Page 9 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

“Not here,” I say, my gaze fixed to Rian in the ring again.

He’s getting ready to saddle the mare, running his hands down her legs.

I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my own limbs, already craving it again.

“I can’t stand to … be paraded around potential suitors …

like the perfect prin cess you all want me, need me, to be, with this energy constantly writhing under my feet. Not here.”

“No one expects —”

“Not here, Anne.” I know exactly what is expected of me, mostly from my father. And everyone else in my life usually falls in line with my father. Even Armin did.

Anne swallows her counterargument. Silence hangs between us as she takes another sip of the coffee, and I gaze out the window, as if I’m anchoring myself in Rian as he works with his new breeding stock.

There’s a kind of irony embedded in that view — in that I’m about to be presented as prized breeding stock as well — but I ignore it.

“No,” Anne finally but firmly agrees. “Not here. You never did like it here. Neither did Armin.” She turns her attention back to Rian, glancing between us a few times before saying, “A good addition to the list.”

“Only if you want to ruin his life.” I straighten, stepping away from the window and begrudgingly reaching for my clothing.

Anne chuckles under her breath, outright stealing my coffee as she leaves me alone to dress.

I in turn steal the long-sleeved shirt Rian wore the previous night, hiding it under my sweater. About to be auctioned off to the highest bidder or not, apparently I’m a possessive brat.

And smug about it.

That’s new.

In the center of the training ring, Rian twists to look over his shoulder as I push through the stable door. He instantly hands off the reins of the pretty chestnut thoroughbred mare to one of the junior trainers. A woman with light-brown hair, a slim figure, and long legs.

I ignore that the trainer’s face momentarily crumples at the sight of me. Or maybe at the sight of Rian’s reaction to my presence. His other lovers, past or present, aren’t my business.

The duty Anne has wandered all the way down from the castle to remind me of makes that point, along with the other boundaries that define any relationship he and I might be able to have, exceedingly clear.

Rian sets one hand on top of the railing and smoothly jumps the high fence that encircles the ring. His effortless display of strength and agility reminds me how easily he handled me last night. Hauling me off Perseus, moving me exactly where he wanted me over him … under him … beside him …

Excepting my unfortunately disproportional breast size, I’m not in any way petite.

Desire flashes through me as Rian’s gaze fixes on me. I can feel my neck and face warming, as if I’m a fucking virgin stumbling from her marriage bed.

I’m not.

I’m also, even eight years his senior, no way near as experienced as Rian.

I know that in how he knew exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.

And he got me there with the same effortless ease with which he vaulted the fence, when …

well, usually it takes closer to an hour than minutes for me to orgasm.

Though I don’t falter or slow, Rian doesn’t wait for me to come to him. He also, unfortunately, keeps a respectable two meters between us when we do meet in the yard.

Then he fucking bows.

Like his cock wasn’t just in me less than four hours ago.

As if I hadn’t sobbed my need, then my pleasure, against his neck.

Multiple times. As if he hadn’t pinned me against the bed and fucked me hard and fast. As if he hadn’t taken what he needed before I was even fully awake. Dominating even as he adored me.

A flush of desire spreads across my chest and up my neck.

An answering grin, deliciously self-satisfied, stretches across Rian’s face, though he instantly casts his gaze downward as he attempts to quash it.

I laugh quietly, wishing he would step closer but respecting his space, his clear choice. Even though there’s not a single member of the staff nor any of the trainers still moving around us, all doing their jobs, who thinks I slept anywhere but in his bed last night.

Or that I’ve now been collected from said bed by a parental figure.

Anne is waiting off to one side, admiring one of the younglings and most definitely eavesdropping.

“What list?” Rian asks casually, instantly snapping me out of the gently heated comfort simmering once more between us. His question confirms just how acute his shifter hearing is. He’s picked up that bit of info from my conversation with Anne through the open window.

I look away and up, toward the castle looming on the cliff, mulling over a half-formed thought about that effortless connection between the two of us.

