“Ah, you do, though. You might have a tongue as sharp as my sword, but you’ve a soft heart, Gwen. She never would have succeeded without you. Such a sacrifice should be celebrated, but you ask for nothing in return.” I try to ignore the stirring in my chest brought on by his praise, but it’s impossible when his voice is so low and passionate. “You’ve acted nobly. And I’ll have you know it.” He moves closer, which panics me, because my body apparently wants him closer more than anything. Delight races up my skin, leaving goose bumps behind. “I won’t pretend I’m not relieved. Now that you’ve sabotaged your chances in the auction, I don’t have to worry about another man thinking he can have you.”
“Sabotaged myself?” I raise an eyebrow. “There’s another event, Your Majesty.”
Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crows. We are alone now, the crowd having roamed toward the hillside where the next event will take place.
A vein ticks in his cheek as he regards me, a storm gathering in his blue-gray eyes. “Surely there’s no point in continuing after your pie was the worst of the bunch.”
“There are men who value hard work over a woman’s skill in the kitchen.”
His nostrils flare. “Gwen, I forbid you to carry buckets of water for these cockheads who need to buy a wife instead of wooing one properly—”
“Properly. You mean, like dragging them to the loch?”
He growls at my interruption. “I had need of your mouth. Only your mouth. As I do now. There will be no water carrying. For one thing, they should be carrying water for you. And second…” He draws me up against his chest roughly, tipping my chin up with his opposite hand. “You belong to me. I can think of nothing else. You’re my woman, goddamn it to hell. I will bring you back to my castle and you will remain there with me for all time.”
“In your dreams, perhaps,” I breathe, unable to keep my gaze from dipping to his lips.
Corbet visibly reins himself in and says calmly, “I came here to have an important discussion with you, Gwen. There are things you do not know about my upbringing. Once I’ve explained, you will understand why I am against marriage.”
I’m already shaking my head. “I cannot talk now. I’ll miss the event.”
“I’ve told you. It’s not happening!”
“I’ll only allow this discussion if you let me leave presently for the event—” I hold up a finger when he starts to interject. “And if you don’t interfere.”
“Gwen,” he growls, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “These men ogling you is driving me mad. I want my claim on you. Now.”
There’s a good chance he might already be mad if he thinks a conversation about his past is going to miraculously make me want to be his mistress, but I keep that pretty little fact to myself. “There’s a chance we won’t have a harmonious outcome to our discussion. As such, I have need to keep my options open,” I say, reasonably.
His upper lip curls. “How about I cancel the whole thing?”
“Then the only way you’ll get me to sit down and talk is bound and gagged.”
“That’s beginning to sound like a good plan.” He lets go of my chin in favor of dragging a hand down his face. “Christ. I thought being a king was going to be easy in comparison to battle.”
“You hadn’t met me yet.” I pull out of his hold. “Good day, Your Majesty.”
I make it two steps before he snags my wrist and spins me back around to face him. My lips open to give him hell and he presses that advantage, stamping his hot mouth down over mine. Yanking me up onto my toes like a child’s doll and pillaging my mouth with savage sweeps of his tongue. And heavens, I’ve never been more aware of the flesh between my thighs, but it’s impossible to ignore the desperate clench of my inner walls. How my folds moisten with an immediacy that makes me gasp into the next joining of our lips. Because yes, yes, I’m participating now—greedily—I can’t help it. Can’t help arching my body against the wall of muscle that is his chest. Offering my tongue with halting whimpers. And when he draws up the front of my skirt in his hand and takes rough hold of my sex, I should slap him across the face, but instead I bite his jawline and whine my approval.
“You listen to me now, Gwen. I’ve tried to be patient, because there is something important at stake here.” He squeezes me tighter until I’m gasping in need, outrage, excitement. “But this sugary little cunt belongs to the fucking king and the king means to have it. If you want to prance off and pretend I’d let another man take what’s mine, then so be it. Just remember I don’t have the reputation for being ruthless for nothing.”
“L-let go of me,” I whisper into his neck, contradicting my command by closing my thighs around his hand and rocking into his huge palm.
“Forget this nonsense about carrying buckets and come to my tent, woman.” He tugs down my underthings and strokes my damp, naked flesh with his middle finger, running the pad in circles around my clit and making me moan. “If you thought my tongue got a rise out of you, just wait for this warrior’s cock between my legs. I’ll go at you raw and hungry and by the end of it, you’ll be begging to warm my bed.” He presses his finger inside me, pumping it once, twice, and I can’t manage to draw oxygen, the pressure is so perfect and right. “You’ll be begging to wait for me in my chamber, thighs soft and open, at the end of every day.”
His words riddle me with lust, even while giving me immense pause.
Think, Gwen.
He wants me to warm his bed.
But not his heart.
Nothing else.
Despite the connection I feel growing between us, I have to remember he isn’t offering me anything but his body. Not his love or even the respect of his name.
I have to resist, incredibly hard though it may be.
As much as it hurts to walk away.
“I’ll speak with you later, Corbet,” I say in a rush, pushing his hand from between my legs and stepping back, my legs unsteady. “But know this. I will not lay with you.”
His features harden. “Make no mistake, Gwen. Your virtue is mine.”
“No. It belongs to me, first. And then my husband.” I turn on a heel and stride away before he can reach out for me again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a water carrying competition to win.”
6
Corbet
Cheers echo through the valley, bouncing off the mountain face.
Spectators form a huge pack at the top of the steep hill, some of the more brazen among us gambling on who they think will win. The tenth or so time I hear Gwen’s name uttered by one of these fools, I grind my back teeth and vow to carry her off as soon as this infernal competition has come to an end.
The water carrying competition has garnered the attention of the entire Joining.
But it’s not only my presence at the event that has stirred interest.
It’s the fact that both kings have come to watch.
Thrones have been carried over for each of us, though sitting still is killing me.
I regard the king of Lavere thoughtfully, wondering why he has chosen to attend, instead of languishing in his tent and drinking wine, as he’s wont to do. He leans to one side and speaks to his advisor, his eyes sharp on the women who wait at the bottom of a hill for the challenge to start. Is he interested in one of the women, too?