“Then I suggest you do the same,” Sebastian says. “There’s a room full of waiting maidens and you’re hovering over us. Go.” He flicks his wrist, waving his hand toward the dance floor. “Find one to entertain you for the night.”
Devlan bows his head. “Yes, my lord,” he says, but his eyes seek mine through his dark fringe of lashes. As if he’s waiting for my dismissal. He’s now my personal guard, but does that mean watching over me even while I’m in Sebastian’s presence?
I meet his eyes and nod lightly, assuring him that I’m all right.
He bows his head farther. “Princess Zara.” Turning on his heel, he departs. He heads toward the opposite end of the room, and I watch him go, oddly concerned if I did the right thing.
“That was unnecessary,” I say, keeping my eyes on Devlan as he maneuvers through the dancing crowd. “I don’t need a personal guard, Sebastian.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sebastian drinks his wine, taking two long pulls. “Devlan is my best knight. I trust him above all to keep you safe.”
I cock an eyebrow and look at him. “Safe from what?”
“Zara…” He breathes my name. “Not now.” His voice is stern, and I can hear the warning. “I’ll happily discuss this with you another time and bicker till your bickering heart is content, but right now,” he takes my hand, “indulge me. Pretend you are a new, happily betrothed princess enamored with her prince.” A smile spreads across his face and he laces his fingers through mine.
For now, I give in to his wishes. It won’t do me any good to start a fight here, demanding to know things. Soon I’ll need him to believe that I am happy, or at least content, if I’m going to escape. If he continues to question me, placing guards to monitor my every move, I’ll never get away.
I grit my teeth and force a smile. It seems to satisfy him, and he swallows down the last of his wine.
“Here.” I push his empty glass aside. “Let me get you another.” He’s stunned silent by my offer, but I leave before he can question me. Maybe if he gets drunk enough he’ll pass out. Then I can return to my chamber and be rid of this night.
As I’m taking a newly filled goblet from the wine table, I spy Devlan talking into his communicator, his eyes hard and intense.
I glance around at all the other knights laughing and dancing, then back to Devlan’s wary expression. His eyes snap to me, and the worry within their blue depths stirs renewed fear in my chest.
I suspect I’m missing something tonight, and it’s much bigger than the prince’s betrothal.
EIGHT
As the night progresses, I dance with gentlemen as they greet Sebastian and ask for the honor of dancing with the princess. I don’t mind, as it keeps Sebastian at bay, but my feet ache, and after keeping my thoughts and emotions hidden, I’m exhausted and ready for the night to end.
I lean against the table, taking the weight off my soles. People are just beginning to leave, and the crowd is thinning. I scan the hall and locate Sebastian propped against the wall, empty goblet in hand, talking to one of his knights.
Perfect.
I slink my way past the table, working to avoid Sebastian and Devlan, and make it to the archway before I hear my name called out. Hell. I turn, and Sebastian half-walks, half-stumbles toward me.
“You weren’t planning to return without a chaperone, were you?” he asks, somewhat slurred. “What kind of husband would I be to let you walk around without an escort?”
“Not a husband at all.” I cross my arms. “We’re not yet married.”
“Yes. But I am your man now.” He comes up close to me and extends his arm.
“As you wish, my lord.” I take his arm forcefully, causing him to lose balance for a moment and wobble. Hopefully he’s too intoxicated to notice if I slip away from him once we leave. “I simply want to retire for the evening.”
He bows his head to me. “As you wish, my love.”
“Please. Stop calling me that.” I tug on his arm, loosening his hold. “Between you and Sir Devlan, I’m going to forget my own name.”
As we exit the hall, I look around for Devlan, but he must have pursued the girl after all. I’m so curious over their situation that I don’t notice Sebastian’s hand roaming farther down my backside as we walk through the corridor. When it slips too low, I turn on him.
“Sebastian. Remember your manners.” An ache splinters the front of my head, and I rub my temple. “Why don’t you go back to the hall and find a young, willing maiden to bed? Your choices are endless.”
“Nay. I don’t want them.” His eyes are sultry and heavy-lidded. “They’re not you.”
The look he gives me is too convincing. I shake the unease away, reminding myself this engagement is a ploy, a setup for him to take the throne quicker. He merely drank too much and lust is polluting his senses.
I brush my hands along my gown, smoothing it and gaining my ground. “What happened to your patience?”
“It’s quickly waning the longer I watch your hands work over your body.”
My hands freeze, and I attempt to shrink into myself as his eyes roam over me.
He chuckles. “One thing my father didn’t consider when he chose this era,” he says, his eyes drinking me in, “was all the damn layers of clothing women have to wear.” He pushes himself up against me, and I bring my hands up against his chest as he backs me toward the wall. “It leaves too much to the imagination.” His hands cup my waist, his thumbs resting on my stomach, and I pull in a sharp breath. His eyes trail down my face to my chest. “But I must admit, I love what the corset does for your—”
I clamp my hand over his mouth. “Stop,” I say. “Or you’ll feel the palm of this hand against your face.”
He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls it slightly away from his mouth. His eyes close, and he runs his lips over my palm, slowly kissing, his warm breath caressing my hand.
His lips move from my hand to my wrist. “Sebastian, stop,” I order, but too low and too flat, with no conviction in my plea. I’ve never been in a compromising position with another, and he’s the prince. My mind races, sifting through scattered thoughts on how to stop his advance.
His other hand grasps my neck, his fingers securing themselves just below the bottom of my braid, and he continues to work his mouth up my arm until he’s wrapped it behind his neck. Then he tilts my head to the side as he thrusts his body against mine, forcing my back flat against the wall. Nausea churns like fire in my stomach, and I push harder against his chest.
His lips find the hollow of my throat, and he kisses his way along my jawline, his tongue slight against my skin. Panic constricts my airway, and my head lightens as my breaths come too fast.
I close my eyes against the spinning, and pinpricks cover my skin at the feel of his sloppy lips roaming, getting closer to my mouth.
“I must have you,” he says. His low voice brings me back, awakening my senses.
“Stop,” I say, but he continues his pursuit. Bracing my back against the wall, I steady my body and mind. With more force, I demand, “Stop!”
He pulls his head back a fraction, just enough to search my eyes, and a sly smile slides across his face. “That’s not what you want.”
I clear my throat, driving conviction into my tone. “Move away. Now, Sebastian. Or you’ll feel the brunt of my knee. And your era wardrobe leaves little to the imagination.” I widen my eyes so he can see the sincerity in them clearly. “My aim will be true.”
Without warning, he grabs both my thighs and hoists me up, anchoring me between him and the wall. “Well, I’ll simply have to keep the lower half of your body occupied also.” Then his mouth is on mine, hard and demanding.