The Prince's Consort (Chronicles of Tournai Book 1)

by Antonia Aquilante

  “Thank you, Trina.” The prince turned to Amory with a long-suffering look in his amazing eyes. “I better go see what Elodie wants, though I can guess.”

  Amory could guess too. Certainly what the prince did that afternoon had made it all over the palace by then. “Of course.”

  “I’ll leave you here to get settled. Trina and Clea are the maids who take care of the suite. They’ll be able to get you anything you need.”

  “All right.”

  “After I get back from speaking with Elodie, I thought we could dine together, here in the suite.”

  How tentative the prince sounded was sweet and made Amory melt a little. “I’d like that, Your Highness.”

  Heedless of their audience, the prince lifted a hand to gently brush the backs of his fingers over Amory’s cheek. Amory couldn’t help a little shiver as the brief, light touch sent ripples through his body. Amory took a moment to breathe after the prince disappeared out the bedchamber door and then turned back to the room. Both maids were studiously not looking at him as they unpacked his trunk. He fought back embarrassment and went to supervise the unpacking.

  PHILIP COULD have summoned Elodie to him, but he decided exposing Amory to Elodie on his first night in the palace might be too much. He was being too hard on his sister, but she could be a bit… enthusiastic sometimes. Best to let Amory settle in first. He didn’t want Amory to run.

  Instead he strode through the corridors to his sister’s suite in the east wing. Lady Celeste greeted him, and settled him in the sitting room while she went to announce him to Elodie. The room, the whole suite, was quintessentially Elodie. The delicate furniture in pale gold wood, the light, gauzy fabrics in pale blues and white… just right for her, and indeed she and their mother decorated the suite for Elodie before their parents died. They’d enjoyed themselves doing it as well. He was glad Elodie had those memories of their mother.

  He wandered to the window and pushed aside the gold-embroidered sheer white curtains. The garden spread below him, just visible in the twilight. If only he and Amory hadn’t been interrupted out on the terrace.

  “There you are!”

  Elodie exploded into the room like a whirlwind. She was so tiny, so delicate, with her slender limbs and the top of her head barely coming to his shoulder, he was always surprised at the sheer amount of commotion she could make.

  “Elodie, you look lovely this evening.” She was dressed to go out in an aqua silk gown and delicate pearl jewelry, her dark hair arranged in a complicated, braided style that made her look far too old for his comfort. He liked to think of his younger sister as still being a child, but she wasn’t.

  “Thank you. But don’t change the subject.”

  “What subject was that?”

  “Don’t play dumb.” She fixed her golden-brown eyes on him. “Is it true? Did you really move a male lover into the palace?”

  “Who told you that?” Though he could guess.

  “Cathal. Is it true?” She was bouncing in front of him, her impatience making her practically vibrate.

  And he had guessed correctly. Forget the servants, because of Cathal the whole city would probably know by midnight. “Cathal is such a gossip.”

  “It is true,” Elodie exclaimed, giving a little hop and clapping her hands together. “I couldn’t believe it when he told me.”

  “I wish he hadn’t. I was going to tell you myself.” He studied her. She didn’t look upset. He wasn’t sure how she did look… a little gleeful, but that could be the result of good gossip. Elodie liked it as much as Cathal did.

  “I wish you’d told me yourself. I didn’t know you were interested in anyone that way. You’re so quiet about these things.”

  Yes, he was. He preferred to keep his private life as private as possible, which wasn’t always very private considering his position. That was another reason why he’d had only the one lover. If there wasn’t anything there, then no one could talk about it. Of course, then people made things up.

  “But I’m all right with it,” Elodie continued. “I’m shocked. You’ve never talked about taking a lover. I guess I never thought you would. But I want you to be happy. If he makes you happy, I’m happy for you.”

  He was touched. “Thank you.”

  Her innocent, sunny smile suddenly turned mischievous. “So what is he like? Is he handsome?”

