34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it."- Oscar WildeHenrique climbed the steps to the tower, ignoring the suits of armor’s silent reproach. His ancestors had the right to it. He had tried to be reasonable with Isabel, and where had it led him? Enough of such dysfunctional dynamics—good rake versus intransigent, morally stubborn princess. Henrique would march inside her bedchamber and demand her to eat. He would not give her a chance to work her wiles. He would lay down the rules.

Isabel understood rules. She lived by them.

Who was he fooling? He, a rule-maker? A rule-breaker—that was more likely. Ignoring the corruptive thought, he balanced the dinner tray on one hand so he could knock. What was he doing? Politeness would be his enemy tonight. He rolled the key, entered the room, relocked the door, and stored it in his pocket.

The air inside the tower was heavy with vapor and the scent of camellias.

The copper tub was empty, and so were the pillows strewed in front of the hearth. Where was she? Heart speeding, he gazed at the window. Impossible.

The bed curtains opened to reveal one shapely leg and then the next.

Cloth whispered over her torso, and then she stood, a vision in silk. Her hair was wet, dripping over the robe. Why wasn’t she dressed? He mentally kicked himself for not returning her clothes. To better deal with Isabel, he should have been born a simpleton. The lack of a corset would make laying down the rules much more difficult.

She sauntered closer, pulling her hair atop her shoulder. In the soft glow of the setting sun, Isabel’s hair unfurled, a cocoa cascade, each strand sighing and swaying in a sensual symphony. Henrique’s gaze lingered, his longing finally unleashed.

Would he ever get used to seeing her glorious hair undone? If he were king, he would create only one law—forbid Isabel from painful chignons. The silk clung to her. By sheer willpower, he avoided checking the volume of her breasts. He gazed instead at her lips. They were soft, and when she perceived his regard, a shy tongue came out to wet them. That pink tip, less than an inch of tissue and membrane, got him harder than the tower’s flagstones.

Henrique locked his jaw. He was in control. He laid down the rules. Not her.

Moving languidly to the chaise, her gaze brushed over his three-piece suit, and she fluttered her eyelids.

If he didn’t know her better, he would think she flirted with him. What was her strategy? "Do you have something in your eyes?"

Her lips pursed into a pretty moue. "It’s a side effect of being confined."

He set the tray on the table with an authoritative clink. "Your hair is dripping."

"Bathwater can produce such symptoms." She twirled a curl over her fingers once, twice, and then lowered it to the gaping cloth of her robe.

His self-control slipped, and he followed the lock. The silk covering her breasts was moist and transparent. Nipples the color of a dusky afternoon peeked at him. Warmth swirled inside his chest, and his mouth watered, an uncontrollable urge to taste them, first the right one, then the other, and then…

"If you allowed my maid to attend me, she would’ve dried my hair against the hearth." She caught said hair in a knot atop her head. The movement dislodged her robe, baring her arms and the curve of her left breast. She glanced at him sideways as if to make sure he had seen her bountiful charms.

His head jerked up. "Is this a seduction?"

Her sweet gasp was confirmation enough. He would be damned. The prudish princess trying to seduce the redoubtable rake…

She whirled away from him as fast as her legs would carry her, and then she wavered in place and would have dropped to her derrière if he had not caught her.

Ribs protruded from her torso. Had she lost two pounds? Three?

Gently, he settled her over the recamier. "Foolish, foolish girl."

She lay with her head lolling, lifeless, and Henrique’s heart wrenched inside his chest.

He picked the truffle from the dinner tray and twirled it under her nose. She came to, confusion dimming her eyes.

"This ends now." His voice was low and explosive.

"Why should I eat?" She lifted her chin imperiously, but at least her cheeks had regained color.

That was the Isabel he knew. Seduction time had ended.

Her gaze shifted from his face to the dinner tray, caressing the food. A rumble interrupted their tense silence. It wasn’t kind to point fingers, but he could swear it came from her belly.

Henrique cursed under his breath and paced away from the recamier. He couldn’t think with her so close. He might be mistaken, and with Isabel, it was a fifty/fifty event, but what if the seduction had been a ploy to avoid her ultimatum while keeping her pride? He couldn’t give up the chance to make her eat.

When Henrique turned to her, he had his grin back in place and shrugged. "We could play a game. If you lose, you have to take a bite."

