Page 76 of A Game of Veils

Lorenzo considers me. Now that his annoyance has dissipated, a glint sparks in his eyes nearly as sly as when he stole the fruit in the orchard for us to share.

He picks up his pencil again. Anything I’d like?

The emphasis and the heat in his gaze send a tingle over my skin. The kiss we shared after the twilight pumello tickles up from my memory again.

I wet my lips without meaning to. Lorenzo tracks the movement, and my whole body warms with the sharper awareness that we’re alone in his bedroom.

Is it wise to become more entangled with any of the princes? Especially when I’ve now kissed two of them, regardless of how fleeting a peck I gave Bastien?

Especially when desire is already pulsing through my veins at the thought of experiencing Lorenzo’s kiss again?

But I do want them utterly on my side. If I’m going to win over this man, wouldn’t it help more than hurt to play to his interest in me a little more?

The more invested he is in me being alive, the more likely he’ll do something to ensure I stay that way if the opportunity arises.

And damn it, it’d be nice to feel good for a moment or two amid all the awfulness of the court.

I meet Lorenzo’s eyes without shrinking. “What are you thinking?”

He steps closer, his gait languid now, his gaze burning into me with its intensity. At the stroke of his fingers along my jaw, my chin rises automatically.

As he claims my mouth, he nudges me closer to the wall. My arms loop around his shoulders instinctively. I’m caught in his embrace, in the thrilling slide of his mouth and the heat of his body washing over mine.

So why does it feel like he’s opened the door to my cage?

My fingers trail up into the short tufts of his thick hair, and a rumble emanates from his chest. He kisses me harder, his hand coming to rest on my waist.

Just a little fun, I tell myself. A little pleasure before I have nothing left ahead of me but duty.

I recite that excuse through another scorching kiss, through the experimental brush of Lorenzo’s fingers up my torso. Through the jolt of bliss when he palms my breast through my gown.

A whimper slips from my throat. Lorenzo drinks in the sound. When I can’t help arching into his touch, he swivels his hand against my chest with more assurance.

My nipple pebbles at the friction, more giddy quivers racing over my skin. Arousal pools between my thighs.

I should stop this soon. I should stop before I’m dragged under more than he is.

He eases a little lower, and the torn fabric of my dress shifts. A current of air wafts over my leg.

The sensation hits me like a bucket of cold water.

I’m supposed to be at breakfast right now. I’ve already taken far more time away than should be required to exchange gowns.

My body tenses. Lorenzo draws back immediately, his gaze searching mine.

I touch the side of his face to soften the partial rejection. Can he feel how hard he’s set my heart thumping? “I need to fix my dress and make it to breakfast before it’s over.”

That’s all I have to say. He knows what’s at stake. It doesn’t stop Lorenzo from stealing one more swift but sweet kiss, but then he ushers me out the door without attempting to change my mind.

I can’t help noting that I’ve already won enough loyalty from him that he’d prefer to see me survive the day rather than ruin me in more ways than one.

It’s a victory. I have to hold on to it.

I rush to my own room as quickly as I can, trade the ripped dress for an intact one, and stride back to the dining room. The smells of buttered bread and fried cheese set my mouth watering as I approach the table.

Most of the nobles at the head table are still eating. But as I drop into my chair, Marclinus dabs his fingers on his napkin and rises to his feet.

“My ladies,” he says with a dip of his head in acknowledgment, his lips curved in the cruel smirk I’ve come to know so well. “Take this as your notice that the next trial will begin in the hall of entertainments on the hour.”

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