A Rivalry of Hearts

Chapter 14

My mouth falls open. William has surprised me a lot this evening, first with his discomfort in the north wing, then with how candidly he’s been speaking to me ever since we stepped onto the balcony. But I never could have anticipated this. “You starred in The Governess and the Rake? The stage play of my book?”

He rubs his brow. “My tale doesn’t have a happy ending, Weenie.”

Oh, right. He’s only telling me this to explain the source of his panic after fleeing the voyeurism room. It takes no small effort to bury my vanity and avoid asking him questions about my play. Was it lovely? Did the audience swoon? What were the costumes like? Instead, I give him an encouraging nod.

“As you can probably guess,” he says, “the lead role included not just a kiss but a sex scene. Multiple, actually. Not true sex in the stage adaptation, of course, but a rather convincing imitation of it. I knew it would be a challenge for me, but I needed that role. I needed a boost to my career and the income that could make a significant dent in our debt. While I may have been a prodigy at university, out in the real world, I was just a dandelion in a vast garden of curated roses. So I was desperate to get the part. And I did. My audition was exquisite, all because it didn’t include a kiss. Yet I knew I couldn’t avoid the love scenes for long. I came to Grayson for advice, and he suggested I participate in the north wing. He thought it would help me get comfortable performing intimate acts before an audience.

“I chose Meredith as my partner. We were old friends from university. I didn’t have feelings for her, but I was, at the very least, attracted to her.”

A prickle of envy jabs me in the chest. Of course he was attracted to her. I saw her myself before he dragged me away. She was tall with pouty pink lips, gorgeous curves, and straight black hair.

William shifts to lean his backside against the railing, arms folded over his chest, eyes distant. “I was so nervous. More than any audition. Any performance. But Meredith did her best to distract me. I managed to initiate a kiss, though I can’t say it was a good one. Not even my attraction to her could make up for my terror at having an audience. We progressed to touching, but I hardly felt like I was inside my body. I must have blundered my way through enough to convince Meredith I was ready for more, for she then proceeded to remove my shirt, then her chemise. As soon as her top was around her waist, I had reached my limit. My head was spinning. I hated the way I felt. Hated what I was doing. And that is when I vomited all over her.”

My mouth falls open. “You…vomited. On her.”

“All over those beautiful breasts of hers.”

I can’t stifle the snort of laughter fast enough. “I’m so sorry.”

He gives me a small smile. “Apparently, I am in no way cut out for public lovemaking.”

Another burst of laughter leaves my lips, but I cover my mouth until I can recover. With my words half trembling with mirth, I ask, “So, then what? You relinquished your role and quit the show?”

“Oh, Ed, my sordid tale has only just begun.”

I find myself leaning closer. “Do tell.”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“A little.”

I expect him to clam up and realize how much he’s divulged, but he still wears that half smile. “Then let me conclude with the worst part yet. No, I did not take the rational route and quit the show. Instead, I powered through every kiss scene as best I could. The director was sorely disappointed in my poor performance, but I promised I would work on it. Then it was time to rehearse the first love scene. And it wasn’t just any rehearsal. Our director invited some of his colleagues to watch, a producer, a casting director, and a talent agent. Big names in the industry, ones you absolutely want to make a great impression on. Can you guess what kind of impression I made?”

My eyes go wide. “Please tell me you didn’t…”

“I, William Haywood, threw up all over the beloved actress Greta Garter.”

“Greta Garter? You were cast opposite Greta Garter?” Even I know of the Faerwyvae-born human actress. Her career is new, but her rise to fame has been astounding. So much so that she’s even left the isle to perform in other countries. The month before I left Bretton, I attended the theater with my family and was delighted by her performance in the lead role. She’s as beautiful as she is talented.

“Not once, Weenie, but twice.”

“Twice?” I’m so mortified and amused that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He nods. “The first time, I tried to play it off like I was unwell. The second time, the director realized I wasn’t cut out for the role. He fired me, but not before lecturing me about my failure to disclose my shortcoming, as he called it, when I was cast. He had every right to be angry. I’d wasted his time and created a production delay while my role was recast. And even though what happened was never made public, word spread behind the scenes. I was never cast in anything but a supporting role again.”

My shoulders fall. “You never performed in my play after all.”

“Oh, I performed,” he says. “The director was kind enough to cast me as Gardener Number Three.”

“I didn’t even write a gardener character in the book.”

“I might as well have been part of the set.”

