Читать книгу My Royal Sin / Playing Dirty - Lauren Hawkeye - Страница 17

CHAPTER EIGHT

Benedict

I PRESS MY forehead to hers. Evangeline Vernazza. I kiss her again, deeper this time and more urgent. She responds with a hunger not unlike my own, her sweet tongue flicking and caressing mine until I groan. My hands leave hers to tangle in her silky hair. Our breath mingles, feverishly hot.

At last I give in and allow myself to cup one of her perfect breasts, soft as rose petals, and her body bows. So responsive. So passionate. I growl my approval, unable to get enough.

I’ll never get enough.

How many times have I flicked through dusty leather-bound books of poetry, scoffing at the overinflated metaphors and purple prose? Now...now I finally understand those poor poets, and pity everyone who attempted to capture this feeling of two souls merging with mere words.

I dip to kiss her arched neck, trace my tongue along her pulse. Every inch of me burns, but this does not feel like hell.

No.

This is a heaven I never could have imagined.

Even though my control hangs by the barest thread, I refuse to let it snap. Tonight I have glimpsed what can exist between a man and a woman.

This moment must be enough.

As much as I want to forget the world and burn in her arms, I am bound to my duty, my destiny as the second son to Edenvale’s king.

Ruby...no—Evangeline...my sweet angel and unexpected jewel, opens her eyes.

“Why did you stop?” she whispers, brows knitting.

Because if I didn’t, I’d be inside you to the hilt. I would throw away my entire future.

But I don’t say that. Instead, my features settle into a familiar mask. I might not look much like my youngest brother, but suddenly I understand the hard smile, the shuttered eyes that Damien used. My gut twists in understanding. My little brother hid the secrets of his heart just like I hide my own now, for I am falling for a woman whom I pay to tempt me. Common sense would say this feeling is nothing but lust.

But fuck common sense.

There is more to heaven and earth than what meets the eye, and the saints, I am sure, are laughing their holy asses off.

My lips twist into a bitter smile. Of course I’d imagine myself falling head over heels after a mere two days. If she touches my cock, I might propose marriage.

“Go to bed,” I bark, ignoring her questioning gaze. It’s not fair. But it is my right. I am Prince of Edenvale. My word is law here.

She senses the authority in my voice and dips her head. “As you wish, Highness...but...” She dares to glance between her thick fringe of lashes, a glitter of mischief, as if she’s not as subservient as her posture might pretend. “Don’t you want to join me?”

She’ll be the death of me.

“I will check on you later. For now, get some sleep Find some peace. One of us deserves that much.”

Before she can ask another question, I turn on my heel and stalk from the room.

When I enter the library, I’m surprised to find the antique lamps are lit. X glances from his perch in a leather chair. He assumes a more casual pose than I am used to seeing, one of his legs slung over the chair’s arm, and for once in his life, he looks startled.

“Benedict!” He bounds to his feet and clicks his heels. “Did I or did I not see Miss Ruby enter your bedchamber?”

I incline my head. “She is in my bed this very moment.”

“And yet, you are here?” He does not ask the question he wants answered most, yet I know it hangs between us. “Have you gone mad?”

Perhaps I have.

I relax my shoulders, grateful for an opportunity to unburden my chaotic mind. “I needed space from temptation.”

“Forgive me.” His mouth purses. “But is that not the whole point of having her around?”

“I don’t know!” I snarl through gritted teeth, then whirl and punch the wall. “I know nothing.” The pain steadies me, so I do it again, three times in quick succession.

“Feel better?” X asks, the corner of his mouth curling up in amusement.

“No.” I open and shut my hand a few times. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

He smiles lazily, but I swear I sense a troubled soul lurking behind his hooded eyes. “I am your personal bodyguard. And tonight I decided to do a little light reading while you were otherwise...ahem...occupied.”

I cross the room and swipe the book from his chest. “The Asca Mountains: A History. What’s this about? Do you plan to do an overland hike into Nightgardin?” The Asca Mountains provide the ancient border surrounding our old enemy to the north. In fact, the forbidding peaks have long kept Edenvale safe from the various feuds across Europe. Back when the great Carthaginian General Hannibal crossed the Alps during the Second Punic War, he ransacked the Romans because he wasn’t able to breach the perilous Ascas.

