5
Richard listened to Stephen's ramblings about all the problems his friend had been forced to deal with as king. Richard felt sorry for the man; he hadn't expected to be anywhere near the throne, having two older brothers. But that was life. He wasn't a bad king... he wasn't particularly good, but he meant well.
Richard looked across the room at Sara. She was introducing Alexis to some other young ladies. He recognised most of them; they were the daughters of various Lords and politicians. He hoped she would make some friends; at least she would have Sara, anyway. He looked around the room at the respectable, well dressed women and wondered if one of them was Lady Beckett. None of them popped, though. The only woman in the room that popped for him was Sara, and that was nothing to do with any Lady Beckett. That was just... her. He took a shuddering breath and Stephen laughed.
"You can't be falling for her already? I have to warn you, Ricky. She's a tease."
Rick grinned. "That's how I like them best."
"I know what you mean. Although, I do like winning them eventually."
"Winning? Are you suggesting competition? Steve, I would never take something that was yours-" he added sadly, knowing he had to say it.
"She's not mine. I just want her to be. And now you want her to be yours," Stephen said with a laugh. "To be honest, there's something about the way she looks at you... But I am her king. So perhaps the fight is still fair."
Richard made a face. The last thing he wanted to do was fight over Sara, treating her the way the king treated other woman. He had never treated the 'fairer sex' that way and he didn't plan to start now.
"I don't want to fight over her. Some of your games I can abide. But she's a lady and she deserves respect."
Stephen shook his head with a smile. "I forgot you were such a good man, Rick. But, fine. You don't have to join in with my games. I'm sure they won't affect you. But I'm still going to keep her around."
Richard sighed. Stephen would do what he wanted. He always had.
"She's just so pretty," Stephen continued. "I love to look at her, even. Quite hypnotic."
Richard nodded grudgingly, though he didn't believe for a second that Stephen felt even a fraction of what he felt when he looked at Sara. As if she had felt herself being discussed, the lady in question began to move across the room towards them.
Kate left Alexis with Paige, an American girl, daughter of a very rich industrialist. They seemed to hit it off and Kate had been beginning to feel a little old for the conversation, so allowed herself to follow the magnetic pull from the writer on the other side of the room.
She knew he was watching her as she walked over. She had been watching him too; she couldn't deny it. And she didn't think she could deny herself for much longer. As soon as she was close enough Richard caught her eye and soon her hand was in his.
"Would you care for a dance, Lady Katayev?"
She smiled. "I'd love one," she replied. She liked the way he said her 'name'. Alexis had mentioned that she was learning Russian; maybe she was learning it from her father? They moved across the dance floor as before, caught up in each other, barely noticing anyone else. Stephen sighed and began to talk to another of the ladies he had collected around him.
Kate loved that the hands on her waist had created Derrick Storm, the favourite detective she had not told Sir Richard about. His eyes pierced her as he refused to look away. It was almost a contest – who would break first. Kate knew it wouldn't be her; Richard was equally sure he could stare this woman down for an eternity.
"Would you like to come to our house for dinner tomorrow evening?" he asked suddenly. Kate was taken by surprise, but quickly recovered.
"Uh.. Yes, that would be nice," she answered.
"You'll meet my mother," Richard said, amused. "Although you'll probably like her."
"Why wouldn't I like her?"
"She's very... dramatic."
"I look forward to being introduced to her," Kate said honestly.
…
Kate arrived home not long after one in the morning. She'd had a wonderful evening, but once alone, she found herself burning inside. Burning for his touch, the heat of his lips, the caress of his hands... She burned for his love. For his strength. He was powerful, strong, manly... She wanted him to take her down. She wanted him to battle her, with his mind and his body. She wanted him to own her, to take her, to-
There was someone sheltering in her doorway. She stepped down and the drivers lantern showed a familiar face.
"Josh?"
"Sara. I'm sorry to call so late, you were out but I had to see you-"
Kate cut him off with a searing kiss to his lips. Richard Castle was nothing more than a fantasy, a crazy dream from a broken girl. Even if he wanted her, she could not drag him into the web of lies that was her life. He was too good for that. His daughter was too good for that.
Josh was different. Josh meant nothing. Their need was equal; they met on equal terms. His kiss didn't start a fire within her – but they kindled the one that was already burning. She hurried him upstairs into her room, smiling as he stepped in behind her, brushing her hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck.
It was practised, it was concise – but he knew how to please her, and she needed to be pleased. He swiftly undid the hooks at the back of the dress with the air of someone who did this more often than every few weeks with her. She didn't mind. They had to take certain precautions, of course. Kate looked at it as being more inventive; she and Josh had found ways to be perfectly satisfied without risking... anything.
Josh busied himself with her complicated outfit; she kissed him with her eyes closed, thinking of a very different man. Richard was a little taller than Josh, but not much, so the height wasn't a problem. Richard was more muscular too, which was harder to fill in with her imagination, but she did what she could. She suddenly had a thought. If she were with Richard there would be no question of... inventiveness. She would need him, all of him. She cursed herself as Josh's hands worked their way around her body, lighting up her nerves as he brushed all the right areas. It made it a little less romantic that she had told him where they were, but to his credit, she had only needed to tell him once. He was a clever man. He liked to do a thing right.
