Courtly Pleasures by Erin Kane Spock

Author:Erin Kane Spock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crimson Romance
Published: 2017-10-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Rule Twenty-Seven: There is no such thing as too much of the pleasure of one’s beloved.

Frances stepped onto the broad planks linking the four, no five, vessels. How had he accomplished this? She’d had a difficult time coordinating the royal barges, along with some privately owned, in order to complete one large floating platform. Henry had added a fifth, smaller, craft and moored it to the others. Somehow, he’d both discovered her plans for the night and modified them to his needs. Did he have such clout at the palace, then?

“Henry . . . ” He silenced her with a soft kiss, walking her backward across the gangplank. As if under a spell, she pushed through the silk strewn canopy of Henry’s barge and stepped onto the plush silk Oriental rug scattered generously with cushions. She steadied her balance as the craft pushed off into the open river, separating from the court’s festivities. They were alone. A shiver ran down her spine. Was it fear or longing?

This is what I wanted, isn’t it?

The magic began to evaporate as Frances helped herself to a goblet of wine—excellent, the same crisp white from the masque—and made the mistake of stopping to think.

“Does something trouble you?” The question was casual, but Frances could see the concern in his eyes. Who was this man, the man she’d married? Did she really want to know?

“No, I am not troubled so much as thoughtful.”

“There is more going on in your head than I would have ever given credence to before. Is it true that this masque was entirely of your own creation? I knew you were competent, but this is so much more. You are exceptional, and I am humbled.”

Frances blushed and nodded acceptance as he lowered himself to the cushions beside her. This conversation was nice, but too safe—safe and disappointing. This was a conversation between a married couple, not a seduction.

“Again, the look of worry—no, excuse me, thoughtfulness.” His hair was wrapped in a dark scarf that merged with the black leather half mask and the moonlit darkness under the canopy. His full lips curved into a nervous smile. “You have naught to fear from me.”

“I am not afraid of you.”

“That is comforting.” His smile made her smile with him. “Then what is it that concerns you?”

Frances paused a moment before deciding to be direct. “I keep thinking of you as Henry and of myself as your wife. Tonight, I wanted to simply be Frances, a woman with a man. But I cannot pretend. I keep thinking . . . ”

“Therein lies the problem.” He reached out and traced the line of her lip with the pad of his thumb, cupping her cheek in his warm hand. “Stop thinking.”

She laughed, parting her lips, her own breath adding to the tingling left in the wake of his touch. “Easier said than done.” His thumb continued the sweet torment, dipping into her open mouth just enough to bring to mind images from the book, she gasped and, on impulse turned to catch his thumb with her teeth.

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