Wild Heir (Fated Royals 4)

“Thanks,” he said.

“Daniel, what the fuck? I left you with specific instructions to—”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to make him leave. When I grabbed his arm to turn him back toward the front entry, he spun around and slammed me in the head with...I’m not sure what.” The man rubbed the side of his head. “I was dazed and he shoved me in here, and locked the door.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, just my pride is damaged.”

“Well, he trashed the kitchen. There’s no food. Valeria hasn’t eaten all day.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it better to keep her presence a secret than to call out for help, even if it was only Barrington.”

Vasile nodded. “True enough. Do you have any food in your cottage? Otherwise one of us is going to have to make a journey to town.”* * *As Vasile entered the sitting room carrying a big tray of fruits, cheeses, dried meats, and wine my stomach groaned on cue.

On an ornate carved mahogany table, he set the tray in front of me and knelt beside where I sat.

“I really am sorry,” he said, his eyes so tender and kind. “I would never have left you without any food.”

“You must take wonderful care of your staff. For a member of the house staff to have such decadent food and wine.”

“I show my gratitude for loyalty. In many ways. But Daniel is more than just a member of the household staff. Well, nonexistent household staff at the moment. When I discovered him, it was years ago on one of my trips home to visit, he’d been living on the streets most of his life, cheating at cards or breaking into the houses of the rich and taking just enough to get by. I’d liked him from the start, and we’ve established a somewhat unconventional friendship of sorts since we met. When I returned this last time, I went looking for him, but found out he’d been caught in the house of a magistrate and was going to be serving many years of hard labor. I gave him a different option. Let’s just say, I used our family name to convince the magistrate and a few other officials to turn him over to me. I brought him here to work at Bellemore. He’s more than proven himself worth the effort. You can trust him, today and always.”

Either from the chill in the air, or from the emotion coursing through me, I shivered hard and gripped my arms. Vasile took note, grabbed an afghan from the settee and draped it around me, sweeping my hair aside, and then sat down on the floor.

“I will get you some clothes tomorrow. You can’t be running around in this cut open nightdress for the rest of your days.”

I giggled, looking down, realizing how unkempt I must appear, and yet also taking note I didn’t care. I felt right with Vasile, although it felt strange having this big beast of a man sitting below me. And yet, I didn’t mind. He kept one of his huge hands on my thigh in a sturdy, possessive grip. With his other hand, he took a candied fig from a simple pottery bowl and held it up for me to eat from his fingers.

“I can feed myself,” I said, a rush of shyness at the affectionate gesture.

“Sure you can,” he said, with eyes twinkling. “But I won’t let you.”

Feeding me the fig, he pressed the tip of his thumb to my lips.

When I took it from him, I sucked on his thumb for a little longer than was necessary. My clit responded instantly to the taste of his skin, the smell of his leather riding gloves. Musky and manly and utterly delicious.

He fed me cheeses and meats, taking some for himself as we ate in silence, enjoying the flavors and the simple act of nourishing ourselves.

After a few moments, I slid down on the rug beside him in front of the fire. He positioned himself so that my folded legs fit neatly inside the gap he left for me between his. Against my ankle, I felt the unmistakable heat and warmth of his cock and balls, resting on the fabric of his pants.

I glanced down at his groin when I was sure he wasn’t looking, feeling flushed and turned on by the realization that clearly, his pants had been custom made to make extra room for how big he was. It was all I could do to stop myself from moaning into my glass of wine.

Sitting there, we ate and talked. We got to know each other in a way that our wild passion hadn’t allowed us to before. I learned about his years in the east, and he learned about my life, about the shameful sort of privileged poverty that I’d tried so hard to hide from everybody.