  “Elodie.” He made his tone as forbidding as possible. He had to stop her before she got started.

  “I mean, he must be if you’re taking him as a lover. Not that looks are all that matter to you, but he had to have caught your eye somehow. So he’s handsome, right? What else? Cathal said he’s Master Arnau’s son?”

  He waited for the rush of words to stop, wondering how he could put an end to the conversation. “Yes, he’s Master Arnau’s son.”

  “I thought you didn’t like him. You said he was like his father, and his father makes you crazy.”

  “That’s the oldest son. Amory is the second son, and he is not like his father.” Amory also didn’t make him crazy—well, not in that way. Something told Philip not going to bed with Amory was going to make him more than a little crazy as time went on. But he would do it, to make Amory more comfortable and to see if they could really build something.

  “All right, good. His name is Amory, and he’s the second son of a successful glass merchant. That’s good information. What else?” Her eyes were bright and eager, her gaze fixed on his face. “Oh, never mind. I’ll meet him myself. You can introduce me now.”

  Oh, that was a bad idea. Elodie, though he loved her dearly, could be overwhelming, and even if she did manage to calm down and turn herself into the proper young lady she was supposed to be, it still wasn’t a good idea. Amory had a trying day to say the least, dealing with what his father tried to do and his sudden move to the palace and change in circumstances.

  Best to let Amory settle in that night, to begin to adjust to his new situation before Philip unleashed Elodie on him. He couldn’t keep Elodie away from Amory for long, but giving him one night of calm before the reality of court life caught up with Amory seemed like the least he could do for the man.

  “Not tonight, Elodie.”

  She stopped abruptly in her walk to the door, and whirled to look at him with wide eyes. “Why not?”

  “I think it’s best to let Amory get settled in tonight. And aren’t you on your way out?”

  “Oh, yes.” She looked as if she’d forgotten her own plans in the excitement, and perhaps she had. “I’m going to a dinner party at Lilliale’s family home.”

  Lilliale was Elodie’s closest friend, and a daughter of one of the noblest families in Tournai. Lilliale’s oldest brother inherited the title and married a couple of years earlier. Right after he and Philip ended their affair. Not that Elodie knew there had ever been an affair. The friendship their sisters began practically in the cradle was only one reason they’d been so discreet. It didn’t matter anymore. Vasco was married, and Philip had Amory, or he hoped to.

  Lilliale’s whole family lived in a large house in the city and entertained frequently, often with lavish dinner parties and balls. He had turned down the invitation to the small party that night. He turned down all the invitations, unless they were to large events. But Elodie often attended or spent time at their home, just as Lilliale spent copious amounts of time at the palace with Elodie, and he was glad his sister possessed such a close friend. Even if his own past choices made it uncomfortable for him.

  “That’s nice. Please give my regards to her and her family.”

  Elodie grinned. “I always do. I better be leaving.” She hesitated. “You promise you’ll introduce me to Amory tomorrow?”

  He stifled a sigh, but he couldn’t keep Amory hidden away forever. “I promise.”

  He saw Elodie off for her evening and returned to his suite. Nothing urgent needed his attention in his study, so he moved on to his bedchamber. Dinner had been arranged for him and Amory in the suite’s dini
ng room, but he took time to clean up and change his clothes. He wanted his first night with Amory to be perfect, and as Amory’s presence was sudden and unexpected, he hadn’t had time to plan. If he had, the meal would have been something special and he wouldn’t have so much trouble deciding on clothing. The giddy, jittery feeling in his chest surprised him. He wanted that night to be the beginning of something good, something real.

  Amory was already in the dining room when he arrived, studying a large painting on the wall opposite the fireplace, but he turned when Philip walked in and smiled. He answered with a warm one of his own. Impossible not to, even as his mind stalled again on how beautiful Amory was. Amory had changed his clothes as well, into a rich green tunic and an ivory shirt, both well-tailored to his frame. The soft candlelight teased out red and gold in Amory’s auburn hair and made his features look finer.

