Hathor and the Prince (The Dubells #3) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: The Dubells Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
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“Can we not stay a few more minutes?”

He shook his head. “Sadly, we cannot risk it. When we are married, I promise you we shall stay in bed for however long you wish.”

I nodded, trying to get up. But for some reason the moment I tried to lift my legs to get out of bed they fell right back onto it. When I glanced down, I saw the small amount of blood that stained the sheets and my inner thighs. Quickly I moved to take the sheets to cover myself but he grabbed my wrist. When I glanced up at him, he cupped my cheek and stroked it.

“Do not be embarrassed or hide from me. Nothing here is wrong,” he whispered. “I’ll get water to clean up and take care of the bed.”

“Someone will see—”

“They won’t. And even if they did, I’ll protect you. I do not want you to fear anything when I am here.”

When he spoke to me like this, looked at me like this, I could not speak. All of him was tender. I reached up and touched his cheek as he did mine. He leaned into my palm, closing his eyes and breathing in gently.

“I shall leave myself in your care then.”

He smiled, kissing my hand. “Wait here just a moment.”

I was not sure what he wanted, so I did as he asked. I watched as he quickly put his clothes back on before stepping outside. Only when he was gone did I lie back on the bed. I was not sure what I was feeling, but I could not stop smiling. I rolled over in the sheets, burying my face in the pillows, when I heard the doors open again. Panic filled me as I sat back up, holding the sheets to my chest. But it was him, holding a small basin, a towel, and a bottle of wine.

“You’re back already?”

“We do not have the luxury of time,” he replied, coming over to me. “This is for you to clean with.”

My eyes narrowed at him. “You are truly an expert.”

“Retired expert, for I exist for you alone now. Which is why I shall be your humble servant and help you wash,” he said sweetly, reaching for my legs again, but I pulled them back.

“I fear your help will lead to…further distraction. I shall do it,” I replied, reaching for the basin myself.

He pouted when I took it from his hands. “Very well, may I at the very least watch?”

His eyes made me warm and that warmth made me…desire his hands again. I shook my head. “You may not. Turn around.”

He sighed dramatically but did as I asked, and I quickly tried to clean myself up. Even having him in the room as I did so left me speechless. I could not believe I had acted so impulsively, and yet at the same time I wanted nothing more than to act out more. Finished, I rose from the bed, my legs finally strong enough, or maybe it was my will. Either way I collected my clothes and began to dress. I could do almost all of it without help, but the corset. But before I could ask for help his hands were already at my laces.

“How did you—”

“I could see you in the mirror,” he whispered into my ear.

I glanced to the left of the room and sure enough he’d had a clear view of me the whole time. “You—”

“Villain? Yes, I know.” He chuckled, tying the strings together. He bent over, kissing the tops of my shoulders. “And you knew I was too, yet you fell for me anyway.”

“I think it’s more appropriate to say I tripped,” I muttered, annoyed yet giddy.

He chuckled again and said nothing as I donned the rest of my clothing and he tended to the bed, stripping it bare. He took up the wine, but he poured it on top of the sheets and dropped the bottle to the side before coming to me. He looked me over and adjusted the sleeves on my dress.

“No one will be any the wiser,” he said, taking my hand and leading me from the room. His grip on my hand was tight, or was it my grip on his? Either way, we held on to each other, another breach of decorum but I noticed no one was posted down this wing of the hallway.

“Do no servants come here?” I asked, glancing around.

“Not at this hour, the servants work the palace in shifts.”

“Ah.” His knowledge was truly…detailed.

We had just reached the main stairs when we came face-to-face with the stern countenance of Lady Crane, the queen’s most loyal lady-in-waiting. She was dressed in the lightest of blues, and her sharp-angled face was tilted as she looked between us…especially at our hands. Immediately I released him and took a side step away, curtsying to her.


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