I’m starting to understand why he’s so determined to make something of his poetry career. His first passion already failed. At least he has a second one. I don’t know what I would do if I ruined my chance at being a writer.

He heaves a sigh and I study his profile, the way the moonlight paints the planes of his face. It’s enough to make me forget just how at odds we are with each other and see him as the beautiful male I first took him for. My initial impression of him changed so fast, from admiration to annoyance in the blink of an eye. While my opinion of him hasn’t completely improved, it has evolved after our conversation. He may be every inch the arrogant asshole he’s proven himself to be, but he’s also this vulnerable, wounded artist that stands before me now. One who followed me up to the north wing because he feared I’d be as uncomfortable here as he is.

Something tender cracks inside my chest.

William’s gaze whips toward mine as if the crack had been audible. He angles his body toward me, posture relaxed. He seems to have recovered from his embarrassing memories and he assesses me through slitted lids. Only inches separate us, but I don’t feel the urge to step away. “I truly am impressed, Weenie.”

I arch a brow. “With what?”

“With your complete lack of fear. It’s reckless, and you’re as stubborn as a weed, but you charge ahead without restraint. You aren’t flustered at all in the north wing. I really was prepared for you to faint at the first sight of a naked body.”

“No, it was lovely! It was like seeing my characters come to life. Studying positions I’ve only ever written about. So badly I wish I’d brought my notebook.”

“Do you always approach sex from such a methodical view?”

I bristle, but there’s no judgment in his tone. My muscles relax as I take in his open expression. “Well, it is my job. Or part of it.”

“Yes, but outside of writing. Do you enjoy physical intimacy? When I first took you out here, you asked if I was feeling too stimulated, but what about you? Does the sight or thought of such acts arouse you? There’s nothing wrong if it doesn’t. I’m just curious.”

I give his question some thought. I realize it must seem strange that everyone else in the north wing was reacting with arousal rather than academic study like me. “I do experience sexual urges if that’s what you’re asking. It’s just easy for me to take myself out of an imagined scenario and look at it from an objective standpoint. When I was studying those couples, I wasn’t imagining myself as part of the act, not even as a viewer. Not until?—”

I swallow my words, horrified at what I was about to confess. It wasn’t until I used William as a prop while trying to replicate that one couple’s position that I entered my imagined scenario. When I met his eyes and saw the placement of my hands, felt the heat of his body, I was fully immersed in the act. My hand in his hair, my fingertips clawed against the base of his scalp, my other palm at his waist, pulsing at the flex of his abdomen, the rise and fall of his chest. I thought my heart was going to explode. Even now, as the memory replays in my mind’s eye, my pulse kicks up.

“Right,” William says, and I fear my every thought is plastered on my face. “You mean the satyr.”

I blink at him. “Oh. Oh, yes! The satyr.” He’s right, of course. The satyr’s proposition pulled me into the scenario too, but it wasn’t nearly as arousing.

“Did I overstep by intervening?”

“No, I appreciate that you did. I wasn’t ready for what he was suggesting. I mean, I want to do those things. For research, of course. I thought maybe I should accept his offer, but…” I shudder.

William leans in and places his forefinger under my chin. I freeze at the touch. He lifts my chin slightly until I lock my eyes with his. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I wanted to?—”

“I’m not talking about logical wants. Don’t do anything that requires convincing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why? Because simply doing something for the sake of doing it is wrong?”

“No, because you’ll like it more if you do it for the sake of pleasure, not study. You have experienced pleasure, haven’t you?”

I swallow hard, but with him still lifting my chin, the motion is jerky. His line of questioning sparks my stubborn side. “Of course I have.”

“With a partner or just alone?”

“I’ve had partners.”

“But have they given you pleasure?”

My chest heaves. Why does the word pleasure sound so erotic coming from him? Why does it make me so lightheaded? “I’ve experienced pleasure, Willy.”

“So alone, then. Do you touch yourself?”

“Sometimes.”

He releases my chin, then stands before me. I shift to the side, but now my back is against the balustrade. He leans closer, then braces his hands on the rail on either side of me. “Have you never craved a partner in place of your fingers? Someone who will set your heart racing and make you weep with ecstasy?”

“Those kinds of partners belong in my books.”

“You don’t think the pleasure you write about is attainable off the page? I think you just haven’t found the right person. Maybe Monty was right. Maybe you just need to learn what you like.”

