Page 83 of A Dance of Shadows

“Ah,” I say cautiously. This is risky terrain to tread, buffing Marc’s ego without sounding as if I’m insulting his twin, but it could yield impressive rewards. “I’m not sure how much expertise factors into enjoyment. All talents aside, as personal preferences go, I have to admit I’m more fond of a gentler approach.”

Marc’s throat works. His eyes gleam with enough desire to make my breath catch. “That is… useful information to be aware of. In your current state, I don’t think it’s the best time to indulge.”

My face flares hotter. “Oh, er, that isn’t what I was implying. It simply occurred to me to wonder about the subject, what with you being here in my bedroom as you so seldom are.”

“Perhaps that has been neglectful of me.” He moves closer to the bed so he can trail his fingers over my shin through my dress. “And perhaps it’s too hasty of me to assume there’s nothing I can do for you now. Certainly it could be one more way to distract you from any lingering discomfort.”

His hand strokes back up to my knee from my ankle, dragging the silk of my skirt with it. “I can attend to you in a way that’ll be no strain, only pleasure.”

There’s still a question in his words. His hand lingers by my knee, one finger arcing across my inner thigh but not venturing any higher.

Waiting for my answer.

My innards knot at the thought of welcoming his attentions. It isn’t as if his concern in the last half hour means all that much.

But if I reject him after what I just said, I’ll destroy any gains I made with him.

I can’t knock him out at this hour in the morning without him suspecting something’s amiss. I’ll have to accept the full act. Fake the pleasure he’ll expect me to respond with.

Just how far am I willing to go to win him over?

The deepest pang brings up the image of my princes, even though I know I wouldn’t be betraying them. They’ve told me themselves they understand what may be required of me.

After everything I’ve already sacrificed to see my dreams through, is giving over my body like this really any worse?

The words snag in my throat just for an instant, but resolve propels them out with a smile of invitation. “I’ve seen that you’ll take good care of me. I wouldn’t say no to a little more pampering.”

Marc grins. I expect him to clamber over me, simply avoiding my injured arm as much as possible, but instead he kneels at the side of the bed. Tugging off one slipper, he presses a kiss to the top of my foot.

His mouth travels up over my ankle, along my shin, and over my knee. Each press of his lips brands my skin with heat.

He pauses to carefully drag my skirt up to my drawers. Then he continues his delicate path of kisses all the way to the lacy hem.

His breath washes over the sensitive folds between my legs through the thin silk. The warmth stirs a quiver of pleasure I hadn’t anticipated. I don’t entirely have to feign my gasp.

Marc returns to my feet to remove my other slipper and resume the journey on the other side. The second trail of kisses marks my skin as tenderly as the first.

This isn’t one of the men I’d have wanted touching me so adoringly. Resentment smolders inside me from all the injurieshe’sdealt me over the past several months.

But at the same time, watching the ruler of the empire bend down before me and worship my body kindles a matching heat low in my belly. Every kiss up my inner thigh sets off new sparks.

When he grazes his fingertips over my sex and grins wider, I realize I’m wet.

The stroke of his hand conjures a deeper swell of bliss alongside a surge of revulsion. I want to resist, to harden myself against the involuntary reactions of my body.

But what will he think if I lie here like a statue? I knew I’d need to give a performance of enjoying this interlude.

Somehow it’s both easier and harder when it’s not a performance at all.

I let the moan that’s been building slip out. When he circles his thumb over my clit, I press my head into the pillow with a whimper that isn’t faked at all. My cheeks burn both with need and shame.

I could call this off now, tell him I’m in too much pain.

And then what? This is the most devoted he’s ever been with me.

When you get a fish on your hook, you don’t yank the line up at the first tug. You have to let the barb work its way in deeper.

Marc strips off my drawers, and I spread my legs wider to accommodate him. He crouches between my knees, the most powerful man in the continent bowing to his empress.

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