-Chapter Two-
I yawned as the carriage moved over the hills of Millfields. I hadn't slept the night before, and I was sure it showed on my face. I ran a finger under each of my eyes, as if it would smooth the dark circles away. My lady in waiting had assured me that I did not look tired, but my lady in waiting knew better than to insult a cranky hero. I saw Reaver's mansion drawing closer, and I sighed. He had sent word that he wished to have an early lunch, so I had been rushed out into the cold a fair bit sooner than I had originally intended.
The taint of The Darkness had subsided just in time for winter to take hold and put its frosty bite into the air. I had worn black again because its simplicity suited my mood. I was dressed a bit formally for lunch. The dress was draped off of my pale shoulders, the neckline and edges of the loose, flowing sleeves trimmed in dark opal stones. knowing Reaver, he would also be suited formally. He did seem to love putting on airs and having an excuse to don an obtuse piece of fashion, setting trends among the nobles as he went along. I remember the first time he wore his stove-top hat to court, he was the only man in the room with one. The very next week, there were black top-hats on the heads of nearly every dapper gentleman in Bowerstone, though none dared to surpass Reaver's in size. I was sure he wouldn't have that, at all.
I ran my fingers through my hair, which I'd worn merely pulled out of my face, the wavy tendrils flowing freely down my back. Gazing out the window, I saw that we were upon Bower Lake, which I had chosen to preserve, looked dark and bleak with no sun in the sky to light its waters. The grayness of the sky most likely meant that we'd be showered with rain some time during the day, and I dreaded it. I could only hope the rain would come once I was in the comfort of my home. Though I'd already had a speedy bath in the early morning hours, I longed to revel in the luxury of a long hot bath. The thought of it brought on a wave of near-contentment.
The carriage came to a halt, and the door was promptly opened by one of Reaver's servants. He had dirty blonde hair, and timid bronze eyes that dare not look directly at me. His face was handsome and free of hair, but he couldn't have been older than eighteen. He assisted me from the carriage, his hands careful and respectful with no pinching or prodding. This replacement seemed like a huge step-up from 'Bawwy Hatch.'
"Y-y-your Majesty," He stuttered, bowing as I touched the ground. "Master R-reaver is expecting you." I couldn't quite tell if he had a genuine stammer or if he was fearful or overwhelmed. Perhaps a bit of both.
"Thank you...?" I trailed off, asking his name as I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Murphy, Your Majesty," He managed to speak clearly as he motioned toward the door, where Reaver now stood, waiting to receive me. He was dressed in one of his favorite white suits, as I recalled that he'd worn it to court more than once. The season had finally become more accommodating for such warm clothing.
Murphy trailed behind me as I took to the stairs, and I felt a rough tug on the back of my dress where his feet tread. I stumbled forward, but Reaver was at my side in a flash, catching me and setting me back to rights. He strode around me, and he gripped his servant firmly by the arm, and he led him to the door, a murderous glint in his eyes. The boy yelped, and he hurried into the mansion.
When he returned his attention to me, he exhaled and rolled his eyes. "I am terribly sorry, Your Majesty. I simply do not know what to do with him." He ushered me into this house, his hand barely ghosting over the small of my back.
"He's just a boy," I offered in Murphy's defense, offering him a soft, forgiving look. "And my dress does trail a good bit in the back."
"If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty. I must have a word with my boy, here," Reaver said, giving Murphy a deliberate stare. Before I could object, the pair strode off into a room to the left, closing the door tightly behind them.
I sighed, fearing for the boy, but what could I say? I was a guest in Reaver's home, and he was free to treat his paid subordinates as he wished. As I glanced around the foyer, I noticed that his mansion was in a far more tidy state than it had been on my first and only other visit. The décor was elegant and tasteful, though the over-abundance of portraits of the owner was slightly unnerving. His eyes seemed to watch me wherever I went, and I nearly jumped when my pair of guards filed into the house behind me.
Reaver reappeared from the study with Murphy in tow. Murphy was red-faced and trembling, but he stepped forward, bowing deeply and saying, "I am v-very sorry, Your Majesty."