“One can never know too much about local geography,” X says enigmatically. “How about you? What brings you here when you have a willing woman warming your bed? Back before he met Princess Kate, your brother Nikolai would have disappeared for a week if he had struck upon such good fortune.”

I set my jaw. “I am not my brother.”

“No, you aren’t.” X appraises me with a shrewd eye. “You have too much of your mother in you.”

My throat constricts. Perhaps if she’d lived, none of what has occurred in my family would have ever happened. Damien wouldn’t have grown reckless and self-destructive from carrying the crushing burden of guilt for her death. Nikolai would have been saved earlier from his wanton bad-boy behavior. Perhaps she’d have even softened Father to my existence, encouraged me to walk a different life path despite my duty to serve the church.

But daydreaming about what-ifs is a luxury not afforded a member of the royal family. “You knew my mother?” I ask.

“She was a wonderful and kindhearted woman who loved her children more than life itself.”

“How about my father?” I don’t know where this rush of anger comes from, but it hits me with a tidal-wave force. “Tell me. Did you happen to be acquainted with the Captain of the Guard?”

X rises to his feet, the ancient book clattering from his lap. “Is that truly what you think of your mother? That she was unfaithful to her husband and king?”

Shame circulates in my veins.

“It’s what everyone whispers,” I challenge. “They say that my mother played the whore while my father the king was away on diplomatic duty. That I am the living, breathing testament to her transgression. Isn’t that why my cuckolded father insists that I walk this lonely path, destined never to love or be loved, only to atone for the sins of a woman that I barely remember and a man that I have never met? My duty is atonement.”

There it is, the bitter truth, out at last.

“Benedict...” X winces. “Is this what you truly believe?”

“It is what I know,” I say with quiet resignation. “It is my life and has been since I was old enough to understand the burden I bear.”

He looks as if he means to say more, but as he opens his mouth, a muffled but bloodcurdling scream pierces through the ceiling.

Ruby. Evangeline.

We race to the stairs and fly to my bedchamber.

Evangeline

I don’t recognize the room or the bed, not even the thin silk gown that covers my otherwise naked form. But she stares at me from where I clutch the pillow to my body. The angel stares, and I can do nothing but scream.

“Ruby!” a rough voice cries, but I do not know this name. I do not know the man who speaks it. “Go to her, Benedict. I will search for intruders.”

A strong hand grips my shoulder, and I thrash against it, crying out until my throat is raw.

“Evangeline!” He is stronger than I am, pulling me to him even as I let go of the pillow and beat against his chest. “Evangeline!” he cries again, and something deep within awakens as recognition blooms, as the warmth of his touch breaks through the icy fear.

I stop fighting, and my shoulders droop as I sink into him, my arms wrapping tight around his neck.

“Benedict,” I say, trembling, my senses returning.

“Shh, angel. You’re safe now.” He strokes my hair and cradles me in his arms as I try to catch my breath, the screams and sobs finally subsiding. “X,” he says over my shoulder. “A glass of water, please.”

“Yes, Highness,” I hear, now recognizing the other male voice as that of Benedict’s bodyguard. “All windows are secure, as is the door. I suspect it was only a dream.”

Seconds later X returns, handing Benedict the water, which he gingerly brings to my lips.

“Drink,” he says, and I do. My throat burns and my vision is still blurry from the tears, but I know where I am now, that I am safe, if only for the moment.

But the angel in the painting is still here—staring, judging. She knows I will betray my prince. And dream or no dream, I know I’m right. It’s all too coincidental—what has happened to my family and now this portrait the Madam wants, a portrait so clearly of me.

“They will come for me,” I say softly after a few sips. “They came for my father, my brother. Soon I will be next.”

Benedict sets the water on the night table next to the bed, and I cling to him even tighter.

“This is not the first time you’ve had such a dream,” he says, a statement rather than a question.

I shake my head. “It has been some time, though. I thought I’d rid myself of the nightmares years ago after Jasper found a wonderful doctor who helped me find peace with my father’s death. He is a good big brother, you know. He’s taken care of me since I was a young teen.”

I bury my head in Benedict’s chest, taking in his soothing woodsy scent, cedar and fresh-cut pine.

