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Chevalier was gone when Theresa and I left his room, and my guards, Tyler and David, were waiting for me in the hall, tense and rigid. I apologized immediately for getting them into trouble. Theresa rolled her eyes, but it bothered me.
Now that my emotions had settled, it all bothered me.
But I didn’t have time to think about it until evening. I spent the morning in Sariel’s office, reviewing the impression I’d made on the upper class, the dozens and dozens of invitations he now had to comb through, and my schedule for the next week. Not the day. The week. He already had a week’s worth of social engagements lined up for me on top of my continuing lessons, with the addition of riding lessons a few times a week. It would have all been overwhelming if he wasn’t so pleased. Like Chevalier, he had high standards, and he only gave compliments on rare occasions, so seeing him smile genuinely and hearing him praise me now did a lot to soften the blow of all the extra work I had to do.
And all the extra work he had to do, I realized during my lunch break, when scanning my upcoming schedule helped me evade Theresa’s embarrassing questions about what went on in Chevalier’s bedroom this morning. Sariel had a week’s reprieve from major event planning, as per my request of Chevalier, but he still had his work as a court minister, my lessons, and now, my social calendar. Everything he’d lined up for me over the next week would take place at the palace with local nobility he knew well. Under the noses of Chevalier, his brothers, my guard detail, and the entire palace guard.
Safe. Extremely safe.
I’d guessed by now from bits and pieces I heard and saw in Sariel’s office that at least some of his normal duties were investigative, and reading between the lines, Chevalier probably had him investigating every invitation - the people, the places, the security - everything.
He needed a raise. And an assistant. Maybe two.
My new schedule started right after lunch with a tea party in the gardens, followed by a literary salon in the library, and then a dinner party in one of the larger dining rooms, which I escaped as quickly as possible to retreat to the now-empty library. I had a breakfast engagement the next day with a low-ranking baroness whose husband’s vineyard was gaining her family money and standing, and I thought studying about the wine industry would help me converse more knowledgeably with her.
Wine wasn’t that interesting.
Not for me, anyway. Not when exhaustion made the words unfocused, and I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering. Clavis slunk in to apologize about the morning, looking like a whipped puppy with his tail between his legs, and then he left right away, even though I invited him to stay and talk. The unease I felt earlier came rushing back. If I’d just stayed in my room and let my guards get Chevalier after they woke me up from that nightmare, nobody would have gotten into trouble. Chevalier would have calmed me down, we would have fallen asleep in my bed, and Theresa would have woken us up, not Clavis. No swords, no surprise meeting with Gilbert and Yves in the middle of the night, no panic from a simple butter knife.
Maybe none of the passion that pushed the boundaries of what I felt comfortable with this morning.
No, not just this morning. Last night, too, before I even went to bed, when Chevalier and I were on the sofa together. And every romantic interaction since the doctor released me from bedrest. I felt like we were moving fast, and disregarding the question of right or wrong, I wasn’t sure about my motivation for going along with it. Yes, I loved him, and I loved the attention he gave me, but he’d also done a lot for me since we met. A lot.
Was that the problem? Was I just “going along with it?” Because I felt like I owed him?
The littlest thing could still trigger a surge of panic in me that put a stop to everything until he calmed me down, and then I ended up feeling guilty for ruining the moment and grateful to him for saving me yet again, and that was a dangerous combination of emotions. Mingled with intense physical attraction, the echoes of my past, and my unsettled convictions, it made for a confusing situation that left me questioning the increasingly blurry boundary lines within our relationship.
He wouldn’t want that.
And, complicating matters further, he’d let slip in the heat of the moment that he wanted more from me than I could give. It wasn’t like him to make that kind of mistake. He had more self-control than anybody I’d ever known, and he was always careful to only reveal the thoughts and feelings he deemed beneficial, never putting pressure on me. That slip up told me he was struggling much more than he let on when we ended up in intimate situations, and I didn’t want to make things harder on him.
Theresa didn’t have a date every night. I didn’t have nightmares every night. This had only happened twice in two and a half weeks, so less than once a week.
That was still too often.
He arrived at the library just as I gave up - on studying, on making sense of my emotions, on finding a solution to my nightmares, and on resisting my body’s urgent need for sleep. He walked me back to my room. I didn’t invite him in, and he didn’t ask. The problem I wasn’t sure he knew about remained unaddressed and unresolved another day.
And another day.
And on into the next week.
Sariel’s schedule left little room for Chevalier and me to get into compromising situations, which gave me the space I needed to breathe and think. I decided bedrooms were out. No more late-night reading on his sofa or mine, or stargazing and cuddling on my balcony. We could still get into trouble in the library or the gardens, but I hoped the risk of discovery at any moment in those public places would help keep us in line. As for my nightmares, sleeping together when I was in a panic wasn’t the issue. Waking up together after I’d calmed down was. I talked to Theresa, and, although she didn’t see the problem with a little extra passion in my life, she was concerned about possible decapitation should she startle Chevalier when she woke me up in the morning. That was easy to prevent. All she had to do was ask my guards if Chevalier was with me, and if he was, knock before she entered. That was all. And, at that point, I would get out of bed, we’d get ready in my bathroom, and I wouldn’t end up spending the rest of the day agonizing over what I had or hadn’t done with Chevalier when I lingered in his arms too long.
That was the plan, anyway. There was no testing it until it happened.
At least it settled my mind so I could focus on my new role as a social butterfly.
