Pleasure and Purpose (36 page)

They stared at one another until Edward once again looked away. Though the room was warm from the fire, a chill rippled over Alaric's bare skin. He'd been bare dozens of times in front of Edward, barer than this, but he suddenly felt more naked than he ever had. He grabbed up his shirt from the chair and slipped it over his arms, buttoning it with stiff fingers.

"You're my friend," Alaric said when it seemed silence would strangle them both. "I've never doubted you knew it."

Edward cupped Alaric's cheek before letting his hand slide down to rest on Alaric's shoulder. The weight of it shouldn't have been as heavy as it was. Alaric couldn't bring himself to pull away.

Edward had ever been an ideal. Taller. Stronger. Smarter, handsomer, richer. Better loved. There'd been times with the two of them, Cillian and Edward, Alaric had felt as though he were running along three steps behind. But that had been in school, when they were boys and young men. Though they were scarcely older now, things had changed. Alaric took a step back at the thought of it. Things had changed. Between them and within himself. Edward, seeing the step, perhaps mistook it for retreat and moved forward to snag Alaric's wrist.

"I have been unfair to you, Alaric."

Alaric had never thought to be here, this way, with Edward staring from misty eyes at him. He'd never thought he might not wish to have his friends hand in his own, or that Edwards ever-present face might have been replaced in his mind with that of someone else. Even on the floor at Larissa's boots, performing like a lapdog for her every whim, Edward's face had sometimes swum up from the darkness to remind Alaric there was more.

Things had changed, indeed.

"You haven't," Alaric said. "Truly, Edward, you haven't." In Edward's dark eyes Alaric caught a flash of a bed, entangled limbs. A woman's blonde unbound hair. And the sight of his own face, twisted in passion. It was all in his head, of course, his imagination as vivid as it had ever been, but somehow, he thought Edward might be thinking of the same moment.

"I don't know why it's been me. You and Cillian both . . . you both have ever been my dear friends."

Even now Alaric expected the flash of envy that always came when Edward spoke of Cillian. "As you've both been to me."

Edward let go of Alaric's wrist. "Did we leave you behind?" Hearing it put out that way, Alaric could only swallow the rush of emotions. Mostly anger and envy. No small part grief.

"Yes. You did."

Edward sagged and turned again to lean against the window frame. One hand came up to cover his eyes. Alaric watched him for a moment as the world spun beneath them, but unlike it had done in the past when he spun with it, now he stood still.

"But should you have waited for me? Instead of moving on to find your solace with your lady wife, should you have stayed behind to wait until I caught up?" Alaric shook his head. "Should Cillian?"

Alaric laughed. "Could he have? I've seen you both with those women, and I don't believe you could. No, Edward."

"But all of this—"

Alaric's voice grew stony. "All of this was my own doing. And I have nobody to blame but myself."

Edward stared until a small smile crept over his mouth. "She's done it, has she not? Done this to you."

At first Alaric thought Edward meant Larissa, that she'd sent him spiraling down into a mess of drugs and despair, and that was no small part true. But the rest of it had been him, and would have been him, no matter what. Because he'd chosen to embrace pain instead of fighting it.

He looked round the room again, the floor swept and books tidied, the fire stoked and lit, and he realized who Edward meant. "Mina? Yes. I suppose she has." Edward laughed and rubbed at his eyes again, looking wearier than ever. "By the Arrow, they do work magic."

Alaric wouldn't have called it that. He believed not in such a thing. "Go home to your bed before you fall over."

Edward yawned so broadly his jaw cracked and scrubbed again at his face. "I should. My lady wife is patient, but not so patient she doesn't miss me." From far off, Alaric heard the faint sound of the hourly chime. Several had sounded since Mina had left him, and though she hadn't promised any sort of punishment should he not have finished all the items on the list she'd left, he couldn't help the itch of restlessness when he realized how many tasks remained. Well aware this came from within himself and not from anything she'd said, nevertheless he looked toward the door and no longer at his friend.

"Are you happy?"

Edward s question, such a strange thing for another man to ask, stopped Alaric stone solid. He turned, thinking of how to answer. He knew how happy felt, or thought he had. Mina had given him focus, which wasn't the same.