“His imprisonment has been difficult on you,” he says, and I nod against him. Then I look up, my eyes meeting his. “You can tell me more,” he adds. “If you want.”

And because no man has ever looked at me as he does—with such protectiveness, such care—I want to tell him everything. Instead, I settle for the dream.

“When I was younger, it was always me standing on the side of the road where my father crashed. I would have to watch him slamming on the brakes while the car kept speeding toward its violent end. Toward his end. And every time, just before I’d wake up, the whole scenario would slow down. As his car would wrap around the tree, I’d hear his voice telling me, ‘Find the map, Eva. Find the map and save us all.’” I let out a nervous laugh. “That sounds ridiculous, right? The doctor who helped put the dream to rest convinced me that it was my own subconscious wanting to find a way to save my father.”

Benedict tilts my chin up and brushes a soft kiss over each of my tear-soaked eyes.

“And now, angel?”

I steady myself. “Now it is almost the same dream, but it is Jasper behind the wheel and not my father. Yet the message has not changed, only the voice that makes the plea.” I straighten in my prince’s lap, more sure of myself than I’ve been for quite some time. “I think that doctor was wrong, or that maybe he didn’t want me searching for whatever map this might be. Because I know my father was murdered. And I know my brother was set up. And if I don’t figure this all out before they do—whoever they are—they will come for me next.”

X clears his throat, and we both turn to where he stands in the doorway. X’s jaw tightens. “Let me return to the library to continue my studies. I assure you that you and Miss Rub—Evangeline Vernazza—are safe. I should have more concrete information for you by morning. For now, I think it best you stay with your guest.”

Benedict opens his mouth to argue, but I interrupt.

“Please don’t leave,” I say to him. “If X can help, let him, but don’t leave me alone here tonight.”

He sighs and nods toward the doorway. “I will see you after my morning benediction, X. Meet me in the prayer room at ten. With answers.”

X bows. “Yes, Your Highness.” Then he dips his head toward me. “Rest well, Evangeline.” And before I can thank him, he is out the door so quickly it’s as if he was never there to begin with.

“How does he do that?” I ask. “It’s like a magic trick.”

Benedict laughs. “Just wait,” he says. “I have seen him bypass doors altogether. Perhaps one day you will, too.”

His tone is wistful, as if he speaks of a time in the future when our lives will still overlap, but I know this cannot be true as sure as I know that the way he holds me now is out of necessity, to wake me from the terror that threatens my sleep.

I swing my legs off his, but he does not let go of me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “This is most inappropriate. I should go clean myself up.”

His only response is to dip his head toward mine and kiss me again. This time, though, there is nothing of the hunger from before. Just a sweet, gentle yearning as his tongue slips past my parted lips, as we both taste the lingering salt of my tears.

We lie down, his soft kisses continuing as we do. He pulls my body close and grins.

“What are you smiling at?” I ask.

“I didn’t realize I could do that,” he says. My brows pull together. “Kiss a woman,” he continues, “and have it not be sexual in nature.”

I stroke his cheek, my chest tightening at what it would be like to meet such a man under any other circumstances than the ones we are in. That’s when I know I have to break this spell. I thought the hard part would be living with myself if I succeeded in tempting him from his holy path—or if I betrayed him to the Madam. I realize now the difficulty lies in thinking I could fall for such a man and not get my heart obliterated.

“I think I’m okay to sleep now,” I say, trying not to sound too cold.

“Of course,” he replies flatly, taking the hint, and I know I’ve hurt him...or at least bruised his ego.

He slides his arm out from beneath me and leaves the bed, lowering himself to the hard, wooden floor.

“Don’t you want a pillow?” I ask. “Or a blanket?”

He rests his head on his forearm. “Not tonight. I must remind myself there are certain comforts that are not for me.”

Like sleeping with a woman in my arms, I imagine him saying to himself.

Like believing a prince could choose you over God, I think, realizing my own guilty wish.

“Thank you for making me feel safe,” I say, staring at the ceiling.

I hear him let out a long breath.

“You will always be safe with me, Evangeline.”

Tomorrow morning we will find out what X knows of the map that must exist. Tomorrow night I will convince Benedict how dangerously tempting I really am—so that neither of us is seduced again into thinking there could ever be more.

So that my foolish heart understands there is no promise in a prince’s kiss.