Overall, the nobility liked me, but there were still plenty who had their doubts, and there were those who, for whatever reason, didn’t like Chevalier or the Michel family. His maternal grandfather, the Marquis de Michel, was the wealthiest man in Rhodolite and the highest ranking nobleman after the royal family, which meant he had his fair share of enemies. Chevalier stood to inherit all of it when the Marquis died - his money and his enemies. I hadn’t met the Marquis yet, as he’d left the palace to return to his estate immediately after the ceremonial portion of the coronation ceremony, and I was okay with that. Everything I learned about the man made him more and more intimidating.
International royalty was less intimidating to me than the Rhodolitian nobility.
Fortunately, I had an escape written right into my schedule: riding lessons. Chevalier had given me a good head start that night when he took me riding on Blade, and even though riding side-saddle was a little different, and my guards had to follow me around on their horses, the break from the palace was still a breath of fresh air - in more ways than one. I didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, or forgetting that obscure fact about such-and-such that would get me into the good graces of so-and-so. My horse, Rose, didn’t care about any of that.
Actually, I don’t think she cared much for me at first. If I wasn’t confident in my commands, she ignored them. She tolerated my attention during grooming sessions, and she was indifferent to my arrival at the stables, unlike Blade, who kicked his stall door every time I walked past him without petting him. It had taken a serious beating by the time Chevalier gave me permission to visit Blade without him around. Rose, however, remained standoffish - until Licht gave me some sugar cubes to bribe her. Sugar was the way to her heart.
Sugar worked pretty well for people, too.
“What are you baking after the engagement ceremony?”
“Hm?” I looked from the book in my hand down at Chevalier, resting his head on my lap. We had a rare afternoon together, and we were spending it in the gardens, sitting under a tree next to the pond. I thought he’d fallen asleep a while ago. “What did you say?”
“What are you baking after the engagement ceremony?” he repeated. His crystal blue eyes were clear and alert, which told me he’d been awake the entire time. I smiled and resumed combing my fingers through his pale blonde hair. He liked me playing with his hair as much as I liked him playing with mine.
“That’s quite an assumption you’re making.”
The corner of his lip turned up in a small smirk. “It would be more expedient for you to make a plan now than for you to wait until Clavis talks you into it.”
I marked my place in my book and set it on the grass beside me. “Well, I already have plans for the day after the engagement ceremony.”
“Oh?”
“And I’m not telling,” I teased. “Just keep your schedule open and your guesses to yourself. I’d like to at least pretend I can keep a secret from you.”
“It’s just as well,” he said, closing his eyes again. “I may not be back until the night before the ceremony.”
“That’s why I decided on the day after,” I replied. His fringe had blended in with the rest of his hair by now, but I loved the feel of the fine strands between my fingers almost as much as I loved the relaxed expression on his face, so I kept stroking it back. My other hand fingered the clasp of his cloak. “You and Clavis leave tomorrow, right?”
“Tomorrow morning.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Early in the morning.”
“Theresa had to turn down a date because of this,” I said, smoothing the line between his eyebrows with my finger. “She’s upset about that.”
He opened his eyes and caught my wrist, bringing my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to my fingers. “Your nightmares have become less frequent, but I’m not leaving you alone.”
“She had a suggestion about that.” His hand released my wrist, and I intertwined my fingers with his. “She said one of your brothers could take your place.”
He chuckled. “No.”
“Don’t you want to know who she nominated?”
“Nokto.”
I tilted my head to the side. “How did you know that?”
The corner of his lip turned up in a smirk. “She made her suggestion in a moment of frustration, but she knew neither you nor I would approve, nor would she want to put you in that position, so she selected a name that would tell you she wasn’t serious. If you won’t let me into your bedroom, you certainly won’t allow access to another man whose romantic interest you don’t share.”
I blushed and bit my lip. “That obvious, huh?”
He sat up abruptly, catching my chin in his fingers and pressing his lips to mine. I gasped in surprise, and he leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow, methodical movements designed to strip me of all conscious thought and reduce me to a quivering puddle. The tree trunk at my back faded into nothing as he invaded my senses, his heated lips and tongue drawing another gasp from me, his fingers sliding down my neck, his other hand burning a hole through the fabric at my waist. All I could do was to clutch at his shirt while he wrecked me.
“Do you have your answer?” he asked, breathing hard after his long, passionate kiss, but still capable of forming sentences. I was not so fortunate, especially since his fingers were tracing my collarbone and scrambling the words that came floating back to me through the fog of his cologne.
“You don’t play fair,” I finally pouted, as if that meant anything when my hands were wandering up his chest and around his neck. He smirked and leaned in again, circling his hand around my waist to bring me closer.
“Neither do you,” he murmured.
“If you can attack anybody who wakes you up without warning, I can decide who to let in my room,” I said, interlacing my fingers behind his neck. “Now, do you want me to bake you something after the ceremony?”
He answered with a light peck. “Yes.”
I replied with another peck. “I’m not making échaudés again unless Yves can help me. His recipe is easy to follow, but it takes way too long.”
“How long do beignets take?” he asked, smirking.
“No,” I said, although my firm tone lost its edge when I traded him another kiss. “You know everybody will show up, and then I’ll be a red, stammering mess, and they’ll know something happened the last time I made beignets.”
“You still haven’t told me what happened with Licht that day.”
“And I still won’t. But that gives me an idea. Maybe I’ll make darioles.”
“If you won’t make my favorite dessert, you’re not making his favorite dessert.”
“Aren’t I your favorite dessert?” I asked knowingly, tilting my head to the side.
It was his turn to kiss me, but he chuckled and nibbled on my lower lip, bringing an end to the playful banter and beginning a few moments of more intense kissing. I leaned into his embrace, returning his kisses and just enjoying our time together, because he was right. After four weeks of sticking to my unspoken rule with no questions from him, I had my answer. This wasn’t because I felt like I owed him anything. As complicated as our relationship could be, sometimes, it was simple.
As simple as a pair of lovers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
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