Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
I stoop down to study her face, laughing when she ducks her head. “Does it embarrass you to speak about your emotions?”
“Yes. It’s horrible.”
“It is,” I agree, chuckling. Goddammit, I like her so much.
A woman!
“I don’t know how people manage to…define their feelings so easily. And then talk about them to complete strangers,” Gwen continues. “Why not just hand them a—”
“Weapon,” we say at the same exact time.
“Yes,” she breathes, studying me with a puckered brow. “But my sisters deserve to have someone who professes love for them, so I force myself to do it. Only for them. Even if it makes my face feel like it’s on fire.” She pauses. “Do you have anyone like that in your life? Someone you would let your face burn for?”
“Perhaps my sword.”
“Ah. It must be magnificent.”
“A flick of my wrist and she’ll leave a man’s entrails at his feet.”
“Wow. Entrails. Do you talk like this to all the ladies?” She glances back over her shoulder. “It’s a wonder there aren’t a trail of them swooning in your wake.”
My laughter echoes off the side of the mountain. “God, woman. You amuse me.”
“Are you looking for a new court jester?” she quips, her expression so charming, I almost pull her down onto the grass, eager to put my mouth on her full, clever, beguiling one. Now. “Is that where your interest lies?”
“Far from it,” I rasp, reaching beneath my tunic to adjust my throbbing dick.
“Too bad,” she sighs. “I wager a jester makes decent coin.”
Concern briefly eclipses my hunger. “Are you in need of coin, my lady?”
Firmly, she shakes her head. “That is not your worry.”
Obviously she doesn’t see where this relationship is going. “Oh yes it is.”
Her nose wrinkles. “No, it is not. You are a king, but you are not my king. Besides, not even the ruler of my kingdom worries himself over a lower class farmer.”
The fact that someone else rules her, even temporarily, is repugnant.
It results in an erosion in my chest. A cascade of ugliness down to my belly.
“You are a farmer,” I force out, imagining her sowing a field on her hands and knees. The image is pleasing and unacceptable at the same time. Pleasing because farming fits her exactly. It’s honest work. It’s real, like her. But I don’t like the idea of her toiling under the sun, and I don’t plan to allow it any longer.
“Yes, we have a small family farm in Lavere.” She stares ahead, as if seeing a very different landscape. “The earth has not cooperated for the past two harvests, unfortunately, leading to a position as jester to sound more and more appealing.”
“You are meant for far better things, Gwen.”
“Yes, I know.” She winks at me. “It was only a jest.”
Something funny happens in my stomach. It’s the feeling I had as a lad when falling off a horse. I’m free falling and the ground is a long, long way down. This time there doesn’t seem to be any ground at all. This woman is wreaking havoc on my body and mind. I’ve never been in this position before. Of liking a woman and wanting to fuck her so bad. In fact, I don’t recall a single time I’ve liked a woman at all. Or cared one way or the other whether I laid with her.
With Gwen…
I feel a terrible rapping inside my ribcage, and the fact that it’s my heart making the god-awful racket is terrifying. My heart’s only function is to keep me alive so I can reign victorious in battle. It ought not to be slamming around in my throat over a woman. And yet…it is.
Ignore it. Focus on practicalities.
“You will not be a jester. Nor will you farm a single day longer.” I cup her cheek, tilting her face up toward mine, anticipating a flood of gratitude in her gorgeous brown eyes and eager to watch the show up close. “You are to be my mistress, woman. Permanently.”
Silence stretches.
It stretches so long, doubt begins to creep back in and tingle my spine.
Finally, Gwen smiles sweetly. “Like hell I am.”
She stomps back toward the gathering.
Not even a second passes before I’m striding after her, unable to ignore how perfectly shaped she is from the back. Sweet fucking hell. A finer, juicier ass has never been crafted. She was molded by the angels, every curve and dip given the utmost attention.
“Come back here, Gwen. Now.”
She shoots daggers at me over her shoulder. “My first demand stands. Drop dead, Your Majesty.”
Fuck sake. I may have handled this very badly.
I should have put my lust on hold and brought her to the bonfire before propositioning her. I didn’t expect to feel this…this possessiveness, though. It caught me off guard. Still, surely she is not reacting how a woman normally would when a king shows her attention. Right?