Pleasure and Purpose Read online

  "You should sit," she told him again, but he waved her off.

  "No. I can't, really. I can't stay. Not with you here. No offense meant," he added as an afterthought, which meant she probably should be offended.

  "I'll tell him you were here."

  Alaric, who might have been handsome without the dark rings beneath his eyes and pallor of his skin, bared his teeth in a smile that set her back a step. His gaze skittered over the piles of clothes on the floor, then up over her body. She'd had men look her over many times, but never one whose eyes traveled over her from head to toe without pausing to assess her. Alaric looked at her, but he didn't see her. He didn't seem to see anything.

  "Thank you," he said and gave a clumsy bow as he backed toward the door.

  "Wait—" But he was already gone, and Honesty went to the door to stare after him. He walked as though the hall were on a ship, listing to the left and right, and his hand went out to the wall to steady himself. She watched him until he'd rounded the corner and then she went inside and shut the door. It was easy for her to see when someone needed succor, and it was as easy for her to accept she might not be the one to provide it. But she did make note to tell Cillian of his friend's all too apparent distress. The blue gown instead of the green, she thought, staring at the floor. It would go with her eyes and make her lovely in Cillian's gaze. And she wanted to look so, to be more than the Handmaiden he'd paid for. She wanted to be a woman to him tonight, and in that gown she just might be.

  She'd put on the dress and fixed her hair to let it fall about her shoulders in soft, loose curls instead of the tight braid she most often wore. She'd applied cosmetic to her lips and eyes. She had no jewelry and made due with a flower plucked from a bouquet in a vase from the hall.

  And, she Waited.

  On her knees, one hand cradled in the palm of the other. She could and had held that position for hours in the past, as comfortable to her as sleep, but that wasn't why she did it. She knew it would please him to see her on her knees for him. She hadn't forgotten the playroom. Cillian had never asked her to visit it and as far as she knew, he'd been absent from it for a while, as well. But that didn't mean he didn't want what went on inside it, so even though she couldn't bring herself to offer herself in that manner, she could do this. The look he gave her when he returned was worth every effort, and Honesty found her heart beating faster at the way Cillian's mouth parted with words unspoken. He gestured at her to rise.

  She did, twirling slowly to allow the hem of her gown to float around her ankles. "You approve?"

  "Of course I approve. I bought that fabric and had that gown made, just for you."

  "And to think, knowing exactly what another needs is supposed to be my duty," she teased.

  Cillian's gaze brightened and his tongue slid along his lower lip. "I didn't know it would suit you so well, but I'm pleased it does."

  "And if it hadn't?" She asked, curious.

  He looked away for a moment before bringing the intensity of his gaze back to hers.

  "You'd have worn it anyway, should I have deemed it appropriate. Yes?"

  "Yes, of course. If I'd deemed it necessary to appease you." Honesty tilted her head to look him up and down. "But that's not what you mean. Is it?"

  "No." He shook his head.

  She stood on her toes to bring her eyes, and her mouth, level with his. "Fortunately for us both, it suits me perfectly."

  He put his hands on her hips tight enough to keep her still but not hard enough to wrinkle the dress. "Is this what you think I need?"

  She brushed her lips over his and stepped back. "Everyone needs affection. It would seem to me you lack it, Cillian, despite your hareem."

  He laughed derisively. "Which I've not visited in near two weeks, because of you." Honesty dimpled. "Am I to blame if you're kept so busy in your own bed you don't need to seek the company of those other women? After all, it's not my sole function but one I am willing to provide. And enjoy."

  She watched him carefully, aware her tone had been light and teasing but the emotion behind it deeper. But Cillian couldn't know that and wouldn't know that, if she could help it. He didn't need to know she had any motivation beyond duty.

  His hand cupped her neck and brought her closer, his mouth slanting over hers but not kissing. Her breath quickened at the suddenness of his action, more forceful than he'd been with her. Cillian drew her closer, body to body.

  "You wouldn't enjoy the games I crave, Honesty."

  Her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered closed. "I told you before, if I have to offer my back to you—"

  "If you believe I need it for solace. As part of your duty, yes. But not because you want it. Not because the sting of my palm on your skin gets you wet."

  "And yet you come to your bed each night and make love to me, nevertheless. You've not been to your playroom for days and days." Some time ago she might have kept the triumph from her voice but couldn't, now. "Perhaps the games you crave are not as necessary as you thought."

  His fingertips twitched against her skin, and he withdrew with a small smile. "Some are born to a taste they might acquire only later, Honesty. Some can be led to it." Her heart trip-trapped in her breast at the thought of the iron-wood cross. "Some never learn to crave those sorts of games."

  "I know it." He reached to tug the curl hanging over her shoulder. "Which is why I haven't made you go to the playroom. The women of my hareem were chosen, as you said in the beginning, to serve me that way. But you are not. I take no pleasure in forcing a lover to a different sort of kiss, no matter what might be said of me. I've never forced anyone."

  "I didn't believe it of you," she said quietly, and noted the speculative look he gave her. Tension spiraled between them as tightly as a ribbon wound upon a finger. Clothed, they might well have been naked, so fiercely did her body feel every brush of his against hers. Lust she'd felt aplenty, but this went beyond that. This was different, no matter how she might resist it.

  "When I was young," she told him as she took his hand between hers, "I was betrothed to a man much older than I. It was for the benefit of my father, not myself, but that was no more than I had been raised to expect."

  Cillian's fingers squeezed hers. "I knew it. I knew you were of noble birth." Not merely noble, but Honesty didn't correct him. "I didn't want to wed him, though it displeased my father for me to say so. My father loved me, but he needed me to obey him without question. My betrothed was a man much the same but without a loving hand to temper the desire."

  His breath hitched and a flash of excitement lit his eyes, a gleam she didn't miss. "Did he beat you?"

  "No, my prince, no matter how the thought might excite you. He didn't raise a hand to me in anger. Nor in pleasure," she added. "Though he would have had me on my knees, his was a clerics cock. How he hoped to get a child on me, I don't know. The marriage seemed without worth to me. To be wedded and never bedded, or at least bedded unsatisfactorily?"

  Cillian's thumb passed along her palm and she shivered at the soft touch. "Indeed."

  "Anyway, my story, unlike my betrothal, does have a point." Honesty swallowed and licked her mouth, suddenly dry. She looked into his eyes and marveled at how clear such a gaze could be between two who barely knew each other's heart. "My point is that though that man tried his best to subdue me, I would not bend to him. However, had he tried to know even the least small piece of me, I'd have done my best to learn what brought him pleasure."

  "Had you wed him."

  "Yes."

  "Even though you didn't love him."

  She shook her head. "I did not love him, no. But I knew what was best for my father might well be best for me. And I couldn't have waited for love, in any case. I had to be married."

  He blinked and stepped away from her, leaving her hands chill in the absence of his heat.

  "Surely it didn't mean so much."

  It had meant everything, but telling him she'd once worn a crown richer than his own would serve her n