Chapter Eight #2
“As for the rest of you,” he said, “unless you have any further business here, leave the ladies’ solar. You do not belong here.”
Properly rebuked, the three of them departed the solar without another glance to Diara. Once they were gone, their footsteps fading away, Roi finally turned his attention to Diara.
“I do apologize,” he said, smiling weakly. “They were attached to Beckett, particularly Tiberius. I had a feeling they might say something to you.”
Diara shook her head. “They are grieving,” she said. “I know that.”
“You are gracious, my lady.”
“It is simply a matter of understanding why they are asking such questions,” she said. “It is not because they are wicked. It is because they loved your son. I understand that.”
She smiled, and Roi felt himself grow weak in the knees.
Every day that passed saw him drawn more and more to Diara until he couldn’t think of anything else.
It had been a very strange week, burying his son and preparing for a wedding.
Part of him grieved Beckett’s loss on an hourly basis, but part of him was also excited for the coming nuptials to a woman who seemed to occupy his thoughts constantly.
With his mother planning everything, a wedding of vast proportions was coming together at the end of the week.
Cheltenham had been notified and invited, but he had yet to arrive.
He even had yet to respond. But Roi wasn’t going to let that put a damper on things.
He hadn’t been this happy in years.
“Ty and Beckett were very much alike,” he said, moving in her direction. “I know Ty did not mean to be disrespectful, but I could not let him speak to you like that. I hope you understand.”
Diara’s smile grew as he drew closer. “I do,” she said. “But I was not offended. Thank you for coming to my rescue, however. It was quite noble of you.”
Roi reached out and took her hand as he came near, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “I told you that I would defend you to the death,” he said. “I meant it. Even against nosy nephews.”
Diara let herself feel the thrill of his lips against her hand, something she’d been indulging in since he’d done it the first time back at Cicadia.
He never went any further, however, though the pull between them was more than either one of them could bear.
In fact, at this very moment, that magnetism was causing Diara’s breathing to come in unsteady gasps.
She was focused on his soft lips, wondering what they would feel like against hers.
“Roi?” she said softly.
His lips were still against her hand. “What is it, angel?”
“Do you remember when I told you that I’d never been kissed?”
“I do.”
“I am ready for that moment whenever you are.”
He stopped kissing her hand and looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. “I have been ready for quite some time,” he said. “But therein lies the problem.”
“What problem?”
“I am afraid that if I kiss you, I will not be able to stop.”
She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Then you never intend to kiss me?”
He shook his head. “I intend to kiss you several times a day once we are married,” he said. “But it is the same reason why I will not take you in my arms right now. I know that if I do, I will never let you go.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he confirmed. “It would, therefore, be best if we waited until our wedding before I kiss you or hold you. Because once I have you, dear lady, you are mine forever and I will never, ever release you. God himself could not pry you away from me.”
“Then you are concerned for your self-control.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I do not wish to compromise you before I am entitled to do so under the eyes of God. Are you agreeable to wait? It will only be another day.”
Diara wasn’t. Truly, she wasn’t at all. One day wouldn’t make a difference to her because the man made her knees weak and her heart race.
There was nothing about him that didn’t make her entire body feel like jelly, feelings no man had ever given her.
And he wanted to wait? She was positively averse to the idea.
Nay, she didn’t want to wait. Everything in her body screamed for the man.
Even her never-before-kissed lips. They wanted to know what they were missing.
Therefore, her answer was to throw her arms around his neck and slant her lips over his.
Diara had thrown herself at him so hard that Roi grunted with the force of it.
She’d essentially slammed her body against his, and, unprepared, he staggered a little as she latched on to him.
But his surprise was only momentary, for the moment her lips touched his, he was lost as he knew he would be.
Instinct took over.
His arms went around her, holding her against him as he feasted on her. All of the restraint he’d shown in the past few days, fighting off urges that were reawakening deep within himself, were blown to cinders the moment she touched him and he knew that his fears had been immediately confirmed.
He couldn’t let her go.
