“Ah, Lady Sophia. The one you all have such high hopes for.” Sophia Kendall was the last royal female—though in her case the royal claim was quite removed—of her birth year to turn twenty-one. And after her, there was a five-year gap until the next oldest girl with royal blood. Her upcoming Ais-Seann was the subject of much court speculation and anticipation.
Neither of the two other girls who had come into their majority this year had manifested the gift, and both of them had been unceremoniously married off to minor lordlings and had yet to reappear at court. Cameron wouldn’t like to be in Lady Sophia’s shoes at all. Her fate was to be a pawn either way. All that was to be determined was just how big a prize she would gain for her family. Or the king, really. Cameron had met Lady Kendall’s father, Barron Leeheld, and he had struck Cam as a decent man who had little interest in court intrigues. He had spoken somewhat wistfully of his estate and the upcoming grape harvest, not of whom best to marry his only daughter to.
“Yes,” Eloisa said. “I think she at least deserves some fun before you men usurp her life.”
“If she manifests, she’ll have some more training before she’s handed over to whoever the lucky man is, won’t she?”
“And if she doesn’t, she’ll be married before the turn of the year,” Eloisa snapped. “And I’ll get some new country bumpkin who doesn’t know a hairpin from a hatpin to attend me.”
Ah, so that was what was bothering her witchness. She didn’t want to lose a friend. “You think she won’t?”
Eloisa shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You’re sure about that?” Eloisa’s gift ran strongly to psychic abilities, but she tended to keep her premonitions close to her chest when she thought it best to do so. It drove her father, the king, wild.
“Yes. I haven’t seen anything about Sophie.”
Well, that was good. Then he replayed the sentence in his head. Perhaps not. “Does that mean you’ve seen something else?”
She shook her head but didn’t look at him, instead toying with the midnight-colored pearls circling her wrist. “Nothing important.”
“Highness . . .”
Silk rustled as she came out of her chair and crossed to him. The wild smoky rose scent filled his nose, making his pulse speed a little.
“All I see,” she said with a wicked smile, “is a man who is wasting a perfectly good opportunity.” She tilted her head back and looked up at him. “What’s the matter, Cameron? Out whoring last night, were you?”
She pressed her hand against his chest, and he struggled to keep his train of thought. “You know I don’t . . .”
Her hand trailed lower. “Saving yourself for me? That’s sweet.” Fingers slid beneath the waistband of his breeches, and his cock rose to meet her. “Why don’t you show me?”
“Witch.” He picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. The princess might not want to marry a minor lord, he thought as she started unbuttoning his jacket, but she surely didn’t mind fucking one.
As always, it was hot and fast and wild between them. He’d never figured out what it was about Eloisa that drove him so crazy—whether she used her magic on him or whether his power just craved hers—but he felt her trigger the barrier around the room so they wouldn’t be heard or interrupted, and the second her magic flowed across his skin, he was engulfed.
Green silk tore beneath his hands as he ripped at her dress, desperate to touch her. Her eager response only egged him on. His own jacket and shirt vanished somehow, and her mouth rose to meet his with a hunger that matched his own.
Spice and smoke and roses engulfed him, fogged him, caught him as his hands closed over her breasts. She moved beneath him, and the buttons on his breeches opened of their own accord as she pulled him closer. There were benefits to bedding a witch, he thought hazily as her fingers closed around his cock again, guiding him to her. Then, as he slid home and she closed around him, he didn’t think anything more for a long time.
When he finally opened his eyes afterward, Eloisa lay beside him, one hand idly tracing patterns on his bare chest.
“You have to get dressed,” she said. “Sophia will be here at twelve.”
The clock beside her bed said it was ten minutes to midday. And the princess trained her ladies to be prompt. Still, he couldn’t quite force himself to rise just yet. “So eager to get rid of me?” He tugged lazily at a curl that had found its way onto his pillow.
She closed her eyes.
“Elly?” he said. “Is something wrong?”
The deep red of her hair caught the sunlight as she shook her head. “No, nothing.”
Something inside him twisted. His own magic didn’t run much to forewarning or truth seeking, but he didn’t believe what she was saying. “Promise me you’re telling the truth.”
Her lids drifted upward, and her blue eyes were clear. “I am,” she said firmly. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is just as it should be.” She kissed him quickly. “Now get dressed. I want you to escort Lady Sophia to Portholme.”
“Send one of the guards,” he said, rolling out of bed. “I’m your bodyguard, not hers.”
Eloisa walked naked to her dressing table and started brushing her hair, pulling it back into the same loose style she’d worn when he arrived. “Father wants to see me. I’ll be perfectly safe in his chambers. You can even escort me there yourself before you go. Besides, I want some herbs, and Chloe has the best at her shop.”
“Lady Sophia shouldn’t be going anywhere near Portholme. Or Madame de Montesse. Even with a royal bodyguard,” Cameron said, pulling on his shirt.
He could see Eloisa frowning at him in the mirror. “If she manifests, she needs to know where to get the best when she needs it,” she said coolly. “I do not intend for her to be fobbed off with inferior tools. Besides, I’ve ordered some things for her birthday. You can collect those and pretend they’re for me.”