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His grasp on her behind tightened, and he muttered something she couldn’t quite make out. She ran her thumb up and down his turgid length, and then dipped below to lightly trace his balls.

His eyes flew open and their gazes met. Fen felt herself melt in what she glimpsed there.

Feeling flushed and reckless, she pressed forward and kissed him lingeringly on the lips. His mouth opened beneath hers and, daringly Fen slid her tongue into his mouth. Their kiss exploded in wet, molten heat. Fen rubbed her bare breasts against his chest and wound her arms around his neck. His hands slid around from her buttocks to her hips and he pulled and pushed her against his hard maleness, until he was where he wanted to be. Fen wrenched her mouth from his as she confusedly realized she was still on top.

As if aware of her thoughts, he murmured, “Trust me, it works this way too.”

Fen nodded, her eyes wide as he seized her thighs and pulled her down onto him as he thrust up, until he was fully sheathed inside her. Fen whimpered at the sensation of fullness, which felt considerable from this angle. Tentatively she dropped her knees down onto the mattress on either side of him. “How does this..?”

“Give me a moment,” he said tightly. “Don’t move yet.”

Move? Fen sat still, feeling him throbbing inside of her. Which must mean he really liked it, as he never achieved rapture before her. Fen cautiously sat up straight, gazing down at him. A few locks of his dark hair had fallen forward onto his face. He was so handsome, she thought misty-eyed, even more so than when he was a youth.

Oswald’s eyes flicked open and focused on her. “Gods,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I’ll last long.” He reached up and palmed her heavy breasts, making her shiver. Then he slid one hand down the middle of her belly, dipping between her legs. When he touched the slick, warm folds there, surrounding his hardness, feeling where she took him into her body, Fen shuddered. His other hand was still at her breast. As one thumb rubbed over and around her nipple, the other found the sensitive pearl between her legs and began to move in the same motion. Pleasure streaking through her body, Fen threw her head back and began to rock forward and back as the feelings intensified, and seemed to swirl where she felt him, hard and thick, giving her what she needed. His hand at her breast slid down to grasp her hip, encouraging its fitful movement to take on a more purposeful stroke.

“Move on me, Fen,” he urged, his voice gravelly and rough, lacking the usual polish. Anxious to please him, and find her own relief, Fen fell forward, planting her palms on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. She shifted her hips over him, making him grunt and groan, even as she bit her own lip to stifle her own. She huffed and puffed grasped the bedsheets as she rose and fell over him. “Wait,” she gasped at last when she felt like her arms were too wobbly to support her anymore and she couldn’t keep up the pace. “I’m-“

“Too good at this,” he groaned, releasing the headboard and rolling her over onto her back. Fen arched her back and wrapped her legs around his hips, as she felt the beginning of her own release. To her surprise, he only drove into her twice, when with a muffled roar, he pressed her into the mattress and spilled his seed inside her. Fen tightened her clasp on him and they lay in a tangle for a few heartbeats, breathing heavily.

When he lifted his head from her shoulder, he looked a little shaken. “I think you’ve proved your point. You’re a very effective seductress.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” marveled Fen. Oswald kissed her again, lingeringly before stretching out and curling around her, his hand on her stomach. Fen fell asleep without even once thinking about the wretched play.

**

The next morning, Fen woke groggily to find Oswald had already left. She crawled out of bed and started to wash with the half full jug of tepid water still left on the side. She had a slight feeling of dread already when she thought about Mr Entner and his play. Trudy poked her head through the door just as she was finishing her ablutions.

“Oh milady, I wasn’t sure as you’d be rising yet.”

“Not to worry, Trudy,” Fen assured her, drying the back of her neck. “Could you please put me out some clothes for the day. You’re much better at picking them than I.”

Trudy beamed and hurried into the room. “You’re sure you don’t want more hot water?” she asked as she started pulling out stockings and a clean shift.

“No, thank you. Are any of the rest of the family at breakfast yet?” asked Fen nervously.

“They’re all sleeping in after their journey yesterday.”

“Excellent,” murmured Fen. With a bit of luck, she could slip away for her sitting with Signor Arnotti without any awkward exchanges first. She hurriedly pulled on the gown of emerald green with gold flowers embroidered down the sleeves, and sat fastening her front lacing as Trudy brushed and dressed her hair. “This is a lovely dress. I must tell my husband to stop buying any more. I must have a dozen at least.”

“Don’t you have to wear your plum colored dress for the painting?” puzzled Trudy as she pinned the veil to her coif at the back of her head.

“Oh, not today. He said he’d finished his preliminary sketches of my figure. Next he will be studying my face. He’s concentrating on the way the light falls and such,” said Fen vaguely, having no idea how painters worked.

“Good thing we’ve put your hair out of the way then,” murmured Trudy smugly as Fen donned her enamel ruby ring and her pearls.

“You think of everything, Trudy.”

“You’ve had two letters come this morning, milady. I put them on the table for you to have when you break your fast.”

“Two letters?” asked Fen in surprise as she rose from her chair. While it was true she was expecting a letter from Orla, she had no notion who the other could be from. She made her way into the adjoining room and only just bit back an exclamation at the sight of who loomed there, wolfing down a large platter of salted fish and white bread.

“Oh! Good morning, my lord,” she faltered as she pulled out a chair opposite her brother-in-law, Mason Vawdrey, Duke of Cadwallader. He was a rather imposing sight to have to confront at this time of the morning.

His eyebrow rose at her formal greeting. “You’d better call me Mason,” he said abruptly. It was clear he took no pleasure in the thought.

“Thank you, I will. And I hope you will call me Fenella,” she said cheerfully. “I thought for a moment you were Roland. You must be something of the same height.” She looked around distractedly for Bors.

“He’s not here,” said Mason.