
Alia was positive that Regal would happily murder both his dining companions and move on to fresher fields, but even his proclivities had to bow to social convention. Gritting his teeth and eating as fast as he could appeared to be his plan.
Shooting Regal another deliberately mocking smile, Alia picked up her bread roll, nibbling upon it. After last night’s demanding activities, she should be starving. But she’d barely touched breakfast and her appetite appeared to have deserted her. Memories from her dalliance with Talac kept rearing up and causing little spot fires deep within her to reawaken. And it was all she could do to snuff them out with common sense… her and the Prince? Preposterous. And they dare not chance another encounter… dare they? No. No. Not in a Palace full of busy bodies and spying servants.
Talac had given her one last kiss and left her side to exit via the window and scale the Palace walls back to his rooms just before dawn. Not long after, Perri had slunk back to their suite. By the dim light of the rising sun, Alia had been able to observe that her sister’s dress was badly misbuttoned.
They hadn’t spoken of their adventures when they finally roused to pick at a late breakfast. Perri remaining surprisingly quiet as she helped Alia get dressed for the day in black trousers and a rich amber tightly fitted jacket with short tails. Though she had made a tsking sound at one point, fetching some soothing lotion to apply to several abrasions on Alia’s throat and décolletage. Tsk. Tsk. By the third tsk Alia could take no more. Dipping a finger in the pot, pointedly anointing several reddened marks on Perri’s pale flesh. Echoing her sister’s earlier tsk, tsk, tsk as she did so.
They’d shared a silent conversation. A question raised between them. Do you wish to speak of what you got up to last night… and with whom?
Both of their gazes skittering away. Instead, Perri had picked up the day’s schedule of listed events and they had discussed how they would stalk Regal.
The late morning’s crossbolt archery event had gone exactly as planned. Alia inserting herself into Regal’s group. Coughing or sneezing any time he took aim. Apologising again and again for her allergies… which for some strange reason only acted up every time Regal was at the mark. Then Alia proceeded to obliterate all of Regal’s shots. No matter where his bolts landed on the target, Alia’s next shot would split them right down the middle. Followed immediately of course by more insincere apologies on her part.
Regal had started off grim faced but as the event progressed his face had grown redder and redder. He loathed being made fun of. Twice he’d tried to bow out, but Alia had made taunting little oblique comments about his manhood and he’d had no choice but to stay to the bitter end.
Now here he was at the luncheon, trapped between two very wealthy, very available, but far from his ideal, heiresses. Which he also appeared to believe was somehow Alia and Perri’s fault. Given the looks of discreet promised retribution he kept sending their way. As if they had somehow convinced the major-domo to arrange the seating chart to their whims.
The only one Alia knew of with that kind of clout was Talac… no, don’t look his way. She’d been deliberately avoiding meeting his gaze all morning. Because if she did so, those heated memories would rear up. Internal bonfires immediately igniting, and she’d be squirming in her seat, suddenly all too aware of the strange little aches assailing her body because of the unfamiliar activities she had partaken in last night. Which would cause more memories to batter her. Talac’s hands on her body. Lips on lips. Tasting him. Touching him. Resting on her hands and knees at one point, him behind her… no, no. No thinking. No remembering. No looking his way.
In desperation, seeking a distraction, Alia struck up a conversation with the elderly man seated beside her. He was an avid hunter. What were the odds? No, no looking Talac’s way.
The main course was finally completed. Alia couldn’t tell you what it had consisted of. Dessert would be next. Nodding in thanks as a servant placed what looked like a flan of some kind before her. Ugh, pushing it away. Aware suddenly of Perri tensing up beside her. A small gasp escaping her sister’s lips, enough to make the dove grey scarf covering her face puff out ever so slightly.
What? Regal was on the move. Was he leaving? No, she saw what had caused Perri to react, Regal’s trajectory had him on a collision course with Brandth De’Luca’s table. Oh, things were potentially about to get very interesting indeed.
* * *
Brandth nodded as Umbrey, Kenlodu and Lowdrey made their excuses from the table. Heading for the terrace, preferring tobacco over dessert. Brandth wasn’t a fan of flan but he was quite happy to remain seated. His leg ached abominably today. A price he would willing pay again if he could spend a night with Perri creating a little mayhem.
Idly he picked up a spoon, rearranging the flan on his plate but not partaking of it. All the while his mind whirling, the epicentre naturally being Perri and the very satisfying night they’d shared. A night that seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Perri sneaking out just as the sun hit the horizon. One moment her bare flesh had been pressed against his, the next, she was gone. He’d been half drowsing. Heard the rustle of her dress. Registering distantly there had been no tearful goodbyes, no lingering last caresses. She’d just scooted off the chaise, dived into her gown and hauled her ripe butt for the exit.
