His Hidden Desire (18+)

Chapter 11

"...I look forward to working with you, my Lady."

It was as though his gaze oozed a slimy film, a noxious residue that seemed to cling wherever he stared.

Swallowing her discomfort, Danaë fell back on her training and held out her hand with cool courtesy, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Godric."

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Pressing her hand to his lips, he lingered, letting his hot breath moisten her skin.

Danaë fought to conceal her revulsion, pulling her hand out of his grasp the instant she felt him release it.

By the look in his eyes, he knew he was making her uneasy.

And he liked it.

"...Baroness?"

The sound of her alias broke Danaë out of her thoughts.

Looking toward Cenric, it became clear that he'd just asked a question and was awaiting her answer.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty?"

"I asked if you wouldn't mind Godric joining us for dinner?"

Assuming a mask of perfect cordiality, Danaë nodded, "As you wish, your Majesty."

In the Great Hall, servants led them up to the high table, Cenric at the center, Godric at his left and Danaë to his right.

As she took her seat, Danaë's eyes surveyed the room, taking in the assembly, a multitude ranging from the lords of Cenric's council down to lowly castle laborers.

And, as the servants brought forth the food and drink, Danaë noticed the sly glances coming her way from all corners of the room.

Trying to cover her nerves by picking up her goblet, Danaë took a sip of the dark wine.

They know...

The thought brought a flood of shame coursing through her, and she struggled to swallow.

Cenric seemed immersed in his conversation, not quite hearing the whispers and the snickers that sounded so deafening to her ears.

What did you expect?

Danaë froze – the voice that resounded in her mind was not her own, but her mother's, a snippet of memory so vivid that it almost seemed real.

And, truly, what did she expect?

Even if these people knew nothing of what happened last night, the rest of the story must have spread quickly. After all, the girl who had arrived yesterday in rags was now sleeping in the king's bed.

Danaë stared at the food before her, a sumptuous feast compared to the fare she'd had on the road. The rich aromas should have made her mouth water, but the hefty weight of dozens of judgmental stares stole her appetite.

Picking at the bounty on her plate, Danaë silently prayed for the ordeal to end.

After the last course was finished, servants cleared the tables away to make room for a troupe of actors who had, apparently, taken up temporary residence in the castle.

The night's entertainment, a bawdy farce, had the groundlings and the courtiers alike howling with laughter.

Danaë found herself enjoying it for an entirely different reason: it took the focus away from her.

Slowly, as she sipped at her wine, she felt herself relaxing

And then Cenric lifted his hand, beckoning for the servant who was waiting behind them.

Leaning over, Cenric whispered, loud enough for Danaë to hear, "We'll be retiring soon – I want a bath ready for us in my chambers."

Danaë's breath caught.

Us?

A slight movement in her periphery caught her eye, and glancing over, she saw Godric raise his cup to her and wink.

Riveting her stare back on the players, Danaë felt her spine go ramrod straight.

As the servant stepped away, a warm hand touched hers, startling her.

Looking over, Danaë saw Cenric's thumb slowly brushing over her knuckles.

Her trembling knuckles...

Picking her hand up, he threaded his fingers through hers, bringing it to his lips for a soft, soothing kiss.

Holding on, Danaë focused on the players, focused on the scene, focused on anything but the reality that she and Cenric were going to share a bath together, while the entire Great Hall knew about it.

Then she felt Cenric stand beside her.

As he rose, the players stopped their farce, and all attention was on him.

Pausing to acknowledge his audience, Cenric said simply, "Please, continue."

And he held his hand out to Danaë.

If anyone didn't know what we were about to do before this...

She stood, already sensing the condemnation and ridicule that would be spread in her absence.

And, as she smoothed out her skirts, she felt the dried evidence of their interlude in the library on her stomach.

Her hand halted, and she looked up.

"...you'll remember who you belong to."

Cenric's words flooded her mind as his eyes bore into hers.

I'm his.

Taking his hand, Danaë let him lead her into the torchlit halls of the castle.