She was soft and sweet and delicious in his arms. She was also very eager, but it was clear within the first few moments that she was inexperienced.
All she’d ever known in her lifetime had been chaste kisses, from relatives.
She’d never known anything passionate, kisses the way a woman was supposed to kiss a man, so Roi took his time with her.
She was new to this and clearly wanted to learn, so he kissed her gently, suckling her lips, showing her what was pleasurable, and then delighted when she mimicked him.
Introducing his tongue into the mix was something different.
Men and women tasted one another because it enhanced the passion and power of the gesture, so he showed her what it meant to be licked in between kisses, something very gentle and discreet, before prying her lips open and snaking his tongue over hers.
She didn’t pull away, but she was unsure at first. He felt her tense.
But it was for only a brief moment until she realized that she liked it.
Then she couldn’t get enough of him.
Roi was fully prepared to pull her into a corner and ravage her, but he began to hear voices—female voices—and suddenly let her go, pointing in the direction of the sounds, and she quickly understood.
Staggering over to a chair because her knees were so wobbly, Diara nearly fell into it, landing on her bottom, giggling uncontrollably because she was so lightheaded from their encounter.
Roi grinned, putting a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, as he put distance between them.
It was just in time, too, as Dustin and one of her daughters, Christin, entered the solar.
They were followed by two very young girls who happened to be Christin’s granddaughters, children of her eldest son.
“Diara!” Dustin said in surprise. “I thought we’d lost you, lass. Where have you been? Did you find the thread?”
Diara realized she was still holding the spool, and she bolted up from the chair. “I am afraid I was prevented from doing so, my lady,” she said. “When I arrived, three young boys demanded money from me, and it was a standoff until Roi came to my rescue.”
It was then that the women noticed Roi at nearly the other end of the chamber. As the small girls began to run toward the table with the paints on it, as they loved to paint with their grandmother in the sunny chamber, Dustin looked at her second-eldest son with concern.
“Who was it?” she asked unhappily. “Wait—let me guess. Vaughn and James, wasn’t it? They did the same thing to Honey yesterday, and they actually poked her with one of those swords.”
Roi stepped out of the shadows, toward his mothers. “If Rebecca does not do something about those thieves now, she is going to have trouble with them when they grow older,” he said. “But it wasn’t only them. Gallus and Maximus and Tiberius were in here, as well. Ty was rather… rude to Diara.”
Dustin’s eyes widened, and she looked to Diara, who immediately shook her head. “They were not exactly rude,” she assured her quickly. “At least, I did not think so, but Roi’s opinion differs. It is simply a matter of perception, truly. They were… They spoke of…”
“They wanted to know how she could marry me after being betrothed to Beckett,” Roi finished for her. “Really, Mama, they were asking questions that were none of their affair. You had better tell Honey to curb her boys before I do. It would be less painful coming from her.”
Dustin sighed heavily and shook her head. “Ty has been rumbling about that all day,” she said, looking to Diara apologetically. “I did not think he would actually speak to you about it.”
Diara shrugged. “I am sure that he spoke from a place of love for Beckett,” she said. “I sense that he somehow views me still as Beckett’s property.”
“It is none of his affair,” Christin stepped in, eyeing her mother. “Ty has a loose tongue. Roi, I do not blame you if you take him to task over this. And what was he doing in the ladies’ solar, anyway? This is not a place for him. It must have made Diara feel terribly uncomfortable.”
Diara looked at the eldest de Lohr sibling, a beautiful woman with dark hair and her mother’s gray eyes.
Her husband, Alexander de Sherrington, had been Christopher’s right-hand man for many years, a man of great reputation and talent.
Sherry, as he was called, was in the north with two of their sons, trying to broker some kind of peace treaty for Henry between two warring barons, leaving his wife and remaining children and grandchildren at Lioncross.
Truth be told, Christin was firm, unapologetic, and had a strong way about her.
She was no shrinking violet, a strong woman for an equally strong man.
Diara smiled at her when their eyes met.