Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Spoiled

Satrine

“Darling!”

After shouting his endearment at me, the reins were tugged from my gloved fingers so Loren could right the phaeton I was driving.

I noticed this vaguely, seeing as, following the carriage that held Mom, Maxie and Aunt Mary, I’d taken the turn onto an avenue, and I’d seen it.

And it being all it was, I lost track of what I was doing with the horses.

“Good Gods, it’s amazing,” I whispered.

Mom’s carriage stopped in front of the block-long building.

Loren guided our phaeton behind it and came to a stop too.

I distractedly noted men wearing smart, blue uniforms loping toward us from a small hut erected on the pavement, as I sensed Loren securing the reins then turning to me.

But mostly, through all this, I sat staring.

“It took five years and was brought painstakingly, section by section, by ship and then by land, and reconstructed here. The stone is so heavy, they could only put one piece aboard one vessel at a time, and there are twenty pieces. It was a scandal throughout the realm, not only the cost of that task of bringing it here, but what the taxpayers of Newton had to pay the Dax of Korwahk simply to have it,” he said.

I remained motionless in the carriage, attempting to take in the enormous, exquisitely carved statue of a horse that stood at the front of the long, stately building. He was up on his hind hooves, striking at the air, his mane long and wild, his head proud and fierce, his nostrils flaring, and he had to rise two, maybe even more stories up into the air.

Making him even more magnificent, his hooves looked to be made of real gold, as were his bared teeth, not to mention the tips of his mane and tail, but his eyes could be nothing else but humongous rubies.

There was decorative, but most assuredly tall, stout and dangerous (what with all the spears on top) iron fence surrounding it, as well as a contingent of those men in blue uniform.

My eyes drifted to Loren when he spoke again.

“It’s a statue of their horse god, and I’m told it isn’t even the most superlative of them. That one, apparently, is on the road that leads to their capital city of Korwahn,” Loren went on.

I couldn’t imagine a better one. That was impossible.

Loren wasn’t finished.

“This statue is guarded day and night and thousands of people from all over Hawkvale, Lunwyn and Fleuridia have taken the journey to Newton simply to view it.”

“I can see why,” I replied. “I’ve never seen anything so…so…large. And so beautifully rendered. And so…so…magnificently daunting. I mean, it’s incredible, but it’s also terrifying, like he was a god at one point, and he’s been turned to stone.”

And it was a “he.” They hadn’t left that part out in the rendering.

Loren was smiling. “Most everyone, not Korwahkian, are in concurrence. And the citizens of Newton complain no more, due to the coin spent by visitors in our hotels, shops and restaurants. And now, as you know, Newton’s Museum of Cultures has another feather in their cap, beating out all others in the Northlands to show this exhibit of Firenz tribal history. I’m not sure any museum anywhere has ever had an exhibit this large of anything from Triton. It’s only recently, due to the Mar-el pirates allowing passage after freeing the seas that made it possible.”

This being why we were there.

Multitasking, Loren was giving me a phaeton-driving lesson on the way to see said exhibit.

“Don’t think I missed that you nearly took out that unsuspecting milk cart,” Aunt Mary snapped.

Loren twisted and I looked down to see her standing by our carriage under her black parasol, something she had open, even if her hat shaded her entire body, and another half a foot in circumference besides. Her ever-present handbag was dangling from her wrist (seriously, she was like the Queen of England, she even brought that thing to the dinner table).

Last, her dour expression was aimed at me.

She adjusted her aim to Loren.

“I told you it was folly, teaching a woman to drive a carriage. Did you listen?” She lifted her handbag in order to snap her fingers irritably, if ineffectually, since her hands were in gloves. “No, you did not.”

“I was startled by the horse, Aunt Mary,” I told her.

“A pile of stones is hardly startling.”

A pile of stones?

I returned my attention to the horse.

The rubies in his eyes had to be bigger than my fist.

I looked back to Aunt Mary, losing a fight with a smile. “Do we need to take you to have your vision examined?”

Her face screwed up and she turned back to Loren. “You spoil my niece.”

At the same time he was alighting, Loren was nodding to a blue uniform guy who apparently was there to see to our carriage.

Once to the sidewalk, he lifted his hand to me, I took it, and he helped me down.

Only when he had me tucked to his side, did he turn to Aunt Mary, and completely unperturbed, reply, “Indeed.”

I fought melting into a puddle of goo.

Maxie, standing close to Mom who was now beside Aunt Mary, giggled.

I looked to her and winked.