"And?" Reaver asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he scrutinized every detail of Murphy's apology, perhaps even judging him on posture.
"I b-b-b-beg your forgiven-ness," He said, his eyes fixed on the floor.
One of my guards snorted with laughter, and I whipped around giving him a scolding glare. He swallowed his laughter hastily and straightened up, looking a fair bit more focused.
"Very good," Reaver said dismissively. He waved the boy on, and Murphy backed to the far edge of the room, still in a bow. He returned his eyes to me, and he took a few steps, circling me, looking at me from every angle. "Wearing black again, Your Majesty. People will start to assume your tastes have taken a turn toward the macabre."
"Wearing a color twice does not confirm a taste in the macabre," I quipped, glancing up and down. "You've worn that suit a lot, Reaver. I wonder what people think about you."
"So I see you take as much of an interest in my wardrobe as I have in yours." He shed his coat, and he held it out, letting the fabric slip gradually through his fingers.
Murphy sped from his corner, able to catch the pristine coat before it hit the floor. He breathed a sigh of relief and retreated to stow it.
"You torture that boy," I said, tutting softly.
"That boy was starving and homeless before I took him on," Reaver said, turning around and leading me in the direction of the dining room. Without his coat, I could truly see just how perfectly crafted his trousers were. They clung to him in ways that didn't seem possible for a tailored garment, and they accentuated everything.
I tore my attention away from his trousers and all they contained, and I saw Murphy enter the room once more, stumbling over his feet. He stole a glance at me, but tore it away when he saw that I was looking at him. He twiddled his thumbs, and he tried to look anywhere but at me or Reaver. What did Reaver do to this poor boy to strike such obedient fear into him?
The dining room was large, but it was fitted with a small, intimate table. As Reaver neared the table, he pulled out the first chair for me, and I sat down, thanking him quietly. It wasn't that I hadn't expected such manners from him, I just didn't expect him to exercise them when there was no one to observe or give him a pat on the head.
Reaver took his seat, and a curvaceous woman packed into clothing that was almost too tight came forward to fill our bowls from the tureen of hot soup. She leaned generously across Reaver's field of vision as she served him, but he looked right through her, not particularly interested in giving this particular tart any of his interest. He instead struck up conversation with me, his eyes finding mine over the curve of her generous breasts. "I've been curious about your eyes, Your Majesty," Reaver said.
"My eyes?" I asked, blinking softly.
"They are blue," He said. "I seem to remember thinking to myself years ago that you and Logan did not look at all like siblings except for your matching brown eyes."
My eyes had, indeed, changed color in the time since my Heroic abilities had been unlocked. With every Will spell I cast, my body changed ever so slightly. My eyes lightened to a striking shade of blue. I had pale intricate designs of permanent marks that were beginning to blossom across the core of my body. I would only assume that after more usage of Will, they would eventually spread to my face and limbs. "I suppose it must have something to do with being a Hero."
He kept his eyes on mine, our view finally completely unobstructed as the woman finished her job, looking slightly disappointed that she didn't receive the attention she so desperately worked to attain. "No matter the reason, they are a shade that undoubtedly makes the sky groan with envy." By some magical coincidence, thunder rumbled in the distance, and Reaver looked positively tickled. He laughed as he drew deeply from his glass of wine.
A soft smile spread across my mouth at the timing. I avoided the glass of wine that had been poured for me to reach for a glass of water. I sipped lightly at it, noticing a faint hint of lemon flavor clinging to my taste buds. It was refreshing, but the smell of the soup was becoming increasingly tempting as it sat beneath my nose. I took a spoonful and the taste was divine. Even the cook at the palace had never been able to coax such flavor out of onion soup. I looked up to see that Reaver, too, had tucked into his own bowl.
Feeling that this was becoming less and less of a luncheon scheduled strictly for business, I adjusted my posture, and the expression on my face to reflect the task at hand. "So, Reaver, you have this opportunity to discuss business with me, and you use the time to reflect on the color of my eyes," I pointed out.
