Page 33 of The Traitor's Curse
I finished first, my come spilling down over his knuckles,and the way I clenched down and shoved myself onto his cock brought him off after, deep inside me.
He rolled out of bed and left me to recover my breath, bathe, and dress—and somehow, I found him already fully put together and waiting for me when I emerged to start my day as Calatria’s ruler.
Which brought me to my second shock: that a hint of scandal, the rumor that the duke had seduced his own stepbrother in order to carry on a vulgar affair, seemed not to have damaged my reputation.
On the contrary. It seemed everyone had become more friendly overnight.
Since the windstorm the night of Fabian’s death had scattered all the rain clouds to the four corners, the sun poured down out of a pure blue sky—“The very color of your eyes, Your Grace,” a young lady simpered as she curtseyed, giggling with her friends as Benedict and I passed her on the garden path I’d chosen as my route to my study.
“Only true beauties are flattered by sun this bright, ladies,” I said. “I’ll walk on lest I be too dazzled.”
“Quite the charmer,” Benedict murmured under his breath. He had to lean down to speak to me discreetly, and it probably looked far too intimate, not to mention the way his breath ruffled my hair and warmed my chilled ear in a way that felt far too intimate. Despite the sun, the breeze had a real nip to it, a hint of the snow on the distant mountains. It made me want to lean into him, let him put his arm around my shoulders. And if I’d tipped my head up to meet him, we’d have been kissing. That also had some appeal, damn it all. “If you want a duchess, you’ll have your pick.”
The last bloody thing I wanted was a duchess, something he ought to know better than anyone—although given how pronounced my lack of interest in women had always been, eventhe more inheritance-minded members of my council had given up on hinting in that direction. If I produced an heir, it’d be via adopting a distant relative, because I didn’t think I’d even be able to stay roused with a lady long enough to get inside her, let alone the multiple times it’d probably take to have her increasing.
“They’re much prettier than you are,” I said, “but they’re also much more pleasant, and I don’t dislike them at all. I can’t think of a fourth reason why I’d prefer any one of them to you, though. So don’t be jealous.”
Benedict didn’t reply, although the strained quality of his silence was an entirely satisfying reply on its own. If he wanted to call my ass flat and compare me to my courtiers, then sauce for the goose, thank you very much.
We turned a corner, another chorus of happy giggles following us. My guards’ footsteps crunching on the gravel path behind us nearly drowned out one of the girls saying, “I don’t think our style of beauty is much to his taste, though,” followed by another replying, “Look at them together! Can you imagine? I’ll faint!”
Well. They’d certainly heard about my liaison with Benedict.
That had to be a compliment, didn’t it?
Captain Venet’s cough sounded like it’d been meant to cover a laugh of his own. I lifted my chin and strode on, pretending to ignore it but really pondering whether he’d laughed at their prurient interest or laughed because they were all mocking me.
A few damp-looking bees clustered busily around bedraggled but still cheerful clumps of chrysanthemums, and their faint buzzing underlaid the clacking of my gardeners’ pruning shears on the other side of the hedge, where a small apple orchard occupied a quarter acre of sloped ground.
My home really could be so very lovely, when the scents of damp earth and fresh grass and a hint of salt off the sea all mingled together in the crisp air, and the morning sun sparkled off of glossy leaves and mosaic-tiled fountains and bits of mica in the gravel. Being the Crown Duke of Calatria had its moments, didn’t it? When everything in the world smiled on me? Even including the footman waiting to open the door as we approached the administrative wing of the palace.
Everything but Benedict, anyway. I glanced sidelong and found him frowning down at the ground as he walked. Well, good. He shouldn’t get it all his own way, even if he’d had me at his mercy earlier in the morning. I took in a deep, cleansing breath and stepped under the veranda. The footman’s smile widened, and he bowed me through the door with a flourish and something perilously close to a wink. It could’ve been considered impertinent, I supposed, but how often did the palace servants smile at me? Not nearly often enough.
Even Mattia, usually the soul of discretion, had a bit of a cheeky grin on his face as he greeted me at the door of my study. “Good morning, Your Grace! And Lord General Rathenas, good morning to you, too. Averygood morning, isn’t it?”
“No better than usual,” I said airily, hoping it’d annoy Benedict.
He merely grunted and turned his attention to the coffee tray Mattia had waiting for me, discreetly checking everything as Mattia began to show me the morning’s heap of paperwork.
A few moments later he turned and interrupted us to say, “I’ll be about my duties. Lucian, I’ll see you for lunch.”
And without waiting for a reply, he strode out the door with a swirl of his cloak that felt a bit melodramatic given the mundanity of the circumstances. A page shut the door behind him. Mattia and I looked at each other. That grin had returned, and Mattia’s dark eyes had a bit of a mischievous glint to them.
Damn it. Of course Benedict had chosen this moment to call me Lucian in front of other people for the first time.
“I’m glad to see you and Lord General Rathenas on better terms, Your Grace,” he said, “if I may say so? You, ah. Make a very handsome—”
The tips of my ears burned. “I strongly advise you not to finish that sentence, if you enjoy your position as my secretary,” I said briskly, and took my seat at my desk.
Those young ladies must have meant what they said as a compliment after all, since Mattia seemed to agree with the sentiment! Thank goodness they weren’t all laughing. But how odd that they weren’t. Or worse, disturbed by my nominal family relationship with the man I’d now publicly acknowledged as my lover, via the court’s lightning-fast network of whispered gossip.
As Mattia bowed and turned away to the sideboard, hopefully to pour me some coffee, I couldn’t help the impulse that overcame me. I had to know, damn it all.
“You, ah, obviously have heard something,” I said. “And Lord Benedict is always so indiscreet. So I apologize for biting your head off. But do you think others will agree with you? That we make a handsome…something?”
Mattia poured my cup and added cream, bringing it and setting it by my elbow.
“No need to apologize, Your Grace. I know you were partly joking with me. Weren’t you?” I nodded, because I had been—or at least bluffing. I’d never send Mattia away. I liked him, and I was fairly certain he genuinely liked me. “Thank you, Your Grace. But to answer your question. Perhaps not everyone at court will be pleased. The great lords and ladies. But the servants, and the rest of us? Having our duke at odds with the commander of the army has always made everyone feel…uncertain. Ill at ease.”