“Just like your father,” Mary huffed. “He doted on your mother. She was, fortunately for him, and, I daresay, us all, a supremely sensible female, not a woman to have her head turned by such imprudence, may she be held to the bosom of Brigid. Your sister, however, was indulged beyond imagining. You were all very lucky she was so charming and of such a sweet disposition, or it would have been the ruin of her.”

After delivering that, she snapped down her parasol, took it by it folds, and shook the handle at me.

She then carried on.

“Mark that, girl,” she warned.

“Mary,” Mom said softly, before I could say something to tease Aunt Mary.

And the way Mom spoke made me look to her.

When I did, and I saw how she was gazing at Loren, I turned my head up to him.

His jaw was hard, his lips were tight, and my heart lurched.

“My boy,” Aunt Mary whispered, sounding contrite.

“It’s fine, Mary,” Loren said.

“I meant no—”

Loren didn’t let her finish. “As I said, it’s fine.”

Aunt Mary gave big eyes to Mom. Mom stretched her lips down at Aunt Mary.

I struggled to think what to say while standing on a busy sidewalk outside a museum.

“Can we go inside?” Maxine asked excitedly.

“Of course, poppet,” Loren murmured.

Maxine broke from Mom, came to Loren’s other side, hooked her arm in his, and guided us both toward the museum in a way that seemed, oddly, like she was saving him from Aunt Mary.

Beyond that, although in the last few days there had been a marked change in her—it was evident she was getting used to all of us and her reticence was quickly disappearing—that was in our zone of home and walks to the shops and trips to the park.

We were now out in public, at a large, bustling museum, and although she expressed her desire to come with us, and she was very animated about that, we had all planned to keep a close eye on her to make sure she was good with it.

From the way she charged forth, she was more than good with it.

Which, I had to admit, was a relief, but it was also a surprise.

The place was busy, but of course, there was VIP treatment there too, and Loren availed us all of it.

Therefore, in no time, and with no bothering with the long lines, we were in the thick of the exhibition that included terrifying swords, bows and arrows that were obviously not mass-produced, but they looked far from primitive, and bejeweled daggers. There were also intricately woven rugs, exceptionally crafted silver chalices, extraordinary jewelry, startling mosaics and even an enormous silk tent erected so you could go inside. And the interior was so sumptuously appointed, I was rethinking Loren taking an ambassadorship. Because if that was how they lived in Firenze, I was all in for the adventure.

It took a while, and me fielding a variety of see to that! looks from my mother to get Loren to myself, away from the crowd (which, not incidentally, but we were gamely ignoring it, were almost as fascinated with us as they were with the exhibit), as well as away from Mom, Aunt Mary and Maxie.

He and I were standing off to the side when I asked, “Are you all right?”

He didn’t seem upset anymore. In fact, his face wore a fond expression (yes, almost to the point of doting) as he watched Maxine’s fascination with a painting on the back of a large hide that depicted a mountain range and a huge, beautiful lake.

“Yes, of course, why?” he answered, but he didn’t take his gaze from Maxine.

“Nothing,” I mumbled.

That earned me his attention.

“Why did you ask?” he pressed.

“Aunt Mary can be…”

He cut me off.

“They lived. People knew them. She’s not the only one to speak of them.”

He was talking offhandedly, not to mention somewhat tersely, about his mother and sister.

“She didn’t mean to sound insulting,” I assured. “She gives backhanded compliments like no one I’ve ever met, because they’re completely backhanded, but she actually means them as compliments.”

“I’m not angry at your aunt,” he stated firmly.

“Okay,” I whispered.

His lips twitched. “I do spoil you, though.”

“You do not,” I returned.

He looked around us, pointing out that it was the middle of the day, and I had learned in finally getting to know my betrothed that he wasn’t the idle rich. Although he was considering a future endeavor of serving his king (again) in one manner or another—along with his side pursuits of being a vigilante—he, and his father, had a variety of things they needed to attend to in order to remain wealthy as sin.

I knew this because at dinner (another one we had alone, just two nights ago, outside a delightful brasserie at the edge of a large cobblestone courtyard, surrounded by trees, glass-fronted shops and other eateries—it was no Le Cirque Magique, but it was me and Loren alone, so it was its own version of everything), he had talked to me about them.

However, I’d glazed over somewhere between his shipping interests, some partnership he had with a rich guy named Apollo up in Lunwyn, and the string of printing presses he and his dad owned across Hawkvale and down into Fleuridia.

