Chapter 249: Thomas Was Still So Small
"Thomas was still so small," Henry said. "There was not yet much to know, and still I feel I failed to know enough."
Livia placed her hand over his where it rested at her waist. "I am sure you were a good father to Thomas, Your Majesty. You have to stop carrying the guilt of what happened."
His thumb moved against the back of her hand. "I think of what a child with you would look like."
"You must stop with these foolish dreams, Your Majesty."
"They are my dreams to be foolish with, not yours."
"They concern me."
"Most of my best dreams do. When I close my eyes, there you are. You beneath me. Your hair spread over my sheets. Your legs around my waist. Me inside you."
"Your Majesty!"
The scandalised whisper left her so quickly that Henry laughed.
"Do I embarrass you, my lady?"
"Yes," she said at once. "Yes, very much so." Livia tried to shift away from him, but his arm held her lightly in place. His body was solid behind hers, his thighs framing her beneath the cloak, his mouth close enough to her ear to ruin concentration. The warmth of him seeped through every layer of fabric.
"It is only you and me," he murmured.
"And Lionel."
"Lionel cannot hear unless I shout. It troubles you that it affects you."
"It does not."
"No?"
"No."
His hand moved over her waist. His fingers spread against her stomach, holding her back to his chest while his mouth remained near her ear. "I remember you riding on my cock last night my lady, chasing your orgasm with my body."
"Because you begged," she said simply.
"So you’re saying," he said, "that if I tried right now, you wouldn’t come all over my fingers."
It wasn’t quite a question. Livia kept her eyes on the water.
"No," she said.
"No you wouldn’t," Henry said, "or no you wouldn’t like to admit it."
"No."
"You realise," he said pleasantly, "that there is nowhere to run. We are in a boat. In the middle of the Thames. Are you absolutely certain about that answer?"
"I am not ruled by my body, your majesty."
Henry laughed. "So stubborn," he murmured, his fingers leaving her hair and travelling across her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. "So stubborn and yet so remarkably..." his fingers drifted lower, "...malleable."
Livia’s hand shot down and caught his.
"Think carefully about what happens next," he said conversationally. "You fight me, the boat rocks, and we end up in the Thames." He tilted his head. "Is that preferable to the alternative? Because I should tell you the water is extraordinarily cold this time of year and that dress will not survive it."
His fingers moved anyway. Travelling further beneath the fabric.
"Your majesty." Her voice had lost some of its certainty. "Please."
"Why? You will end up mine, Livia. We both know it. The only question is how much energy you want to spend pretending otherwise." His fingers moved higher. "So why fight it?"
"Because I cannot encourage this madness." She said it firmly.
"Is that what this is."
"What else would you call it? You are a king. You have a court full of women who would — "
"I don’t want them. I can’t be with anyone but you." His fingers hitched inside the waistband of her drawers, finding warm skin. "I don’t want to be."
The boat rocked gently. Livia’s body shivered.
"Henry—"
His fingers moved gently. Stroking. Coaxing. Saying things his voice was apparently still working up to. "I miss you...I want you." His fingers pressed deeper and she gasped softly against his shoulder. "I need you, Livia."
The boat moved on. Henry’s fingers entered her. Her body welcomed him with absolute, traitorous warmth regardless of every sensible decision her mind had made in the interim.
"Marry me." His voice was low against her temple, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke. "Please." His fingers kept moving inside her, entirely persuasive.
She closed her eyes. And Livia, who was not ruled by her body, felt her body make its position on the matter absolutely, comprehensively, undeniably clear. She gasped.
"I’ll give you the world." His voice was low against her hair, his fingers continuing their patient, devastating work beneath her skirts. "Everything you’ve never had. Everything you were told wasn’t meant for you." His lips pressed to the back of her head. "I’ll make you feel like a woman every single day."
His fingers curled. She bit down on her lip. "This torture between us ends. You will make the throne worth sitting on, Livia. You already do and you’re not even on it yet."
"Please. Please, Henry — don’t do this. Don’t make me feel this way."
"You want to feel this way. Did you forget? Your first time — did you forget how you begged me? You weren’t looking for an escape." His fingers moved and she inhaled sharply. "In the moment, you wanted me. You are the reason I believed in love at first sight. I looked at you and life suddenly made sense."
She felt his own erection pressed against her buttocks.
"I could be so much more." His lips moved to her neck. "With you. For you. You could feel things you haven’t allowed yourself to imagine." His mouth pressed warm against her skin. "Let yourself go, Livia. Stop managing everything and just—"
"Let me go," she whispered.
He understood what she meant. She wasn’t asking him to release his hold. She was asking for something far larger and far harder: the freedom to make a choice he wasn’t part of. He knew what she would choose if he let her.
She would choose safety. A life that made sense. She would choose away from him because toward him required a courage she didn’t think she had.
He could not allow that. "I cannot." His mouth found the curve of her neck and he sucked gently, then ran his tongue in a line up to the shell of her ear. "I’ll die."
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