Desire and Duty (The Consort's Chronicles Book 1)

by Jarvis, E. C.

  She unfurled herself from the layers of her dress and turned the taps to fill the large bathtub in the attached washroom, liberally throwing handfuls of dried lavender into the water. She admired herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite; her breasts were slightly fuller and her stomach had an unmistakeable little bulge to it. She patted it mindlessly and smiled in contented satisfaction.

  She sunk into the steaming hot bath and let her head roll back against the rim, closing her eyes. For a brief moment, she thought she felt something in her stomach move, like a quiver inside. Upon checking, she found no movement on the outside to match the feeling inside. Her hand trailed across her breast, down her stomach, and between her legs. Knees raised up and rested either side of the bath. She was still sore, but something in that ache intensified the need for release, and if neither Colonel Morsh nor Nathanial were going to do the job, she would just have to do it herself.

  Fingers slid over flesh, teasing her opening apart, and she closed her eyes again to concentrate on the sensation and imagine it was someone else leaning over the bath to touch. An odd shiver ran down her spine, and the bathwater seemed to turn cool. She looked up and froze in place, fingertips poised at her entrance. Perched in the beams above, staring directly down at her, was a figure clad in black, his head and face obscured by a mask.

  She screamed a blood-curdling shriek that filled the master suite. She wobbled in the water, scrambling to get out. Instead, her body slipped and rolled from side-to-side. The figure dropped down to the side of the bath and reached up to remove his mask. Nathanial’s face appeared. He pressed his finger to his lips, then spun around and tucked himself behind a cabinet.

  She hadn’t heard the door to the room burst open, but her guard appeared in the doorway, sword in one hand, rifle in the other.

  “It’s all right,” she yelled at the man, unable to hide the panic in her voice. “I just slipped in the bath.”

  More men appeared behind her guard, spilling into the room. She slipped her arms across her chest, not wanting to give the entire staff a display. Moments later, Colonel Morsh entered. He wore only thin cotton pyjamas but carried his pistol, not quite managing to look menacing enough to take on a would-be assassin. He dismissed the guards swiftly and came to the side of the bath, bringing a towel.

  “I just slipped,” she whispered to him.

  “You slipped?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the entire squadron in here.”

  “Here, let me help you out.”

  “It’s fine, really. I’d like to finish my bath.”

  “Not a good idea if you’re feeling weak enough to slip.” He reached for her elbow and helped her up, taking care to cover her with the towel.

  After another round of assurances and a quick examination to make sure she wasn’t injured, the collection of men dispersed. The Colonel gave her a long look before pulling the door shut behind him. Her thumping heart increased to a terrifying rhythm once more as she lay in bed, waiting for Nathanial to pop out. She lay for a few minutes, wondering if he waited for her to go to him or if he had already disappeared completely. Just as she rolled over to look, he appeared.

  “My apologies,” he said, staring down at her, his face set hard.

  “You frightened the life out of me.”

  “I know.” He knelt down beside the bed and looked down at the floor. “Forgive me.”

  “What are you doing, creeping around here like that anyway? And where have you been?”

  “I’ve been scouting the area, laying traps for any would-be attackers and getting to know the landscape. It is my duty.”

  “Your duty involves hanging around my bathroom ceiling, looking like you’re going to kill me?”

  “No, my presence in your quarters goes beyond my duty. If I have overstepped a mark, then I shall leave.”

  “Wait, please.” She lay her hand on his arm, and he remained in place. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I…wasn’t sure if you had need of me anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you seem enamoured with Colonel Morsh.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Had he been watching her brief conversations with the Colonel? There was no doubt he’d heard them talking during the journey up here, as he had been concealed in the corner of the carriage, but might he have seen them together at the lake earlier?

  “Did you see us…”

  “At the lake today? Yes. You were flirting.”

  She sighed and threw her legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up. “I’m lonely. When a man pays attention to a woman who has no one to talk to all day, it’s…enchanting. I wasn’t expecting you to get jealous.”

  “Jealous,” he repeated, the word not quite a question, but he certainly didn’t seem to understand her meaning as clearly as he should have.

  She patted the bed at her side, and he joined her to sit. She took hold of his hand, removing the mask squished up inside his fingers, and placed his hand on her stomach. “I am the Emperor’s wife.”

  “You are.”

  “This is the Emperor’s child.”

  “It is?”

  “To everyone but you and me. I will always have to be with a man who isn’t you.”

  “There is a difference between the Emperor and Morsh,” he said, stroking his fingertips across her stomach.

  “Explain.”

  “You don’t want your husband.”

  She laughed. So he wasn’t jealous of Averys because she was required to be with him, but he would be jealous of the Colonel because she would choose him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to promise fidelity to Nathanial. What would be the point in keeping herself chaste and miserable for the sake of a man she would only see once in a while and in risky circumstances? As much as she loved Nathanial, it wasn’t a straightforward kind of love, at least not in the storybook sense. She had accepted that such a romance was something she could never have. A woman in her position couldn’t afford such a luxury.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

  His lips twitched in what might have eventually turned into a smile if such expressions hadn’t been trained out of him so rigidly. He was dressed in black from head to foot and smelled faintly of grass and moss. She imagined him spending his days crawling through the undergrowth, climbing trees and adventuring around the area with the single-minded attention of carrying out his orders—of protecting her. Despite the smell, he didn’t have a single branch or piece of moss hanging from his body. His hair was a slightly flattened mess from the mask. She wanted to run her fingers through it and maybe give him a bath; the tub was even big enough for both of them to share if they cuddled up. He watched her silent appraisal with interest

  She leaned forward, lips parted, the odd quake in her belly moving down between her legs.

