Iron Crowned Page 0,19

Her husband had died, leaving her family in financial trouble. It made her actions more understandable, though I still thought she was a bitch.

"Children are such a joy," said Edria, looking at Dorian again.

I looked at him too as he gazed at Ansonia and Pagiel. Long study had taught me that his eyes held the secrets to his true feelings whenever he wore that lazy, mysterious expression of his. And now, hidden in those green depths, I could see the glint of admiration and longing. A strange feeling welled up in my stomach, and for the first time, I could honestly believe Dorian wanted kids with me just for the sake of parenthood and no other agenda. I felt unexpected guilt over this.

As though reading my thoughts, he turned his attention on me. His smile warmed me, and whatever wistfulness his eyes had betrayed was replaced now with love - love quickly mingling with lust as he took in my appearance again. In fact, his desire seemed even stronger than it had been when I first entered, and I suddenly wondered if he'd make a serious attempt at exhibitionism after all. But no, with a deep breath that seemed to summon his control, he respectfully looked back at his guests.

Yet, under the table, I felt the hand on my thigh tighten, his fingers sliding over the smooth silk of the dress. Chills ran over my flesh, but I also politely kept my attention on the others.

"It was amazing how easily Ysabel conceived her children," Edria continued. "If poor Mareth had lived, I have no doubt they'd have a dozen by now."

I considered pointing out that if Ysabel was so fertile, then she would have surely gotten pregnant when she and Dorian were lovers. It seemed in bad taste to me, so I said nothing. Such topics weren't out of line for gentry, however, and Rurik again jumped in to defend my honor and point out exactly what I'd been thinking.

"But you've been with others since then," he said. "And you haven't had any more children."

Dorian's hand began skillfully gathering the fabric of my dress's skirt so that it rose up my leg, soon bunching up and exposing my thigh altogether so that his fingers now touched bare skin. I had a feeling he wasn't paying much attention to the conversation anymore, despite a very convincing look of interest as he kept his eyes on everyone except me.

Ysabel glared at Rurik. "I haven't had that many lovers." Promiscuity wasn't an insult among gentry, but in this case, playing down her sex life was intended to explain why she had no other children.

Meanwhile, Dorian's hand had moved to my inner thigh, slowly and carefully moving up so that he betrayed nothing to the others. When he reached my underwear, his fingers stopped, as though pondering this obstacle. I'd picked something thin and lacy, mostly to be alluring for later bedroom activities, but it apparently proved convenient now. He gripped the edges, braced a moment, and then jerked so hard that the fabric ripped. In the noisy room, no one heard, and I just barely swallowed a gasp. I gave him a small glare that he either ignored or didn't see. I suspected the former.

"Sometimes the gods simply wait for the right opportunity - or rather, the right man." Edria's eyes darted to Dorian who smiled at her winningly. His chin rested in the hand not under the table, his elbow propped up. "Clearly, Mareth was the right union then, and I'm sure the gods will smile approvingly on Ysabel's next husband." Her tone and look left no question about who that would be.

Rurik snorted in disgust. "I believe the gods have their hands in our affairs, but they're not interested in every detail - certainly not what goes on between the sheets."

Or under the table, apparently. Dorian's fingers, now with free access, slid all the way up between my legs. Whatever disapproval I wanted to convey was contradicted by how wet he found me. The inane smile he was giving Edria changed to something a bit more smug. With well-practiced skill, one of his fingers began stroking me, immediately finding the spot that ignited me and burned with pleasure. My heart rate sped up, both from arousal and from anxiety that someone would notice.

Then, as though wanting to flaunt his audacity, he actually managed perfect conversation while still working to get me off. "Well, if Ysabel wants a new husband, we can