Page 51 of Tamed for Her Pleasure

“Now, you must excuse me,” I say, rising from my seat and forcing them to follow suit. “I have a dress fitting to attend.”

I do not have a dress fitting, but my aim is achieved, and they leave, their half-drunk tea abandoned.

Barely have they left when my great-aunt arrives.

“I have taken to him,” she announces, calling a servant to clear the tea service and bring a fresh set.

“Who?” I ask, distracted by her two Chihuahuas who make a bed on the plump carver chairs before the window.

“Alfred,” she says. “I was off to visit my cousin in the city when the carriage wheel became stuck in a rut. The guards were floundering when Alfred came out of the barrack and plucked it from the rut. He is terribly strong. Also, my darlings adore him. And they are very discerning.”

Her darlings are the two Chihuahuas. She is right. They do not like anyone well. I have seen them snap at Jeremy a time or two… and Joyce will not go near them. I can’t imagine how Alfred might have won them over.

I sip a fresh cup of tea to hide my smile. It would seem Alfred has achieved the impossible and won my great-aunt over as easily as her dogs.

She chats away about the wedding. It is nice to talk to someone who is on my side. I should have known my great-aunt would come around in the way my father did. She is fierce, protective, and unafraid to test a person’s mettle on her sharp tongue.

We enjoy a much more pleasant teatime than I experienced with Joyce and Jeremy. When she leaves, I ask my maid to draw me a bath.

I am ready to be Alfred’s wife, his mate… His: in whatever way he desires.

He says when I am fertile, taking his knot will come naturally. He still pleasures me every evening, tormenting me until I am convinced I could take his knot then and there.

I take my time bathing, using my favorite scented oils on my skin, before selecting my prettiest silk dress. One that Alfred will love peeling from my body.

The time since I last saw him is short, yet I miss him.

He says that betas change when they mate with an alpha. I didn’t believe him when he first said that. Maybe I am not changing at all, and these feelings are merely a manifestation of my increasing love.

I want all of him—to be his wholly, completely, to accept his knot, and to carry his child.

Becoming a mother was always a distant point on the horizon. Adventures and mischief called to me because I was empty and needed something to fill the void.

Something different awaits me: being a mate or wife, being loved… having children.

My mother died during childbirth, bringing me into the world—she never got to see me grow up. My father has told me often how she held me in her arms so briefly and that her face shone with joy.

I want children with Alfred. It feels like my very purpose. But I am also scared and mindful of the preciousness of time—that what I have with Alfred might be short, should the Goddess claim me as she did my mother. I want to cherish every moment, every hot kiss, every intimacy, and all the laughter. And even those worrying times, like when he turned up with broken knuckles and a bruised face because he would help another man.

I dress with care, slip my earrings in, and add a necklace around my throat.

A small, more intimate dinner is planned for tonight—Jeremy and Joyce will not be there. But my great-aunt will, and others who I know have already warmed to Alfred.

A knock sounds on the door, and before I can call, my maid rushes in.

“My lady,” she says, the words tumbling out. “Sir Alfred has been taken ill. The doctor has been called to tend him and is with him now.”

I feel blood leech from my face. “Ill? But how?”

“No one knows.” She wrings her hands. “He’s coughing up blood, my lady. Oh, it does not look good.”

Alfred

I am sitting in a fancy bed coughing up blood. This is a new and alarming development, as is the weakness and the cold sweats that engulf my body. I have taken a beating many times in my life. Broken bones. I have got fucking stomach sicknesses more times than I can count. But they were positively joyful next to this.

Maybe it is the green room that is driving me to the end.

The doctor listens to my chest, then presses his fingers into my wrist while looking at his pocket watch—it is all very odd.

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