  Philip was across the room and at Amory’s side before he thought about moving, but once there, he hesitated. He didn’t pull Amory into his arms the way he wanted, but he did take his hand, needing contact. Amory’s smile widened, and his slender fingers wound through Philip’s. A warm glow spread through him, as pleasing as it was surprising.

  “I was admiring this painting, Your Highness. It’s beautiful.”

  He reluctantly tore his gaze from Amory and focused on the painting. The landscape depicted a lush field of green and deep purple spreading back to thick trees. They almost hid a stone house, which seemed to glow under a flawless blue sky. “Yes. It’s a favorite of mine.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Not far. It’s north of the city, an estate of mine called Alzata.” Alzata was his favorite place, but he hadn’t gotten to spend much time there since his father died. Before his father’s death, he had escaped there whenever he could.

  “It looks peaceful.”

  “We’ll have to visit soon. We can ride, swim, ramble around with no one to bother us.” He suddenly liked the idea of sharing the place with Amory. “You’ll like it there, I think.”

  “I think so too, Your Highness. Will you tell me more about it?”

  “Of course. While we eat, though.” He tugged on Amory’s hand and led him to the table.

  The meal was everything he wanted it to be that night. The food was exceptional, and he wondered if the cook had wanted to do something special as well. The servants were unobtrusive, serving each course, then disappearing, leaving him and Amory to their conversation.

  They talked about the estate for a while, and then bounced from topic to topic, none of them serious but all of them allowing him to know Amory more. The conversation was easy, and he felt almost giddy throughout it, knowing that. Amory didn’t seem to have any pretenses. He showed Philip who he was with each gesture and word. In return, Philip found himself relaxing as well, foregoing his usual masks; his laughter and smiles were freer because of it.

  But for all the laughter and light conversation, a simmering tension lurked beneath the surface. He couldn’t stop looking at Amory across the table, and neither of them could seem to go more than a moment or two without touching. Little brushes of fingertips while they told stories of their childhoods, hands clasped as they sipped wine between courses. He hardly looked down at his plate, so loathe to break eye contact with Amory was he, but he took special notice of what they ate for dessert, a buttery pastry filled with berries and cream, only because of how much Amory enjoyed it. It was a pleasure to watch him eat it, to see him close his eyes at the first bite and let out a little hum of pleasure. He wondered if Amory would sound the same way in bed. When Amory licked some cream from his full lips, Philip doubted he would survive until he found out.

  Once they finished dessert, he stood and held out a hand to Amory. They took their refilled wineglasses and went back to the sitting room, fingers twined together. A fire crackled in the hearth, banishing the evening’s slight chill. Without speaking, they settled close together on the couch in front of the fire, the amber cushions soft around them. They were quiet for a while, the first silence between them since dinner began, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though that tension was still there. They had talked and would talk more, but Philip didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet. So they sipped wine out of goblets made by Amory’s family business and watched the flames dance in the hearth.

  He looked at Amory often. He liked looking at him, liked that each time he did, he discovered something else. The glow of Amory’s skin in firelight. The thick sweep of Amory’s lashes as he blinked. Amory’s gaze met his and held, as a faint blush colored Amory’s cheeks. Slowly, he reached out, took Amory’s glass, and set it down on the table with his own. Then he turned back to Amory and gently cupped his face. Amory’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and Philip had to bite back a groan. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Amory’s.

  At the first touch of their lips, Amory moaned and pushed forward, hands coming up to clutch at Philip’s shoulders. Philip gave in to temptation and deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into Amory’s mouth to explore and taste. Amory tasted sweet, of red wine and the cream from dessert and something that had to be Amory himself and was utterly delicious.

  Philip couldn’t get enough of the taste, of that sweet mouth under his, so responsive and giving. He gathered Amory close. Philip told himself they would only kiss, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t touch a little, couldn’t see what Amory’s body felt like against his own. Amory came to him eagerly, pressing so close he was almost in Philip’s lap, wine and kisses overcoming any reticence Amory might have had. That eagerness was thrilling, heady.

