that I'm not."
Beneath her cheek she could feel his heart, a strong and excited beat that belied his stiff resistance. “I think I've forgotten what you're made of,” she said. “Perhaps I'd better examine you again."
He exhaled in a hollow whoosh. “Damnation,” he said in a different tone, a kind of plaintive resignation.
Merlin snuggled closer. His embrace enfolded her, drawing her hard against him. His cheek rested on her hair. He stroked her back in a rhythm that was at first simple comfort and then, with a slow drift downward, something more.
It started as only the heat of his palm through her dressing gown. He spread his hand across her spine and began to outline tantalizing circles on the small of her back.
She tilted her head up, recognizing this for what it was. His cheek slid against hers, very smooth, smelling faintly of soap and mint. His arms tightened, just slightly. Sweet and subtle, the touch of his breath on her neck became a light kiss.
Merlin sighed, curving her neck with all the pleasure of a cat stretching beneath a stroking hand. Her lips parted. She held her breath. It was like the brush of rose petals on her skin, like the beat of a captive bird's wing, but more than that. Warmer. Stronger. She made a small sound of aching pleasure.
"What a shameless hussy you are,” he whispered, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “What am I going to do with you?"
She bit her lip, pulling back in mild surprise. “Oh, dear. You haven't forgotten?"
"Don't look so dismayed.” He looked down at her with a sleepy, sensual grin. His hands moved down her back, rocking her against him. “I haven't forgotten, Wiz. I remember all too well."
She smiled. “Well ... actually ... so do I."
He covered her mouth with a hard, sudden kiss. “You'd drive a saint to distraction,” he growled against the corner of her lips. “And I am not a saint."
"Oh, no,” Merlin agreed. “You're a politician."
He stopped the delightful play of his tongue at the edge of her. mouth and looked down at her. Humor made boyish crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “At least you know what kind of low company you've fallen in with."
"Low company indeed!” A new voice brought ice ringing in the soft air. Merlin jumped, half-turning in Ransom's arms. His sister Blythe stood in the doorway, her hand still on the handle of the silent, well-oiled door. She looked shocked and shaken, but her lips trembled with dawning rage.
"Blythe,” Ransom began, but his sister interrupted him, stepping into the room and closing the door with an echoing bang. Just before it shut, Merlin caught a glimpse of hovering figures outside.
"I had thought to offer my presence to avoid a scandal, since you had so obviously forgotten the proprieties after that incident outside,” Blythe said. “But, Ransom, I never expected—” Her voice broke on a shaky squeak. “Oh, Ransom, how could you? It was bad enough that you marched her to your bedroom , but I managed to smooth over that. You were beside yourself, everyone could see that. But t-this— "
Merlin had begun to try to wriggle out of his arms, but his hold on her tightened.
"I'm sorry,” he said in a calm voice. “You're right, of course, Blythe. I shouldn't have left you with awkward explanations to make."
"Awkward! Ransom, do you realize you could lose your privy appointment over this?” Blythe paced into the room, chafing her thin hands. “The King has already made it clear that he disapproves of your association with Mr. Fox—"
" Friendship with Mr. Fox,” Ransom said deliberately. “Of long standing."
"Nevertheless, it would be far too easy for you to be tarred with his brash. Everyone knows he's just lately married that woman who's been his...” She hesitated. Merlin saw a frown begin descending on Ransom's face. “...his concubine,” Blythe rushed on. “For decades. And now for you to be involved in a scandal like this—for God's sake, Ransom, only think of what it
Beneath her cheek she could feel his heart, a strong and excited beat that belied his stiff resistance. “I think I've forgotten what you're made of,” she said. “Perhaps I'd better examine you again."
He exhaled in a hollow whoosh. “Damnation,” he said in a different tone, a kind of plaintive resignation.
Merlin snuggled closer. His embrace enfolded her, drawing her hard against him. His cheek rested on her hair. He stroked her back in a rhythm that was at first simple comfort and then, with a slow drift downward, something more.
It started as only the heat of his palm through her dressing gown. He spread his hand across her spine and began to outline tantalizing circles on the small of her back.
She tilted her head up, recognizing this for what it was. His cheek slid against hers, very smooth, smelling faintly of soap and mint. His arms tightened, just slightly. Sweet and subtle, the touch of his breath on her neck became a light kiss.
Merlin sighed, curving her neck with all the pleasure of a cat stretching beneath a stroking hand. Her lips parted. She held her breath. It was like the brush of rose petals on her skin, like the beat of a captive bird's wing, but more than that. Warmer. Stronger. She made a small sound of aching pleasure.
"What a shameless hussy you are,” he whispered, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “What am I going to do with you?"
She bit her lip, pulling back in mild surprise. “Oh, dear. You haven't forgotten?"
"Don't look so dismayed.” He looked down at her with a sleepy, sensual grin. His hands moved down her back, rocking her against him. “I haven't forgotten, Wiz. I remember all too well."
She smiled. “Well ... actually ... so do I."
He covered her mouth with a hard, sudden kiss. “You'd drive a saint to distraction,” he growled against the corner of her lips. “And I am not a saint."
"Oh, no,” Merlin agreed. “You're a politician."
He stopped the delightful play of his tongue at the edge of her. mouth and looked down at her. Humor made boyish crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “At least you know what kind of low company you've fallen in with."
"Low company indeed!” A new voice brought ice ringing in the soft air. Merlin jumped, half-turning in Ransom's arms. His sister Blythe stood in the doorway, her hand still on the handle of the silent, well-oiled door. She looked shocked and shaken, but her lips trembled with dawning rage.
"Blythe,” Ransom began, but his sister interrupted him, stepping into the room and closing the door with an echoing bang. Just before it shut, Merlin caught a glimpse of hovering figures outside.
"I had thought to offer my presence to avoid a scandal, since you had so obviously forgotten the proprieties after that incident outside,” Blythe said. “But, Ransom, I never expected—” Her voice broke on a shaky squeak. “Oh, Ransom, how could you? It was bad enough that you marched her to your bedroom , but I managed to smooth over that. You were beside yourself, everyone could see that. But t-this— "
Merlin had begun to try to wriggle out of his arms, but his hold on her tightened.
"I'm sorry,” he said in a calm voice. “You're right, of course, Blythe. I shouldn't have left you with awkward explanations to make."
"Awkward! Ransom, do you realize you could lose your privy appointment over this?” Blythe paced into the room, chafing her thin hands. “The King has already made it clear that he disapproves of your association with Mr. Fox—"
" Friendship with Mr. Fox,” Ransom said deliberately. “Of long standing."
"Nevertheless, it would be far too easy for you to be tarred with his brash. Everyone knows he's just lately married that woman who's been his...” She hesitated. Merlin saw a frown begin descending on Ransom's face. “...his concubine,” Blythe rushed on. “For decades. And now for you to be involved in a scandal like this—for God's sake, Ransom, only think of what it
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