Page 101 of The Favourite

“Everyone else?”

She hesitated. “Our fellow courtiers.”

“Ah,” he considered. Strange to say, he had not really given the matter much thought.

“Or do you suppose they will not be able to tell?”

He considered her over the top of his goblet. He hoped like hell, no one would be able to tell how utterly he was infatuated right now. He would likely be a laughingstock. “I do not know,” he said slowly, “but we will soon find out, will we not?”

She looked, he thought, more than a little apprehensive. “Yes,” she agreed and took a gulp of wine.

As was his habit lately, a display of nervousness on Jane’s behalf brought out his gallant streak. “They will likely see no more nor less than we desire them to see,” he said with his most reassuring smile, and he watched her shoulders relax. It was oddly gratifying, soothing this skittish wife of his. He wondered that he should like it so much, whilst simultaneously enjoying being the actual source of her discomfort. It was a puzzle to be sure.

After they had eaten, Alisander took the tray from the room himself. All was quiet without, though when he paused outside Anne and the children’s door, he found it ajar. Wat was sat just inside on a low stool, bouncing Bertrand on his knee. Whilst entertaining the boy, he kept up a trickle of comfortable conversation with Anne, who was breastfeeding Celestia.

Once he was assured none of it concerned Wat’s extra duties, he left them to it, choosing not to disturb Robert with the empty dishes. By the time he rejoined Jane under the covers, he felt calm and in control of himself once more. “My poor Jane,” he murmured against her ear. “You are in a quake about the morrow, but you must not fret. I will not allow anyone to discompose you. Not even the Queen herself.”

She gave a small murmur of protest at this, but otherwise lay content in his arms, letting him pet and fuss over her. “If anyone makes my Jane uncomfortable, she must simply pluck at my tunic and I will come to her rescue, yes?”

“Pluck at your tunic?” Jane repeated, sounding slightly annoyed. “I hope I would not do anything so childish!”

“Shhhh, Jane, you must not grow agitated, it is not good for you,” he tutted. “Your face grows so red when you grow vexed.”

“Yes, but you like it when I grow hot and blotchy!” Jane pointed out. She was very bad at this game; he did not know why he liked to play it with her so much.

He sighed, slipping his hands between her legs. “I do,” he agreed richly as Jane’s breathing hitched. “But only I am permitted to annoy Jane so deeply. Is that not so?”

She hesitated. “Y-yes.”

“A little louder, if you please, Jane. I could hardly hear you.”

“Only you,” she breathed, pleasing him so much that he touched her exactly as she liked it without prompting. Jane shivered and gasped, closing her eyes against the pleasure even as her legs closed about his hand, holding it in place against her sweet little cunt.

“That’s very good Jane, very good.” It should be amusing how much she responded to commendation, but the fact was that he was far too excited by her wetness to tease much more at this point. He steeled himself to make the effort. “I should have left more candles on,” he murmured regretfully against her brow.

“Candles?” she repeated dreamily.

“I was thinking of trying one of your Aunt Maud’s ungodly positions out, but it hardly seems worth the effort when our bedchamber is so dark.” Jane’s expression changed so swiftly from blissful to disapproving, that he almost laughed. “How about we get you up on your knees, hmmm?” he suggested.

“My knees?” Jane sounded uncertain, so he kissed her brow and helped maneuver her upright. “That’s it, now bend forward and rest your elbows against the bed.”

“A-Alisander!” she protested, clearly thinking that presenting herself arse-up was undignified. “This can’t be right.” Still, he noticed with a thrill how obediently she remained as he had arranged her, facing the foot of the bed.

He ran his hands over her pert backside. “Oh, I don’t know, it feels pretty right to me,” he purred.

“Where is the drawing? Do you have it to hand?” she asked suspiciously as though she would like to consult it, and he had to stifle his laugh.

“I forget where I put it,” he lied. “I feel sure we can work it out.”

“I don’t know …” Jane started but abruptly stopped when dropped his braies and came up flush behind her, rubbing his hard cock against her sex.

“You see,” he coaxed, “this would work.”

“Um.” Jane’s voice sounded strained. “Yes, I suppose …” She trailed off. “But—oh!” The tip had lodged just right.

Alisander closed his eyes and breathed out, gripping her hips hard and halting his progress. “Yes? No? How do we feel?”

“Well,” Jane huffed, trying instinctively to move her hips against him to encourage his entry. Naughty Jane. “We—we could try it, I suppose.”