Under Distan Moons

by Mara Kelly

  "Look at that, I've caught a mouse," he said with a grin, and he pulled her close and drew her lips to his.

  Annice allowed herself to melt against him for the briefest moment, and stiffened when she heard voices along the corridor.

  "Elwin," she whispered, trying to remain unaffected by his mouth moving over her neck. "There are people coming, and I still have to find Lucienna—"

  "Oh, leave her," he murmured against her neck, making her shudder. "You have better things to do than chase that brat around."

  The voices in the corridor grew louder; Annice pushed Elwin away from her and fixed her mask over her face, moving to stand far enough away that passersby would see nothing but two people engaged in conversation. Though why they would choose to engage in conversation in a dark alcove pressed up against a grandfather clock, Annice could not say.

  She was relieved to see amusement, rather than annoyance, on Elwin's face. The pretense was mostly for his sake, after all—most of the noble families of Tisimal would barely even blink to see another daughter of the Warbarten family disgracing herself in the Palace.

  Elwin's eyes followed the group as it passed, and then he threw Annice a dazzling smile. She couldn't resist him; she never had been able to, from the first time he had asked her to dance at his sixteenth birthday ball four years before. Fortunately they had rarely had the opportunity, in all the stolen moments at balls and hunts and picnics between then and now, to do more than sneak off for a quiet walk in the garden or a few moments in a sitting room, or she might have disgraced her family as surely as Lucienna did.

  Elwin glanced both ways along the corridor and grabbed her hand. "I want to show you something," he said.

  "But Lucienna—"

  "Oh, hang Lucienna," said Elwin. "She'll do what she wants no matter what you do, so you might as well stop feeling guilty about it. Besides," he added, lifting her hand to his lips, so that her skin vibrated with the warmth of his words, "I will swear up and down that I saw you at that door trying to lure your cousin out all night."

  Annice gave in, less because of the logic of his words than because of the tingling warmth he had sent up her arm. "I suppose that if it was just a little while..."

  Elwin grinned and seized her waist, pulling her toward him to kiss her happily. Annice felt slightly dazed when he pulled back and grinned again. "Come on," he said.

  He reached behind her and fumbled with something on the wall; Annice couldn't see what it was in the dim light, but a moment later, the grandfather clock slid away from the wall, revealing a dark opening beyond it. Elwin pushed Annice backward through the opening and then turned around to slide the clock shut behind them. The passage—if that was what it was—was pitch black. Elwin clutched her hand in the dark, and Annice couldn't help a bit of fear.

  "Where are we going?" she whispered, her voice loud in the empty blackness. She could just hear the muffled echo of the music from the ballroom.

  "You'll see," Elwin whispered back. "Trust me."

  She did trust him, but she couldn't help the fact that her hand grew slippery with nervous sweat. The corridor went on for a mile, it seemed, but Elwin kept her right beside him and didn't let her stumble, even when they ascended a short staircase.

  "Here we are," Elwin whispered at last. He let go of her hand and stepped forward. Annice felt isolated in the darkness, but a moment later light flooded the passage, and Annice blinked as Elwin took her hand again and led her into a room.

  Rows of bookshelves loomed up before her, and she turned to see Elwin swinging another bookcase into place to cover the passage.

  "The Palace library?" she asked, removing her mask. Elwin had already looped his around his neck.

  He nodded. "My mother has had it completely redone. You know, for Bosworth, since he's completed his studies now." He rolled his eyes, and Annice smiled. She glanced at the nearest bookshelf, made of gleaming mahogany and laden with books about government.

  "There's more," said Elwin. "You have to see." He took her hand and led her along the rows of bookshelves until they came to a railing that curved along a kind of low gallery, looking down over a circular area set with long mahogany tables and chairs. Ahead of them, three huge windows, set with patterns of colored glass, filled the far wall. On either side of the windows, tall bookcases loomed up. By the nearest stair stood a podium, a large book open upon it.