I’d thought it was him, his inherent essence. But maybe it’s me. Or also me?

“Is that an out-of-bounds question?” His tone is still intimately pitched, but not so casual now.

“Nothing is out of bounds between us,” I murmur. Shifting my focus back to Rian, I squint as I realize that the day is actually too bright for …

Fucking Anne wags something at me, then hands it to the nearest staff member and nods toward me.

I wait, silent and stiff backed, as a stablehand jogs over, desperately trying not to smile as she offers me the black designer shades Anne was carrying — one of my favorite vintage pairs.

The stablehand is tall and leggy in her informal uniform of black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt with the Waterfell logo discreetly embroidered on the collar.

Likely in her late teens, she’s dark-skinned with smooth cheeks and bright brown eyes.

I realize that the glasses mean Anne’s been in my rooms, likely looking for me before tracking me to the stables. I’m fairly certain I left the glasses on the writing desk, along with my phone.

I plaster on one of my politely detached smiles and offer the impromptu courier a murmured, “Thank you.”

The stablehand bobs her head, then stumbles over her feet as she attempts to head into the stables without turning her back on me.

I slip the dark-tinted glasses on. The tension that was slowly threading through my temples as my light-sensitive eyes tried to compensate for the bright midmorning sun instantly eases.

Rian is frowning. It’s subtle, but something about the interaction has bothered him.

The girl’s deference? I can’t do anything about that.

In fact, I’m not allowed to do anything about that— for the same reason neither of us has closed the two meters of space between us.

For the same reason his hands are clasped behind his back and his shoulders are angled slightly away from me.

I clear my throat.

A softer smile settles over his face. “You were saying?”

“My father is auctioning me off to the highest bidder,” I say, more sour than playful. “That’s what I’m good for … breeding.”

Tension runs through his jaw, and he actually pauses to absorb … something. Presumably the breeding comment. Then he nods, offering another of his easy grins. “And I don’t have the right pedigree to be included on the invitation list.”

I can’t figure out if he’s joking.

But before I can offer any sort of placation, his grin widens. “Prodigy before the age of twelve,” he says. “My pick of stables to run. And now one year into a ten-year breeding program that will make me a multimillionaire. Independent of what I earn from or generate for your father.”

“Exactly,” I say perkily, though my feet feel leaden suddenly. As if some of the ease he’s fucked into me is fading. “You don’t need me and my shitty duties derailing you.”

He frowns, opening his mouth again.

I break the two-meter barrier between us, stepping close enough to touch his arm — luxuriating in his strength and warmth for the too-brief moment that it filters from his skin through his shirt to me.

Then I lean in and whisper against his neck, just under his ear, mindful of his sensitive hearing, “Thanks for the great fuck.”

An almost imperceptible shudder runs through him. Almost more a shift in his essence, like I felt the night before. And as then, I normally take care to make certain I’m not sensitive to such things.

He turns his head just enough that his lips brush my temple, keeping his hands clasped behind his back.

Both of us are exceedingly aware of Anne and his staff openly watching us.

“It was three fucks by my count.”

“Well, your youth has to come with some benefits.”

He huffs out a laugh. Involuntarily, I think. “Any time.”

I pull slightly away so I can stare him directly in the eyes. Though I doubt he can see much of my purple-hued gaze through my tinted sunglasses, he still doesn’t flinch. As he hadn’t flinched last night, not even when he apparently noticed those eyes glowing. “Yes?”

“Please,” he murmurs. His own gaze drops to my mouth before flicking up to meet my eyes through my glasses again.

Another sliver of desire runs through me. Sparking between my legs, then rushing upward to flush across my chest, tightening my nipples. The echo of how many times ‘please’ and ‘yes’ had been exchanged between us last night runs through my mind. Last night and through to the early morning.

Somehow, I find the fortitude to walk away.

Though it takes me a few steps under Rian’s heated gaze before I can actually turn my back on him and will myself to walk toward Anne, toward my duty, instead of dragging him back to his rooms.