“It appears that someone’s using the butler’s study for a bit of fun and now a crowd is gathering to see what will happen.”
“Well, I’m leaving before someone shows up here and starts pounding on our door.”
“Me first.”
Of course. A small victory for her, or so she would think. She slipped out with only the soft rustle of her swaying dress following her.
He let her go. He had plans to implement.
Chapter 8
Penelope rose from bed late in the night, unable to sleep. It had been hours since she’d last seen Ryon at the celebration. After what they’d done… It was only inevitable that sleep eluded her. So she pulled on a simple frock and tiptoed downstairs.
The middle Farris sister, Priscilla, had insisted, or demanded rather, that she stay the night with Pen, since it was the day before her Claiming. Tomorrow would be a busy day. Someone would be styling her hair, another bathing her and covering her in sweet scents, another dressing her in the ceremonial outfit. The female and male are supposed to abstain from luxuries the morning before the ritual so that hunger was pronounced. It made the males ravenous in battle and therefore more violent. Or so the story goes.
She supposed she was going to find out one way or another. There was no getting out of this. The king had chosen her name out of all other choices. She wanted to do her duty and bear a child, not just for the kingdom and her people, but because she wanted one. A baby of her own to love and befriend and protect. She could do it and she would even do a good job at it.
Penelope slipped past her sister’s guest room door, exhaling a breath of relief when she made it outside. The temperature had cooled and the wind felt good blowing against her hot skin.
Already her nerves began to relax. This week, ever since she’d received that scroll with her name as the first Claimed chosen for this year, she had been operating in deflecting mode. Maybe a part of her had thought she could ignore the truth of what was happening. But this wasn’t all fun and games. She was really going up there tomorrow before king and country. She would watch as male participants—those who wanted to fight for a chance to have her—would step forward. They would fight. For her.
Some have died in Claiming Battles, though the battle was not supposed to be a fight to the death. Accidents happen, they say.
What if Ryon got hurt? What if someone cheated, or took him by surprise and he didn’t win? She harshly bit the corner of her nail and tore it with worry. And then, he was supposed to—no, he was allowed to steal her away and claim her. The idea had terrified her at first. Not in a physical sense, but because she didn’t want to be trapped in a marriage Ryon. Did she?
There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted Ryon in every way. She had for years. Fighting the pull between them had been hard, but now he was taking the fight out of her hands, literally, and putting it in another’s. Tomorrow he would fight for her. Any male challengers, those like the Duke of Gaines, would go up against him. If he won, as he believed he would, then she would be his wife. It would be his child growing within her in the coming months.
Although it was the night before and about to to come to fruition, it wasn’t fear she felt, just great trepidation. She was about to take a giant leap forward with zero assurance that her foot would land on solid ground.
Warmth rushed through her making her lips tilt up into a smile. That’s how she was found when she heard the rustle of leaves. And spotted him coming near.
“Ryon!”
He strolled toward her. He still wore his uniform from the celebration earlier that night. It looked incredible on him—powerful and masculine.
Her knees wobbled weakly.
“Now you say my name.”
A hint of smile sat at the corner of his mouth. She’d rarely seen his smile, but when he did, it was worth it.
“Still feeling good after that release tonight, General?” She tried to keep things light so he wouldn’t see the tension in her.
Instead of responding, he did something else. He had a look in his eyes and it didn’t take long to figure out what he was thinking.
When he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight and arching her back up toward him, she was already waiting for his kiss. His mouth slid over hers, the pressure deliciously firm. Heat suffused where they touched each point connected. They kissed like regular lovers, tongues slowing winding into the mix making things wet. In his arms butterflies flew in her stomach and at his kiss her heart thawed. The kiss ended slowly but neither of them moved to break away. They held each other, kissing a cheek or ear or neck every few moments. Her hand had moved up to tangle in his hair. The short length was sturdy and thick in her hand pleasing her.