The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,45

the entirety of the floor. A blue velvet quilt, white satin pillows, and fur blankets were piled high on a canopied bed topped with finials carved in the shapes of lion heads. Elegant blue drapes were gathered back with gold cording, waiting to be pulled, and a squat stove with an intricate grill was nearby. Fresh cornflowers graced a side table, and a small dining table with two chairs was in a corner. It was more luxurious than my own chamber at home.

“And your quarters?” I asked.

“Over there.”

A dozen yards away, a similar tent had been erected. A short distance that seemed so far. We hadn’t slept apart since we left the Sanctum. I had grown accustomed to feeling his arm around my waist, the warmth of his breath on my neck, and I couldn’t imagine him not being with me tonight, especially now that we finally had what might be called real privacy.

I smoothed back a lock from his face. His lids were heavy. “You’ve gotten no rest, have you?”

“Not yet. There will be time for that later—”

“Rafe,” I said, stopping him. “Some things can’t be put off until later. We still haven’t talked about your parents. Are you all right?”

He let the tent curtain drop, blocking out the lantern light, and we were in darkness again. “I’m fine,” he said.

I cradled his face and drew him closer, our foreheads touching, our breaths mingling, and it seemed tears swelled in both our throats. “I’m sorry, Rafe,” I whispered.

His jaw tensed beneath my touch. “I was where I needed to be. With you. My parents would understand.” Each word he spoke throbbed in the space between us. “My being with them wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“But you could have said good-bye.”

His arms circled around me, holding me tight, and it felt like all the grief he would ever be allowed was in that grip. I could think only of the cruelty of his new position and what was immediately expected of him.

His hold finally loosened, and he looked at me, tired creases at the corners of his eyes, a smile through his exhaustion.

“Stay with me?” I asked.

His lips met mine, and he whispered against them between kisses. “Are you trying to seduce me, Your Highness?”

“Absolutely,” I said, and leisurely ran the tip of my tongue along his lower lip like it was my final course of the evening.

He pulled away slightly and sighed. “We’re in the middle of an outpost with a hundred eyes watching—probably right now from the dining room windows.”

“You didn’t seem to be worried about what others thought when you kissed me in there.”

“I was overcome with the moment. Besides, kissing you and staying the night in your tent are two different things.”

“You’re afraid you’ll taint my reputation?”

An evil grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid you’ll taint mine.”

I punched him playfully in the ribs, but then felt the smile fade from my face. I understood protocol—especially with royals. By the gods, I had lived with it my entire life. I also knew Rafe was in an especially delicate position now, all eyes newly trained on him. But we had both nearly died. I was tired of waiting. “I want to be with you, Rafe. Now. It seems waiting is all we’ve ever done. I don’t care what anyone thinks. What if there are no tomorrows? What if now is all we’ll ever have?”

He reached up and gently pressed his finger to my lips. “Shhh. Don’t ever say that. We have a lifetime ahead of us, a hundred tomorrows and more. I promise. That’s what all this has been about. Every breath, every step I’ve taken has been for our future together. There’s nothing I want more than to disappear into this tent with you, but I do care what they think. They’ve only just met you, and I’ve already disregarded every protocol expected of a prince.”

I sighed. “And now you’re king.”

“But I can at least come in and light the stove for you. That won’t take me long.”

I told him I could light it myself, but he pulled aside the curtain and led me in, and I didn’t protest further. He checked the flue in the tall round chimney that vented through the top of the tent, and then lit the kindling. He sat back on the side of the bed, watching to make sure the wood caught. I walked around the tent, brushing my fingers along the bed drapes, taking in the extravagance.

“This

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