"Oh, Your Majesty, you and I both know that you will not be handing Bowerstone Industrial to that girl no matter how many signatures she gathers on that pathetic piece of parchment," Reaver said, gesturing vaguely.
"And what leads you to draw that conclusion?" I asked steadily. Why had he assumed that I would just pass over the issue so easily?
"I may be considered what one would call a 'despicable' man, but I know my job. No one would be able to maneuver the intricate channels of the machine that is Bowerstone Industrial like I do. It takes a manipulative mind to run business as smoothly as I can." He smirked. "And it runs beautifully under my authority. It always has, but if I were given some sort of incentive to skew the direction of its profit in the favor of the people-" He used those words with no intention to mask his disdain. "-they may be more willing to see things for what they are."
"And what are they, Reaver?" I was almost enthralled in the passion with which he spoke. He truly did enjoy doing what he did, and he was willing to fight for it, surely.
"I am Bowerstone Industrial," He said, his fingers running idly around the rim of his wineglass. "Without me it would crumble, ma chérie, and that is a fact."
"What sort of incentive were you hoping to recieve?" I asked, taking another small gulp of water. I could only hope it wasn't gold because the treasury did not have much of that to spare.
"Now, use your imagination, Your Majesty," He said, his voice dropping into a seductive tone. His tempting lips turned upward into a smile. "What do you think an avidly devoted subject truly deserves of a Queen?" He brought a hand up to his face, a finger idly stroking his chin, bringing my attention to his mouth.
My stomach knotted, and I felt an uneasy heat spread through me. His gaze was stifling, and I broke away from it, trying my best to overthrow the thoughts of Reaver's mouth and how it might feel against mine. I took a generous gulp of my water, and I cleared my throat. "I am not sure, Reaver."
"Did you know that I have been a faithful servant to the crown through the rein of two monarchs, now?" He asked, knowing the answer already. Of course I was aware, but I wondered what his point was. "I had been led to believe that such loyalty was often rewarded."
"Reaver, if you want something, ask for it," I told him bluntly, growing slightly impatient with the way he tiptoed around the point.
"Is it truly that simple, My Queen?" He questioned, his dark eyes filling with a spark of a curious light. He tilted his head to the side, and he sighed. "My, my, if I had known, I would have asked for many things much sooner." His hand slid across the table, and it covered mine, trapping it there beneath its strength and heat.
"Reaver-"
"I am a businessman," Reaver told me. "I have worked for more years than you can imagine to reach this level of comfort, but I am lacking something...something substantial." His face lit up as he spoke, and he leaned in, his fingers gripping mine tightly.
I was unsettled once more, and I tried to focus my eyes on anything but his. My heart had taken up residence in my throat, and I found that I was sinking backward into my chair, trying to put more distance between us.
"I think a proper title and the lands to go with it would be a sufficient reward for navigating the salty waters of indrusty, hmmm?" Reaver asked. "That is within your power to grant, is it not?"
"It is," I said with a nod. "With proper provocation."
"Ah," He said. "I was afraid you might say something like that." He snorted with laughter, and his hand squeezed mine before he drew it away. "I suppose that putting up with your benevolence is not reason enough to be elevated to a higher station, is it?"
My mouth tightened, and I pushed my mostly-empty bowl away. As the busty woman came forward to clear our plates, Reaver's eyes continued to bore into me.
"I have attempted to make your transition into your reign as easy as possible," Reaver informed me. "I have built your silly schools. I have ended the child labor that was keeping the economy thriving effortlessly. I have raised the minimum paid wage to nearly double what it had been, yet you are unsatisfied." He heaved a sigh, and he shook his head. "I do not know what to do to please you, Your Majesty. What can I do to prove that I have paid my due to Albion?" His bottom lip poked out slightly as he tried to look as dejected as possible.
The thought of giving him a title and the lands and power to go with it was frightening. What would he do with such power? Would he exert it for his own selfish needs? Undoubtedly, but to what extent? I folded my hands in my lap when a plate of piping-hot meat and potatoes was set before me. I nodded in thanks to the voluptuous servant, and I considered my options. If I denied this to Reaver there was no telling what he would do. He could collapse Bowerstone's economy in mere weeks if he so wished it. He held so much power already, so perhaps giving him a title and satiating his ego wouldn't be too terrible.
