Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [84]
I rode instead to Night's Doorstep and begged a favor of Emile. Along with the Cockerel, he also owned a livery stable, started long ago by Hyacinthe.
"Of course!" Emile waved off my coin. "No, no, consider it a wedding gift. You'll need a driver?”
"A discreet one, yes." I hesitated. "And…a shirt.”
He stared at me. "A shirt?”
"Something worn," I said. "Not too fine.”
"Secrets." Emile shook his head. "Well, the Tsingani will keep yours, young highness, never fear. We never forget what Phèdre nó Delaunay did for Hyacinthe, Anasztaisia's son." He plucked the coin from my hand. "But I'll take this for the trouble of finding you this shirt.”
"My thanks," I said.
So it was that a bit before noon, I arrived at Naamah's temple in an unremarkable livery carriage driven by a close-mouthed Tsingano lad named Yanko. The same doves were roosting in the yew trees, but the garden below them was in full splendor. It seemed like a long time since I'd made my offering there, begging Naamah's forgiveness for my transgressions.
To my surprise, I was expected. The acolyte at the door led me past the altar, into the inner sanctum of the temple. There was a courtyard with another garden, this one bright and bursting with geraniums and bougainvillea.
The priest who had been an adept of Gentian House was waiting for me there. I remembered his name: Raphael Murain. His grey eyes were somber. "Prince Imriel, you are neither the first nor the last to seek the clandestine aid of Naamah's Order in this manner. I do this in honor of my vows, in recognition of the blessing you received at my hands, and in accordance with the wishes of her Ladyship in Namarre. However, I pray you understand it is a serious business. We serve Naamah, not the Crown, but no priest relishes the thought of crossing the Queen.”
"I understand," I said steadily, although it gave me a little shiver.
Raphael Murain sighed. "Come with me." He escorted me to the far side of the garden and unlocked a door onto a small bedchamber with shuttered windows, prettily appointed and bedecked with flowers. Even the bed was strewn with petals. "As I said, neither the first or the last. Wait here.”
I waited.
Sidonie came.
We didn't make it to the bed; we didn't make it beyond the door. The moment it closed, her arms were around my neck, my mouth on hers. Elua, the taste of her! She bit my lower lip, sucked on my tongue. I shoved her against the door, shoving her skirts up. She wrapped her legs around my hips. I clawed at her fine linen underdrawers, tearing them. Only the sound of ripping fabric made me pause.
"We should—”
"No." Sidonie's nails dug into the back of my neck. "Please.”
Bracing her with one arm, I undid the straining laces of my breeches. I could feel the wet warmth of her sliding against my phallus, heard her gasp at my ear. Enough; Elua, enough! I shifted to grasp her buttocks with both hands, entering her with a thrust so hard and deep, it made the door bounce.
It was hard and fierce and so, so terribly good! The door creaked and rattled as I slammed into her, over and over, feeling her climax with a wordless cry, her thighs suddenly gripping me so tightly I could barely move. It didn't matter, I was ready. I buried myself in her and spent, the release so dizzying and intense that for a moment I couldn't see.
The sparkling darkness receded.
I held her where she was, breathing hard. "Feel better?”
"Yes." Sidonie smiled. "Carry me to the bed?”
"Can't." I shook my head. "Not with my breeches around my ankles." She laughed, low and enthralling, arms still wound around my neck. The sound made me ache. I released my grip on her buttocks, moving my hands to her waist. Her legs slipped slowly down mine until her feet touched the ground and she