by Penelope, L.
“You have done this before, I would imagine.” She laughed at his sheepish expression. “Handsome soldiers are not the lonely sort.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, nose, and lips, then brought his hand to her breast and trapped it under hers. “You can show me.”
“But I’ve . . . I don’t want you to think . . .” He shook his head. “It was different before.”
She sat back, dropping his hand, her skin rapidly cooling. “Am I so different?”
“You are. In every way.”
Her mind raced as doubts swarmed. She drew away and moved to stand, but he wrapped his arms around her.
“Jasminda, don’t mistake me. You are like nothing I ever thought possible. You are like no one else I have ever met. And I am glad of it. You are remarkable.”
She did not want to feel the joy his words inspired, the resurgence of hope within her. Nothing had changed. He was still a prince and she a farm girl with the wrong skin color. Tonight was just a night. But as his arms tightened, pressing her against him, her heart threatened to revolt.
He kissed the shell of her ear, her jaw, her chin. “I will show you, if you will show me.”
“Show you what?” she whispered as his tongue tickled her neck.
“Your secrets.”
“I haven’t any secrets.”
He focused on her other ear, tugging on her lobe with his teeth. She shivered, the tiny motion sending a spark all the way to her toes.
“Your body begs to differ.” He stood, lifting her easily. After she settled on her feet, he leaned in for another endless kiss. Molten longing pooled between her legs.
“There is sylfimweed in the kitchens, I trust?” she asked.
“I should think so with the number soldiers I reprimand for being found sneaking out of storerooms with maids.” He placed a hand on her belly. The thought of having his child was not something she could entertain in the moment. Yet another fanciful idea to quell. She would go to the kitchens in the morning to obtain the herb.
Jack frowned as he pressed against her stomach. Thinking of half-breed bastards, no doubt. Before she could reassure him that she had no such designs, he kneeled and placed a kiss over her navel through her dress. She froze. He reached down to the hem of her dress, then slid his hands underneath to caress her ankles and legs. Her breath hitched. She needed the damnable dress off. Now.
Fumbling with the strap wrapped around her bosom, she found the end and gave it a strong tug, causing most of it to unravel. Jack watched with rapt attention as the dress loosened and eventually gave way, leaving her top half bare and only a thin silken slip covering her bottom half.
Hot with undiluted desire, his eyes traveled up her body to meet hers. Never breaking their locked stare, she walked backward to the four-poster bed overtaking the room and sat facing Jack. He still kneeled by the fireplace, staring at her. What would it take to snap him out of it? Inspiration struck, and she ran a hand over her breast, mimicking one of the women from the magazine. Jack’s soft gaze snapped to attention, and he stalked over to the bed.
She crawled back until she hit the pillows, then lay down, her legs barely spread apart. Jack prowled in her direction like a cat ready to pounce. He grasped one leg, tugging it to the side, mirrored the movement with the other leg, and then crawled between them.
A shiver rippled through her as he caressed her legs, hands sliding under her slip, running up her thighs, pulling the material up to her waist.
“No knife?” He sounded disappointed.
“It didn’t match the dress.”
The silky scrap of underwear Nadal had provided for her was all the protection she had from his thumbs as they ran up and down her opening. He kissed her once there, through the fabric, before moving his tongue up her stomach to circle her navel. The anticipation of feeling him inside her swelled.
He worshipped her body with his tongue, pressing kisses every place he could reach. Hands on the curves of her bottom, he spread her legs wider, settling his weight between them. When he finally reached her breasts, Jasminda feared she was in danger of passing out from all the sensations. Kneading a breast while his tongue went to work on the nipple, circling and sucking on it, he then moved to the rounded flesh to kiss and caress. His other hand rubbed her through her panties, creating a wet spot where her juices overflowed.
Jasminda arched up, wanting more but at the same time longing to touch him, too. She freed her arms from her sides and slid her hands down his back, digging her nails into his flesh when he did something particularly delightful with his tongue or fingers.
The panties had to come off. Jack’s head popped up, focused on the material sliding down her legs before she kicked them away. She reached for the front of his trousers but stopped, perplexed at how to undo them.
He grinned and showed her the buckles and buttons, easing them off along with his drawers. Kneeling above her, completely naked, he cradled his thick penis in his hand. She sat up, enthralled with the sight of him. She reached out for it, stroking his length. His eyes closed on a hissed breath. Jasminda loved learning him, changing the pressure and monitoring his reaction as she squeezed and caressed.
With a low rumble in his throat, he pulled away and came to rest on top of her, bringing his face close to hers. He was settled at her entrance but made no move to go further. Just cupped her face and kissed her silly once again. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him to keep going, go all the way. She just wanted more of him, all of him inside her the way she’d dreamed.
He eased a hand between their bodies and stroked her, sliding silkily through her wetness. He continued, probing deeper, and she tried to widen her legs even more. Finally, one finger worked its way inside her. She bucked and wriggled beneath him, wanting more, and he chuckled softly before inserting another finger and working them in and out of her, sliding deliciously.