"The gears are turning, I see," He said, picking up his fork and knife to cut his meat. "Let me know if you suspect a sudden mental combustion."
"The fact that I am giving it thought is a great favor to you," I told him, my anger flaring. "I could very well have denied you and been done with it as soon as you broached the topic."
He inclined his head in a nod of acknowledgement. He took a bite of his meat, silently waiting for my decision.
"I will grant you the title of Marquess of Brightwall if you show me a kindness," I said.
"I will gladly show you any kindness you require," his voice was low and seductive.
"I would like for you to place Page in charge of worker relations," I said. "It would give her a job of importance, and it may create a better environment for your workers." Hopefully, it would also show Page that I was no longer her stepping stone to whatever she wanted while satiating her need to make a difference in Industrial.
He sighed, his eyes rolling, but he nodded slowly.
"And maybe it would give you a chance to improve your reputation," I said. "If I let you loose on the people of Brightwall, it might be best that they don't think you're going to turn their villiage into a group of brothels and game-houses."
"Oh? That is out of the question, then?" He asked almost playfully. "Though, I must ask...Marquess of Brightwall? Are you truly trying to place me as far away from Industrial as you possibly can? I believe Millfields would be much better suited por moi."
"There is already a Duke of Millfields," I told him. He was an old, rather cranky old man named Timothy Goulding, but he had been bestowed with the title by my mother many years ago for his great assistance in bringing Albion back to order. "I cannot just take the title away from him and give it to you. Not to mention that raising a commoner to the position of Duke is simply unheard-"
"Was your mother not a commoner? She spent her early years begging in the streets, if my memory of history serves. That leach Goulding was a commoner before your mother granted him his title and lands."
"He did a great service to this nation," I told him, reaching for my glass once more.
"And what was that, dear? He lined your mother's empty pockets with gold?" He raised his fork back to his mouth.
I stood suddenly, my Will activating with my anger. The glass shattered between the strength of my fingers. Water and glass scattered across my meal. "You are not to speak of my mother-"
"It was not meant as an insult," He said dabbing his mouth with his napkin and setting it back in his lap. He drained his glass of the rest of his wine. "As you well know, wars and revolutions cost gold. She did was she had to, as you did."
I glanced around to see that the servants and guards were avoiding my gaze, obviously fearful of my short-tempered demonstration of power. I stepped back and a few of the servants were running forward to clean up the splinters of bloodied glass and the puddle of water. I could feel my face reddening with embarassment. "I'm sorry," I breathed quietly, looking to my hand to see that the wounds were merely scrapes that were already knitting back together.
"It is forgiven. I do so love a woman who is a little hot-blooded," He remarked, laughter touching his eyes. He took his napkin from his lap and laid it across his plate.
"Perhaps I should be leaving soon," I said, but when I looked out the window, I saw that the sky had basically opened up. The rain was torriential and lightning lit up the area around Reaver's mansion.
His attention followed mine, and he tutted. "Well, it seems that you will not be going anywhere, Your Majesty. I cannot allow you to travel in such abismal conditions. You will simply have to stay here as my guest."
"Reaver, I am not sure if that would be appropriate, and-"
"I insist," He said as he rose from his seat, and he nodded toward a door on the other side of the room. He fearlessly grabbed my arm, entwining it with his, and he escorted me personally into his sitting room. His embrace didn't repulse me My guards spilled in after us, and Reaver sat me on a plush blood red sofa, taking a seat a respectful distance away. "Now, I will see to it that you are returned safely home once the weather has become a little more forgiving. Perhaps you could send one of your guards by horseback to deliver word that you will be spending a night or so here with me to forego nature's cruelty."
"I am perfectly capable of returning home without subjecting myself to the elements," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Taking lunch with Reaver had been a large step out of my level of comfort, but to stay the night with him...The thought was overwhelming. I couldn't compromise myself around him, for I knew I was in a state to be easily shaken, especially now.
