The Queen's Tale (4 page)
“
Only if we end it there,” she answered breathily
.
“
There’s more then?” He flicked a finger casually, and
grinned when she squeaked
.
“
Would you like more?
”
He thrust and withdrew, slowly. Letting them both enjoy
the wait. “Always
.”
The next day was diabolically beautiful. The sun shone. The birds sang.
The queen wept.
Discipline supported her. She bathed, dressed and sat for her hair exactly as always. Exactly as if it did not matter.
The moment she swept into the church, in a sigh of lacy silk, the organist stopped. The audience rustled to its feet. Philomena’s eyes filled with tears and blurred the particulars of the faces around her. Her people.
One foot in front of the next.
Duty.
As she stepped up onto the dais, the king she would marry took her elbow. She nearly resisted.
And then she nearly fainted.
His smile dripped wicked satisfaction. His voice was pitched for her alone. “It is
quite
frightening how well your lord chamberlain knows you.”
“Dante?”
“King Western Border to you, my dear.” He pulled her closer to whisper in her ear. “Tonight, we use the bed. And you wear the handcuffs.”
Thank heavens her veil disguised the shocking, meltingly hot blush that kissed her body.
But he felt it. She knew he did.
“Your Highness.”
“Absolutely,
Your
Highness,” she agreed.
“
Happy after all,” he cooed in her ear
.
“
I like a happy ending, don’t you?
”
He rolled over her, crushing her flat beneath him and
reaching over the side of the bed until he found the slippery silk
of a discarded stocking. Her giggle was hard to hear around the
mouthful of pillow. “Very. Allow me to demonstrate my
appreciation for your creativity
.”
Dev grabbed one of her hands and knotted the material
around her wrist. He flipped her onto her back, wrapping the
stocking around the spindle of the bed frame in one smooth
motion. Her arm stretched over her head. He grabbed her other
wrist and looped the loose end of her stocking around it
.
She cocked an eyebrow as she watched him go about the
business of tying her to the bed. “That stocking is Donna
Karan
.”
“
Oh?
”
“
Silk
.”
“
Never looked better on you,” he said, letting his eyes
feast on the sight of her. “Handy, too
.”
“
You’re cheating. In my story, the king was the helpless
one
.”
“
The king never cheats.” He nipped the tip of her
breast, and sucked it hard, exactly the way Dante had kissed his
queen. “The king makes the rules. Tonight, we pick up where
your story left off
.”
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination
of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the
same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any
individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are
pure invention
.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or
in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with
Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any
part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the
written permission of the publisher
.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or
cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser
.
MIRA is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited,
used under licence
.
Published in Great Britain 2009
MIRA Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR
© Grace D'Otare 2006
ISBN 978-1-408-91326-0
