Page 41 of A Game of Veils

His thumb strokes across my back in a subtle caress. As little as I intend to succumb to his advances, I can’t help thinking his approach is an awful lot more pleasant than Marclinus’s forceful grab of my arm and unprompted nip.

The imperial heir requires only his station to seduce any lady in court. Raul will have needed to actually charm them. And he must prove good to his word, or disparaging gossip would quickly spread between the ladies and he’d find his options dried up.

I probably shouldn’t be thinking about his seductive prowess when I need to focus on gaining his friendship, not access to his bed.

“Does His Imperial Highness ever resent the competition for his court’s attention?” I ask, partly because it might reveal more about Marclinus’s attitudes and partly out of honest curiosity.

Raul sounds as if he’s choked back a guffaw at my baldness, but it’s not as if I could be unaware of my betrothed’s lustful pursuits after yesterday’s dinner. His smirk grows. “The court is large enough that our interests don’t need to overlap. I do believe in keeping my liaisons more private. Easier for all involved to relax.”

He leans a little closer, lowering his voice. “I could make you just as satisfied as Marchionissa Poinette. Set that lovely body alight with all the pleasures it’s craved.”

I peer at him through my eyelashes. “I don’t doubt your skills. But I believe in a certain amount of loyalty to one’s partner… even if the match hasn’t been settled.”

Raul lets out a hum that resonates over my skin. “You’re not married yet. Marclinus has never bothered to care how his partners feel. Shouldn’t a woman deserving enough to become empress get to experience true gratification at least once before she consigns herself to a life where she’s expected to do all the worshiping?”

His words quiver through me, stimulating both my heart and my sex. Gods smite me, he can probably tell my drawers are dampening.

I can still play along. “Is that what you’d do? Worship me? It’s seemed as if you’d rather savage me like the wolf you claim you are.”

“Perhaps we could split the difference and make it a ravaging instead.” Raul’s thumb skims over my back again. “I’d be willing to set aside our differences momentarily for the sake of mutual enjoyment. I have more of a bone to pick with your husband-to-be than you, after all.”

And no doubt he enjoys the idea of bedding me before that husband-to-be has a chance to. For all his provocative words, a hint of the hostility he’s shown me in the past has emerged in the brief sharpening of his tone.

I know he can put on a performance when he feels the need to. His overtures don’t mean he likes me any more than I imagine he’s truly fond of the various other ladies he tumbles.

His larger animosity allows me a change of subject. “His Imperial Highness has given you a difficult time in other ways, then?” Maybe if I learn more about how Marclinus has hassled his foster brothers, it’ll reveal something about how he might challenge his potential future brides.

“Marclinus never wants anyone to forget how much power he holds,” Raul says lightly. “So why not take back a little of our own when he never needs to know? You can’t deny you’re tempted.” His voice drops to a murmur. “Just imagine how I could make your body sing while I devour every inch of it in the best possible way.”

A deeper shiver ripples through me, this one all heat. My cheeks flare of their own accord.

I offer another modest smile. “I think that’s a proposal best left to the imagination. As thrilling as the idea might be.”

My tone must be firm enough to tell him he isn’t getting any farther with me at this particular moment. Raul teases his fingertips over my back once more and then prods me forward. “We’ll see if you change your mind once it sinks in just how skilled these hands are. You’ll find stairs to the garden entrance just around the next bend, Lamb.”

He leaves me to continue on alone, mulling over exactly what he meant about his skills “sinking in.” But I do recognize the bright hall around the corner, lined with paintings that flicker with bits of illusionary magic.

As I head down the staircase to the broad doors that have been propped open, laughter carries from gardens beyond. I hurry out into the warm sunlight and floral-scented air.

It appears that most of the court has already assembled amid the flowerbeds and hedges since our luncheon, including Their Imperial Eminences and my remaining competitors for Marclinus’s hand. Fausta glances over at me from a cluster of other ladies and immediately narrows her eyes.

I amble along a path past her only to hear her sharp laugh peel out. “It looks like the wild princess is wild with her clothes as well.”

As several nearby heads swivel my way, I’m abruptly aware of the loosening of my bodice. I hastily reach behind me.

This Darium-style gown is meant to emphasize the bosom and waist amid the airy sleeves and skirt. The sparse ribbon lacing at the back maintains that form.

But my grasping hands find that the tight bow Melisse tied for me has slipped completely apart, the lacing spreading wide.

My temper prickles with the realization. This is what Raul meant. As we strolled through the halls, he must have surreptitiously worked the bow loose without my even noticing.

He wanted me thinking about him after he’d walked away—wanted the memory of his seductive mischief burned into my memory with embarrassment.

That’s how he still sees me: as prey. An innocent maiden who’ll be flustered by his rakish behavior.

His assumptions might not be a bad thing. But I do need to fix my dress.

“You really should guide your maid more effectively, Princess Aurelia,” Fausta adds in her snide tone.

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