  "What's that?" Annice asked, pointing toward the podium. The lamps had been left low in the library; obviously no one had been expected to come here during the masquerade.

  Elwin smiled. "See for yourself."

  Annice raised her eyebrows at him, then disentangled her hand from his and went along the gallery and down the steps. She approached the podium and looked at the heavy vellum of the book, and saw a list of titles. She flipped a few pages, and its purpose hit her.

  "A catalog," she gasped. She opened to a page at the back, and saw a listing of authors.

  "Mother had Rachela of Montoban herself in here to organize it," said Elwin, right behind her.

  Annice spun around. "Rachela of..." she trailed off weakly. She sometimes forgot just who Elwin was, just how much influence his family held. To think that she now stood in a library organized by the great Scholar of Montoban, whose treatise on the planets had divided the learned men of the peninsula...

  Elwin laughed and stepped closer to her. "I knew you would like it," he said fondly, and she blushed.

  She was glad he didn't care that she wasn't a simpering fool like Lucienna, but she heard her mother's constant rebuff in her mind: Men don't like women who show their intelligence too readily. No wonder you haven't got any suitors yet, dear. If only her mother knew who had really sent all those letters from the palace—not Elwin's tutor Hetia at all, though they'd enlisted Hetia's help for years.

  Elwin's fingers grazed her cheek. "You will be able to use it whenever you like, once we're married," he said softly.

  Annice tried to let out a derisive snort, but it came out as a sigh; his touch had that effect on her. "If, you mean," she managed at last, but without any of the bitterness she felt on the subject.

  Elwin's hand went still, and she opened her eyes. He frowned. "Do you doubt me?"

  "Not you," she said quickly. "Never you. But your letters about your brother haven't been very encouraging."

  Elwin took her hand and led her toward the window. "True, he has been rather stubborn about the marriage issue. But I think he has been somewhat...impressed by the ladies of Hadenton. It seems he has finally realized he will have to marry."

  "And then you'll be able to," said Annice, trying to hide the bleakness she felt. No matter what Elwin wanted, his parents would probably force him to marry some princess or duchess.

  "And then I'll be able to," Elwin agreed, taking both her hands with his. "And surely your parents will give up on this silly rule...I mean..." He seemed too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

  "Because you're a prince," Annice said with a smile. She found it adorable, the way he seemed to feel his royal blood made him somehow less worthy of her, when really it was the other way around. But her smile didn't last long—she was less certain of her parents changing their mind than he was, and she suspected that, instead, they would try to set up Lucienna as Elwin's bride. Surely the king and queen would find the future Duchess of Geary a far more suitable match for their son than her poor cousin.

  Elwin cleared his throat. "So now Bosworth merely focuses on finding a wife who won't mind his...well, tendency to stray."

  Annice couldn't hold back a snort this time. "As if a woman could help that, even if he wasn't the heir to the throne."

  "Now, now, give my brother more credit than that. He simply wants to avoid having one of those—how did he put it?—'whining nagging wives'. He likes a variety of women, you see."

  Annice looked at him quickly, wondering if he felt the same way, but Elwin seemed to read her mind, and he blushed. "I'm only repeating what he said, of course," he s
aid hastily. "I don't—oh, look, Bosworth's carriage is arriving."

  She turned to look out the window, and saw the ornate horse-drawn carriage pulling up to the front of the castle. Two servants rushed to open the doors, and a well-built man in a long black tunic and a falcon mask stepped out. Annice hadn't seen Prince Bosworth in years—he had been away at the university in Hadenton since before she and Elwin had first begun exchanging letters—but she could tell, even from this angle, that he had very little in common with his brother. Aside from his wide shoulders and muscular frame, he carried himself with an easy arrogance she had never seen in Elwin.

  Elwin stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, making her sigh as he moved his mouth over her neck. "Oughtn't you to go back downstairs?" she said, her voice breathy. "Won't your parents expect you to be there to greet Bosworth?"

