Chapter 39
Ifeel like an idiot. Not only because I’m sitting on a literal throne being gawked at by strangers—though that certainly has to do with it—but because I can’t stop dwelling on what happened last night. I don William the Poet’s smug grin as I slouch sideways in the gold-plated, velvet-cushioned chair. Inside, I can only think of Edwina. Edwina, whom I haven’t seen all day. Not since she left the recreation room with so much hurt in her eyes.
I haven’t seen Cassie either since she came to see me earlier. She hounded me about Edwina, inquiring about my feelings, the attraction Zane told her about via telegram. I crushed her hopes when I relayed Edwina’s reaction to my confession. Cassie was so crestfallen afterward. Perhaps she decided not to come to the gala after all. I do hope she doesn’t blame herself for what happened between me and Edwina.
That was entirely my fault.
Edwina was right. I should have told her sooner. In fact…maybe I never should have agreed to this arrangement with Cassie. Maybe I’m robbing my sister of the empowerment she’d feel if she kept trying to publish her book on her own. Maybe I’m betraying my fans by presenting someone else’s art.
But the money.
Our debts.
Cassie’s dream.
The ticking clock of her prognosis.
Blooming hell. I don’t know what the right choice was. All I know is that I want to do anything to inspire Edwina’s trust in me again.
“Do I have twenty sapphire rounds?” The auctioneer stands beside my ridiculous throne, calling out bids and encouraging higher ones.
“Twenty,” calls a young man at the center of the crowd.
“Twenty-one,” shouts a woman at the front, her hungry gaze locked on me. I try not to grimace as she licks her lips, though I do hope no one misunderstands the purpose of this date or expects it to be anything but chaste.
“Twenty-two,” says another.
The bids rise higher and higher in rapid succession.
Thirty. Thirty-five. It jumps to forty. Then fifty, with a trio of bidders battling to get the better of each other.
“Fifty-two,” says the woman at the front, her eyes still locked on me as she fans her ample bosom with her dancing card.
“Fifty-three,” her rival shouts.
“Fifty—”
“Two hundred.”
The voice calls out from the very back of the crowd, and my heart lurches as I see the auburn head peek above all the rest.
Edwina.
She’s here.
Our eyes lock across the crowd and I rise from my seat.
I can’t see her fully, but from how she’s grown two heads taller and the way she splays her arms, she must be balancing on a chair. It reminds me of the first day we met, when she stood on a chair to spout awful poetry before getting tangled with me in a bet.
She raises her hand, empty without a bidding number. “Two hundred sapphire rounds,” she shouts, almost breathless. “Did I do it right?”
Silence echoes back as the bidders turn to look at her.
“That’s Edwina Danforth,” someone whispers. “The romance author.”
The woman at the front huffs. “Two hundred and one?—”
“The bet,” Edwina shouts. “I bid the dissolution of our bet.”
I take a step toward the edge of the stage, my mind spinning to comprehend what she’s saying, what she’s doing.
More whispers break out in the crowd, and even the auctioneer looks puzzled.
“What is she talking about?” someone asks.
“Can we bid intangibles?”
Edwina raises her hand again. “My heart.” Her voice cracks on the word. “I bid my heart, Will.”
My breath hitches at the sound of my name. Not my full name. Not my stage name. Just…me.
I race down the stairs at the edge of the stage and make a beeline for her. The crowd parts in gasps and startled exclamations, but I only have eyes for her. Finally, the sea of bodies parts enough to give me a full view. She’s outfitted in that gorgeous fucking dress that I once had my hands beneath, and the way her crooked updo spills loose frizzy tendrils all around her shoulders only enhances her beauty. Because this is a bold and uncaring kind of beauty that eclipses all else.
I stop before her. With the height of the chair, she stands slightly taller. My fingers yearn to touch her, but I don’t dare until I know she wants me to.
Her eyes glaze behind her lenses, and her bottom lip quivers. “I’m sorry I’m so stubborn, Will. You’re right about me. I get so high on my ideals that I judge others for not following them too.”
“You don’t ever have to apologize for being stubborn,” I say, my voice as rough and uneven as hers. “I love that about you.”
Her eyes widen.
“I love you, Edwina, exactly as you are.”
“You love me?”
My mouth curls. “I love you.”
A tear spills over her cheek, and her lips break into the widest, sweetest grin. She reaches for me then, winding her arms around my neck while I wrap mine around her waist. I press my mouth to hers as I lift her off the chair. Our kiss continues as I set her on her feet, neither of us willing to release the other.
“By the way,” she whispers when she finally breaks away for breath, “I love you too.”
I press my forehead to hers. “I figured.”
“I’m sorry I was late.”
“It’s all right, love. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I hate to interrupt.”
