A/N: Don't own don't sue
Lyrics at the beginning are from 'If I Knew' by Bruno Mars
If I Knew
Chapter Nineteen
I was a city boy
Right into danger's where I'd always run, a boy who had his fun
But I wouldn't've done
All the things that I have done
If I knew one day you'd come
She was going to kill him. She really was. If he bothered her one more time, she was going to take her dinner knife and plunge it into his neck. Gladly. She'd even dance a little afterwards. Eira took a long deep breath, forced herself to swallow her rage, and turned to Lord Darr with a bland smile.
"Good evening, Lord Darr." She managed to get out between her clenched teeth.
He apparently failed to notice her fingers clenched tightly around the handle of her sharp knife, or he wouldn't have slid quite so close to her on the dining bench. He was within perfect stabbing range, she noted longingly. He was clearly getting more desperate as he had taken to cornering her in public where she couldn't rip him to shreds without causing a scene.
"Lady Eira." He boomed smugly, well aware that she couldn't wriggle away from him with one of the most prevalent gossipers in the court sitting on her other side listening intently.
She switched to auto-pilot as he poured his usual seduction nonsense into her ear, nodding and smiling and fluttering her eyelashes at appropriate intervals. Her mind was churning rapidly in the background, how best to spin this situation to her advantage. She glanced over Lord Darr's shoulder. The "King" was sprawled in his throne, looking elegant and bored. He didn't seem even the slightest bit interested in her existence.
"Leif." She purred suddenly, cutting him off mid-flow about the way her hair shone in the firelight. "Perhaps I've been too hasty."
Leif blinked in amazement, his brain still trying to catch up with the sudden turn of events.
"Perhaps we should give this more thought."
He eyed her warily, simultaneously drawn in by the seductive tone of her voice and incredibly nervous by the calculating look in her eyes. Thrown by her sudden change of heart, he found himself meekly agreeing to meet her tomorrow to discuss. As he walked away from the table, still stunned by her lightening change of mood, he distinctly heard Lady Pia ask Eira what game she was playing now.
As she had hoped, he came to visit her that evening. He had clearly heard Lady Pia's gossip. She could feel her blood pulsing through her veins with excitement, her body tingling dangerously. She was determined to enjoy the rush of the game, and not to think about the consequences should it fail.
She had arranged herself on her favourite chaise, her far too sheer nightgown draping delicately over her bare legs and slipping temptingly from her naked shoulder. She had a book in her lap and her hair unbound. A lamp burned beside her, the only source of light in the room, casting a warm glow over her and turning the nightgown even more transparent.
All in all, she was very happy with the way she would appear when he barged into her rooms without notice. It gave her a lovely little flutter of pleasure deep in her belly when she saw him pause, for just a fraction of a section, at the sight of her. It was brief, but she saw it.
"Prince." She murmured, lazily turning a page in her book and not bothering to spare him a glance.
He had finally agreed to drop his ridiculous mask before being alone in her presence, so it was his own face that turned towards her. She made him wait a little longer, before she closed her book and tucked it carefully away beside her.
"You are alone, nightingale."
It was a statement, but he seemed to have implied a question. She lifted her eyebrows innocently.
"Certainly, Prince." She lifted her bare shoulder slightly, so the nightgown slipped dangerously low. "I'm not dressed to receive company."
As she had hoped, his gaze was drawn inexorably to the gauzy gown shimmering in the lamplight. His muscles tightened slightly and he seemed to lean towards her without realising it.
"I would think your future husband may be paying his respects."
She was absolutely thrilled to hear the threads of jealousy in his voice, but she didn't display her pleasure by so much as the flicker of an eyelash.
"You seem to have a whole array of suitors, begging for your hand."
She waved a careless hand, watching from under her lashes as he stalked the room like a wild jungle-cat.
"Courtly play." She demurred sweetly, leaning back against the chaise with a beleaguered sigh. "Sometimes these little flirtations go too far."
"You do not intend to marry Lord Darr?" He challenged.
Eira paused for long enough to make him think she was seriously considering the question.
"Well it does seem Leif is more persistant about wooing me that the others." She said thoughtfully, tilting her head back to look at the shadowy ceiling far above them.
"Leif?" He repeated, the sour level of his voice positively dangerous.
It was extremely difficult for Eira to keep her face under control, she also knew that tilting her head back had exposed her bare throat. And he did so enjoy her throat.
"Lord Darr." She clarified, making sure she put just a little breathlessness into her voice. "Leif and I have known each other for such a long time."
"Indeed." His voice was pure venom but his face was an icy mask as always.
