Page 110 of Dark Seduction

He tensed. “Ye were screaming in pleasure. I was outside in the hall. I thought ye were with a Deamhan, maybe Moray!”

Claire could not find calm. Her cheeks were now on fire. “I was having a dream,” she said harshly. “About Malcolm.”

“Aye.” He gave her his back.

She didn’t like the sound of that single word, and a terrible inkling began. Claire jumped from the bed, taking the cover with her. “Please tell me you did not lurk in my mind.”

He didn’t answer, going to the door.

“Can you lurk in a dream, Aidan?” she demanded rigidly.

“I’ll be seeing you in the morn,” he said, reaching for the door.

Claire grabbed the water pitcher and threw it as hard as she could at him. It hit him square on the back. He turned.

“How dare you spy on me and Malcolm!”

“I came here to protect ye,” he said harshly. But the fire’s light played on one side of his face and he was flushing.

“You were lurking in my dream! You might as well have been watching us make love in reality!” She was aghast. “What did you see?”

His face tightened. “’Twas only a dream, Claire. ’Twas not real.”

“You saw everything!” she cried. “You watched me make love to Malcolm!”

She saw his flush intensify. Finally, softly, he said, “I couldna help myself. Didna ye watch me with Isabel?”

Claire stared at him, and so much anger began. “I walked in on you accidentally and I left a second later.”

“I’m a man. Yer a woman. No man could walk away from such a dream.”

“Get out!” she screamed.

“Ye should be pleased I care fer ye. I didna go into yer dream an’ change places with my brother, although that is what I wanted to do.” He strode out.

Shocked, Claire let the fur drop. Naked, she stood there shaking, incredulous and enraged. His being medieval and oversexed was not an acceptable excuse! Then she grabbed the fur, covered herself with it and ran to the door. She jerked it open. “You have no morals!” she screamed.

But Aidan was gone.

Claire slammed the door.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ROYCE ESTIMATED that it was an hour past midnight. He walked between the armed guards into the queen’s antechamber, where two of her ladies eyed him, blushing furiously. He was angry, and blood filled his manhood because of it. He did not mind fucking a beautiful woman, but he despised being disloyal to his liege lord, the king. However, a year and a half ago he had failed to outmaneuver Joan Beaufort, who was very clever, and he had had the equally pleasant and unpleasant task of pleasuring her until she wept for mercy. He knew exactly what she wanted now.

The ladies whispered and giggled, ogling his bulging leine. Sometimes the queen preferred an orgy to a single lover, although he knew that would not be the case tonight.

He smiled at them, but his smile was as hard and tight as his body. What he minded was being summoned by Her Majesty as if he were her sexual slave.

Their affair had started six months after the coronation. The queen’s lusty interest had begun as he was making homage to her and the king. There’d been no gossip about her voracious appetites then. He had knelt, making his vows, surprised to find her every bit as beautiful as the poets claimed, and then he’d lurked. He’d been shocked to find her thinking of the various ways she could suck, fuck and ride him.

Of course he’d been aroused. He had wanted nothing more than to leap on her then and there, but that was politically dangerous. He’d escaped court immediately after the coronation, but six months later, affairs of the Brotherhood had required he go back. There had been no escaping or denying his queen then. In fact, she had been waiting for him. She had manipulated the Brotherhood to have him sent there. He would not deny that he’d enjoyed every moment in her bed. But she had been very annoyed when he had returned to Carrick. Twice since then she had sent him missives.

In the first, she had requested his appearance at court. In the second, piqued, she’d summoned him. He had politely explained, both times, that great affairs of the earldom prevented him from returning to court. It had not been wise to continue an affair with her then, just as it was not wise to do so now.

But she was the queen, and she could not be denied. So he would let her use him—and he would use her in return.

He walked inside her private chamber, the door closing behind him, both guards remaining outside. The large, well-appointed chamber was lit with sconces, candles and the hearth’s fire. The queen stood facing the fire, her back to him. She wore a long, golden-yellow chemise the color of her hair, which fell in soft waves to her hips. The chemise was sheer. He looked at her plump buttocks and hardened even more.