She frowned, and for a second, he thought she would send him to hell. But then her eyes lit up. "It’s hardly fair. Players should stand on even ground. You are dressed formally while I’m wearing a loose bed robe."

Henrique’s pulse sped, and he feigned an interest in his fingernails. "Very well. If I win, you eat a morsel of my choosing. If you win, I will remove one piece of clothing."

Had her breathing turned shallower? She lifted her shoulder, and the robe slipped. "Why would I want that?"

Henrique couldn’t take his eyes off her skin. "You are curious, Isabel. I remember the way you explored my chest in the garden and almost swooned when you saw me hammering the iron plaque, but if you prefer to disrobe yourself, then..."

She tugged the robe up. With her hair cascading down her shoulders to pool on the oriental carpet and her long legs resting over the carmine upholster, she looked like Venus awaiting mortals to sacrifice in her shrine. "What do you have in mind? Chess, cards?"

His gaze traversed the expanse of the tower. While the count had provided surfaces to tempt a couple into love play, he didn’t bother with parlor games. "A trivia."

She narrowed her eyes. "The subject? I hope it isn’t science. I will start at a disadvantage—"

"About myths. Greek myths."

She instantly perked up, her eyes flashing. Of course, she had a better classical education than many scholars he knew and would no doubt expect to give him a sound trouncing.

She tilted her head to the side. "The rules?"

"For each question you miss, you must take four bites. When I lose, I will remove a piece of clothing. The first to reply to three questions correctly wins the game. In the less probable event that you win, I will return your clothes and tiara. If I win, you will be civil and await Pedro Daun’s arrival."

Henrique removed lint from his coat, pretending nonchalance when he wanted to force nourishment down her throat.

She nodded regally.

Before she could change her mind, he moved a low table to the hearth and placed the food tray atop it. The fire cast golden notes over the pillows, making the colorful silk resemble a lake. Isabel lowered her weight slowly into a half-reclined position, her legs folded beneath her. Despite the effort to cover herself, her toes peeked from the folds of her robe. She had lovely feet.

The scent of roasted lamb and spices rose from her dinner, and Isabel’s throat moved with a greedy swallow.

Henrique sprawled by her left and ignored her protests that he was too close. What should be his first question? He wanted her to miss it, so she could have an excuse to eat. But she would see through his ploy. How outlandish that Isabel’s cunning worked against her.

He cleared his throat. "Why did Eros forbid Psyche from looking at him?"

"He wanted to protect her from his jealous mother.” She glanced into the fire, and her shoulders sagged. “Jealousy has a way of ruining everything."

Henrique didn’t like the sadness in her voice and touched her foot. Her breath caught, and she tried to pull away, but he kept an easy caress, trailing his finger from her heel to her arch.

The next question came easily, as he had been experiencing it vividly since he met Isabel. "Who was the Greek king cursed by the gods to stand below an apple tree, and whenever he reached for the fruit, the branches lifted it from his grasp?"

Her eyes widened. She didn’t know! Henrique wanted to scream in triumph.

She shifted closer to the table, and Henrique ceased her momentum to pull her across his lap. With a hand circling her waist, he kept her in place. With the other, he pulled lamb meat from the bone and offered it to her.

"No cutlery? Savage." She glared at him, her gaze devouring the meat.

Henrique fed her. She shut her eyes, her head falling on his chest. The little moan of bliss she let out resonated inside him.

The next time he offered her food, she closed her lips over his fingers. A bolt of lust speared him, so strong it left him intoxicated.

"Tantalus had been the king cursed by the gods to be forever tempted by the apples. The word tantalizing came from him." Henrique could relate to the poor mortal, for with each bite, he felt the temptation cursing through his bloodstream.

When replete, she drank the muscat wine and reclined over the pillows. She didn’t bother to fold her legs beneath her. The robe slipped, revealing her knees and the creamy perfection of the top of her breasts. If she but opened her knees an inch, he would see the patch of brown hair above her mound. Rock hard, Henrique grabbed a peach and sunk his teeth into the fruit.

She gazed at him under sooty eyelashes. "What is the theme of Gilgamesh’s myth?"

Henrique shifted closer to her. Before she could protest, he placed her foot on his lap. She lifted on her elbows, watching his movement with a furrowed brow.

