Page 69 of Dagger’s Shield

“No.” Her hands framed my face. “Exactly like this.”

I went deep and slow, until she trembled underneath me.

“Killian—I’m⁠—”

“Together,” I groaned.

She tightened around me and came with her forehead pressed to mine and my name on her lips like each time before. I let go and followed her, and it went on longer than I knew was possible.

We slept on the hard floor, and when, sometime before dawn, she reached for me again, I gathered her in my arms and carried her into the bedroom, then returned to retrieve the box of condoms. This time, her back was to my chest, and I entered her slowly and wordlessly. Her fingers weaved with mine as our releases hit at the same time.

When I woke again, it was still dark and Maëlle’s mouth was on me.

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming, because I’d had this same one so many times. When she hummed low in her throat and the vibration coursed through my body, I knew it was real.

“Maëlle—”

She glanced up at me momentarily, then resumed what she was doing.

“Maëlle. I’m close. If you don’t⁠—”

She didn’t move, except to take me deeper. I gave up the last of my control with my hand fisted in the duvet instead of her hair and said her name in a voice I didn’t recognize.

When it was over, she sat up, wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, and regarded me with her chin up.

“Pleased with yourself?” I teased.

“Enormously.”

I reached for her and we kissed. She stretched out along the length of me, and neither of us hurried to move.

“We should return to Valais,” she said a few minutes later. “I’d rather not answer questions about why we left in the middle of the night.”

“Do you think everyone will still be asleep at”—I checked the time—“at zero four hundred?”

“By the time we get there, Marthe will be up. But don’t worry, she’s always kept my secrets.”

16

MAËLLE

“Other than Marthe, everyone should be asleep until at least zero eight hundred,” Dagger said as we came through the gates at half past four. “That gives us time to make it look like we never left.”

“You would make a decent spy.”

“I’ve been told.”

We eased up the staircase with our boots in our hands, and if Marthe heard us, she let us believe she hadn’t.

By eight, we were dressed and working at the desk in my bedroom, where I briefed him on what I’d learned in the last couple of days.

I started with the padded supplier invoices I’d found on the morning of the réveillon. The rest was my conversation with Jean-Pierre Lavigne that evening, about his ability to retire due to Valais’ generosity and that they were not the only domaine in the region with record sales.

“The most important thing he said was that my father had negotiated the deal for the entire Compagnie de Burgondie—the area’s winemakers’ union.”

“So the union got a deal, the region got rich, and your father took the bows.”

“Allegedly, yes.”