No Fury

Now: Twenty Two

This is my last update today, but it's a long one. You guys make me so happy. I know there is a lot of angst, and there is certainly more to come, but I think the Sunshine Prince & his Cath can withstand it all... ~Spark

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I begin to undress once the doors close behind me. My heart, it aches. The steward's crude words swim in my thoughts.

I did soften beneath the prince. I would beg for his touch.

But I wouldn't soften for another man. I am no whore. My body shuts down at the thought.

And oh, I am ignorant. I know not why the prince wants to bed me when he could have every girl in the castle. I know not why he brings me back time and again, only to send me off harshly after.

"Cath?"

My prince sits on the chaise near the window, watching me with wide, shadowed eyes as I step out of my skirts. He stands, making his way to me.

I watch in a mixture of horror and awe as he wordlessly falls to his knees before me, wrapping his arms around my hips.

My shaking hands rise, making their way into his hair. "My Lord?"

His voice is muffled, mouth pressed to my navel. "I sent you away ruthlessly earlier. I did not mean it."

Swallowing back a sob, I manage, "I know."

"I was going mad tonight waiting for you."

I bite my lips, struggling to not apologize in return, and lift my chin, proudly. "Well, my Lord . . . you deserved to wait."

Slowly rubbing his scratchy cheek against my stomach, he mumbles, "I hate this. I need this, but I hate it all the same."

I don't know what to say to this, so I remain quiet, relishing the soft slide of his hair through my fingers.

"In the hall just now, what did Douglas say to you?"

Shame cools my blood. "Nothing."

He sighs, jaw clenching in the orange light of the fire as he rises before me. Tenderly, he tells me, "Go, now. Lie on my bed."

With cheeks blazing and the memory of the moment in the hall with Sir Douglas pounding in my ears, I do what he asks, walking to the bed and lying back.

I feel his attention as a rush of heat across my breasts.

"What did he say to you, Cath?" he presses.

I swallow, closing my eyes. "That I should not spoil you with sin."

His laugh is a tight exhale. "What else?"

"That your future wife will not want you to be this way. She will not let you . . ." I shake my head, not even wanting to give the idea life. "That I am a whore."

He grows very, very still. "What else?"

I don't tell him what else Douglas said. About giving me a proper rutting. About shoving himself deep into my . . . "That was all."

The prince climbs to the edge of the bed. "Did he touch you?"

"No," I lie.

He reads me like a text. "You dare lie to me?"

"Do not yell," I beg, throat closing with tears. "Do you not know what this is like for me? Have you any idea? He could have me beaten. He could ruin me."

His nostrils flare and he bends, pressing another quiet apology into the skin just beneath my breast. "This powerlessness fills me with a rage I cannot manage," he admits so quietly, it is almost as if he had not intended to say it aloud.