The “princess,” not the “queen-to-be,” Cameron noted. Whatever had happened, it was clear that Sophie was indeed near exhaustion. So she needed the ley line but couldn’t access it?
“All right,” he said. He wanted to ask more questions, but that could wait until she didn’t look as though she was about to faint. “We can try together. Has the Domina taught you about how to share power safely?” They had done it before, after all. But that had been wild and uncontrolled. He hoped that the Domina had taught her some modicum of control in the lessons she’d had since then.
Sophie nodded, but her eyes were unfocused.
He glanced over at the ley line. Fuck. There were no good alternatives. He could try to fetch a temple devout or another of the court ladies who had small powers, but by then Sophie would probably have passed out. He picked her up again and carried her back over to the ley line. Put her down on the grass and sat between her and it. He took her hand in his left and, gingerly, reached his hand into the faint red light.
The power tingled like standing in the middle of a storm.
He let it run through him, didn’t touch it with the part of him that used magic, sent it toward Sophie. “Can you feel that?”
She nodded.
“Then take it,” he said.
There was a buzz and then the ghost of a faint snap in the palm of his right hand where her fingers lay. Then he felt the power start to flow into her. Slowly. Too slowly, he thought as another bout of shivers shook her body. More contact. She needed more contact. Skin on skin was easiest, and the more skin the better, but he could hardly strip her here in the garden. So instead he did the next best thing he could think of and, after tapping a small thread of power to throw up a ward that might obscure them from vision if he was lucky, leaned forward and kissed her.
Sophie gasped but didn’t pull away. He kept the pressure gentle, more resting his mouth on hers than truly kissing her, keeping the movements small and soft, nipping at her softly to get her to take what he was offering.
For a moment or so, she didn’t respond, but then she took a deep breath and leaned in to him, and he felt the slow roll of power become a surge as she took the power in, drinking him down.
He felt himself tumble into heat and the taste of her as their mouths grew fierce, as she opened to him and invited him in.
It was a fight to keep his head, to remember where they were and what he was doing and that there was no way in hell that he could afford to do anything more than kiss her. His hand tightened around hers, and he kept his right resolutely in the ley line despite the urge to move it to her waist and pull her tighter against him. He counted heartbeats desperately in his head, knowing his was pounding too fast to let him keep any accurate pace. When he reached one hundred, he pulled his hand free of the ley line and his mouth free of hers, the former far easier than the latter.
Then he pushed her away gently and studied her face. Her cheeks were no longer pale, and her eyes were clear. Clear and fathoms deep, flaring pupils darkening them to a shade of pure temptation despite the sunshine.
“Better?” he asked.
She took a shuddering breath, then nodded. “Yes. I think so.” She nodded again, more certainly. “Yes.” She smiled then, the expression rueful. “At least, I have exchanged one problem for another more pleasant.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “And I think we’re back to the point where we need to move away from the ley line. The queen-to-be won’t be pleased if we reveal ourselves before she is ready.”
At the mention of Eloisa, her smile died. It was time to find out exactly what had happened. He climbed to his feet and extended a hand to help her up. She shook her head.
“I think you are correct. Best if we not touch just now,” she murmured as she stood as well. She tugged his jacket from her shoulders and held it out to him. “Thank you. I am quite warm again.”
He took the jacket, looked at it with disfavor. But he really shouldn’t be in shirtsleeves in public with a lady, so he pulled it back on and then nodded toward the bench. “Do you want to walk or sit whilst you tell me what’s going on?”
She studied the bench. “I told you it was nothing.”
“That was not nothing. And I think, unless you were told not to, it would be better if I knew what was going on. I’m going to be your husband, Sophie. It’s my job to protect you.”
“Your job is to serve the queen-to-be,” she said.
“I made vows to her, yes. But I’ll be making vows to you, too. I don’t break my vows.”
Her eyes widened at that, and she nodded. “All right. Let’s walk. This damned dress isn’t comfortable to sit in for long.”
“It’s a very pretty dress,” he said.
She glanced up at him. “Black is not my best color.”
“Perhaps not. Regardless, it is a pretty dress.” It was a simple cut, close to her body in the top half in a way that he appreciated right now. The skirts widened out, hiding her legs and the rest of her shape, but somehow seemed to hint that such things existed beneath the fabric.
Besides which, he suspected that right now he’d like any dress she wore. The only thing he’d like more would be to take her out of one, but that would have to wait. He hoped the damned Domina was doing her job well and would have Eloisa back on her feet as quickly as possible. He was starting to think a prolonged engagement was a very bad idea.
“Let’s walk,” he said before his thoughts could continue much further in that direction. He should offer her his arm, but that didn’t seem exactly wise just now.