She moaned when his thumb circled her most sensitive area. He kissed and caressed her, creating an amazing buildup of longing and desire. She teetered on the precipice, overwhelmed by what was coming when he pulled out his hand.
Gasping at the loss, she looked up at him, wide-eyed. He positioned himself once again at her entrance, his expression seeking approval.
“Jack,” she cried. “Please.”
With the permission granted, he eased himself into her. A sharp, stinging sensation accompanied the feeling of being stretched wide. She strained as he pushed further inside her and focused on his face inches from her own. The discomfort was expected, and tempered in large part by her excitement.
Their pelvises met, and she curled her legs tight around his waist.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
She kissed him in response. “What happens now?”
“Now I start moving, but I want to be sure not to hurt you.”
She wriggled against him, delighted by the fullness of his invasion of her body. Jack grimaced, the tension of not moving evident in the veins bulging in his forehead and neck.
“You’re not hurting me,” she said and kissed him again. He slid out of her a bit then plunged back in, then did it again with a gentle movement, a rocking in and out of her, creating a sweet friction between them. She raised her hips to meet his strokes, and when their pelvises met again, the impact roused the little nub at the top of her mound. Jasminda gasped.
Jack voiced unintelligible, impassioned sounds, as well, his arms straining as he kept the majority of his weight off her. Their dual rhythms harmonized as they moved together.
She ran her hands down his back and even lower, squeezing each cheek of his buttocks in time with his strokes, wanting to push him even deeper inside her, wanting to hold all of him with her body. When he sped up his pace, she matched him, and the wave built up again. It rose, rose, rose, until she didn’t think anything could ever be better.
Then it broke, a dam shattering, and she came completely apart, nothing but pleasure rushing through her unbridled. She screamed but wasn’t aware of it un
til the rawness in her throat brought her back to reality and the crest that felt like it had lasted a lifetime slowly faded away.
Her breath came in short bursts, and Jack, on top of her, was doing little better. His face was flushed and sweat dripped from his hair down to his chin. He gave her a look of pure tenderness and peppered her face with more kisses. He remained inside of her, still pleasant, even as his swell reduced. When he moved to get off her, she clutched him to her more firmly.
“No, not yet.”
He rolled them onto their sides, still intertwined, still one. Jasminda wiped the sweat from his brow and kissed him everywhere she could reach.
“Jack.”
“Yes, my darling?” he said, breathless.
“Just . . . Jack,” she said and smiled. He brought her even closer, kissing her until they both had to stop to catch their breaths again. She locked her legs tighter around him, determined to imprint this moment not just in her memory but into her skin, her bones, her soul, and her Song. When she left, it would be all she had to remember him by.
“It may be easier if . . .” Jack trailed off. Jasminda lifted her head from his chest, not liking the tone of his voice. Somewhere, a clock struck midnight.
“If what?”
He stroked a hand across her jaw. “I don’t want them to make your life here miserable. There will be questions, speculation . . . gossip.” Worried eyes searched her face.
The tiny light that had flickered to life in the center of her chest after their lovemaking faltered. But she’d known. When he’d showed up at her door she’d known. When she’d let him in, and when she’d chosen to go down this path, she knew where it would lead and where it would not.
“So what would be easier?” The question fell from her lips on a whisper. She must not have done enough to mask her feelings for he pulled her closer, tightening his grip around her and pressing her into his chest.
“If we remain discreet.” His voice wavered. That tiny wobble stole the strength from her growing hurt. It was not exactly a rejection, but the reality was clear. He could never truly be hers.
She remembered the feeling of the vision in the cave, the girl whose eyes she’d looked through. That girl had lost herself when she’d been chosen as a sacrifice. She’d belonged to the people, as did Jack, and the people were fickle masters.
“You are right,” she said to his chest, then pressed a kiss there to show she bore no ill will about the state of affairs. She did not. If her heart broke the tiniest bit, it was only because she had allowed it to grow weak and sentimental. That would never do.
She sat up, pulling herself out of the cage of safety his arms provided. “This is no one’s business but ours. We don’t ever have to speak of it again, if you’d prefer.”
“No, that’s not what I . . .” He reached for her and she pulled away, turning to sit on the edge of the bed with her back to him.
“You should probably go. You will be missed if you leave it until morning.” She wished she had something to cover herself with. There were robes in the great wardrobe hulking in the corner of the room. She’d peeked in it earlier. All she had to do was walk over there and retrieve one, but she did not trust her shaky legs.
Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she pushed them back. She tried to force that same will into her legs to push her to stand, but just as she thought she’d found the strength, nimble hands enfolded her waist, sliding her across the bed. Jack turned her over until she was on her back with him straddling her, his face inches from her own.
He kissed her. She closed her eyes involuntarily and lost herself in it. Even if by some miracle she found someone to kiss again, it would never be like this.
