The Melody and the Master #3
Desemir slipped his middle finger between her legs, detonating a bright spasm in her.
He wasn’t the only one who had yearnings left to sate.
Siofra shed the last of her insecurities and arched her back, dropping her palms onto his thighs as she ushered in her life as Mistress Trevanion with welcome abandon.
“Siofra. Siofra. Wake up.”
Siofra rolled at the intrusion, nearly toppling off the chaise. Her first thought was how wretched cold she was. She looked down and realized Desemir’s blouse, draped over her, was her only cover.
“Hmm?” She coiled her legs up to preserve warmth. If she kept her eyes closed, she might return to her amazing dream.
“We have to go.”
“Go...” Siofra opened one eye. “Pesha?”
He gripped the wooden arm of the chaise with both hands, but he’d directed his gaze away, avoiding her. “Get dressed. Quickly. Come on.”
She pulled the shirt tight against herself and tried to sit without exposing half her body to him. “Why are you acting like this? Where’s Desemir?”
“Get dressed. Now. Please.”
“All right.” She attempted to keep the shirt in place while she searched for her dress, but she needn’t have bothered. Pesha seemed as if he’d rather gouge his eyes out than look at her.
As soon as she had the dress shrugged on, he tugged her arm, urging her back into the bedchamber. She tripped on the frame of the door on the way in, but he didn’t stop.
“Has something happened?” She struggled to match Pesha’s frenetic pace. “Are we in danger?”
Pesha didn’t answer.
Siofra whipped her gaze across the room as he dragged her out of it. There was no sign of Desemir.
When they reached the hall, he drew her closer, folding her elbow through his as he fell into a more normal pace. “I’m sorry about that. It was necessary.”
In a confused daze, Siofra looked back the way they’d come. “Necessary for what? What’s going on, Pesha?”
Pesha waited until they’d rounded the corner before he spoke. He released her and folded his hands, dipping his chin against the tips of his fingers. “You weren’t supposed to fall asleep.”
“And why would that be?”
“I don’t suppose my brother told you about his nocturnal activities?”
“His... what?” Siofra stepped away from Pesha and crossed her arms in lieu of the robe she’d regrettably left behind in the race to extricate her from the bedchamber. “Nocturnal...”
Pesha forced his hands back to his side. “Dammit, Des.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Look, Siofra.” Pesha stepped closer. He reached out and cupped her shoulders.
“Desemir is... He has trouble sleeping. He’s tried everything...
draughts, meditation, leeches. They don’t work.
Nothing does, except...” His head bowed.
“He calls for women, to be sent to his bed. Most nights. Or the ones he wants to sleep anyway.”
Siofra backed away. “What?”
“He should have told you. He was wrong to not... to leave it to me.” Pesha closed his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to fall asleep in there.”
“He never said a thing!” Siofra cried. She shuffled backward until she hit the wall. “Why would he... He doesn’t need other women anymore. He has me.”
“I’m sorry,” Pesha said. “I am. But this is the man you married, and it won’t be the last of the uncomfortable realizations you make about him.”
“Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he won’t need them tonight.
” Flashes of the evening streamed through her thoughts.
How she’d bent and bowed to his pleasure, taking something for herself, for once.
The ache forming in her chest spread down and outward, blistering, until there was no part of her that could escape it. “Ask him.”
Pesha lowered his eyes back toward his feet. “He’s the one who told me to see you back to your chambers so Wulf could bring them up, Siofra.”
She pressed herself further against the wall, rolling her cheek against the stone with a wince to stay her tears. “I see.”
“Let’s get you back. I have to return.”
Siofra recoiled when he reached for her. She wiped her eyes on her arm.
Fidelity won’t be a requirement of our union. Desemir had explained what he was offering. She’d chosen to not hear it.
Suddenly she understood what Gisela meant about “Desemir’s women.”
“He makes you sit in there and watch, doesn’t he? Like he did with us?”
Pesha flushed. “I didn’t see anything tonight. And he doesn’t make me do anything. It’s a choice.”
“Ahh. Well, so is inviting women who are not his wife up to his bed on his wedding night.”
Pesha nodded with a resigned sigh. “Desemir told you who he was when he made you the offer. If you want to be happy here, you’ll need to learn to make your peace with it.”
The Melody and the Master is a standalone romantic fantasy set in the Kingdom of the White Sea universe.
It is a dark marriage of convenience tale between a young priestess in exile and a reclusive and wounded man, tinged with elements of Beauty and the Beast and Jane Eyre.
You can read the entire story, on any platform, by clicking this link.
For information about all of my books and worlds, navigate here.
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