  "Oh, they won't miss me," Elwin said against her skin. "Bosworth told me he planned to slip into the ball in disguise first and seduce a few ladies." He lifted his head. "I told Tryal to make sure Bosworth visits the left-hand sitting room."

  It took a moment for Annice to absorb his meaning. She spun around to find him grinning cheerfully. "You don't mean to—"

  "Why not? It would solve our problems in one go, and theirs too, if you think about it. Bosworth wouldn't mind Lucienna's antics any more than she would mind his, and if she was married to him, no one would say a word against her as long he didn't." Elwin looked quite pleased with himself.

  "But doesn't he know about Lucienna's reputation?"

  Elwin nodded. "Of course he does. It only makes her more fascinating to him. He's used to Hadenton women, you know."

  Annice pondered this for a moment. "But what if Lucienna says no? She won't care that he's a prince. That's not what she..." Her cheeks reddened as she recalled the long list of requirements—and talents—Lucienna had for her future husband. Annice wasn't even certain that some of the things on the list were legal.

  Elwin laughed. "I have faith in my brother," he said. He leaned toward her until their noses touched. "I wish you'd have a little faith in me," he said softly.

  "But I do," replied Annice. "I always have."

  Elwin smiled and swept her into a kiss. She felt weak as he pulled away to whisper, "Will you marry me, Annice?"

  "Of course," she whispered against his neck. "Of course."

  And then his strong arms encircled her waist, and she lost herself in his kiss. She let her fingers trail over the curls at the nape of his neck, and he moaned into her mouth and pulled her closer. She felt him, hard and strong against her, and was shocked by the want that flooded through her. She pulled away and pressed her face to his shoulder, breathing hard.

  "Are you all right?" Elwin said breathily.

  She nodded against his shoulder and caught her breath, then looked up at him. Elwin's brown eyes looked down at her, as delirious with desire as she felt, and she let out a little whimper as he bent his head to kiss her again. It seemed too much to hope that, after four years of wishing and dreaming, she was at last to have the marriage she wanted, and the thought made every touch, every kiss precious. Elwin's hands slid over the velvet of her gown, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She could hardly breathe, could hardly think.

  Annice lifted her head abruptly, realizing they were in plain view of anyone at the front of the palace, silhouetted as they were in the window. She tugged Elwin a few paces away toward the tables at the lower part of the room, and he followed without protest. Somewhere along the way his lips met hers again, and his hands wandered over her back, then lower, making her gasp into his mouth. Annice couldn't hold to a coherent thought; they had shared many chaste kisses in quiet nooks of the gardens, but never had it been like this. Never had she wanted to remove all the distance—and everything else—that separated them. She had never even known she was capable of feeling this frightening, burning need.

  Annice moved her hands over Elwin's back, and he arched against her. Experimentally, she let her hands wander lower. He groaned. She found the hem of his tunic and lifted it, surprising herself with her own audacity, and then her fingers found his warm flesh, and Elwin broke away from her kiss and whispered her name. Tingles shot down her spine at hearing her name spoken in that raw, broken way.

  Was this what Lucienna experienced, when she went off with men? No wonder she risked her reputation and her father's censure for it.

  Elwin lowered his head and met her lips again, with a force that pushed her backward. He came with her, as if unable to disentangle himself from her arms. Her rear slammed into something hard—the edge of one of the tables, she realized vaguely. It ought to have hurt, to be pressed between it and Elwin's firm, warm body, but Annice could not imagine wanting to be anywhere else. Elwin's hands moved around to the front of her body and fumbled with the laces of her dress. A moment later his hand stroked the silk of her chemise, heat penetrating to her skin, and she arched under his hands, wanting a more intimate touch.

  A moment later, she had it. His hand slipped under the fabric and cupped her breast, and Annice was only half-aware of the strangled sound that escaped her throat. Elwin moved his fingers over her skin, in tantalizing, feather-light strokes, and Annice's knees buckled.

