Mama takes my arm and moves us among the people, calling greetings to everyone we pass.
Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of us.
“Lady Rugova. Lady Wraye. I’m pleased you could come. Aubrey will be delighted.”
His voice is deep and gracious, and he keeps his eyes fixed on Mama. He’s wearing a white shirt, pale blue pants and a sky-blue blazer. There’s a silk handkerchief tucked into the pocket of the blazer, and his shirt is open at the throat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his throat and collarbone before, or a hint of his chest. I imagine running my tongue across his muscular shoulder and dipping into the depression at the base of his throat. I’m imagining it so vividly that Mama has to tug me down next to her into a curtsy. Before I can recover my senses and say hello to the Archduke, he’s gone.
Aubrey finds us a few minutes later, and she and Mama talk while I try and follow along with the conversation. Both of them eat the tiny canapes that are brought around on trays.
My gaze flits across the sea of hats, until I see him, standing a head taller than most of the other guests. The sense of power around him is a tangible aura. I feel it brushing against me, insinuating itself between my thighs and licking at the places where his tongue has been.
I turned down being married to this man and living in this beautiful house. I turned down hours and hours of bliss alone in his company. Suddenly, I’m struggling to remember why.
For Mama’s sake, so all her lies don’t come out. For Aubrey, because a friend doesn’t sneak behind her friend’s back and sleep with her father. A friend doesn’t marry her father, either.
Archduke Levanter turns away from the person he was talking to and heads back toward the house.
But what about if that father makes you feel things? Strange, intense and beautiful things that you’ve never craved from anyone else before?
His broad back disappears through the French doors.
“Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom,” I announce, and before I know if Mama or Aubrey have heard me, I head for the house. He goes upstairs, and I follow about a dozen feet behind him.
Suddenly, he turns around and sees me. “Are you following me, Lady Wraye?”
I stop dead and shake my head, even though it’s plain that I am. There’s no one else up here but us. “I—I didn’t get a chance to say hello earlier.”
One of his perfect dark brows lift.
“A garden party was a lovely idea.” I wince at my attempt to make small talk. What am I even doing here?
Levanter puts his hands into his pants pockets and walks slowly toward me. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I don’t know.”
He studies my face. “Your color looks better. Have you been eating?”
I touch the back of my fingers to my burning cheeks. “I’ve been trying to.”
“Good girl.”
A whimper rises up from my throat and nearly escapes through my lips. That’s what I want. I can’t be his wife, and I don’t want to be his mistress. I want something infinitely stranger and sweeter, and I tell him in the only way I know how. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Suddenly, he looks ferocious, like he wants to tell me never to call him that or always to call him that. I want him to be fierce. Order me around. I want him to tell me what to do. Maybe I won’t always do it, but the way he looks, when he does, makes me so weak and wet.
“You shouldn’t be up here,” he says roughly.
“But I want to be, Daddy.”
The Archduke slides his hand up and caresses my throat, his lower lip softening. I tilt my face up to his, begging him to kiss me. There’s a bow at the front of my dress, keeping the bodice closed. Slowly, looking into my eyes, he grasps one of the ties and pulls it undone. With a finger, he traces the edge of my lace bra, and then eases it down. My eyes flutter closed.
Levanter pinches my nipple and gives it a twist, hard enough to have me up on my toes and gasping. “Are you trying to play with me, little girl? If you tease me, I’ll make you sorry.”
I breathe hard through the pain. “Then play.”
He tugs viciously. “I can’t offer you anything more than I have already.”
“Yes, you can. I’d rather be your good girl than your mistress.”
Levanter glances around and then takes my arm, pushes me into a room and slams the door behind us. While I’m backed against it, he reaches beneath my dress, his fingers trailing up my thigh.
My eyes drift closed, anticipating the pleasure he’s about to give me. Instead, he finds my clit through my underwear, and pinches it. Hard.