He massaged it from the arch to her little fingers and back. He felt a knot under her sole and pressed delicately on it. She sighed, and her head rested over her shoulder.

Henrique brushed the robe further up her legs, caressing her calves. "Does it have one? I thought the gods sent a mythical friend to the unruly prince so he would stop claiming prima nocte rights on his subjects’ daughters."

She had eaten. Henrique should leave the room before he did something they would regret. But her feet were not enough. He wanted more and tugged her closer until her thighs were atop his lap. A blush colored her neck and cheeks. He breezed a caress from her knee to mid-thigh. The robe opened further, revealing her pubic hair. He must be a masochist because he pulled her left leg slightly to the side. The robe gaped open, and the seam rested atop her mound, displaying the right petal of her labia. Henrique groaned, his fingers itching to reach her sex. Would she be moist for him?

"The theme is…" She paused as his hand came tantalizingly close to her heat. Closing her eyes, she licked her lips. "Transcendence isn’t in heaven, glimpsed only after you reach immortality. It is found on Earth. By the deeds you leave behind."

He stilled his hand on her leg. Deeds? How he felt near Isabel had nothing to do with deeds. "Isabel—"

"You owe me a piece of clothing."

"Of course. Come get your war spoils then." He opened his arms but made no move to remove his coat.

She knelt in front of him. Henrique stopped breathing. Placing both hands above his chest, she burrowed her hands under his coat. Her scent invaded his nostrils, not of linen and silk and layers of garments, but of warm skin, soap, and a flowery fragrance wafting from her hair. She held his jacket close to her chest.

His head swam as if he had drunk a casket of port and caroused with Bachus all night. "How did Zeus seduce Hercules’ mother?" He placed his hands on her hips.

"That’s not fair. I never touched Ovid’s erotic poems."

"Zeus fell in love with Alcmene, but the princess was faithful to Amphitryon, her husband. So, while he warred with a neighboring tribe, Zeus took the form of Amphitryon," Henrique said, tugging Isabel closer.

"How convenient."

Henrique stilled. "We should stop." He had gone too far already, damn it.

"No. I want to know the rest."

Henrique exhaled. "Zeus visited Alcmene. When she disrobed for him, he was so entranced the Earth went preternaturally still."

She gasped. Henrique placed his fingertips above her throat, not wanting to lose her tiniest reaction.

"And then?"

"Zeus loved her slowly, reverently..." Henrique lowered the right side of her robe and kissed her shoulder. When he did the same with the other side, the silk caught on her nipple, and he tugged it free. The folds piled at her waist.

Not even Apollo and his chariot could take him from her now.

His hands were unsteady when he breezed soft caresses over her breasts, chasing the freckles he somehow knew would be there. "Dawn came, but Zeus wasn’t ready to leave, so he extended the night until he and Alcmene were well and truly sated." Henrique rested his hands over her hip bones and brushed his thumbs up and down in a soft invitation.

"A night of myth." She breathed, her lips sweetly parted.

They were both on their knees, facing each other. The fire cast fairy lights over her drying hair and fair skin, a pagan goddess of old.

Everything in him stilled, and Henrique nodded. "A night of passion. No consequences, no guilt."

The idea took shape, solidifying inside him. They could have this night for themselves.

Sustaining eye contact, he released her waist and touched the back of her thighs. Her breath hitched, and he cupped her buttocks, pressing her against him. At the contact of his chest with her breasts, he groaned. He kissed her, penetrating her mouth with his tongue, tasting her warmth.

"If this is one of your games..." She pulled away, breathing heavily.

"A game? Christ, Isa, I want—” He traced the contours of her mouth and cradled her face with infinite care. "Passion is not one-sided. I want to kiss you, but I want to be kissed too. I want to caress your skin, and I want to be caressed. I want you to be vulnerable to me, but it makes me vulnerable, too. I want to revel with you, in you, for as long as our night lasts. I want to make you fly."

"One night."

"Yes," he said, extending his hand in invitation.

Green eyes flashed, and then she placed her palm atop his.

He stood paralyzed, transfixed, embedded in her gaze.

The deal was sealed. God help him. What a pair they made—a pearly princess and the luckiest savage in the world. Any control he had left flew away to cavort with the cicadas and stars.

