Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [91]
"Why ever not?" I picked up the purse. "You've saved me considerable embarrassment. Thank you."
That night, Raphael invited me to his bed. There was a part of me that wanted to decline, still tired and drained and uncertain of his motives. But when he gazed at me with those storm-grey eyes, desire darkening them like thunderclouds, the inexorable answering tide rose in my blood and I couldn't say no.
And it was good.
I clutched his shoulder blades as he moved inside me, his tawny hair falling to curtain my face. I thought about Naamah scoring her lovers' backs and shivered with pleasure.
"Tomorrow," Raphael whispered in my ear, his hips thrusting. His voice was fierce. "You think of me inside you."
"I may," I whispered back defiantly. "Or I may not."
He pulled back, propping himself on his arms, leaving only the head of his shaft inside me—and me hovering on the verge of fulfillment. "You will. Say it."
I squirmed.
His eyes darkened further. "Say it!"
"All right! I'll think of you!"
With a grunt, he pushed himself back inside me, filling me and sending me over the edge of the precipice. I convulsed hard around his thick shaft, wrapping my legs around his hips and hating myself for acquiescing. But it pleased him, and he spent himself inside me.
"Raphael?" I murmured. "Tell me. Is it me or my gift that you desire?"
He lifted his head. In the aftermath of pleasure, his beautiful face was boyish and sweet. "Can it not be both?"
"Can it?" I asked, unsure.
He kissed my lips. "Yes, witchling. It can." Raphael eased out of me and rolled onto his back, settling my head on his shoulder. He stroked my hair, kissed the top of my head. "Now sleep."
Too tired to argue, I sighed, and did.
In the morning, he was gone again. I awoke to the rich scent of roasted, brewed kavah beans and the maid Daphne watching me uncertainly, a laden tray in her hands.
"Lady Moirin?"
I yawned. "Aye?"
She shifted from foot to foot. "The water for your bath is heating, but I thought you might like to break your fast. His lordship bade me tell you that he will be gone on business at the Academy today, but that he has left the carriage and driver at your disposal. He hopes you will join him for dinner." She ducked her head and gave me a quick, darting glance from beneath her lashes. "Do you really have an appointment at Cereus House?"
"Aye." I pushed myself upright. "I do."
"Lucky them," Daphne said unexpectedly—and flushed. "I'm sorry."
I laughed aloud. "Stone and sea! Please, don't be. You've no idea how much I needed to hear something of the sort."
She smiled, dimpling. "Truly?"
"Truly," I assured her.
Daphne set down the tray with care. "This may please you, too." She withdrew an envelope from the pocket of her apron. "It's an invitation." She lowered her voice, clearly impressed. "From Prince Thierry."
I opened it and read. "So it is. To a hunt."
"Do you ride to the hunt?" Daphne inquired.
I smiled wryly. "It seems I do."
All in all, it put me in a better mood than I might have been in otherwise. Despite what had transpired between us last night, Raphael was being solicitous. I had confirmation of my own desirability. I was perhaps being courted by the Dauphin of Terre d'Ange. So I endured the carriage-ride to Cereus House in good spirits. The Dowayne greeted me with genuine warmth, kissing me on both cheeks.
"I've given you a room that looks onto a courtyard." She put her hands on my shoulders, her gaze oddly troubled. "And… I hope the experience pleases you, my lady."
"I'm sure it will," I said.
"I hope so," she repeated.
I followed the servant she assigned me as a guide through a labyrinth of corridors. At last he paused and bowed, indicating a door. I opened it and entered.
"Moirin." In the window seat that looked onto the courtyard, Jehanne de la Courcel raised her head. Sunlight gleamed on the elaborate coils of her pale gilt hair. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled at me. "Lesson the second," she said in her light, sweet voice. "Never trust a poet."
My blood ran cold with anger.