by Georgia Fox
There was no movement, no sound. Finally she turned to face him again. Ram was looking at her through narrowed eyes.
"That's it?" he said slowly. "No thank you, no that was pleasant? Just... send in the maid on your way out?"
She smoothed down her hair and straightened the wimple. "What more could you expect? It is done. I have paid for your fealty to my son, as we agreed." Surely he would not want anything more between them. No. He was a man who avoided attachments. He had no tender side and he readily admitted it.
I have heard you once swore never to answer the commands of a woman.
But you took a chance.
Yes, I hoped the clover might appeal to your gentle side. If you have one.
I don't.
"I am your queen," she reminded him coolly now, "and you are a soldier. Whatever just happened here, that has not changed."
"You're a woman. And I'm a man." Apparently he liked reminding her. It may be true, but there was much more to it than that, of course. Much more to complicate their predicament.
No woman's hands have ever held my reins, but you wouldn't be the first to try.
Was that meant as a threat, or was it merely a reminder of all those other women whose carnal delights he'd enjoyed whenever he wanted? Would he go to one of those women later today and slake his lusts again with them? He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of energy and appetite. Don't think of that. Why should you care?
But her pulse was still unsettled and she suspected it would be sometime before that curious weakness in her knees subsided. It took all her strength to keep her face emotionless, her legs from wilting. With every movement her nipples rubbed on her wool gown, sending a tingling jolt down through her stomach to the pussy he had stroked, caressed and licked so diligently.
"Send in my maid and go about your business," she said again. "I paid your fee."
Once more he remained silent and made no move, just looked at her in that menacing way.
No response.
"Go now and guard my son as you promised."
"I have men to do that."
She frowned.
"My job is to guard you," he added.
"That was not the purpose for which I hired you."
"I beg you to stay and protect us. Those were your words, Ariana."
"By 'us' I meant Ersadonia, of course. As Septimus would say it. Not in the personal way at all."
Ram stepped closer. "I took it in a personal way."
"Then you were mistaken. The prince needs your help. I can look after myself."
"You need me."
"Not for me. For Gaston."
Finally he swung away, muttering under his breath.
"What was that?" she demanded, raising her voice as he strode to the door.
He paused. "Headstrong, foolish brat," he grumbled. "But I'm fairly sure you heard the first time." When he left he slammed the door behind him. The bang echoed throughout the palace walls.
Chapter Nine
Ram Thruster did not leave with the prince's entourage. Apparently he assigned that duty to his friends while he remained at the palace as her bodyguard, just as he'd said he would and despite her orders to the contrary.
"He watches you like a hawk," one of her ladies-in-waiting remarked as they dressed her for supper.
"I hear he threatened Lord Bonneville this afternoon in the courtyard. Spat upon the toe of Humboldt's new boots!" whispered another.
It was clear whose side of this altercation her ladies were on. Most of them, anyway. They could barely contain their excitement because Ram had returned to the palace after an absence of several weeks.
"They say you met with him alone, majesty. That although he was exiled, you granted him a private audience and that Bonneville is so annoyed his head is spinning on his fat neck."
"That's enough," exclaimed another of her ladies—Apollonia D'Arbanville. "Ram Thruster is just a man, and I'm sure her majesty doesn't want to hear you all making fools of yourselves at such a time as this. Have you forgotten we are in mourning for the king?"
The others now fell respectfully and apologetically silent, but when Lady D'Arbanville turned her back to them, pretending to make a last adjustment to her mistress's headdress, she gave Ariana a sly wink. Had she seen the Queen's hands closed into tight fists, or heard her uneasy sighs at the mention of the warrior's name?
Ashamed, Ariana felt like a dopey girl mooning after a knight in a tournament, leaning over the benches to try and catch a sight of him, scared to give him her kerchief favor but wanting to all the same. It was ridiculous.
He had tried to put his enormous cock in her arse. She couldn't get over it. A long bath had not completely soothed the soreness there. And the things he'd done with his fingers and his tongue...she'd never experienced anything like that. With Septimus it had always been a quick, rather dry, in and out. Her husband had come to her chamber with a cock already alert and prepared, so there was never any need to play— at least, he never saw any necessity to prime his wife for a rutting. Her pleasure was not important, and as long as he shot his royal seed in the right place, his job was done. As was hers. Sex with the King was a solemn, perfunctory business.
Nothing like the half hour she'd experienced at the hands— and other parts— of Ramon Villaverde.
Mulling over the chattering gossip of her ladies, Ariana now found herself churlishly speculating upon which of them had enjoyed the Thruster's carnal talents. According to Humboldt, her husband's faithful warrior had enjoyed several of her ladies-in-waiting up against the palace walls, their dignity and petticoats torn asunder.
Had he plowed Lady D'Arbanville? She was the fairest of all Ariana's ladies and the most agreeable. Blond-haired with large eyes the color of the Mediterranean, Apollonia D'Arbanville — unlike the other ladies in the queen's household— was not the product of a high-born family, but the daughter of a sea captain. Occasionally she had a mouth and temperament like one too. Men seemed to be amused by that, and intrigued by the juxtaposition of beauty and beast.