Edwina and I separate just enough to find Aubrey standing before us. My muscles tense as I notice every pair of eyes in the crowd is locked on us, some in confusion, others in amusement or awe.
“We are still in an active auction,” Aubrey whispers. “If you didn’t already know, I should inform you it is magically binding. And you, Miss Danforth, just bid your heart. A bid that could get gruesome if the auctioneer interprets it the wrong way. I highly suggest we return to your first bid of two hundred sapphire rounds.”
Edwina and I exchange a horrified look.
“Yes, I agree,” Edwina says.
“Two hundred rounds,” Aubrey shouts to the auctioneer. “Let us return to that.”
The auctioneer nods. “Do I hear two hundred and one?”
I wince, expecting the aggressive bidder near the stage to pipe up again, but only silence echoes back. Well, silence and music and the curious whispers of those around us. No one tries to top Edwina’s bet.
“Sold,” the auctioneer says, “to…the woman in white.”
Edwina purses her lips to hide her amused grin. “Did I just purchase you?”
“A date. You purchased a date.” I smirk. “You already have the rest of me anyway.”
“You’re right,” she says, pulling my lips to hers again. Her breathless tone sends a shiver up my spine. “I already told you you’re mine.”
It takesall my restraint not to drag her out of the ballroom and prop her against a wall in the first empty corner of the hotel I can find. Or better yet, inside the elevator. Or back in our suite on the billiards table. Or any number of the places I want to devour her.
But after Edwina’s tardiness and the stir we caused during my auction, it’s best we stay. This may not be a signing, but it is one of our official tour stops. We have fans who’ve come to see us.
Edwina confesses about where she was this afternoon, which explains where Cassie has been too. My stomach bottoms out when she recounts my sister’s fainting spell, but I manage not to lose my head. It certainly helps that Edwina stayed with Cassie until she was sure my sister was well.
We part ways to chat with our respective readers, and once the gala comes to an end, Edwina and I meet in the lobby to return to our suite together. We take the stairs, which are less crowded than the elevators, stopping to kiss in the stairwell when we’re alone. I manage to slip a hand under her bodice, exploring her beautiful breasts while my cock strains against my trousers. The sound of footsteps on the flight below has me biting back a frustrated groan, and we proceed the rest of the way to our floor.
Once inside our suite, Monty and another woman are already there. The latter is perched on the kitchen island, swinging her stockinged legs over the edge of the counter while she sips ruby liquid from a tumbler. Monty’s elbows are propped on the other side, his cigarillo perched between his lips and filling the common room with a faintly sweet aroma. I’ve never seen Monty with a friend or lover, and the shock at seeing a stranger in our midst cools my ardor.
Then the woman speaks in a familiar voice. “Ah, they’re back.”
My mouth falls open. “Daphne?”
She shrinks down, as if only now realizing why the sight of her might be surprising. “Yeah,” she says, tugging on the short hem of her skirt.
“Did you dance?” Edwina asks as we approach them. She’s not at all surprised by Daphne’s appearance, though it makes sense considering she’s already seen Daphne’s seelie form.
Daphne takes a sip from her cup. “A little.”
“She filled half her dance card,” Monty says, and there’s a strange look on his face when he stares at Daphne. Something soft and open I’ve never seen before. Then he dons a crooked smile. “This little weasel is a terrible dancer.”
Daphne scoffs. “You’re worse than I am.”
Edwina casts a surprised look at Monty. “You danced too?”
“Only once,” he says. “I’m not one for dancing, but one of Daffy’s partners was getting a little too touchy.”
“You didn’t have to crush his shoulder,” Daphne says under her breath. “He thought you were going to murder him.”
“I haven’t a clue what you mean,” Monty says, a humorless grin on his face. He looks much more like his flippant self now.
“Wait, why do you have this?” Edwina lifts something off the counter. It’s a collection of pages that bear her handwriting.
“I won the auction,” Monty says.
“Why?”
Monty takes a drag from his cigarillo. “What do you mean, why? I placed the highest bid.”
Edwina gives him a scathing look that’s betrayed by the humor in her smile. “Yes, but why did you want it? I thought this would go to a dedicated fan of mine.”
“You wound me in suggesting I’m not a dedicated fan. Besides, I thought Daphne would enjoy your drawings. The sexy ones, in particular.” He winks, receiving a growl from Daphne, before he turns his gaze to me. “And what a waste it would be if William never got to see the final page.”
I glance from Monty to the stack of papers in Edwina’s hands, then to my beautiful lover’s face. Her cheeks are flushed, and her smile is suddenly bashful.
“Well, now I’m intrigued.” I reach for the papers and she hands them over with only the slightest hesitation.
“Don’t skip the beginning,” Monty says.