"So be it," Reaver said, his lips tighetening softly. He was obviously displeased, but he cleared his throat, and he glanced about, as if trying to recall what we had been talking about before the conversation got completely derailed.
"Goulding," I said, reminding him flatly.
"Ah, well," Reaver sighed. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss such matters in front of those I do not personally trust." He glanced deliberately to my guards.
They snapped to attention, taking his suggestion of dismissal as a threat. When I waved them off, silently assuring them that I was fine without them, they left quickly. The door creaked as it closed once more.
I raised my eyebrows to Reaver. "Satisfied?"
"If it is my satisfaction that you want, then I suggest you scoot a little closer, My Queen." He closed the distance between us, instead of waiting for me. "Are you cold, Your Majesty? You are shaking like a leaf, my dear." He slipped an arm around me, and he loomed in closer, his mouth moving toward my ear. "I know a good many ways that I could warm you." His hand trailed up the bodice, caressing my ribs, and I suddenly regretting opting out of wearing a corset to save my bruised ribs the agony. His touch was light enough to sent a tingle down my spine, but forceful enough to send a rush of heat to my core. "Now, where were we?"
Air caught in my throat, and I felt my inside jolt at the deep, erotic tone of his voice. I could feel my blood pulsing hot within my veins, and I chewed the inside of my lip. I gathered myself quickly before straightening my spine. "We were discussing Goulding, Reaver." I removed his hand from my body just as it crept up toward my bust. "And then I was leaving."
"Oh, Your Majesty, you certainly know how to spoil the moment," He sighed.
I simply crossed my arms over my chest.
"It may shock you to find out that he has been slandering you shamlessly since you have taken the throne," Reaver said. "I never mentioned it because I had never hoped to have this sort of rapport with you." He'd never hoped that I would take and value his opinion, he probably meant. Another crack of thunder resonated through Millfields, and he briefly turned his attention to the window. "Such a vicious tongue should be reined in. He has no children, no prospects other than his gold, which nowhere compares to my own wealth, and he has no respect for you, My Queen. He's called you names that even I find distasteful."
"You are one to speak of vicious tongues, Reaver," I noted.
"My tongue is vicious, but I think you will find that it can do much more than tell harsh truths..."
I shrugged off his sultry comment, and I had to forcefully remove the increasingly lustful thoughts from my mind. I reminded myself of whom I was thinking. I found myself wary of the ease with which he laid the terrible truth of one of his neighbors. Was this merely a fabrication crafted to trick me into giving him another man's title? "Could you be more specific? I am not going to take his title away with only your word to vouch."
"You wound me," Reaver said, putting his hand dramatically over his heart. His eyebrows furrowed inward, and he sighed sadly. "I have witnesses that will be able to provide you with more proof. Speak to Lady Penelope Goulding, his wife, or her sister Lady Eliza. They have both confided in me that they believed that he had planned to worm his way onto your advisory council and spread discord among your ranks."
"And just when did they confide this in you?" I asked, cocking a brow.
"Why, just the other night. When I returned from my journey, which you have failed to ask me about." He tutted softly, reminding me of my old protocol teacher. He would have scolded me for not going through all the nicities first. Even a Queen asked how one's holiday was. "They rushed to my side to...catch up." He grinned, letting me know that he did not simply enjoy a spot of tea and conversation with these two women. "I can send them to you at court, and you can interrogate them yourself, if that is what you desire." He chuckled.
I sighed. I could not imagine that Lady Penelope would sell her husband out. If he was stripped of his title, she would be on the outs, as well. She was exceedingly younger than he was, so it could be assumed that she had married him mainly for his title and riches. "I will have a word with both women, as well as the Duke."
"Splendid," He said. "Then I am sure I will be enjoying the title soon enough."
I exhaled. "Why do you want this so badly, Reaver? You had only just said that you liked being in your position."
"I do," He said. "But I also enjoy adventure, the act of experiencing something new with extreme vigor. I have acted like nobility, despite the fact that I am not highbourne. I already own Millfields, Your Majesty. Why not make it official?"
