He grins. “Yes”

“In my bed.”

“Yes.”

“In the morning.”

“Yes.”

“Without any clothes on!”

He chuckles. “Come, get back in bed and bring the blankets with you. It’s a bit chilly to be lying here naked.”

I hesitate for a moment. This cannot be proper. But he lifts one eyebrow at me and suddenly I’m scurrying to obey. As soon as I’m within reach, he pulls me close, arranging me in more or less the same position I woke up in.

It feels wonderful, but surely using one’s husband as a pillow is scandalous?

“I’m sorry for giving you a fright. I wanted to keep an eye on you. You became very ripe just before I was able to empty you.”

Vague memories swirl. Panting, writhing, insisting. Trying to fuck myself on his fingers. Completely forgetting to use my brace. Oh, my goodness. Now I’m blushing so hard he must be able to feel it. My cheek is pressed against his shoulder and I’m hot enough to burn.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

He kisses the top of my head and I swear my soul leaves my body. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

A blissful silence falls. I want this moment to last forever. My husband is holding me in his arms after spending the night in my bed. It feels like I am wanted. Cherished. Loved. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

I know I am pretending, and it’s just my imagination running away with me. But it feels so damn good. I’m going to bask in it for as long as I can.

“Oh crap,” says Felford suddenly. “Our guests need to be seen off.”

My heart sinks, but I try desperately to cling on to my glittering feeling of happiness, even though it is like trying to hold water in my cupped hands. No matter how hard I try, it seeps away.

Felford slips out of bed, but he turns back to me. “Stay there. I’ll tell them you are resting.”

I blink up at him. Resting after being emptied is quite acceptable, but I feel fine. I watch in a daze as Felford pulls the covers up to my chin and tucks me in.

He smiles tenderly at me. “Stop thinking so loudly.”

Then he leans down and kisses me. A brief, chaste kiss. A soft, barely there touching of lips, but it fills my stomach with butterflies and curls my toes.

He turns and strides towards the door connecting our bedchambers. Shamelessly, I twist my head so that I can glimpse his naked ass. And I was right to do so. That is a wonderful ass.

The door opens and closes swiftly, and now I’m all alone. With nothing but my whirling thoughts and my totally smitten heart.

Oh gods, I’m sweating so much. In the middle of winter. Outside. On a cloudy day.

My attempt at deception feels so flimsy, I swear everyone must know the truth. I might as well carry a sign saying, ‘I’m looking for the secret shrine’, instead of this clipboard.

My excuse of hunting for any repairs that might be needed, feels ludicrous, even though it’s not. I’m the consort of the house. No one is going to challenge me. And if they did, or simply asked out of idle curiosity, my excuse is entirely believable. Especially considering the reputation I’ve gained with the staff of being nitpicky.

It’s fine. Everything is fine.

It is just my guilt weighing on my conscience that is making me feel so fraught. And rightly so. After such a lovely morning, this is how I repay Felford?

I’m a horrible person. A traitor. Felford has been nothing but wonderful to me. Well, okay, the first few days of our marriage were rocky. But since then it’s been a dream.

And now I’m turning it into a nightmare.

I take in a deep, shuddery breath. I can’t wander around the gardens crying. That really will rouse suspicions. Or maybe not. I’ve not exactly been stable since coming to live here.

Oh gods. The staff think I’m crazy. And I have treachery to commit. But it’s fine. Everything is fine. It has to be done. I don’t have a choice. So I just need to get on with it and stop whining.

A shrine to an old portal to the fey realm should not be hard to find. Not with my magic. It should call to me, no matter how well warded it is.

And by all accounts, the Felford shrine is quite potent. I’ve often wondered if that was why my parents chose Count Felford to be my husband. Or would any mage with a shrine at his home have done?

What if Mallory House had been blessed with its own shrine? Would they have married me off at all, or just arranged for some mage to tap my powers as soon as I was of age?

I shudder at the thought of that and walk a little faster. I’m glad I’ll never know the answer to that question. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad for this time with Felford, even though I don’t deserve it.

A cold gust of wind blows right through me. I grimace. And sigh. I’m back where I started. Again. I’ve made two full loops of the gardens and not found a thing. What do I do now? Check the cellars again?

Hells. Imagine if everything comes to naught because of my incompetence? My heart-rate starts to race. Think Luci, think. There must be something I can do?

I can’t ask Felford. At least, not without arousing suspicion. Maybe in a few months he will trust me enough that I could get away with it by expressing idle curiosity or something. But that’s a terrible plan. Clearly, my parents do not wish for me to wait. They sent me the dagger. They came to dinner to check up on me. All signs point to them wanting me to attempt my sacred task on Imbolc, and that’s frightfully soon. The day my honeymoon ends.

There is no time. I’m going to have to keep on looking. There is no other choice.

Chapter twenty-two

Drew

Ihaven’t felt this nervous in a long time. My palms feel sweaty. Which would be fine except I’m holding Luci’s hand and I don’t want him to know I’m anxious. He hasn’t said anything, but he is far too polite for that.

I peek at him. He is looking up with interest at the building I am leading him into. There is no sign of disgust at my sweaty hand. Thank heavens.

My pace quickens and I all but pull him up the stairs. I hope he likes it here. I racked my brains for hours, trying to think of somewhere to take him that he might like. A picnic would have been lovely, but it is the middle of winter. And I suspect most indoor places are probably too busy for Luci to truly enjoy. But moping about the house all the time can’t be good for either of us.

Oh gods. This is a stupid idea and he is going to hate it, isn’t he? It’s going to be a disaster.

We step through the heavy oak door and into the old library together. Luci lets out a little gasp and I grin. It is a beautiful, impressive place. Extraordinarily high ceilings with stunning windows up amongst the beams. Ornate tiers of bookshelves. Gorgeous tiled mosaic flooring. There are even busts of noteworthy authors set into alcoves at the end of the stacks.

“I’m not sure how much you enjoy books, but I thought it is an interesting place to visit regardless,” I say a little breathlessly.