In fact, I’d glazed over so badly, I’d only come unglazed when I heard his rich, attractive chuckle before I felt his firm, delicious lips press to mine.

When he’d pulled away, he’d said, “We’ll leave it at the fact I have many interests, so there will be a number of soirees you’ll need to organize to keep our investors happy, and a number of opportunities to wear wildly becoming gowns as men try to tempt me into investing in their schemes.”

“You know, of the last thousand words you’ve recently said, I only heard ‘soirees you’ll need to organize’ and ‘wildly becoming gowns,’” I’d replied.

Which hadn’t made him chuckle.

It had made him laugh.

Which had made me happy.

Short story long, when I’d read about this exhibit in the paper, and learned the existence of this museum, and told him we had to go, he’d rearranged his schedule in order to escort us here.

In truth, he gave into my merest whim, as evidenced by the fact we’d walked by a shop after our dinner two nights ago, I’d seen a hat pin in the window that I’d said in a throwaway manner, “That’s pretty,” and it was delivered to our house the next morning.

So, yes.

Totally spoiled.

Something he’d been doing since I lost it in his bedroom after Le Cirque Magique.

Or maybe this was just Loren. From what Aunt Mary said outside, and every indication I’d had since I’d met them both, the Copeland men tended to indulge the women in their lives.

But I couldn’t get past thinking that he was trying to help me make up for lost time, secluded in Fleuridia, away from Maxie and even Aunt Mary.

All this on my mind, I blurted, “I’m going to find my way.”

His brows slid together. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, outside earning the reputation of the best hostess in all the Northlands, entirely so your investors will understand how clever you are for marrying such a prize as me,” I joked.

He grinned.

I moved closer to him and went on quietly, “But I’ll find my way, Loren. You don’t have to look after me. You don’t have to worry about me. About any of us.”

As I was speaking, he’d slid his arm around me, but he pulled me closer when he replied, “It’s good Mary is here. I fear your mother being away so long, she, as well as you, will need a guiding hand in society.” He sent a small smile down to me. “I’m uncertain Lady Longdon murders a party, but I’ve no doubt she can set you on the path to figure out how you intend to do it.”

My insides froze.

Murders a party.

I’d told him I murdered a party.

And I did.

I mean, my friends were probably lamenting the demise of my yearly Halloween bash as much as the demise they thought became of me.

But Loren thought I’d said that to him in the stables all those weeks ago in order to play the game my father had forced me to play.

When, for once, I’d been telling him the truth.

“Satrine?” he called.

I focused on him and repeated, “I’ll find my way.”

He was studying me closely, his arm warm around my waist, his gaze affectionate at the same time troubled, because he no doubt thought I’d had a bad moment, remembering my plight.

I pressed my gloved hands into his chest. “I promise.”

“I believe you, sweeting,” he said gently.

“Though, feel free to continue spoiling me,” I teased, hoping it didn’t sound forced.

“So you admit it.”

I shrugged.

And there came that rich, attractive, chuckle before he did what he was quickly becoming expert in doing: angled his head to avoid my enormous hat so he could touch his lips to mine.

When he lifted away, he didn’t go far.

So I went for it. “And if you ever want to talk about them…”

I let that hang.

I found it concerning he only nodded before he straightened completely from me.

But I let it go.

Because I was going to need him to let things go, a lot of them, practically every real thing about me.

The least I could do was return the favor on occasion.

“Does this mean you’re going to give up on forcing me to teach you how to drive yourself around?” he asked, and I was getting to know him, so I was more than sensing he wasn’t entirely joking.

“It isn’t that hard,” I returned.

“You’re rubbish at it,” he stated bluntly.

I was not wrong. He hadn’t been joking.

And he was not wrong.

Who knew it was harder than heck driving a carriage through busy streets filled with other carriages, carts, horses, and people crossing (the concept of jaywalking clearly had not been introduced in this world, and although, on the busier streets, there were constables directing crossways, there was nary a stop sign to be found), but also errant dogs, cats and sometimes pigs and chickens?

Horses turned left and right and went faster and slower, depending on what you told them to do. And they weren’t real big on running into anything, so they took their own evasive maneuvers.

But a lot of the time, it got hairy.

“I’ll get the hang of it.”

“Perhaps, if you stop gazing around like you’re touring instead of paying attention to where you’re going,” he suggested.

He was not wrong about that either.

“There are a number of distractions,” I pointed out.

