Spy's Honor

experimentally, but he held her fast. A little jolt of excitement ran through her. It was a little like fear, and yet it wasn’t, because with Janto she always felt safe.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered.

Rhianne swallowed. “Yes.”

He took her breast in his mouth. Unable to move her arms, she arched her back and moaned. So good, so painfully good. He circled her nipple with his tongue, teased her, kissed her on her neck and chin until she craved his mouth on her nipple again. Then he tortured her again.

“Tell me you are mine,” he said.

“I’m yours,” gasped Rhianne, wishing it could be true forever.

Janto grinned. He released her wrists and moved downward.

“Wait.” She craved that wicked tongue of his, but she had a different plan in mind. “You first tonight—you said you would show me what to do.”

He paused, then settled beside her. “All right.”

As he pulled her into his arms, resting his cock against her thigh, she asked, “What do I do? Can I touch it?”

Her took her hand and guided it. Though his cock was hard underneath, the skin on the outside was silky as down. She stroked it gently.

Janto placed his hand over hers and pressed harder, demonstrating. “It wants a firm touch,” he explained. “And gods, that feels good.”

“It’s better if I do it with my mouth, though. Isn’t it?”

He made an involuntary noise of longing. “Yes, I like that better. If you want to try it.”

It took some time to find a comfortable position, and a bit longer to figure out exactly what to do with her mouth and tongue. Janto gave her some suggestions—the most important seemed to be not to use her teeth—but she found she learned best by experimenting. Running her tongue over one particular spot around the head seemed to be Janto’s favorite; it reduced him to panting and incoherent moaning. She was no expert, but it didn’t seem to matter. By the look on his face and the sounds he made, she could tell he was enjoying what she was doing.

Now she understood why Janto took such pleasure in pinning her arms and torturing her with his mouth. She felt powerful. He was bigger than she and far stronger, yet when she put her mouth on him, she was the one in control.

“Gods,” he said. “Rhianne, I’m—I’m . . .” He gasped and pulled away. With a great cry, he shuddered through his climax.

Rhianne kissed him, rubbing his back as he caught his breath and came down from the high. “I could have stayed with you through that.”

“Your first time,” he panted. “Didn’t want to startle you. But next time . . .”

“I want to,” said Rhianne.

Janto pulled her into his arms. He rested a short while, idly kissing and stroking her, and when he was ready, he took her to paradise.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Rhianne led Dice into Morgan’s tiny stable. The slave boy hurried forward to take the reins.

“You’re late,” said Morgan from the doorway. “Was starting to worry about you.”

“I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t run short of money.” Rhianne climbed the short stairway from the stable to the house and handed him the tetrals. “I’ve been busy. Augustan came for a visit, and . . . well, other things have happened.”

“Augustan!” Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “Are you engaged? Was there a big to-do?” He headed into the kitchen.

“Yes and yes.”

“We’ll open a bottle of wine.” He went to a chest and pulled out a bottle. He worked at the cork a bit and winced.

Rhianne took it from him and uncorked the bottle.

Morgan grunted an apology about his feeble fingers, grabbed two mismatched cups, and poured. Rhianne trailed after him into the sitting room, where he took a seat and sipped his wine. He gestured at the chair across from him. “So, tell me about your fiance.”

“I hate him,” said Rhianne.

Morgan choked on his wine and smacked his chest, coughing. “Not what I expected you to say.”

“Wouldn’t you think that a man who came to the palace to court his future wife would be on his best behavior?” said Rhianne. “Even if he were by nature mean and nasty, he should be perfect for those two days, because anyone can fake it at least that long, right?”

“I would think so,” said Morgan. “Depends how aware he is of his behavior and how it’s perceived.”

“Augustan yelled at the servants and wanted them beaten for trivial mistakes, he was nasty to me when I wasn’t feeling well, and he insulted me to my face. If that was his best behavior, what’s he going to be like when the emperor isn’t looking over his shoulder?”

“He insulted you?”

“Right to my face!”

“What did he say?” Morgan’s forehead wrinkled. “What fault could he find in you?”

Rhianne laughed. “You’re sweet. I have many faults. Ask my cousin, and he’ll provide you with a list. But in this case, Augustan referred to the shame of my birth.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Because of your mother.”

“Yes, and my father being a tradesman.”

“Clearly this fiance of yours is a vile human being.” Morgan pointed to her wineglass. “Drink.”

Rhianne drank. “He is vile, and I have no choice but to marry him.”

Morgan peered into his empty cup, swirling the dregs as if they had a story to tell. “You always have a choice, Rhianne.”

She shook her head. “If I run away, Florian will catch me. He’s got the whole army at his disposal. My mother didn’t outwit Nigellus. He let her go.”

“Perhaps you underestimate yourself.”

Rhianne sipped her wine. She didn’t think Morgan truly understood Florian, even after everything the emperor had done to him. Her uncle was tenacious as a badger; if she fled from him, he’d never stop hunting for her. Besides, she had to be realistic. For all that she might dream of running away with Janto, her Mosari lover remained fanatically loyal to his people and to his mission, whatever that was. And Florian needed her to help govern Mosar. Part of her hoped that Augustan wouldn’t be so awful, that over time she’d win him over, and while their marriage might not ever be wonderful, it might at least be tolerable.

“Consider this,” said Morgan. “Running away and marrying Augustan aren’t necessarily your only two choices. Also, what Augustan said wasn’t a slip of the tongue. One doesn’t become a high-ranking legatus by being a fool. He said it deliberately.”

“What do you mean?”

Morgan set his wineglass on the table. “I’ve known men like this before. Augustan feels threatened because you outrank him. You are an emperor’s niece and adopted daughter; he is merely a legatus and soon-to-be provincial governor. Most men would be proud to make such a distinguished marriage, but Augustan is clearly frightened by a wife who is more powerful than he is. He wants to diminish your power by shaming you, so that you feel that you’re a fraud, that you’re not a true member of the emperor’s family.”

“I never thought of it that way,” said Rhianne.

“You can’t marry this man, because insults are only the beginning,” said Morgan. “Men of this sort can’t tolerate anyone else having power, especially their wives, and also their children. He’ll mistreat the children you’ll have someday, Rhianne. Have you thought of that? If you won’t stop this marriage for your own sake, do it for theirs.”

* * *

At a seaside cliff several hours’ walk from the Imperial Palace, Janto summoned a ball of flickering blue