She fell back onto the bed. With Richard it wouldn't be like this. She wouldn't have to tell him anything; it wouldn't be anything she could imagine. He would teach her things about her body that she had never known, he would be exciting and adventurous and dangerous and new-
She felt her pulse quicken and began to breathe faster, feeling the familiar rhythm that would inevitably bring her to where she wanted to be. She kept her eyes closed; Josh didn't comment.
She managed not to cry out his name, but it was a close thing. She recovered herself, opening her eyes and smiling. Josh kissed her softly and she flipped them so he was on his back and she was above him. She trailed kisses down his stomach, giving him what he had earned. It was more like a trade than a relationship, a trade they were both happy with. If Josh wanted more he didn't show it, and he certainly didn't have time for it.
He didn't stay. When he kissed her goodbye he said he might be joining a mission to Africa. Kate wasn't surprised. She kissed him again, a thank you kiss. He smiled at her.
"You're so beautiful, Sara. I hope you find what you're looking for one day."
Kate smiled at him. "I hope you find it, too. Good luck, Dr Davidson."
She closed the door and looked around the room. Suddenly feeling exposed, she picked up a light silk robe and put it on. She tidied up her clothes and made the bed, but she wasn't ready to sleep. She poured herself a glass of wine and settled in the armchair in her bedroom. Yet again, she thought about Richard. She set down her glass and reached up to unpin her now messy hair. As she teased out the tangles, she imagined Richard's fingers in her hair, gently combing it out.
She could have kicked herself. That was even worse than imagining sex. Sex was primal, a need, something the body required. But now she was picturing... love? Domesticity? She was imagining being cared for. Her life relied on independence. She took nothing from no one; she needed no help, and she couldn't ever be... anything that Richard would want her to be.
She lived a lie. She gave a false name, talked about a false life. She used her position as one of the king's 'ornaments' to spy on people, and catch criminals. She fought. She didn't kill; she did all she could to save and protect. But she had to be committed to that. One of the requirements was not having dependants, not having anyone who needed her or cared for her. Lanie was the only exception, and that was hard enough.
Kate couldn't hurt anyone else. She took far too many risks to be with Richard. She would just hurt him. And anyway, he was a true gentleman. For her to really have what she wanted, he would want to marry her. And that was impossible.
She swallowed the rest of the wine. Impossible. It was impossible.
And she had only spent one evening with this man. How could she know anything about him?
The energy, she said to herself. The energy was clear, clear as day and shooting stars at night...
But a day. It couldn't mean anything.
And now she was going to dinner at his house. With his mother and daughter. His family. They were welcoming her and she was repaying them with lies. But she had no choice, she argued with herself. She couldn't tell them who she really was; they wouldn't believe her even if she did. Kate Beckett was turning into a legend, an urban myth to scare children and criminals alike.
And Sara Katayev was a lie.
She lay down on the bed, smiling slightly at the thought of all the men that had been in it. She had heard that some people called her the black widow. She loved to laugh at the idea that she ate men. She didn't. In truth, the word 'all' was a little misleading – there hadn't been so very many. Well. Less than had been in the king's bed! But she made sure the men she used were using her just as much, and they were men she knew. She took care of herself and respected men who did the same.
Society would see her as a sinner. She didn't care. While the king liked her she would have a place with the ruling class. When she went out of favour she would continue her life, but without the boring, frustrating parties.
The sheets and blankets were soft and warm. She leaned against her feather pillows and tried to sleep; her last thought was of, unsurprisingly, Sir Richard Castle.
…
Richard watched her carriage clatter away and found himself wishing for the next day already. He was so... It had been months, several months, since he had been with a woman, and though this was not unusual, he felt it more acutely that night than he thought he ever had.
He was glad Alexis and Martha were both too tired for much conversation on the ride home, and they both went straight upstairs to bed when they left the carriage. Richard was left to pace around the house. He went down to the kitchen and poured cold water over his face, then stripped off his shirt and poured more water over his back and chest. He shuddered at the icy temperature but it did its job. He used his shirt to dry himself a little, then walked upstairs to his bedroom.
Once in the room, though, everything he had banished in the kitchen returned in full force. He threw his clothes on the floor and flopped into bed, swearing. Damn this woman. This woman who could make him feel like a teenager. He was desperate, and he had known her for just a few hours. He needed her. Even if... Even if they couldn't do anything, he wanted to just be with her, to feel the sparks fly between them, to see her twinkling eyes, to listen to her rich, teasing laugh.
He could watch her for ever; talk to her for an eternity. She liked to tease him; he could be teased. He would do anything, go along with anything, whatever she wanted. He couldn't wait to see her the next day.
He forced his head onto the pillows, extinguished the gas lamp, and closed his eyes firmly.
It didn't help. He could still see her. That wonderful red dress, sitting so low, showing her shoulders... He imagined it sliding down her arms, falling off with all her other clothes like water, slipping over her skin-
He stopped himself. This would not help. Slowly. He would take it slowly. He would give her time. He would court her properly; he would show her how it could be. He would do anything... Including wait, if that was what she wanted.
A/N: You know the drill - thanks so much for reading, please review!
