We turn by a pretty fountain into a path lined by rose bushes. It must look stunning and smell divine when they are in bloom. I wonder why the gardeners didn’t show me this when I was taking inventory?

“So favorite film?” prompts Felford.

“Love Actually,” I say.

Felford sighs as if in defeat. “Why did you say that? Did your tutor give you a list of acceptable answers?”

Oh gods. He is on to me. He knows I’m lying. This is terrible. I think my only option now is to roll with it.

“Love Actually is inoffensive. Unchallenging. Feminine,” I confess.

Silence stretches. Nothing but the faint crunch of our feet on the cream-colored gravel. I’d sell my soul to know what he is thinking.

“I tell people my favorite is Schindler’s List, but the true answer is Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers. So I guess I’m not that different from you.”

Once again, I’m lost for words. It’s fantastic that he is not angry. But I really don’t understand what has come over my husband. Why is he sharing such open and honest things about himself? I can’t fathom his reasons. But I think I like this end result.

Felford clears his throat. “This is just a suggestion, but how about we go inside and take care of things before they progress?”

I blink. What on earth is he talking about now? My mind puzzles over his words and then my heart sinks down into the boots he made fun of. I don’t know how I missed it, but now that I’m aware of it, I can think of nothing else.

I’m ripe.

My bedchamber door opens and I whirl around to face it. Felford is lurking just inside the doorway, eyeing me uneasily, as if I’m some kind of unpredictable wild animal. After the events with Lord Westercombe, I’m not surprised.

I drop my gaze and twist my hands in my nightgown. It’s mid-afternoon and I’m barely ripe. But my husband is right. It’s best he empties me now, before I lose my mind completely.

Has he drunk Husband’s Tea again? Is he drunk? Not that I should be complaining of either. Firstly, it’s not my place, and secondly, I’ve taken a tea to soothe my nerves. So I’d be a hypocrite to complain.

“How may I please you, my lord husband?” I say, and somehow I sound calm.

Suddenly, he is right before me. His fingers find my chin and tilt my head up to look at him. His dark gaze burns into me. My magic recognizes his and all but sings for him. My magic wants him. Craves him. And Felford is hungry for it. He coverts what he sees and I do not mind the avarice in his eyes. I don’t mind it one bit.

He also looks strikingly sober. Clear-headed and compos mentis. Yet he still seems to want me. This is too good to be true.

“Let’s keep this informal,” he says.

I nod as best I can with his fingers on me. His proximity and his clean, manly scent, has stolen all of my words. And for some reason, a lot of my fear.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Okay then. That’s probably for the best,” he says.

He stares at me in silence for a long, long moment. I’m not sure I know how to breathe. I’ve completely forgotten how to do it.

“May I kiss you?”

I blink. Kiss? He wants to kiss me? My stomach is doing a strange swooping thing.

“Of course, my lord husband.”

He frowns. “There is no, of course, about it, Lucien. You are allowed to say no.”

Horror and shock flood my veins. As startling as being doused with a bucket of ice water.

“But you are my husband!” I gasp. What an outlandish thing for him to say.

“That doesn’t mean jack shit!” Felford says with passion.

I’m staring at him in open-mouthed disbelief, I know I am, but I’m powerless to stop it. His words are simply too shocking. Too outrageous. He may as well be telling me that the sky is green.

He stares back at me, and I watch as a deep sadness fills his eyes. He shakes his head as if to clear it.

“I think we should kiss, okay?” he says. “I think it will help get you in the mood.”

I blush. A good vessel should not need any help with that. He shouldn’t have to put up with any of this. I’m a terrible vessel. He deserves so much better.

He leans closer, and my heart goes crazy. He truly is going to kiss me. The very thing I fantasize about in my wildest dreams. The thing I picture when I need to find my peak. It is actually going to happen for real.

“I haven’t been trained for this!” I warn.

He pauses. “It’s okay Lucien. It’s going to be okay.”

Of course it is. I know that. He is going to take my body and take my magic. It’s the very purpose of my existence. And it will all be done long before dinnertime.

His touch leaves my chin and cups the back of my head instead. I close my eyes and try to calm my trembling. Something warm and oh so soft brushes over my lips. Feather soft. Barely there. It tingles. Another brush. This one is firmer. A gentle caress. Tender. Coaxing.

He moves over my lips. Awakening something within me. My toes curl and a soft moan escapes me. His hand moves through my hair and pushes me in closer. His kiss is firm now. My lips helplessly following his. My heart is pumping fast and strong. My mind is scattered. My every nerve ending is on fire.

What is happening to me? I don’t understand. This all feels so strange. Kissing is so much better than I ever imagined. But I never expected it to affect me so viscerally.

His tongue slips into my mouth. A louder, more insistent moan escapes me. My body presses shamelessly against his.

The mattress bounces against my back, and I squeak in surprise. I hadn’t felt him move me. Now I’m on the bed and he is above me. Deepening this kiss.

His hand slides under my nightgown and up my leg. His touch is ice against my burning skin. I shudder.

The kiss stops. He stares down at me. His eyes are wide and dark. His lips are swollen and wet.

“Okay?” he asks.

I nod. I don’t know why we have stopped. Did I do something wrong? I thought the kissing was going well.

His hand reaches the top of my leg. It slides across my stomach. Towards my cock. Surely not? I gasp. He freezes with his hand mere millimeters from my straining erection.