Apollonia was Ariana's favorite because she was bold, brave and could be trusted to speak her honest opinion at all times. The lady had no time for sycophants and liars. Both having known arranged marriages to much older men, the two women had some common ground. But Apollonia also had a slightly naughty sense of humor— again, taking after her salty-mouthed father— and sometimes Ariana was shocked by the things that came through her friend's lips.
Would Lady D'Arbanville have allowed the Thruster to take liberties of that nature? She couldn't bring herself to ask such a question, although it burned in her throat.
At supper she found Ram Thruster watching her again. He did not sit, but stood to one side of the hall, half shrouded in shadow. Even if she could not see him there she would have felt his gaze on her skin. Somehow it soothed her and excited her. It shouldn't, but it did. She still could barely believe what he'd done to her. Or how it had felt.
Having little appetite for food, she nibbled her supper and stole a sideways glance at him again. Two ladies had just passed where he stood, but did not take his eyes off her.
"Majesty?" Lady Marshand — another of her household staff— had come to the side of her chair and curtseyed. "Shall I prepare your chamber this evening, or will you sleep elsewhere as you did last night when nobody knew where you had gone?"
Elinor Marshand was a chilly, humorless woman. On the surface at least. Had she allowed the Thruster to use her too? She was certainly prim and imperious, but beneath all that she must have parts that throbbed and dampened with desire— like any other woman. Ariana had never thought so much about these things until today, having experienced that sort of savage yearning and satisfaction herself at last.
In addition to these new feelings there was jealousy. Suddenly. She had never felt it before, but now she did, wondering fiercely about the other women he'd known.
"Majesty?" the lady inquired again in her clipped, cold tone. "Shall I prepare�
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"Yes. You may prepare my chamber."
"Very good, majesty."
As the woman swept away, Ariana watched her go. Yes, the bed could be prepared in her chamber— let everyone think that is where she would be tonight. But if an assassin came, they would find her bed empty.
Ram had advised her to stay within the palace walls whatever that note yesterday had warned her, but she had other plans. And she must get away from her self-appointed bodyguard, because she – a woman who had never known passion and lust before, had never been touched the way he touched her, had never felt the slightest cruel twinge of jealousy— did not know how to manage the flame he lit within her.
Tonight he was, perhaps, just as dangerous to her as any would-be assassin. Her insides were all twisted asunder. She felt ill, over-heated. Her fingers curled into fists and her palms were damp with sweat. Everywhere she looked she thought she saw mouths whispering and smirking, heavily lashed eyes casting him looks of wanton appreciation.
If she looked at nothing— if she closed her eyes— it was even worse, for then she saw herself with him again, his tongue inside her sex, his fingers gripping the cheeks of her bottom so she could not escape. He had turned her into a purring slut, grinding herself against his mouth without shame. This was no way for a princess or a queen to behave. Her mother would spin in her crypt.
Around that hall, other eyes watched her every move. Lord Medlar, just as ambitious as Bonneville, but more subtle about it, had not blinked in ten minutes at least. Armando Riaz and Simeon Bosworth, talked quietly together, both looking at her as they did so. They feigned friendship, but it was false, shallow. They would stab each other in the back at the first opportunity.
And the one regard she felt more than any other, was Ram Thruster's. It dominated her senses.
Ariana knew she had to get away, clear her mind, resettle her thoughts. Calm her bodily parts before they betrayed her again.
She looked for Lady D'Arbanville and gestured her closer.
* * * *
Ram followed her as she walked out of the hall with one of her ladies. On alert, he was ready to intercept any man who approached her. As he'd told Bonneville earlier that day, no one would cause trouble for the Queen— or even cause her to frown— while he was there.
"Well, then we can all be glad," Bonneville had replied. "As long as she has you providing a service to her majesty, we can all rest easy in our beds."
"Oh, she has me, of that you may be sure."
The other man threw him a dark look, meant to shrivel his bollocks no doubt. It didn't work. "Just mind you don't get above your station, Villaverde. The King— your indulgent master—may no longer be here to keep you in line, but I shall keep my eye upon you."
"You do that."
And while Humboldt de Bonneville was watching him, he'd watch Ariana. A prettier sight, to be sure.
Christ, what had he done? What had she done to him?
After their assignation in her private audience chamber his cock refused to lie down and be sated. It wanted more. It was ravenous, rapacious.
Yet he had imagined once would be enough. What a fool he was!
How could he concentrate on guarding her properly, with his cock taking over his mind? He must remember that it was nothing more than a business arrangement.
She turned and walked down some steps, the other lady by her side. Ram followed.
* * * *
"Is he still there?" She didn't really have to ask; his presence was palpable, even a good few feet behind her. Every hair on her head prickled as if he touched the back of her neck with his lips.
"Yes, majesty," her friend confirmed. "He's upon us like a hound on two foxes."
She sighed. "He seems to think I cannot take care of myself."
Lady D'Arbanville chuckled softly. "At least while he is near, that wretched ass Humboldt de Bonneville, will not dare try to corner you and demand an answer to his proposal."