  “You should rest, Ma’am,” he said abruptly as he stood. He reached for the pole to extinguish the candles in the chandelier one by one until only one remained lit, the flame casting strange shadows around the room.

  She didn’t imagine she could fool him for one minute, but by the time he’d finished with the candles, she’d slipped the towel from her body and was lying back, mindlessly pinching her nipple with one hand and delicately stroking between her legs with the other. “You were watching,” she said, referring to the bath and to almost every other time they had been in close quarters since the night Averys had demanded she give him a son. Perhaps he’d been watching even before then and she simply hadn’t noticed.

  “I was.” His eyes tracked her movements and he shifted, poised like a tomcat ready to pounce on his prey. “My observance displeases you?”

  “On the contrary.” She raised her knees and allowed them to spread open, falling to either side, her heart aflutter at giving such a brazen display. “I think you should watch me more closely more often.”

  “Gladly, Ma’am.” He moved to the foot of the bed and adopted the soldier’s stance once more, folding his hands
behind his back, dark eyes staring.

  Lenora let her head sink back into the pillow and pinched her nipple once more, her body reacting with a slight wiggle. It was exhilarating and terrifying to be so open and exposed. She drew out the actions with her hands, exaggerating more than if she’d been alone, teasing herself over and over, fingers spreading herself open, exposing more, eyes half-lidded as she watched him looking down at her. The combination of dim light and his black attire hid any tell-tale bulge in his trousers which might have been obvious otherwise, but she knew it was there all the same, that it was taking every ounce of his carefully measured self-restraint to keep those hands folded behind his back. She sped up, fuelled by the need to release and the fact that his chest rose and fell deeply. The thought of turning him on increased her own desire. Soft moans escaped her lips. Tingling sensations ran circuits from her head to her toes and back again until she finally exploded in a mess of senses and light, moving her hand away to grip at the furs on the bed.

  “Nathanial,” she breathed, the word barely audible. It was enough.

  He reacted immediately, lowering himself onto the bed above her and capturing her lips with his. His tongue darted between her teeth as she gasped for breath, still writhing, riding the waves of her pleasure, pressing her hips upwards to meet with the hard swell in his trousers. He traced a line of kisses down the side of her face, capturing her hands, locking their fingers together and pushing her hands above her head, pinning them in place.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered into his ear, and he groaned in reaction, sitting back on his heels to rip his shirt over his head.

  A heartbeat later he was nude, face flushed, eyes wild, no longer hiding behind a stoic expression, and she could smell him, hot, salty, and sweaty. He bent forward, lifting her knee with his arm, hooking her leg over his shoulder, and then thrust deep, driving forwards until he could go no further.

  They paused for a moment, both looking down between their bodies where they were joined. A perfect fit. She could feel him pulsing inside, and she tightened around his length, squeezing him with her muscles. He licked his lips, his chest growing taught as he gripped her thigh with one arm and placed his other hand on her breast. Her own hands were still in place above her head, her fingertips reaching out to curl around a metal rung of the headboard, the cool brass a stark contrast to her hot hands.

  Nathanial pulled back and drove his hips forward, crashing into her fully. She braced her arms, forcing her groin to bear the weight of his thrusts which came in short, sharp bursts. The intensity of the experience was heightened by the fact that she was still sore from her horse trek earlier, but she didn’t care. She would happily suffer the worst pain to have him there, fucking her hard, claiming her body as his own.

  He turned his head and trailed his lips along her calf as her leg stuck up in the air, utterly rigid while he continued a pattern of unending thrusts. His tongue came out to lick at her skin and, the sight of it almost sent her tumbling straight back over the edge. She let her head rock back into the pillow, being hammered into it in the most pleasurable manner she could never have dared to imagine. She wanted to scream, to shout and call out his name with every beat of his movements. Instead, she bit down on her lip to stop herself and restricted her sounds to small moans.

  Nathanial bent forwards further still, and she twisted her hips, finding that sweet spot inside as he hit over and over again until the entire room collapsed in on itself and she struggled for breath—lungs burning, body aching, singing with utter delight.

  When her eyes opened next, he was no longer on the bed. She rolled to the side, head spinning, eyes unable to focus. Nathanial’s nude body appeared from the washroom, carrying a glass of water. He knelt down beside her and offered her the glass.

  “What happened?” she asked as she propped her head on her hand and accepted the glass with the other.

  “You passed out. Forgive me.”

  “I did? I’m sorry.”

  “It’s my fault. We shouldn’t have done this. I should be better at restraining myself. I just…”

  “You just what?”

