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Authors: Elise Marion
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them!”
He bent to kiss her cheek, happy, at least, to see her smile so radiantly. “I am certain you’re right, Mother,” he said. “I bid you good night.”
“Good night, son.”
Caden left her at the entrance of her tent and parted the closed flap of his own, stepping into the dimly lit space. His squire was still undoubtedly feasting and drinking, having known he would want his privacy with Esa tonight. Sure enough, she was waiting for him. Her bare arms and the tops of her breasts peeked from the top of the blanket she held over her naked body, and she lounged on his palette, a goblet of wine in hand. Caden began to disrobe, his body already humming to life at the sight of her.
“I hope I did not keep you waiting long,” he said as he shrugged out of his surcoat.
Allowing the blanket to fall down around her waist, Esa arched her back invitingly. “Hours, m’lord,” she purred. “But I shall allow you to atone for your rudeness.”
Sinking on to the palette, he pulled Esa against his bare chest and invaded her mouth with his searching tongue. Tomorrow, his duties as a son of Lord and Lady Maignart would weigh upon him—marriages and alliances, intrigues and secrets—but tonight there was only starlight, wine, and Esa.
Chapter Three
“Uncle!” Gwen extolled as she paused near Lord Orrick’s place at the high table. “How marvelous to see you this evening. You’re quite dashing in that shade of blue.”
“Dear Gwen,” he replied, standing to embrace her. “Do my eyes deceive me, or do you grow lovelier year by year?”
Gwen held him tight as they hugged. “Slip away to the garden when the entertainments begin,” she whispered in his ear. “Th ere is something I must speak with you about.”
“Of course,” he answered quickly . He kissed her cheek with a loud smack, tickling her cheek with his thick beard.
Evrain led her on, past Leofred, Achart, Jorin, and their lady mother. Lord Clarion was absent; his health had declined as of late, and he was not good company at the table. Instead, seated in the high lord’s place of honor was her betrothed. Prince Gaiwan Bainard. She paused as he stood to greet her, her throat constricting at the sight of him.
They’d only been introduced once, so Gaiwan was still a virtual stranger to her. His appearance was as disarming now as it had been the first time they’d met. Piercing blue-green eyes were set in a regal face that was all chiseled lines and smooth planes. His jaw was cleanly shaved, and his hair was no more than a bristle of scruff upon his head, the style of the men of Lerrothe. His skin was the color of golden wheat, and she’d heard the chambermaids whispering that the sun-kissed tone covered his entire body; that the men of Lerrothe often sunned themselves naked upon their balconies to achieve the beautiful shade. There were other rumors as well: that the Lerrothian men were hairless and smooth, that their prowess as lovers was unmatched, that they were a lusty people—both the men and women—that the men of the royal family kept so many concubines they might lay with a different woman every night of the year if they so pleased.
All of that could well be true, but Gwen knew little of the ways of Lerrothians. She knew only that the large island exported some of the finest wines, and that their prince would soon be her husband. The lashes around those e xquisite eyes were a dark blond, as was the scruff upon his head. He was several inches taller than she, broad shouldered, and lean. He was dressed richly in a black surcoat shot through with silver thread. The sleeves of a black leather doublet hugged his arms, and a belt with an ornate silver and aquamarine buckle cinched his slender waist. Black leather breeches disappeared into polished black boots. A large silver pendant with another aquamarine stone at the center lay against his chest, and an ornate silver crown rested on his brows.
She curtsied beautifully, her
He bent to kiss her cheek, happy, at least, to see her smile so radiantly. “I am certain you’re right, Mother,” he said. “I bid you good night.”
“Good night, son.”
Caden left her at the entrance of her tent and parted the closed flap of his own, stepping into the dimly lit space. His squire was still undoubtedly feasting and drinking, having known he would want his privacy with Esa tonight. Sure enough, she was waiting for him. Her bare arms and the tops of her breasts peeked from the top of the blanket she held over her naked body, and she lounged on his palette, a goblet of wine in hand. Caden began to disrobe, his body already humming to life at the sight of her.
“I hope I did not keep you waiting long,” he said as he shrugged out of his surcoat.
Allowing the blanket to fall down around her waist, Esa arched her back invitingly. “Hours, m’lord,” she purred. “But I shall allow you to atone for your rudeness.”
Sinking on to the palette, he pulled Esa against his bare chest and invaded her mouth with his searching tongue. Tomorrow, his duties as a son of Lord and Lady Maignart would weigh upon him—marriages and alliances, intrigues and secrets—but tonight there was only starlight, wine, and Esa.
Chapter Three
“Uncle!” Gwen extolled as she paused near Lord Orrick’s place at the high table. “How marvelous to see you this evening. You’re quite dashing in that shade of blue.”
“Dear Gwen,” he replied, standing to embrace her. “Do my eyes deceive me, or do you grow lovelier year by year?”
Gwen held him tight as they hugged. “Slip away to the garden when the entertainments begin,” she whispered in his ear. “Th ere is something I must speak with you about.”
“Of course,” he answered quickly . He kissed her cheek with a loud smack, tickling her cheek with his thick beard.
Evrain led her on, past Leofred, Achart, Jorin, and their lady mother. Lord Clarion was absent; his health had declined as of late, and he was not good company at the table. Instead, seated in the high lord’s place of honor was her betrothed. Prince Gaiwan Bainard. She paused as he stood to greet her, her throat constricting at the sight of him.
They’d only been introduced once, so Gaiwan was still a virtual stranger to her. His appearance was as disarming now as it had been the first time they’d met. Piercing blue-green eyes were set in a regal face that was all chiseled lines and smooth planes. His jaw was cleanly shaved, and his hair was no more than a bristle of scruff upon his head, the style of the men of Lerrothe. His skin was the color of golden wheat, and she’d heard the chambermaids whispering that the sun-kissed tone covered his entire body; that the men of Lerrothe often sunned themselves naked upon their balconies to achieve the beautiful shade. There were other rumors as well: that the Lerrothian men were hairless and smooth, that their prowess as lovers was unmatched, that they were a lusty people—both the men and women—that the men of the royal family kept so many concubines they might lay with a different woman every night of the year if they so pleased.
All of that could well be true, but Gwen knew little of the ways of Lerrothians. She knew only that the large island exported some of the finest wines, and that their prince would soon be her husband. The lashes around those e xquisite eyes were a dark blond, as was the scruff upon his head. He was several inches taller than she, broad shouldered, and lean. He was dressed richly in a black surcoat shot through with silver thread. The sleeves of a black leather doublet hugged his arms, and a belt with an ornate silver and aquamarine buckle cinched his slender waist. Black leather breeches disappeared into polished black boots. A large silver pendant with another aquamarine stone at the center lay against his chest, and an ornate silver crown rested on his brows.
She curtsied beautifully, her
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