"Perhaps his proposal is for the best." She ran her fingertips along the spine of the book absently, tilting her head so her hair caught the lamplight. "He would never leave Court, we get along well enough and of course… there has never been an issue with intimacy."
Loki whirled around to face her so quickly, he very nearly lost his footing. She determinedly kept her face towards the ceiling so she wouldn't laugh. Any time he lost even a modicum of control because of her actions, it made her toes curl with desire and satisfaction.
"Intimacy." He repeated coldly, his eyes flashing.
Eira finally deigned to look at him, contorting her features into a mask of sweet innocence.
"It is an important part of marriage, is it not?" She shifted her legs a little to draw his attention to them. "If a marriage is without emotional love, the least it can provide is adequate physical love."
For a split second, his entire face contorted, so briefly that she would have missed it if she hadn't been watching for it.
"And Lord Darr could provide that?"
She shrugged again, pretending to be completely unconcerned with the whole affair.
"He has certainly done a good enough job in the past."
It was such a shame she couldn't blush on command. Truthfully, she could hardly remember her time with Leif, it was when she had first arrived at Court and had barely ever been with a man in any capacity.
"The past." Loki murmured to himself, resuming his pacing.
She lay back again, reclining so that the entire length of her body was on display.
"Do you want to marry, nightingale?"
She flinched, surprised to find him behind the chaise suddenly. He leaned over her, his eyes glittering brightly in the light from the lamp. He reached out and traced the length of her throat with one long finger.
"Shouldn't I?" She stroking the back of his hand with her fingertips. "If I choose well, there are so many benefits."
She gave him a sly look under her lashes and his mouth twitched.
"Intimacy?"
She simpered, fluttering her eyelashes and pursing her mouth prettily.
"Prince…" She murmured teasingly. "One does not need to be married for that."
His dark liquid gaze bored into her, a faint flush on his cheekbones and his tempting mouth a tight line.
"One has opportunities." His mouth barely moved but his brows had arched challengingly.
She met his gaze but didn't reply. His fingers curled around her neck, his thumb brushing over her pulse-point.
"And if Lord Darr…" He leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers lightly. "Should ask for your hand?"
He nipped lightly at her lower lip, squeezing her throat between his fingers in time with her pounding pulse.
"That would be a decision for my King, I'm sure." She goaded, fluttering her eyelashes.
"Exactly, nightingale." He purred dangerously. "Your life is in my hands."
Why did she insist on pushing him. She had fully intended to tease him unmercifully until he was a ball of jealousy. She had not expected him to call her bluff and announce a bloody gala where Lord Darr could inform the whole Court that he intended to formally woo her for her hand in marriage.
He had an endgame, she was certain of it. She just didn't know what it was yet. The entire building was thrumming with activity, it was hardly possible to cross a hallway without tripping over somebody dashing off to run an errand. Eira had been pestered endlessly by the gossipy old harridans of court all day, until she had either to snap one of their necks or seek refuge. So she went to the only place she knew would be peaceful and deserted on a pleasant day.
The library was surprisingly cool as she slipped through the huge intricately carved doors, her heeled shoes clacking loudly on the marble. Books towered over her into the deep recesses of the roof. If she turned and followed the marble floor into the distance, she knew she would reach the artefact section where precious items were held. Above her head, individual balconies jutted out, private boxes for studying. Although they were mainly used for illicit rendezvous between lovers. She grinned nostalgically, remembering a heated afternoon she had spent there herself, with a sweet young courtier who had blushed like fire anytime she had touched him. She sighed deeply, life had certainly been simpler then.
She sensed a presence behind her, bodyheat trailing up her spine. She grabbed a nearby book and flung it as hard as she could. Loki batted it away easily with a flick of his wrist, a thoroughly amused smirk in place.
"That's not very nice, nightingale." He reproached.
"Neither is sneaking up on defenceless women."
Loki tilted his head.
"You are far from defenceless, my love."
She chose to ignore the endearment, despite the throb of lust it caused in her belly, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at him.
"Are you displeased with me?" Loki fluttered his eyelashes.
"Should I be?" She snapped.
She whirled around and stalked away from him, continuing into the depths of the library. He followed her silently like a prowling cat, until they reached an arched doorway built into the wall. The stairs that led up towards the little balconies were narrow and enclosed, haphazardly scattered torches casting a dim gloom. As they climbed in silence, her heart raced with anticipation and a little fear. Having him moving soundlessly behind her in the dark was simultaneously, wickedly appealing and somewaht frightening.
"Your back looks inherently angry." Loki observed casually from the darkness behind her.
"My back has no opinion of you, Prince." She shot back petulantly. "Nor is it any of your concern."
