Page 11 of Rogue Royal
Mav didn’t answer for a few seconds. “Yes. The nausea comes and goes.” More information he hadn’t meant to give Douglas. With all the issues Mav was exposing, Douglas would have all the evidence he needed to get him fired.
His nerves grew as they approached his door, and he tried again to dissuade Douglas, but it was no good. Mav opened his door and indicated for Douglas to enter.
Douglas glanced around the room, then pointed to a burgundy chaise lounge. “If you sit there with a cushion behind your lower back and rest your head on the cushioned side, I will be able to reach easily.”
Mav hesitated but placed the tablet on the table and took the seat, pausing again before moving a cushion as Douglas asked. He had no idea what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. He told himself it was because he wanted the headache to go.
He clenched his jaw and breathed heavily as another roll of sickness washed over him. Laying back, he rested his head on the side of the chaise lounge. Mav stared at the ceiling and waited for further instructions, running his thumbs over the soft fabric beneath him. When none came, he moved his head to watch what Douglas was doing. The prince was returning from the bathroom with a washcloth, and Mav frowned. As Douglas came closer, Mav had trouble breathing.
Douglas picked up a chair and carried it to behind where Mav lay, and Mav returned his head to stare at the ceiling.
“I’m going to place this warm flannel over your eyes. The heat should help, as will the darkness. Then I will massage certain points on your head and your hands.”
“This is too much.”
“After everything you have put up with from me, this is the least I can do.”
That shut Mav up. He’d never expected Douglas to care about how much work he was causing Mav. He lay the flannel over his eyes, leaving his nose and mouth free. Immediately, the heat seeped into his skin, and he felt a loosening in the tension of his body.
“That’s it. Relax for me.”
Douglas’s voice rolled over him, and Mav sighed. He doubted this would work, but if Douglas wanted to try, Mav would let him.
Soft fingers threaded through his hair, pressing mildly into his scalp. He lost track of how long this carried on for before Douglas moved to press against a point in the centre of Mav’s forehead. The pressure lasted for several minutes, moving to the corners of his eyebrows, at the top of his nose, on either side. After, Douglas moved to his ears, pressing against different areas.
With every action, Mav relaxed further until he was limp as a noodle, and Douglas was back to massaging his scalp. He didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t see, but every time Douglas moved his hand, Mav tingled everywhere, and goosebumps skated over his skin.
Douglas removed his hands, and Mav might’ve whimpered, though he would forever deny it. He heard a soft sound, then a warmth encased his right hand, and he realised it was Douglas’s hand. Douglas turned Mav’s hand palm up and put pressure between his thumb and forefinger. It continued for several moments, and Mav wouldn’t have been able to move if he tried.
His muscles jerked when something began tracing the fingers and palm of his hand. It tickled, but also…didn’t. It was as if a small current was trickling along his skin, leaving behind more tingles.
Several minutes later, Douglas replaced his hand on his lap, and his left hand was lifted and subjected to the same ministrations.
When Douglas spoke, he sounded far away, “Let’s get you into bed.”
Mav felt hands sliding under his body, and he tried to argue, but he was too tired. He could scarcely hold his own head up. The sheets were cool through his clothes, the pillows chilled beneath his head, and he absently noticed Douglas removing his shoes. The flannel was still over his eyes, though it, too, had cooled.
Douglas pulled a cover over him as he sank closer to slumber. He tried to wake up enough to speak to Douglas, but his body was too far gone.
“Sleep. Rest. Relax.”
And it was the last thing he remembered.
****
Mav woke gradually, opening his eyes and allowing them to close repeatedly until he broke the surface of sleep. He rolled to his side and slid a hand under the pillow, trying to get comfortable again. His clothes were all twisted up, and he tried to pull at them when he found he was still in his shirt and trousers.
He frowned, then his eyes widened as the events from earlier flew through his mind. Covering his eyes, he pulled the cover over his head and groaned as his cheeks flushed. He’d let the prince tuck him into bed like a child. What would Douglas think about him now?
Mav took stock of his body. His migraine had gone, as had his nausea, and his mind was clear. He didn’t know whether it was what Douglas had done or the sleep he’d received, but either way, he was glad to be feeling normal.
He gingerly sat upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and paused, waiting to see if his body argued, but it didn’t. He stood and hesitated. Nothing. Taking a chance, he wandered to the bathroom to do his business, washed his hands and stared at his reflection, which appeared more relaxed and less pinched than it had that morning.
What time was it?
He shuffled back to the bedroom, wondering where he’d put his phone. It had been in his pocket. It was waiting for him on his bedside table, and he checked for messages. There were several from unimportant people and nothing from anyone he might be in trouble with, save Douglas. He opened the message.
DOUGLAS: When you wake up, make sure you drink the juice and the water on your bedside table. Drink BOTH! If you’re awake in time, I would like to see you before the meeting with Frederick. If not, afterwards. I hope you’re feeling better.