"I might be," he told Edward cautiously.

"She's meant to bring you solace," Edward said in a low voice. "They do that."

"That's not the same as happy, Edward."

"I know it." Edward laughed.

Alaric laughed too, after a moment. "You and Cillian found yours. The Order does know its work. I'm sure Mina will do just what she's meant to. But I don't expect to gain what you and Cillian have."

"No. I suppose you shouldn't expect such a thing." Edward yawned again. "Your mercy. I should go. But one more thing, Alaric, before I do. Cillian would have me give this to you."

The envelope, sealed with red wax and Cillian's stamp, was too heavy to be an invitation, and knowing his friend as he did, Alaric rather doubted it was personal correspondence.

"What is it?"

"Think you I know the king's business?"

Alaric smiled. "I think you know it better than he does, sometimes."

"He wants you to return to take up your duties as his minister." Alaric blinked and tapped the letter before setting it on the table. "Does he? This is an official summons, then?"

"The seal would make it so, yes. He's asking you not only as your king but as your friend."

"He could have come to me and asked in person." Alaric knew this was splitting hairs and beside the point, but the thought of going back to court, to facing them all, to actually doing something undictated. On his own.

Edward frowned. "Alaric—"

"Never mind." Alaric waved a hand. "I'll read it. Thank you for delivering it." Edward nodded and looked as though he meant to say more, but whatever words rose to his tongue were shoved aside by another yawn. Pushing for an argument had never been Alaric's way. In the time it took for Edward to yawn again, for Alaric to breathe in and out, he thought of pricking at Edward to give himself reason for anger.

"Go home," he said in the end, with a gentle push of his friend toward the door. "Go." The door opened just before they reached it. Mina stood no higher than Alaric's chin yet she filled the doorway top to bottom, side to side. Or so it seemed to him. Edward perhaps had a different view, though he gave her a half bow and a murmured greeting. Mina nodded at him with a smile, but didn't offer her hand. She stood aside as he left and only when the door had closed behind her did she turn to Alaric. She said nothing. She didn't have to.

It was not the way it had been with Larissa. Larissa had ever done what she could to make him yearn for her, and he had, willingly enough. She'd taunted and teased him into a fever for the pleasure of pulling his strings, and he'd allowed that, too, because Alaric couldn't recall a time when he'd not been overcome with one or the other. Only the subject of it had changed. He'd traded his longing for Edward and to a lesser extent, Cillian, or at least his closeness with Edward, and replaced it with Larissa. What now had replaced her?

"Tell me, sweetheart, what has you looking so pensive?" Mina drew him to her with a glance, not a pompous jerk of her finger. She sat, her head tilted, watching him. If he didn't go to his knees for her, she wouldn't mock him. It made him want to be in that place all the more, but Alaric kept to his feet. "I'm almost finished with your list." Firelight glittered in her dark eyes. "Almost?"

He nodded.

Mina looked around the room and back at him, no trace of a mockery in her expression. Nor anger. "Have you done your best?"

He didn't need to be untruthful when he replied. "Yes."

"That's all I could ask."

For the first time in as long as he could remember, doing his best was good enough, even for him.

Mina was not in the habit of making mistakes. Not that she believed herself incapable, for such a thought would be a mistake in and of itself. But she wasn't in the habit of mistakes, so when they occurred she was not often prepared to deal with the aftermath. Watching Alaric sleep beside her, Mina wondered if she'd mis-stepped. She'd taken him firmly in hand, and he'd responded, but that wasn't the error. It was in enjoying this so much.

There is no greater pleasure than providing absolute solace.

Mina knew the principles of her faith more than simply by heart—they had become so much a part of her every thought they were as much a part of her as the color of her eyes. She rarely had to think on them, or what they meant, or how she made every choice based upon them. She was a Handmaiden in every part of herself.

But one of the five principles stood out for her now, resounding in her head so loudly she had to get out of bed. In the moonlight she went naked to the window seat, covered now in soft, clean fabric. Alaric had turned the cushions to hide the stain and tears and she had no fear of her bare flesh on it. She looked through the glass.