I knew I would get no relief until I gave into him. If Goulding proved to be as Reaver had described him, I would do this. It would be much simpler than finding another candidate for the position because, as Reaver had mentioned, he was childless. I nodded gently, looking back up to Reaver through my lashes.
His dashing grin spread wider, and he nodded in reply, silently showing his satisfaction with my surrender. "Now, if you would only work to please me in more physical ways..." He leaned in, his breath caressing the side of my face. "I would find myself most content."
I found myself drawn inward, toward him. My heart thudded desperately. I wasn't sure if I would be able to resist. This had caught me off guard, but I had hoped I wouldn't be put to the test. If I did this, I knew I would likely regret it, but I hadn't noticed how absolutely alluring he smelled until he'd gotten this close. My hand moved up to rest on his shoulder, and I licked my bottom lip softly as his hands moved up my bodice as they had before. My eyes fell closed as one of his hands retreated from the neckline of my dress to push my hair to the side.
"I have always wondered what it would be like to kiss those plump rosy lips of yours," He whispered, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb, sending a prickle of thrill across my nerves. "So soft, but I am sure they know precisely the right way to make a man quiver."
Even knowing it was coming, his kiss surprised me. His lips felt too soft to be real, and he tasted of wine and pure heat. Lights flashed through my eyelids, and a rumble told me that it was thunder and not just the kiss. I worked my mouth desperaely against his, suddenly feeling full of life and and light and heat and passion. I needed this, and he'd known. His hands were urging me backward onto the cushion of the sofa.
My hand traced the curve of his jaw, and I felt his hips grind against against me. He was already thick with need, as was evident through is trousers, but he still kissed me like he would never stop. He slipped a hand beneath me, arching my body against his.
I drew away, starved for breath, and his tireless lips moved immediately to my neck. A soft moan of delight left my open mouth as he nipped and suckled my the erogenous flesh of my throat. He lowered my body back into the velvet softness of the couch. He drew back to observe me, his dark eyes penetrating mine. He took my hand from his shoulder, and he chuckled, "I realize that my fine broad shoulders are quite enamoring, but you do not have to be afraid to touch me." He took my hand, stroking my palm tenderly. He brought it to his face, letting my fingertips caress his lips. He then moved it down his chin, against his throat, and across the silk of his cravat.
He leaned back down, leaving the faintest trail of kisses up my jaw, toward my ear. He whispered, "Your hands are almost as soft as your lips, but I wonder where else they would be put to good use..." His hand tugged my down, wrapping my hand around the hardness that strained against the tight fabric of his trousers.
I jerked my hand away, and I shoved him back, my body mourning the distance I'd put between us. I stood up, and I took a few steps out of his reach, my legs seemingly made of jelly. I exhaled shakily, and I felt the heat in my body coursing even harder now, needing relief. "That is too far, Reaver," My mouth said, but my body disagreed.
"Oh, sweet little thing," He said darkly, his voice both sweet and sinister all at once. "You cannot possibly believe that I would let you leave me with merely a kiss."
"I will be leaving you with merely a kiss," I said, turning to find the door.
"My door is always open to you, Your Majesty," Reaver said, and when I glanced backward, he continued. "If you should find that the night is too cold in Bowerstone, my bed will be warm and waiting for you." He stood, and he adjusted the lengthy endowment in his trousers, perhaps in an attempt to make me look.
I kept my eyes fixed on his, and when he loomed closer, I pressed closer to the door.
His hand reached out, finding the knob, and he turned it himself, opening the door for me. His body was close to mine, almost trying to occupy the same space as I did. "I had hoped that we might finish our lunch before you left, but as the weather will not be getting any more forgiving,it would be better if you left."
He'd just kissed me like all he'd ever wanted to do was kiss me, and now he was ushering me from his house? I blinked gently in confusion, but I found myself ready to leave. I looked to my guards, and I said, "Make sure the carriage is ready."
A/N: I would like to give a HUGE thank you to Angelacm, as she helped me with a few of the funnier lines in the chapter, as well as giving me the idea for poor, poor Murphy. Reviews are ALWAYS welcome and appreciated, and I hope that you continue to read and enjoy.