He kissed her deeply, and she melted against him, warm and pliant, as if he had every right to embrace her. He tugged the sash of her robe, and the silk fell around her legs. All the reasons he should keep away from her crashed to the floor with the last folds of her robe. Fire glow danced over her skin. Henrique’s befuddlement lasted three seconds before he embraced her.

He pulled away long enough to work on the folds of his cravat. Her fingers brushed against his as she removed his waistcoat.

Primly and nude, she folded the garment atop his coat.

The shirt almost ripped when he wrestled it from his body. His cock filled to bursting point, and he used all his willpower to focus on her. He picked her slight form in his arms and lowered her on the decadent pillows.

He bit her bottom lip, and her gasp thrilled him.

Fusing their mouths, he massaged her thighs from the back of her knees to just below her apex with slow, deliberate strokes.

"Henrique."

"Hmm?"

"Are we done kissing?"

"What do you have in mind?"

She huffed a little and wiggled her hips, her cheeks becoming red. He pulled her knees apart and opened her nether lips with his thumbs. The fragrance of her arousal rose in an intoxicating mist. They watched as he circled her clitoris, now standing proud and glistening. He knelt between her legs for a taste.

He loved her petals reverently, brushing his stubbled cheeks against the inside of her thighs. When a deep shudder raked her, he closed his mouth around her and sucked. Her small mews and moans and the timid pressure of her hands on his head hazed his thoughts.

When she trembled beneath him, her body arching with her release, he caught her to his chest and kissed her deeply. His cock demanded he mount her where they were, a sultan with his odalisque. No, damn it. He would make it right. The way to the bed passed in a blur.

With her auburn hair fanned over the pillows, the light caressing her skin, and her long legs soft and spread open in invitation, she tempted him beyond endurance. She opened her eyes and extended her arm to him. Henrique lowered himself by her side. He kissed her bottom lip and pressed it between his teeth, then he lowered his mouth to her neck and whispered everything he meant to do with her before their night ended.

He licked her breasts and sucked her rigid peaks. Pausing every few breaths to pace himself, he embraced her for the sheer joy of bringing their chests together, savoring her naked skin against his, inhaling her scent.

He measured her, using his hands, the scale of his lips, the breadth of his shoulders. After this night, he would have her imprinted on his very cells. He caressed and revered and coaxed her excitement until he could no longer keep from her.

Gently, he mounted her. His torso caged her chest, and they locked in a tender embrace. Panting, he guided himself into her entrance. She stiffened underneath him, and he murmured endearments. He lifted his head and sucked her breasts, pulling until she sighed.

When his cock reached her maidenhead, he froze.

"Isabel, I—"

She kissed his neck. "It’s only a membrane, right?"

It was, and it wasn’t. He was her first lover, and the idea thrilled and frightened him. "I have no kingdom to offer—I’m no prince—"

"You are Henrique, my obstinate protector, my reluctant friend, my cherished rake," she said against his lips, her soft breaths mingling with his harsh ones. "My chosen lover."

He rested his forehead on hers. "I’ll never hurt you again."

Flexing his legs, he thrust. The barrier gave way, and he entered her. He wanted to howl and rut like a mindless beast, so blissful her sheath felt on his cock. A gasped moan was all the noise she made, and then she stilled, her eyes shut down forcefully.

Buried deep, he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose.

Her lashes were wet and spiky, and her gaze traveled the length of his chest until it finally rested on his eyes. He tried to read the green depths. If she wanted to stop, by Zeus, he would, even if his balls writhed and fell like rotten apples. "Isa, Isa, is it so bad then?"

She licked his lips. "Are you always so chatty?"

Henrique chuckled and started moving in and out of her sheath. The friction of flesh on flesh was delicious. Pressure built into his lower back until his release roared from him in hot white waves.

Afterward, Henrique sighed, a naked Isabel in his arms, her soft sleeping sounds mingling with the creaking fire. An odd sensation swept through him, physical and yet transcendent. As if he had expanded to encompass much more than pain, pleasure, and matter. He became infinite, and just the right size to fit into her.

Living without attachments had detached him from life. Before Isabel, he was a cardboard cutout placed in the scenery for effect. With Isabel snug in his arms, his precious views dissolved like fool’s gold when in contact with acid. Henrique buried his nose in Isabel’s hair and inhaled her floral scent. His princess promised a wealth of pleasure and the possibility of fathomless pain. And yet, he could not bring himself to leave her side. One night would never be enough.