At last she flopped back, the great heaving waves of pleasure reduced to little earthquakes. He licked her one last time and then shifted higher on his knees, caging her in on the settee as he kissed her and let her taste herself on his slick lips.
She tilted her head, cupping his cheeks as she relaxed into his touch and waited for more. Waited for him to take her once again and even the score of pleasure.
Only he didn’t. Instead he smoothed her skirt back down and joined her on the settee, wrapping her in his arms and just…holding her.
She glanced up at him after what felt like an eternity had passed. His eyes were closed, his face entirely at peace. She realized she’d never seen him like this before. He looked softer and younger and oh, so handsome in this calm and serene expression.
“Dash?” she said as she leaned up to kiss the line of his jaw.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Yes?”
“Aren’t you going to…” She waved a hand at herself and evoked a laugh from him.
“Take you?” he supplied for her.
She nodded. “I would very much like you to.”
His pupils dilated with desire and the corner of his lip quirked with a touch of arrogance. Like he reveled in her wanting him as much as she did the same. “I would very much like to, and I will, Gia. I promise you that. Later.”
She sat up. “It doesn’t seem entirely fair that you would do something so wonderful for me and not get anything in return.”
His brow wrinkled. “Making love to you, giving you pleasure, it isn’t a quid pro quo, my dear. I don’t count orgasms in a ledger so that they may be even or that I win the race. If someone else did, that is a failing of his. Not mine.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose playfully. “Right now I want food. I’m famished after that delightful first course. Aren’t you?”
She realized as he spoke that she was hungry. “Fine, but I will hold you to your promise that we aren’t finished.”
“I fully expect you to.” He got up and drew her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her deeply before he stepped away. “I’ll see you shortly.”
She nodded and watched as he left her chamber, ringing the bell for Betsy as he departed. Because of course he would. The man was built to anticipate her every need, whether it was something benign or shockingly erotic.
She got up from the settee and moved to her mirror. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink with high color. She felt giddy with desire and emotion, flush with the first flutters of something wonderful. It was such a strange thing, because she’d known and cared for Dash for so long.
Betsy entered the room and Giabella tried to temper her expression. “Good evening,” she said.
“Your Majesty,” Betsy said with a small curtsey. “Is it just you and Mr. Talbot for supper, then? I haven’t heard anything from household staff.”
“I believe so, yes,” Giabella said. “But I think I’d still like to wear the teal brocade.”
Betsy’s brows lifted slightly at her suggestion that she wear the slightly more formal gown for a night with her secretary, but Giabella ignored it. Dash had always complimented her on that gown—she intended to wear it, by God. Use it to add to the anticipation of what would happen after.
She followed Betsy into her dressing area and they began the motions of readying her that they had been repeating for decades. Once she was dressed, she sat and Betsy began to restyle her hair to suit the more formal evening look.
“I’ve heard all went well with the gatherings today,” her maid said, twisting Giabella’s hair carefully and pinning it in place.
“I believe so,” Giabella said with a smile as she thought of all the wonderful people she had met with.
“The servants who attend to the household full time here have said that they feel the area will support King Grantham in the election, on the whole,” Betsy continued.
“That’s very good,” Giabella said with a sigh. “Of course we had some concern. A population that does not want its king might not want him as a representative for them either. But it does seem the unrest was about the idea of wanting a democracy, not hatred for Grantham specifically.”
“Indeed,” Betsy agreed. “That is the same thing I’ve heard over and again. No one could want more than what the king has offered.”
“Well, a few might,” Giabella said, thinking of Hadley and his anger at the thought of change. Would he bring some kind of hell down on Dash for his physical intervention? And could she protect the man she loved if he did?
“Ma’am?”
Giabella blinked. “I’m sorry, I was woolgathering a moment. What was that?”
Betsy looked at her in the reflection but then said, “I was just wondering what your thoughts were on your own future.”
She heard the slight waver to the maid’s voice. The worry about her place in the world, since it was so irrevocably linked to Giabella’s. And yet she had so few answers to give. Every time she thought of the future, she froze with its vastness. Even more so now that she knew Dash would have a path very much his own to follow.
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “There will be so much change. But I promise you, Betsy, that you will be taken care of, whether you choose to attend me or not.”
“I can’t imagine anyone in your private staff leaving you, Your Majesty.”
Giabella blinked. Dash’s decision to go into the office of the prime minister was not her secret to tell, but Betsy’s words made it weigh on her all the more. She heard the ticking of the final clock louder now.
It made her want to cling to the present all the more. Cling to Dash. As long as she could.
Dash had changed for supper. Normally he would not, especially when he and Giabella were alone together. A servant did not have the same expectations as a member of the family or someone with exalted position. He was generally nothing more than serviceable in his dress, meant to fade into the background so that everyone looked at Gia.
Not that anyone could ever come into a room and not look at her.
But tonight he had opted for something different. A more formal waistcoat, a sharper edge to his cravat. Being alone with her meant more now. He liked to be able to pretend that they were nothing more than lovers, spending an evening together at their leisure.
Even if that was a lie.
A lie made even more obvious almost as soon as he entered the parlor where he and Gia would have pre-supper drinks. The butler entered, and immediately Dash could see he was needed in his duties.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Talbot,” Livingston began. “But there is a situation.”
Dash stepped away from the sideboard and toward the other man. “A situation?” he repeated.
“A visitor has arrived, uninvited, it seems. And I do not know what to do with her.”
Dash wrinkled his brow. “Her? Who is it?”
“Miss Marabelle Fowler, sir.”
Dash drew in a sharp breath. Miss Fowler had once been the leader of the group who had protested Grantham’s reign. The very woman who had helped bring about the changes to the government that were about to be put in place. She and the king were working closely together now, and Dash found the young woman to be bright, reasonable and steady. But he kept her away from the queen as much as possible.