“Indeed. This is why women don’t drive. Too easily distracted. They see a hat they like in a window, they’d drive into the window next to it because they can’t stop looking at it. And then they’d argue it’s the hat’s fault.”

“Oh. My. Gods,” I whispered irately. “Did you just say that?”

He smiled down at me, hugely, his warm brown eyes dancing, and his arm still around me tightened as his head dipped.

“You are very easy to tease, my Satrine,” he whispered.

“You are very lucky you’re so gorgeous, my Loren,” I retorted.

And there came an even bigger smile.

“I would like to see a lake like that.”

We both turned toward Maxine’s voice to see she’d come close.

“And mountains,” she went on.

Not missing a beat, Loren replied, “Then we shall make plans to show you as many lakes and mountains as can be found, Maxie.”

Maxine beamed.

Mm-hmm.

Totally.

Loren Copeland spoiled the women in his life.

Outlandishly.

But I wasn’t going to breathe another word about it.

Ever.

Because it was him.

And as were all things Loren, it was beautiful.

* * * *

Loren

He felt her lips as Satrine trailed them up his chest and into his neck before she rested her weight against him.

Loren barely accepted her warmth when he rolled so he was on her.

He was not fully recovered from the ministrations of her mouth, but although he very much liked her soft curves resting on him, he preferred resting his body on those curves.

“How’s your wound?” she whispered into his ear.

He grinned and lifted his head.

“Better,” he told her.

“Mm…” she hummed.

Still grinning, he touched his mouth to hers, and not moving away, he said, “Soon, my darling.”

Her expression shifted and he felt her hand gentle over the bandage at his wound. A bandage she demanded to change morning and prior to bed, so his clothes nor the sheets would aggravate the stitches.

Therefore, he assured, “Very soon, sweeting. There’s hardly any pain anymore.”

That was not precisely the truth. There was pain, which was why he had not taken their bedplay forward to consummation.

But it was getting better, and further, he didn’t want her worrying about it.

He got his wish. Her gaze cleared and focused on his.

“Okay, honey,” she replied.

“Are you sated for tonight?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Are you sure?” he teased. “It usually takes three or more before you seem replete, and tonight I only gave you two.”

Her eyes rolled to his headboard, and she mumbled. “Ugh. Smug.”

Loren laughed.

Her eyes came back to him, and she watched as if enthralled.

It was safe to say his betrothed found his humor of far more interest even than a gilded statue of a Korwahkian god.

Loren gazed at her, her golden hair all over his pillow, her expression now content and serene, her lips bruised from his kisses and gorging on his cock.

So enamored was he in looking at her, he started when her hand came to his face, her thumb sweeping his cheek.

“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.

“That you’re beautiful,” he told her.

Her expression melted to one of such exquisiteness, if she hadn’t already undone him, it would be his undoing.

“You make it worth it,” she whispered.

“What?”

“All of it. All that happened, all that’s to come. All I lost and never will have again. You make it worth it, and it may seem crazy, but you do it in a way I know you always will.”

Fucking hell.

He groaned before he took her mouth.

They embraced for some time before he felt her satiety shift to somnolence. Only then did he move to extinguish the lamps, then tuck her close to him, his body curved into the back of hers under the covers.

He endeavored to time it well, when her sleepiness sapped her craftiness, before he asked after something he’d seen that afternoon when they’d arrived home from the museum.

“What does Carling touching the side of his nose, and you returning that gesture, mean?”

Her relaxed body grew tight in his arms.

He grinned into her hair.

She was appalling at subterfuge.

Carling was worse.

Both, however, were to Loren’s favor.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“Whatever it is you two are cooking up, my dearest heart, take note that I’d prefer to know beforehand, should I need to wade in and rescue you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied again.

“It is my father’s birthday in but weeks, and I have not missed how you’ve grown fond of him.” He gave her a squeeze. “He is a man who has much, so he doesn’t need more, except he does very much enjoy the company of people he cares about.”

“Right,” she whispered.

“So you don’t have to murder a party for him. However, if you plan one as a surprise, I can assist with that.”

Her voice sounded curiously strangled when she responded, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

Loren pulled her even closer, burying his face in her hair, “I daresay, he already has his present for this year, three of them, and they all have blonde hair.”

“Stop being wonderful,” she warned.

He shifted to kiss her shoulder.

And when he settled back, he said, “I’ll try.”

She was silent long moments, and he thought she was asleep.

He was proved wrong when she murmured drowsily into the dark, “Liar.”

He was indeed.

One last time before sleep claimed him, Loren smiled into her hair.