I can’t form a word in reply, not with him standing so close. Not with his head angled to the side as his eyes drop to my lips. Not with the way he lifts his hand from the railing and alights it upon my collarbone. My breaths grow shallow as he sweeps his fingers to the base of my throat, then lowers his palm until his skin is flush with mine. His touch isn’t belligerent or groping, remaining several inches above my cleavage, but it’s not exactly tame either. Should he raise the position of his hand, he’d be clasping my throat. Should he lower it just enough, he’d be cupping my breast.

And yet…I don’t flinch away. Don’t cower. Logic has fled me. Like when I touched him earlier, I’m now fully immersed in this moment, in every sensation, every breath. My pulse thuds against his palm.

“Ah,” he says, stepping away from me with a wicked smirk on his lips. He tucks his hands in his pockets. “It is possible to get your heart racing.”

I nearly stumble in my efforts to gather my composure. With a huff, I smooth out my dress and pin him with a glare. “You’re clearly feeling much better.”

“I am, thank you.” His eyes crinkle with mirth, but his thank you sounds genuine.

“Well, I’ve had about all I can stand of you,” I say. “Now, do we walk back the way we came, or can you get us out of here without subjecting you to the horrors of the north wing once more?”

“The wing ends here. There’s no other way out but back the way we came.”

“Don’t you have any special fae magic? What kind of fae are you? Do you have wings? Wind magic? Can you float us down to the garden below?”

He snorts a laugh. “I’m not a useful kind of fae in this situation.”

Yet he pointedly avoids telling me what kind of fae he is. If most fae have a seelie and unseelie form, what’s his secondary manifestation? Is he an animal? An element? A spirit? Some legendary creature like a banshee or vampire?

“Come, Weenie,” he says before I can let my curiosity run amok. “Don’t worry about me. We’ll go back the way we came.”

I give him a teasing pout. “Do you need me to hold your hand so you don’t faint, Willy boy?”

“Yes.” His answer wipes the pout off my lips. “But only so we can hurry out of here before you’re dragged away by some virulent satyr, or you stop to gawk at the next pair of blushing nipples.”

I clasp my hands to my chest. “But did you see all those nipples? I didn’t know they came in such lovely shapes and colors.”

He chuckles and takes my hand in his. “You really love your research, don’t you?”

“I do. Oh, speaking of…you never told me what this is.” I extract the glass vial I received when we first arrived at the north wing. I’d tucked it into my bodice until now.

“It’s a tonic,” he explains. “One part contraceptive, one part disease prevention. Anyone who engages in north wing activities with a partner must consume the full contents of the vial.”

My mouth falls open as I assess the vial with new eyes. “Are you serious? This is brilliant! How long does it last?”

“One month.”

I remove the cap with gusto and down the liquid at once. The flavor is sweet yet herbal, with only a slightly bitter aftertaste.

“Really?” William deadpans. “Have you no restraint? I could have been trying to poison you.”

I tuck the empty vial back into my bodice. “Yes, but you can’t lie. Besides, if I’m going to win our bet, I might as well prepare myself. You should too.”

He rolls his eyes but reluctantly retrieves his own vial and downs its contents with far less enthusiasm. “Oh, yes. Our bet.”

Now that I know more about him, I wonder if his reluctance to participate in the bet has anything to do with what he told me. I’m about to ask but stop myself. Our serious mood has ended. He proved that when he teased me about getting my heart racing. So instead, I tease him back. “Now that I know your weakness, Willy, I’m feeling more confident than ever.”

He gives me a simpering smile. “Oh, Ed, did you not listen to a word I said? I can’t kiss someone when I’m not stimulated by attraction. That doesn’t mean I’m not easily attracted.”

But it does, doesn’t it? If he was easily attracted, he wouldn’t have had a problem kissing Greta Garter. I may have only seen her perform once, but I know for a fact that she’s stunning. Hell, I’d kiss her, if only to learn how to write about the feel of such luscious lips. I’d probably do anything she asked, to be honest.

I don’t say any of this out loud though.

I arch a haughty brow. “Then let’s see which of us is the best seducer. I’ve learned some things tonight.” I lift my palm and wiggle my fingertips in an imitation of the first couple we saw. I’m still so impressed with how he worked his lover’s testicles.

“Never make that gesture again,” William says as he grabs my hand and pulls me back into the hall. Apparently he was serious about us holding hands.

I could easily pull away…but I don’t. And as we leave the main room full of its beautifully writhing naked bodies, I find my eyes trail back to William’s face. An amused grin dances over his lips, and I can’t help but admit his smile is the best work of art here.