It was such a simple act, not much different than the way his hand always found its way to my back, its warm presence becoming a crutch for my wobbling confidence.
But this was no reassuring caress. This was Luther laying his claim on what I hadn’t dared to reveal. Asking for what I hadn’t yet offered.
What do you want, Luther?
Something I cannot have.
Warmth exploded through me. A sinful heat pooled at my core and set every nerve ending sparking with simmering energy. My hands curled against his chest, clutching at the dark crimson fabric of his lapels.
I tried, desperately, to remind myself I was a betrothed woman. A betrothal I was becoming less sure of with every day, butbetrothednonetheless.
“Luther,” I whispered.
“My Queen,” he breathed.
Our faces drew close, and I honestly didn’t know which of us had done it. My nose brushed his, our mouths so near that his breath warmed my lips.
I needed to pull away, put distance and cold, empty air between our bodies. I needed to remind him, and myself, that we were allies, reluctant friendsat best,but nothing more. Never anything more.
And I tried to do that. I really, truly did.
But my body wouldn’t obey.
My heart wouldn’t, either.
I used the last shred of self-preservation I had left. I slipped my arms around his waist, laid my cheek over his heart, and pulled him against me in a hug that was eager for all the wrong reasons.
He didn’t move. I could sense his confusion, and I understood it. I was a coward, hiding from his desire in his very own arms. But within seconds, he embraced me like it was the most normal thing in the world, one arm roped low on my waist, the other stroking my hair and pressing me to his chest.
His chin settled on top of my head, and we burned together for a tiny eternity, saying nothing and too much all at once.
It felt so natural to be held by him like this. Sorightin a way that didn’t make sense.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked, my voice barely there.
I felt his muscles strain as he swallowed. “I have many reasons.”
“Give me one. The truestone. And don’t tell me it’s because of your family or my mother or the Crown, because I won’t believe you.”
“It’s not.”
His heartbeat thundered against my cheek, and I held my breath. I wanted badly to pull back and see his face, but I was too terrified of what I might see, and what I might do next.
“The truest reason,” he repeated with a sigh. “I wish...” His arms tightened around me. “I... I can’t—”
A loud knock thumped on the door.
We both froze in place, though neither of us pulled away.
Another knock rang out, followed by two muffled voices from the other side.
“Diem? It’s Eleanor—”
“And Taran.”
“—are you alright in there? Do you need anything? Maybe some food, or chocolate, or—”
“Or whiskey?”