Chapter 7: Hands on the Headboard

I walked around Rolf Lund.

He called something after me, and I did not turn.

By nightfall the shaking in my knees had turned into something else.

At eight I put on my good sweater, locked the clinic and climbed the hill to Kettle Hall by the back path.

Garrick was waiting at the servants' door in his shirtsleeves, with no light behind him.

He took my hand and said nothing, and led me up three flights of narrow stairs.

His room was at the top, under the copper roof.

It was the plainest room I had ever seen a king keep.

There was a bed that took up half the floor, a wool rug and a shelf of books.

A tall window faced the river, and a woodstove ticked in the corner.

The bed had a headboard of heavy black oak, carved with wolves chasing one another around the rim.

"It's smaller than I expected," I said.

"It's the room I had as a boy. I never moved."

"You never moved out of your boyhood room."

"The big one is cold."

I laughed.

He shut the door.

We stood facing each other in the glow of the stove.

"Will you take the Queen's Chair?" he said.

"Not tonight."

His eyes lit.

"Thank you for the answer."

"Take off your shirt and lie on the bed."

He did, in a few seconds.

I watched him lie back on the quilt, his chest rising and falling, the sandy hair on it gold in the firelight.

I took off my sweater.

I took off my bra.

I stripped slowly, with his gaze following every inch, and left my underwear on.

"Lift your arms," I said. "Hold the headboard."

His fingers wrapped around the carved wolves.

"Keep them there."

"Yes."

"If you let go, I stop."

"I won't let go."

I knelt on the bed beside him and ran my palm down the center of his chest.

I crossed the ridge of his stomach, and he sucked in a breath.

I undid his belt and pulled his jeans off him.

He lay beneath me, naked, enormous, pinned only by a command, and I had never wanted anyone so much in my life.

His cock rose thick against his stomach.

I took it in my hand.

"Moira," he said thickly.

"I've been thinking about this all afternoon."

"So have I."

"I know. I watched you stand by a window for an hour with your hands in fists."

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