Alaric's rooms overlooked a small stone-laid courtyard and the lawns beyond. Not the gardens where she'd allowed him to take her walking, though she knew where they were. Vast, rolling slopes that would be green in the sunshine, in the summer, but now shone silver in the autumn moonglow.

Selfish is the heart that thinks first of itself.

Mina had long known what that meant but believed herself above such a statement. Prideful, perhaps, but also true. Until she came here, anyway.

From the bedroom she heard Alaric's soft, in-out breath. He slept without tossing or turning, and if he dreamed he did it in silence. She'd given him that much, at least, and if it were prideful to believe so that, at least, she knew was no mistake. But there was no denying her selfishness, as well. She'd been thinking first of herself ever since Alaric had gone to his knees and made love to her with his mouth. Thinking of ways to reward him for his obedience by allowing him to get on his knees again. Knowing from deep within her soul that he gained even more from so pleasing her didn't change the fact that she was not acting solely with his solace in mind. Even now, thinking of his mouth on her flesh, Mina shifted on the seat. Her skin heated, her nipples peaked. His lovemaking had been exquisite and perfect, as though he'd been trained to know just where and how to touch her. Tipping back her head and closing her eyes, she cupped her breasts and then ran her hands over her belly. Her thighs. Over the soft curls between her legs, her clit and cunt.

"Mina?"

Without opening her eyes, Mina smiled. "Alaric. Sweetheart. You should be sleeping."

"So should you."

She heard the pad of soft, bare feet on the carpet and felt the swirl of air heated by his warmth as it caressed her skin. She opened her eyes. Moonlight painted him in silver gilt the way it had done everything else in the room, but on Alaric the soft streams of light seemed to add an extra glow. Even his hair had turned silver instead of golden.

"I woke up and you were gone. I thought maybe . . ."

"I would never leave you without telling you first," Mina said. She held out her hand and he came forward to take it. The soft brush of his lips across her knuckles sent a shiver through her.

"Because it's against your Order's rules?"

"Because it would cause you unnecessary pain," Mina told him quietly. Sincerely. His eyes flashed. "Will you come back to bed?"

"In a while. I want to sit here." Sleep would still elude her, no matter how soft the pillows or warm the blankets. She smiled. "The window seat is big enough for two." Alaric kissed her hand again and went to the bed, tugged off the top blanket, and brought it with him. He settled onto the cushion with his back against the wall and covered them both with the blanket against the chill. She wasn't sure how he did it, but Alaric maneuvered her between his thighs, her back against his chest and his hands on her hips. So settled, Mina couldn't help the sigh of contentment.

Most of the men of her acquaintance hadn't been much for talk, but with Alaric the silence wasn't the same. She didn't believe he stayed quiet because he had nothing to say, or because his thoughts were rambling off into his own head, trying to figure a way to get what he wanted from her. Alaric was quiet because she was. Because the night called for it. Because ... he understood.

"I've been summoned by the king."

She knew this, of course. She put her hands over his and drew them up to cover her breasts. Against her back, the pole of his erection thickened, and Mina smiled. "I would be surprised if he hadn't called for you. He is your dear friend, after all." Alaric snorted lightly and rubbed his chin against her temple. "It's less than a social call he requests. He wants me to work for him."

"You don't wish to work?"

He gave a low murmur against her hair. "I've not been idle these past few days." She laughed. "Sweetheart, this is not the sort of work that will keep you in silk and velvet, and you well know it."

"And if I don't care about being kept in silk and velvet?" She moved his hands over her breasts and her belly. Along her thighs. His cock got harder. Sweat slipped between them. She moved his hand between her legs.

"You should care about something beyond this room, Alaric. Beyond the gardens. This is not your life."

He didn't answer, and she didn't push. His fingers found her curls and parted them to stroke her clitoris. Mina shifted her knees, tenting the blanket. She arched a little to tip her head back and offer her mouth for his kiss.

His tongue slipped just right between her lips. She sucked on it, and he moaned, his fingers moving faster. They dipped into her well and slid, slick with her juices, over and over her clit.