  “I can’t leave you alone, Ma’am. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I don’t want you to, either.” She took another sip and set the glass on the bedside table. “Please call me Lenora, at least once.”

  He lifted her hand, pressed his lips to her fingers, and smiled. “Lenora,” he said.

  Her heart melted. She wanted nothing more than to take that moment, bottle it up, and keep it forever. It was almost better than a declaration of undying love, so simple a gesture and yet so powerful.

  “Will you stay with me?” she asked, hoping he would climb into the bed by her side and hold her ‘til morning. She dreamed of curling up in his arms, snuggling to his chest, to spend the night feeling safe and protected by his warmth.

  “Until you’re sleeping,” he replied. He made no move to join her in the bed. Instead, he remained kneeling by the bedside, nude, holding her hand. His thumb traced circles over the back of her hand, round and round, the movements mesmerising and lulling her to sleep. No matter how hard she fought her eyelids to stay awake and keep him by her side as long as possible, she could not keep them open.

  Vaguely, she became aware of his hand moving away from hers. Of his body disappearing to collect his clothes. Of the last candle being snuffed out, plunging the room into total darkness. Of utter silence, followed by sweet and naughty dreams.

  XVIII – Assassin

  The following weeks were spent in a daze. She read book after book in the library, took long walks through the forest, no longer caring about the escort of guards and soldiers following her every footstep. Colonel Jon Morsh kept his distance, but she didn’t mind, for at least once every day she spotted Nathanial. Usually, it was somewhere concealed and subtle, watching from a distance, his well-trained eyes seeing much more than the average soldier could hope to spot. Each time she saw him, she knew he only allowed himself to be seen where he’d normally be secluded in shadow, and it was enough to keep her sated. Three more times he’d visited at night, restricting their activities to the more mundane yet utterly romantic cuddling, soft conversations about nothing in particular, and gentle masturbation.

  She’d become so used to it, along with the growing soft lump in her belly, the promise of a child, she almost forgot all about Averys and Barentyn and the threat to her life. She would have been perfectly happy spending the rest of her days at the lodge, living in a daydream.

  On the third week, a rider came racing up the gravel path on a black stallion. She watched from the library window as the Colonel went outside to greet the rider. Nathanial appeared from the tree-line, joining the small group as the rider dismounted. They stood for ten minutes in deep discussion until the rider abruptly climbed back onto his horse and rode away.

  She folded the page edge over and snapped the book shut, marching to the door. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, the Colonel was nowhere to be seen. She stalked the downstairs rooms and finally found a collection of soldiers gathered in one of the large trophy rooms—one she’d pointedly avoided for the majority of the time. Her guard for the day gave her a nod as he joined the rest of the group, presumably to receive a briefing, and the Colonel bade him pull the door shut. She clearly wasn’t invited to hear the conversation.

  Lenora stood for a moment, looking at the only room adjoining the makeshift conference area and wondering if she could eavesdrop on a room filled with elite soldiers as easily as she had done with Averys. Movement at the opposite end of the corridor caught her eye—Nathanial.

  She headed in his direction, turning the corner to find it empty, though a door to one of the rooms nearby was slightly ajar. She investigated further, finding him standing in one of the gun rooms.

  “Nathanial, what’s going on?”

  “The Emperor believes the threat to be dealt with. He may ask for you to return to the palace.”

 
“Oh. Just when I was beginning to like it here.”

  “Lusk did not return from the mission.”

  “Is he dead?” A glimmer of hope swelled in her chest at the thought of returning to the palace with at least one less problem.

  “There was some form of explosion. No body to identify. He must have been obliterated.”

  “Good. Best news I’ve heard in a while. So, Averys hasn’t specifically requested that I return yet?”

  “Not yet, no.”

  “So, we’ll be here a little longer, at least?”

  “Not much longer. When he requests your return, you’ll be expected to leave immediately.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” She let out a laboured sigh. The thought of returning to the palace was distressing even without the worry of Lusk. She still had Barentyn to contend with, and Averys’ constantly shifting moods were exhausting. Not to mention the fact that she wouldn’t get to see Nathanial as much. His wounds had healed, and with the threat gone he would no doubt be put to work elsewhere.

  “I will miss this place,” she sighed. “And you.”

  “I will still see you when I can.” He leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. Noises interrupted the sweet moment from further down the hall, the sound of boots padding along carpet. The briefing was over. She slipped out into the hallway as Nathanial receded into the shadows of the room. He would no doubt find another way out.

  “Hello, Ma’am,” the Colonel called as he approached.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, knowing she should pretend to not know.

  “It seems the threat has been dealt with. You may be asked to return tomorrow. I should give you a more thorough examination before we leave, if you feel amenable to it?”

  “Yes, that would be fine.”

  “I will come up this evening, then.”

  Lenora spent the remainder of the day alone. Her constant shadow guard no longer following every footstep. In fact, there were no guards to be seen. She was sure she should feel glad about that, but a sense of unease crept in nonetheless, pricking at her shoulderblades like an irritation. She’d spent the entire time wishing they would leave her alone, and now that they had, she wished they hadn’t. As the sun dipped behind the mountain’s shadow, she headed up to her room, the Colonel catching up to her as she ascended the stairs.