“If you want me to tell the world I will,” he said. “I will call for a press conference on the steps of the palace and shout your name from every roof and balcony.” He placed kisses down her jaw and neck, pausing to nuzzle the crook of her neck and inhale deeply.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, so short now there was barely anything to hold on to, and pulled his head up so she could peer into his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I don’t want you to think that I . . . that I care what anyone else thinks. I just don’t want it to be harder for you than it has to be.”
“All right.” A quiet acceptance of an unavoidable fact. “What have you said about my presence here?”
He settled onto his elbows, still on top of her, and her core warmed at the press of him against her.
“You are my honored guest. You saved my life and lost your home in the process. There may even be a medal involved.”
She matched his smile, battling the sadness that kept creeping in from the corners. The clock struck the quarter hour.
“You really should go and get some sleep,” she said, smoothing a finger across his brow. “Can you discreetly get back to your rooms?”
He sighed, rising to a knee. “I can use the back passageways. There are hidden corridors throughout the palace too narrow for the servants to bother with. I used to hide in them as a child.” He reached for her. “How I wish I could stay beside you the whole night.”
She did not give voice to all the things she wished that would never be.
He stood, finally, retrieving his scattered clothing and dressing. Jasminda admired each of his body parts as they were hidden from her view. Now that he was no longer naked, her mind cleared enough to remember her plans.
“Might an honored guest of the Prince Regent get a ride down the mountain?”
His brow furrowed. “Certainly. I’ll have Usher, my valet, assign you a driver. Where do you want to go?”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to share with him the real reason she’d come to Rosira. It felt too personal, the wound far closer to the surface than she’d thought. But there was no point in hiding it; her driver would no doubt reveal her destination if questioned.
“My mother’s family is here. I want to see them.”
Jack paused his fumbling with the buttons of his sleeves. He stood across the room and nodded once, simply, with a look just as intimate as what they’d shared that night. She’d expected questions, for him to perhaps scoff at her errand or even rail against her family’s abandonment. But his look said he understood the whirling emotion wrestling within her. That he knew how hard this was for her and why she had to do it.
She glimpsed a well of pain inside him she had never seen before, one that tugged at her in a new way. And it made it all the more difficult when he kissed her good-bye and walked out the door.
CHAPTER SIX
The address Jasminda had been writing to for the past two years was a fifteen-minute drive from the palace. Situated in an obviously well-to-do neighborhood, it sat midway up the steep incline of Rosira’s skyline. Two stories of butter-colored stucco, topped with a red-tiled roof, loomed over her. Bushes trimmed in perfect spheres decorated the tiny front yard. The breeze off the ocean rippled her hair as she exited the backseat of the town car Jack’s valet had provided for her.
A gated driveway led to a small carriage house in the back. She wasn’t prepared for the grandeur. The house was nowhere near the scope of the palace, but it was a far cry from the cabin she’d grown up in. Even the windows were ornate, rectangular at the bottom but arched at the top. How could Mama have lived here? Had she felt as stifled as Jasminda did simply looking at the home’s exterior? Or had she secretly longed for this life from her place in exile on the borderlands?
Jasminda stood before the massive, double wooden doors and ran her fingertips over the brass door knocker before raising it and rapping three times. While waiting for a response, she struggled to figure out what to say. No words had come to her in the days since she’d first thought of confronting her grandmother. Perhaps the words would find her tongue once the two were face-to-face.
The door opened, revealing a white-haired woman, not strict or severe in appearance as Jasminda had imagined, but plump and inviting with Mama�
�s golden eyes. Those eyes widened as they took in Jasminda from head to toe.
She tugged self-consciously at her dress. Nadal had arrived that morning with a stunning array of clothing for her to choose from, hemlines ranging from a respectable mid-calf to an eyebrow-raising above-the-knee. Beading, sequins, and tassels adorned the collection. But she had chosen the simplest frock, cream-colored and stylishly loose-fitting, with a waistline that grazed her hips. Now she wished she’d selected something fancier, something that screamed, I’m staying in the palace and am the very close acquaintance of the Prince Regent.
Her grandmother’s gaze flicked to the shining auto parked in front, with the uniformed driver in place, then back to Jasminda in confusion.
Jasminda notched her head higher. “Olivesse Zinadeel?” she said.
“Yes?” Her grandmother’s voice was reedy, nothing like the rich tones of Mama’s.
“I’m Jasminda. Emi’s daughter.”
All the color drained from the old woman’s face, and she did another full body scan of Jasminda. Searching for similarities? There weren’t many to see on the outside. Everything that made Jasminda like her mother was on the inside. Her love of gardening and making things grow. Her thirst for knowledge and hunger for books. But she liked to think she was more practical than Mama had been, not as much of a romantic. Still, when her grandmother snapped her mouth shut and shook her head, pain cleaved her heart in two.
Olivesse’s color came back, and she winced as if pained by something. She took a step back.
“Please don’t come here again. I . . . I don’t have anything for you.” She took another step back and shut the door.
Jasminda swayed on her feet. For just a moment, heartache swelled, but then her anger rushed in full force. She banged on the knocker again, rhythmically, for so long her arm began to hurt. When that produced no results, she started hammering away at the door with her fists until they were raw and pulpy.