I flip through each page, starting with Fourteen Ways to Die in Faerwyvae: An Illustrated Guide at the beginning. Then a few lewd drawings. After that, I find a page entitled Fourteen Ways to Die in Faerwyvae: Arrogant Poet Edition. Beneath it are several crude illustrations, most of which I can’t make out, though I believe one is supposed to be a glass vial. Next to it is her handwriting: Poison?
I snort a laugh and cast a questioning glance at Edwina. “Death threats?”
“I was drunk,” she explains with a grimace.
I flip through more pages of drawings, then another How To list, this one How to Seduce a Stranger. Several bullet points are listed below, such as Act coy and demure and Cleavage. In the margins, her sloppy scrawl reads I have no idea what I’m doing. More drawings follow, and then I reach the final page. My throat tightens at once.
Fourteen Ways to Fall in Love with Faerwyvae.
Beneath the title are bullet points numbered one through fourteen.
All of which bear my name.
William Haywood.
William Haywood.
William Haywood.
William Haywood.
I set the papers down and face Edwina. “You were going to auction this away without ever showing me?”
She gives me a hesitant grin. “It was the highest value item I could bear to part with.”
It’s so much more than that. This collection of papers is the story of us. From her first arrival in Faerwyvae, to her horrible first impression of me. All the way to the blossoming of love. With several drawings of unattainable sexual positions interspersed between, of course, but I can’t expect to be the only thing to have taken up residence in my strange little lover’s mind the past couple of weeks.
I step closer to Edwina, my eyes locked on hers.
“I appreciate you winning the bid, Monty,” I say without sparing him so much as a glance, “but I’ll have to repay your thoughtfulness by warning you and Daphne to fuck off for a while.”
Edwina looks puzzled at first, but then a sly grin curves her mouth.
“Oh, I know what this is,” Daphne mutters as she hops off the counter, swiping a bottle of cordial on her way.
Monty releases a long-suffering groan. “For fuck’s sake, Daph, we are never sharing a suite with them again for the rest of this tour.”
“Agreed,” Daphne says.
As soon as the common room door closes behind them, my lips crash into Edwina’s. My fingers find the ribbon at the back of her dress, and her bodice falls away. I waste no time tugging the skirt over her hips, then sliding down her undergarments. There’s no slow teasing this time. No waiting. Edwina reaches for my cravat, tugging it loose while I shrug off my jacket, then my waistcoat. In a matter of seconds we’re both naked.
I prop her on the kitchen island, and she falls back, hooking her legs around my hips as I position myself before her. She’s already dripping wet for me, eager and open. I pause with my tip at her entrance, coating my head with her arousal, before I slide into her with a single thrust. I take her there on the counter, over the loose papers, over all the evidence of her love for me. I slam into her until she quivers with release. Then I slide out of her and carry her to my bed, where my kisses turn tender, my pace slower as I lower myself on top of her and enter her once more.
I grasp her hands in mine, pinning them to the mattress as I breathe in the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips. She holds my gaze as I make love to her as slowly as I can, in tandem with the languid rock of her hips, sating her every need with my movements. Only when she tightens her legs around me, her walls squeezing my cock, do I quicken my pace. Her moans rise, mingling with mine as she writhes beneath me. She throws her head back, lips parted, as the sweetest fucking whine I’ve ever heard escapes her throat. She unravels around me, her warm slick heat tightening in her orgasm. My next thrust has me spilling into her, my moan in harmony with her final whimpers. I shudder with the euphoria of our shared climax, a sensation that tears through me like never before. It’s so potent I can barely hold myself up in the wake of my spend.
I lay back with her cradled against my chest, but almost as soon as I close my eyes, I’m aware of a floral scent and something that tickles my neck.
Edwina notices it at the same time, lifting herself halfway and plucking something out of my hair. “Is this…”
I squint at it through the darkness of my unlit room, but it isn’t hard to guess what it is. “A flower petal.”
She lifts a handful of more petals she finds beside my head, then lets them fall.
I look to the side, finding more petals all around us.
Edwina arches a brow. “Will, did you just ejaculate flower petals all over the bed?”
I bark a laugh. “First you ask if it’s poop, now you ask if it’s cum. It’s neither. More like…spontaneous unintentional flower creation. I swear, that doesn’t normally happen.”
She takes another handful and lets them slip through her fingers. “Well, you said the same thing about the three-second handshake I gave your cock, and you were right. You’ve lasted much longer ever since.”
I shift her onto her back again. “You are not supposed to bring that up.”
Her grin turns mischievous. “I said I wanted it on a plaque over my mantle, and I mean it.”
“You’re a vulgar woman.”
Her smile softens. “But you love me anyway.”
“Yes, Edwina,” I whisper, planting a kiss over her temple, then her cheek, then her mouth. “I love you anyway.”