Page 44 of Spar of Hearts

“Don’t mention this to anyone,” Roderick whispered, swooping by him. “Especially not in any Crown reports.” He adjusted Anya in his arms and fished out a copper coin, holding it out to him.

“You’re not going to—” Bernard looked appalled, parrying his eyes between the inebriated Princess and Roderick. “She’s—I can’t let you—”

“No! I’m not going to bed her. I found her like this. She’s under a lot of stress. I’m only taking her to her cabin, I swear.”

“Oh!” Bernard exhaled. “No bribe needed then. Sailor’s swear.” He crossed his heart with an X.

Did everyone think so little of him? That he would bribe someone to keep such an unconscionable affair secret? The look in Bernard’s eyes was enough to make him feel lower than the hay his horses trampled.

Roderick proceeded down the hall, pressing a hand over Anya’s mouth just as she started to howl again. There were at least a dozen crew members asleep in the belly of the ship.

I should have left her in there.

If Bernard thought so low of him, surely the rest of the crew did as well. Hell, maybe the whole kingdom did already. The wolf-masked woman had run all but screaming. Rumors of Valeria’s finest knight having his way with the drunken Princess would ruin him—and not just his career prospects.

Who would want to be with a man of such ill repute?

The ship creaked around him as he went despite his quick, light steps. It was nearly pitch dark, save for the dim flicker of lanterns hung at either end of the hall. The soft glow seemed to caress Anya’s blonde tresses, imbuing them with strands of gold. She was begrudgingly beautiful, even in such an undignified state.

Moisture wet his palm just as he reached the furthest starboard cabin.

“Gah!” He shook his hand. “Divine, Anya, did you just lick me?”

Free from his palm prison, she buried her face in the hollow of his throat. “Maybe,” she whispered with a giggle. Her lips teased his skin as she spoke. He swore he could feel the warm tip of her tongue. “Want me to do it again?”

Yes.

“No,” he groaned, desperate to stifle the desire building within him. He rapped softly on the door. “Ngh—don’t—don’t do anything.”

You’re disgusting, the voice in his head whispered. It had been strangely absent the last hour with Anya. Just imagine if she knew about your past. She wouldn’t even spit in your direction.

His mind swirled as she nestled against his chest as they waited at the door. He needed to get away from her. Now. Someone was going to see. Oh Lady Rowan, please wake up, please wake up.

Just as he contemplated leaving her at the door, it swung open.

“My Lady?” Lady Rowan said sleepily. It must’ve been nearly morning—time for the two of them to go to sleep. Her eyes flew wide. “My Lady!” She caught her tone and covered her mouth. “What happened?”

“We argued, she nearly fell overboard, her ring got hot, next thing I know I found her swimming in ale.” He set Anya down.

“Come here, My Lady, let’s get you to bed.” She stared down at Anya’s feet. “Where are your shoes?”

“No shoes…never shoes…” Anya laughed and nearly toppled Lady Rowan over with a stumbling hug.

“I’ll leave them outside your cabin later,” he whispered.

“Thank you.” Lady Rowan nodded and guided the besotted Princess inside, shutting the door with a click.

“Hoo…” He slid down the wall and scrubbed his face. Resisting her advances was painful. Lecherous thoughts were bucking and chomping at the bit within him.

Dear Divine, that woman…

If she stabbed him in the chest, would his pathetic heart beg him to pull her closer and sink the knife deeper, just to catch a whiff of her bergamot scent? Why was he taking such risks to help her?

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered. She was drunk. She hates me. These feelings have no place.

He was mortified to find his actions during the evacuation had stoked her anxieties about being named the heir to the throne. He vowed to do his best not to step on her toes ever again.

But that vow was for another day. Right now, he desperately needed a distraction before the voice in his mind took over. If he went back to his cabin, he’d get lost dreaming of her. And trying to tame this himself would only make the accusing voice louder.