Chapter XXXVI

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Westminster Palace

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Westminster Palace

Charlotte took George's offered hand and his support to dismount her horse, locking eyes with Edward as she did so.

"Welcome to court," Edward said coldly as he welcomed them, as they fell into bows and curtsies. "Warwick. George. The prodigals return."

Edward surprised them all by hugging both his brother and her father.

Releasing her father, he walked over to her and tilted her chin up, indicating for her to rise and to follow. Without looking back, she went after him, giggling as he pulled her against him when they were no longer in sight.

She savored his lips and his familiar taste once again as he kissed her, hands roaming her body, molding it like he had done so many times before.

Seeing his chance, Edward grabbed one of her legs with his hand and lifted it, his hand grazing up and down its soft flesh as they crashed into the wall of the abandoned hallway, their tongues beginning to duel for control over their mouths.

Charlotte began to rub herself against him, her hands rapidly finding and starting to unlace his breeches. She wrapped the leg in Edward's hand around his back, pulling them even closer.

Pausing her attempts to free his throbbing member, Charlotte grabbed his hand and pushed it towards her core, the heat from her small-clothes warming his fingers.

Even as this occurred, their mouths did not relent. The kisses were sloppy and more tongue than lip, but neither one of them wanted to disengage first. Their pent up passion, lust and sexual energy was finally being released and they had no intention to stop if they could help it.

Yet one of them must eventually breathe – and so Edward broke the kiss, strands of spit hanging from their lips as they both gasped for air.

Neither he nor Charlotte took their eyes away, simply staring with open mouths, Charlotte's breathing becoming ragged as she leant against his chest, taking comfort in the warmth as she had done so many times before.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Elizabeth pushed past the Nevilles as she left her room in a fury, headed for the Great Hall.

How dare she? How dare that woman call the butchering of her father and brother the "fortunes of war"? It was murder!

She was shocked when she entered the hall. First, at the festivities and then at the fact that they stopped once they noticed her. Had she truly been so unpleasant to be around these past few weeks? Could people not understand and respect grief anymore?

Silently, she walked across the room, declining Anthony's invitation to dance and allowing Richard's voice to fade into the background, taking her place in her throne next to her mother.

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