"I suppose not. But eventually I must give him one."
Her companion stopped walking and looked at her. "You cannot, surely, be considering marriage to that dreadful man?"
Ariana gave a shrug. "I must consider what is best for my son and the country. I would not want it divided by war."
The other woman scowled. "I think you have sacrificed enough for Ersadonia, majesty. Now it is time for you to find happiness."
"What a strange thing for you to say. I have been happy."
"Have you?" Apollonia arched a restless, slender golden eyebrow.
"Of course. I knew what to expect when I was married to Septimus and I believe I fulfilled my duty." Again she thought of her mother telling her how to behave, reminding her of her place as ambassador— a royal figure who should lead others and always be above reproach. What on earth would her mother think of today's wicked embrace with Ram? The poor woman's head would probably explode if she knew what her daughter had done.
"One's duty does not necessarily equate with happiness, majesty."
"But a princess must follow the path laid out for her."
After a pause, Apollonia said softly, "And now there is no one laying your path. Not your parents, not Septimus. Now you may choose your own direction. Do not lose your way."
It was a daunting prospect, she realized. For a woman who had always done as she was told, suddenly to be left at a crossroads was no easy thing. She had— god willing— many more years to live. She must make the best of what remained.
But what was "the best"? With no one to push her or guide her, the young widow was quite at a loss. The two men she had met with that day both tugged her in different directions.
"Why did you wink at me earlier, when they were all talking of Ram Thruster?" she asked warily.
"Wink at you, majesty? I did not wink. It must have been something in my eye."
"Lady D'Arbanville, you winked. And you will tell me why or I shall send you home to your husband and make you stay there a month in his company."
"Ah. Well, in that case...perhaps I did so because you jumped and spilled half a vial of rosewater on my gown at the mention of the Thruster's name. And I cannot tolerate too much perfume. It makes me itch and sneeze. In fact...perhaps I was sneezing, not winking."
While the two women stopped walking, Ram Thruster had slowed his own stride behind them, but not halted completely. Now he was close enough to hear their conversation, so Ariana did not reply to the other lady's rambling excuse. Instead she looked at him, irritated again and flushed with heat.
"Did you want something, Villaverde?"
He bowed his head, looking at the ground between them, his jaw twitching. "Yes, majesty."
"What then? Speak up, man."
Oh, why did he have to be so darkly handsome? And now that she knew what he could do to her, how she could lose control in his arms...
Ariana had told herself she did it for her son's good— because they needed Ram's help. But she knew how much she'd wanted it too. The Thruster had merely given her an excuse to do it.
"I must know where you plan to sleep tonight, majesty," he said, his voice gruff, his gaze still focused on the ground.
"In my bed, of course," she snapped.
Apollonia looked at her, but said nothing, kept her lips shut tight, her face as innocent as it ever could be.
"Then I must examine the chamber first," he muttered. "For your safety."
"Do so by all means."
"And I will sit outside your door. I will personally take the post."
She glowered at him. "I have guards who managed well enough while the king was living."
"And now he is not living, majesty. Many things have changed."
They had indeed, she thought, disconcerted when he looked up and their eyes met. He would never have looked her in the eye that way before today.
"Very well," she exclaimed, terse. "If you must."
"I must."
Ariana licked her lips and suddenly could taste his kiss. He looked at he
r mouth and his eyes sparked.
"You will be retiring soon to bed, majesty?"
"I shall."
He looked relieved, as if he'd be glad not to have to follow her around any longer. Perhaps his feet hurt. Did they hurt as much as her arse did? If so, good!
"Then I will survey your chamber immediately, majesty."
"Make sure you fluff the pillows." She simply couldn't resist the comment, even knowing it would bring his gaze back to her face. "And don't leave dirty hand prints on my sheets."
Ram paused and scratched his cheek. Was that nearly a smile? "I'll try," he muttered.
As the two women watched him pass, Apollonia exhaled a little sigh before whispering, "Perhaps you should have told him the truth, majesty. He only means well by guarding you. And I'd certainly trust him more than any other man. Look at the size of his shoulders. What woman would not be safe with him?"
Ariana shot her a quick frown. "I do not need him or his shoulders. He's supposed to be guarding Prince Gaston."
The other woman was still watching Ram as he disappeared around a corner to the queen's apartments. "Such a waste," she muttered.
"What do you say that?"
"A stallion like The Thruster should be put out for stud."
"Lady D'Arbanville!"
"Think of the strong sons he'd make— a whole army of capable males for Ersadonia. He's a perfect specimen of manhood. Yet he won't even take a wife. They say he is resolved never to marry. His heart was broken once before, I suspect, and is irreparable."
Ariana sniffed. "A romantic notion, indeed. I do not believe he has a heart. How could he, a man like him?"
"A man like him?"
"A warrior, a bloodthirsty killer. Since the age of eleven he has fought in the King's army."
"Yet he is still a man, with all those parts and needs one might expect. In robust amount too, from what I hear."
Ariana bit her tongue and made her eyes water. "Yes, Lord Bonneville tells me the Thruster has enjoyed plenty of lovers. Even from among my own household."