  Elwin slipped his hand out of her chemise and caught her, then gripped her waist and lifted her to sit on the edge of the table. She laid her hands on his hips and pulled him closer, and kissed him again. His fingers played over her shoulders, bare now that her unlaced dress fell down to her elbows, and she shuddered. His mouth left hers and trailed over her face, her neck, her shoulders, and then he pushed her back onto the table and she could only close her eyes and drown in the sensation as he tugged the straps of her chemise down and his lips warmed the skin of her bare breasts. She gasped as he took one nipple into his mouth, and arched up toward him as his tongue made quickening circles around it. Her fingers curled into his hair, her nails grazing his scalp as she fought to control the tide of ecstasy rising within her. A vague part of her brain told her that she shouldn't be doing this, that she was no better than Lucienna, but a stronger part did not care in the least. This was Elwin, who would marry her, and she was and always would be his whether they married or not. She could not deny him this any more than she could deny herself.

  Almost convulsively, she moved her hands down to his back, and was annoyed to find fabric in her way. Annice pulled the tunic over his head and threw it to the ground, then pulled Elwin down to her, relishing the way his weight pressed her into the hard wood of the table. She arched against the warmth of his bare chest, and Elwin laid his forearms flat beneath her and cradled her head in his arms, driving his kiss deep into her mouth.

  Annice scraped her nails lightly over his bare back, and cupped his firm buttocks in her hands, longing to feel him pressed up against her.

  Elwin broke away from her kiss and met her eyes dazedly, his breathing heavy. "Annice," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Are you certain that—" He broke off, as if unsure how to finish the sentence.

  The uncertainty in his eyes smote her heart; they'd spoken of many things in their letters and their secret moments together—they'd spoken of love, but never of the things that men and women did in the night. Annice had always known better than to expect Elwin to wait for her—that simply wasn't how things worked.

  Except that, looking in his eyes, she knew that he had. She lifted her head and kissed him, almost chastely, on the mouth. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm sure." She grinned. "If you're going to be my husband, we'll need the practice."

  Elwin stared at her, an astonished expression on his face for a moment. Then he made a sound something like a growl, and kissed her hard and fierce, the length of his body slamming against hers. Annice gasped with the impact, and cupped her hands over his buttocks again, pulling him tight against her.

  A thud made her look up in alarm, but it was only Elwin pushing off his boots, as the next thud a moment later attested. Elwin slid off of her and st
ood at the foot of the table, looking down at her. Annice felt naked under his gaze, though her gown was still bunched around her waist and the straps of her chemise hung to her elbows.

  Without warning, Elwin grabbed the skirt of her gown and tugged on it, pulling the chemise with it so sharply that Annice had to quickly untangle her arms from the straps to avoid being trapped. Elwin dropped the gown to the floor and pulled off Annice's slippers, and she lay on the table, pinned by his gaze, in nothing but her pantalettes.

  Annice's glance strayed to the bulge at the front of Elwin's trousers, and she felt nervous for the first time. She expected him to take off his trousers and get on top of her now—that was how Lucienna had said that men always wanted to do it. But Elwin only moved closer to the table and ran his fingers over the skin of her stomach, looking thoughtfully at her face. Annice met his eyes quizzically, hoping that he hadn't taken her nervousness as lack of desire. But his hand circled over her stomach in lazy circles, then drifted lower, pushing aside the fabric of her pantalettes to move over the sensitive skin that no other man's hand had ever touched, and Annice tipped her head back and closed her eyes. His fingers found her center and moved back and forth, in a delirious dance that made Annice's mind whirl.

  Lucienna had never warned her that it would be like this.

  Vaguely she felt Elwin pulling the pantalettes down over her ankles, and she should have felt cold in the dimly lit, unheated library. But heat infused her thoughts and her body, and she thought she might burn to a cinder if she opened her eyes and looked at Elwin. She felt him watching her from the foot of the table.