She felt an exploring hand steal around her waist, his arm coiling and drawing her back against him. Her heeled shoes dangled dangerously on the edge of a step as he moulded his lean body against hers. If he let her go, she would tumble down a significant number of marble stairs.
"Every inch of you… concerns me." He growled into her ear, his warm breath stirring wisps of her hair.
"Should you not be occupied with your silly event?" She refused to allow him to seduce her out of her mood, she was determined to be annoyed with him.
"A king does not occupy himself with such frivolities." His words were warm and spicy on the bare skin of her neck.
"What does a king occupy himself with?" She was thoroughly irritated to hear the catch in her voice, a result of his warm hands roaming far too freely into the depths of her gown.
"Whatever he pleases." His teeth flashed in the darkness as he lifted her off her feet and pressed her against the cool library wall.
It was a little too late to remember, she noted vaguely as his mouth crashed down on hers, that he found her most attractive when she was annoyed. She tried to remain rigid and frosty, but his magical mouth was so very tempting and the warm length of him was so enticingly tight against her as he pressed her into the wall. She tugged on his hair until he grunted with pain, using her teeth to nip at his smirking lips.
"What are you doing, Prince?" She managed to demand breathlessly, giving him a half-hearted shove in the chest.
"I should think that was obvious." He purred, dropping heated open-mouthed kisses along her throat.
"You know perfectly well what I am referring to." She said primly, even as he peeled the neck of her dress away from her heated body.
"Are you objecting?" His breath tickled her naked skin as he pushed the shoulder of her dress down.
"To you, or this silly marriage?" She broke off with a surprised gasp as he sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh of her breast.
She opened her mouth to protest, but her head lolled back against the wall as he immediately ran his tongue over the marks he'd made.
"You wanted a marriage."
She forced herself to concentrate, ignoring the delicious stinging of her skin and the heated throbbing of her body.
"And once I'm married… do you still plan to accost me in dark corners of the library?"
He raised his head and flashed her his wolfish grin that made her knees weak. His face was flushed with desire, his eyes brilliantly sparkling jewels in the dim light from the torch ahead of them.
"I shall do with you as I please." He said smugly, looking inherently predatory and very attractive.
"You think so?" She asked icily, straightening her shoulders and looking as dignified as she could manage with her dress hanging from her shoulders and his toothmarks on her flesh. "That's your plan is it, Prince?"
Loki cocked his head, sensing danger approaching.
"Marry me off and take me as a mistress?"
She tossed her head back and laughed and he felt an almost painful stab of lust shudder through his entire body. He had pulled her hair out of its pins and it coiled around her bare neck and almost fully exposed breasts that were flushed rosily. The sight of his mark on her vulnerable flesh made him shake with want. Without a further word, she calmly rearranged her dress and slipped away from him. He watched her walking away, her hair glimmering as she passed the torch. He very much wanted to yank her back and ravish her right where they stood, but he was so racked with his own desire that he couldn't move an inch.
When he had managed to compose himself, he went in search of her. He found her curled up with a book, fully dressed again, he noted sadly. She didn't acknowledge him in the slightest, focusing on the book in her lap. No one observing them would have any idea of what had just occurred between them in the heady darkness.
"You want to marry." He said again, slightly petulantly, taking the seat opposite her.
"I do?" She said coldly, not lifting her gaze from the book.
Loki searched deep for his patience. It was somewhat confusing to him how rapidly he went from wanting to take her so desperately, to wanting to throttle her. He had never met anyone so infuriating.
"You do not want to marry?" He managed to get out through gritted teeth.
She rolled one shoulder carelessly.
"That is for my father and my King to decide."
For a split second, he honestly thought he was going to do it. His hands flexed and he leaned towards her, with every intention of taking that lovely willowy neck between his hands and snapping it. He sorely wanted to. Vexing creature.
"Should I be a wife or not, Prince." She lifted her gaze from the book and stared him down haughtily. "I will not become a mistress."
She wondered briefly, after he'd gone, if she was playing with fire. She had taken lovers before, she enjoyed pleasure. A royal mistress was, however, a different concept altogether. She would be bound to him as if she were his wife, but with none of the perks. No more harmless flirtations at banquets, no more teasing the guards who caught her eye, no more staying into the early hours of the morning gambling and drinking. She would be expected to be at his beck and call, outwardly demure and obedient but privately wild and willing. The very thought annoyed her.
And everyone would know. That was really what made her recoil from the idea. The whole court would know that the "King" had taken her for a mistress, months after his beloved wife's death. She would, under no circumstances, sully Frigga's reputation or memory in such a way.