He might not yet remember. He will. I intend to remind him at the first opportunity.
Killian
Briar’s beauty always stuns me into slack-jawed silence. The simple blue gown she’s wearing when she finally comes out from the dressing area makes my mouth go dry.
Her golden hair hangs in long waves, held away from her face by two small braids. The skirt bells out from her hips and ends above her ankles, a style that even I, a man whose attention to women’s clothing starts and ends with whether or not it’s on or off, recognize as a century out of date.
The laces ladder down her back, tied in a neat bow above that swell of a skirt. I want to tear that innocent little bow with my teeth. Pristine white linen sleeves puff out from the bodice. She looks like pure innocence, but there’s a gleam in her eye that makes the hunter in me howl.
Go ahead and play the demure maiden, Briar. I’m not fooled. We both know what you are.
A beauty with the heart of a beast.
“Where to, Princess?”
She tips her chin and casts me a sidelong glance. To the seamstresses watching our every move with bated breath, it looks like she’s thinking. But I know better. She’s eyeing my stupid uniform.
Thinking about what’s beneath.
I’ve seen that look on many a noblewoman over the years. It usually leads to torn gowns and hard fucks against cold,unyielding surfaces, followed by weeks of guilty avoidance. Or, worse, months of pursuit followed by tears, which is why I stopped messing around with aristocratic women.
It was a thrill to defile them at first. My dirty guttersnipe hands on their plush, rich tits. Word got around. Until I grew tired of the games and gave up playing them.
My refusals only whetted their appetites. Briar doesn’t know that I have long experience with turning away women’s flirtations.
Let her play her games.
I can resist.
If I can’t, gods help us both.
15
Briar
“I’d like to visit the library.”
Killian snorts.
“You. An intellectual.”
“I have a century of learning to catch up on, and it’s not as though I had access to books while I was in an enchanted sleep.”
He doesn’t respond to that. Merely strides beside me, his bright white boots scuffing on the flagstone. I’ve seen the ensemble on other guards, of course, but it didn’t occur to me that he might have one, too, until he appeared wearing it.
I hate it and love it at the same time. The cap tames his wild hair. I prefer it corralled in a loose topknot, but I can’t deny this looks almost as good. The gold trim is ridiculous. It doesn’t belong on a rough character like him. And yet, the uniform gives him the air of a lion on a leash.
An illusion of control. The instant he decides not to go along with the pretense, your head would be in his jaws.
I shiver at the thought of him catching me. Ripping me apart in ways I can barely imagine. I know what sex is. How it works. With all the attention I attracted growing up, my parents were both strict and protective.
They wanted me to marry the prince, and they encouraged me to resist so they could extract as many concessions as possible from the royal family first. Tonight, I shall meet the descendants of the duke my foster father became, a title my brother inherited while I was trapped in an enchanted slumber, followed by his son, and now a son after that. Which makes them my great-great-nephew’s family.
The idea of meeting my own family’s descendants makes me feel unmoored in time. A bit lost, frankly.
“Penny for your thoughts, Highness?”
“I was thinking about tonight’s presentation ball.” I flash him a smile. “Will you be attending me this evening?”
