His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Henry.

But lately, Richard had begun to believe something he had not dared believe before. Perhaps Livia did not want the king anymore.

Perhaps whatever Henry had been to her belonged to a past filled with impossible choices. Perhaps Richard had not stolen her from Henry. Perhaps he had simply stood where she could finally choose him.

The thought warmed him. He had won. Maybe that was why she had not spoken of Henry. Not because she hid longing, but because the man no longer deserved space in the middle of what they were building.

Richard glanced over his shoulder. A few feet behind them, Tabitha sat beneath the shade of an elm. He shifted closer to Livia. "I have missed touching you," he murmured.

Livia’s cheeks turned an instant, beautiful red. She looked as though the sun had chosen her personally.

Richard adored it. He wanted to tease her for it. He wanted to kiss the blush from her skin. He wanted her, rather desperately.

"I have missed you too," Livia whispered.

He leaned closer. "I swear," he whispered, "I am this close to asking the cook whether there is a pudding heavy enough to put Tabitha to a deep sleep."

Livia’s eyes widened, then she bit back a laugh. "Richard."

"I have been deprived of my intended for days. Wars have begun for less."

Richard leaned in until his face hovered close to her neck. The scent of her went straight through him.

Tabitha cleared her throat. Richard groaned. His head dropped forward, his forehead nearly touching Livia’s shoulder.

Livia pressed her lips together, but laughter trembled through her anyway.

Richard turned slowly toward Tabitha. "Please. Just turn around for twenty seconds."

"No."

"Tabitha," he said, with all the desperation of a condemned man asking for one final mercy, "please. Twenty seconds. I beg you."

The older woman sighed. Young people. They were all the same in the beginning. Moon-eyed, restless, tragic over the smallest distance. Give them a few years of marriage, shared rooms, and children crying at dawn, and they would learn that intimacy was not a rare jewel.

It was often an argument over who had taken all the blanket. Still, she was not made of stone. Despite what Richard clearly believed.

"Twenty seconds."

Richard’s face lit up.

"And no foolishness," she added.

"Define foolishness."

She gave him one look.

He held up both hands. "Understood."

With great ceremony, Tabitha adjusted herself on the blanket beneath the elm, turning her back to them.

Richard sent a silent, fervent thanks to every saint, angel, and possibly several pagan gods who had finally decided to favour him.

Then he turned to Livia. Her eyes lifted to his. He pulled her gently into his arms. His hand settled at her back, holding her close as though the past few days of distance had been some private punishment he meant to end.

Then he kissed her. He had missed her with his whole damn body. Livia’s fingers curled into his coat.

She leaned into him. His mouth coaxed and deepened the kiss, his brain counting the seconds until Tabitha would turn back around. Livia had not realised just how much she had missed his touch until she had it again.

One kiss from Richard, one firm hand at her back, and her entire body seemed to forget it had ever known dignity.

His warmth surrounded her. His mouth moved over hers with a hunger that made her fingers tighten helplessly.

"That is quite enough now, Your Grace," Tabitha said. Her voice cut through the fog like a church bell over a battlefield.

Richard tore his mouth from Livia’s with a strangled sound. "Fuck."

Livia lowered her face, smiling despite the heat still blooming in her cheeks. Her lips tingled. Her heart was beating too fast. She ought to have been embarrassed, perhaps. She, unfortunately, felt like laughing.

Richard looked thoroughly wronged by the world.

"It will be over soon," she whispered. "Richard. I will be all yours."

Richard leaned closer again. His voice dropped low. "The moment we are married in France, I am gonna fuck your senses out."

Her blush returned instantly. She bit her lip. "I look forward to it."

His gaze fell to her mouth, and he groaned softly. "My lady," he murmured, "you should not. The things I intend to do after making me suffer this much? The list is quite long."

"You are blaming me?"

"Entirely."

"Why am I the one being punished?" Livia whispered, her smile turning wicked. "Punish Tabitha."

"Oh, I will," Richard said, still looking far too pleased with himself. "She is not getting away with this."

Livia laughed.

He leaned back on one hand, looking out across the lake. "She will be quite frustrated when you cannot get out of bed for days."

Livia glanced at Richard as he stared across the water, his face turned slightly from her. She really did love the man. She loved him.

Bella had no idea what she was talking about. Poor woman was likely still suffering from blood loss.

Livia smiled to herself and reached for another strawberry.

*****

Livia arrived at Whitehall the next day accompanied by her other maid. Tabitha had elected to remain at Kingsmere, a decision Livia suspected had more to do with the fact that Richard would not be present to cause trouble. Without the duke nearby, apparently Livia was considered capable of living without the fear of damaging her reputation.

Her carriage rolled through the gates after the guards inspected the crest and confirmed her name. Whitehall rose around her in its familiar confusion of stone. Livia stepped down carefully, accepting her maid’s hand.

Today, she told herself, she had come for Bella. Only Bella. She would spend some fun time with her, perhaps endure some dramatic complaints and then return to Kingsmere before anyone could drag her into another royal storm.

Once her arrival was announced, Lady Bella was summoned. It took all of ten minutes which, for an injured woman who was supposed to be resting, meant Bella had either ignored every instruction given by her physician or had been waiting fully dressed by the door.

(Brought to you by Missy Dionne 1/2)