  He moaned, feeling Amory’s lithe body pressed up against his. Even through their clothes the sensation was incredible. He wanted skin on skin, but they couldn’t that night. He pulled back for a breath, to slow them down, to keep himself from devouring Amory. One look at Amory’s passion-glazed eyes and swollen lips, and his resolve was tested to the limit. Drawn back to Amory, he brushed light kisses along the line of Amory’s jaw, down his neck. Amory gasped when he reached one spot, so he lingered, kissing, licking.

  Amory’s hands cupped Philip’s face and pulled him up into another kiss. Amory took control, and oh, could he kiss. Philip felt a bolt of jealousy for whoever had been kissing Amory for him to be so skilled, even as he pressed closer to Amory.

  Didn’t matter. Amory was kissing him.

  They lingered over kisses for a long while, separating only briefly for breath before coming together again. Finally, the kisses slowed, and Amory pulled away, but he snuggled back an instant later, nuzzling his face into Philip’s neck. Philip brushed a kiss over Amory’s soft hair. Heat still thrummed through his body, urging him on to more, but sitting curled around Amory was nice. Perfect even, to have Amory in his arms, with Amory’s arms wrapped around him too. He’d never had that before. He sank into the sensation, savoring it, holding Amory close. He looked forward to many more nights of doing the same.

  But for the moment, they should go to bed. Sadly separate beds.

  “Probably time for sleep,” he murmured, hating to disturb Amory and end their time together, but knowing they both did need sleep after the day it had been.

  Amory shifted a little but didn’t move away from Philip. If anything, his arms tightened. “I suppose you’re right, Your Highness.”

  “I don’t want you to call me that.” It came out of nowhere, but when he examined the statement, he found he meant it.

  Amory moved then, but only enough to be able to see him. “But then what should I call you? I can’t call you by your name.”

  He almost laughed at the dismay in Amory’s voice. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m just—I’m not—I can’t—”

  He took pity and interrupted Amory’s stuttering. “I don’t want you to call me by a title. I don’t want to be that to you. I want you to use my name.”

  He hoped Amory understood what he was trying to say, because he was having a difficult time articulating his own re
asons. But he couldn’t have Amory calling him Highness.

  A dawning comprehension lit Amory’s eyes, followed by other things… warmth, maybe a bit of hope, perhaps the beginning of affection. “So should I call you Philip Alexander Stefan Mael?”

  He laughed a little at the tone of Amory’s voice. “It’s long.”

  “I’ve always wondered why you use so many names.”

  “I don’t like all the names, but I was named to honor many people.”

  “They’re nice names.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “Take Alexander. The name honors a relative whom my father was close to, but he turned out to never like me very much. Never treated me well. He wasn’t a very good person really. I’m not sure why my father never saw it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shook himself out of the mood. “It’s done now, but I’ve never cared for the name because of the association. I still have to use them all.”

  Amory seemed to understand he didn’t want to discuss it any further. “What should I call you, then?”

  “You can call me Philip. My sister does and a few others.”

  “All right, if you want me to. I guess we should go to sleep.” Amory stood and held out a hand to help him to his feet. Then Amory stretched up and kissed him lightly. “Good night, Philip.”

  “Good night, Amory. Sleep well.” Philip couldn’t resist one last kiss, a quick one before they parted and walked to their bedchambers on opposite sides of the sitting room. Neither could he stop himself when he reached the door to his bedchamber from taking one last look at Amory, and found Amory doing the same. They both laughed.

  Behind his closed door, he laughed again at his own silliness. He was behaving more like a boy than a grown man, let alone a prince, but he couldn’t care. He felt a little like he was floating instead of walking, and the giddiness was all due to the promise of what was to come with Amory.

  Chapter 4