Lucas exhaled slowly, watching her leave while Robert and Thomas stayed, waiting for any order.
"Don't allow her to leave her chambers without my permission from now on."
" Also, arrange for someone to follow her quietly," he instructed, and Roberts nodded in understanding, striding away immediately.
After a long moment, Lucas turned sharply and walked back into his chambers.
The doors shut behind him with a thud. Inside, Nathan, the head butler, is already waiting.
Lucas pulled off his clothes slowly, the quiet ticking of the clock in the room filling the silence.
"Your Majesty, about the bronze palace…" Nathan began and hesitated to bring it up.
"Is something wrong", Lucas asked, permitting him to speak further.
"It's been a while since she entered the Bronze palace, but you haven't visited her." "The palace needs an heir…" he reminded him.
Knowing he wouldn't agree with going to the consort Palace, he could only bring up the concubines. If one of them at least gives a son, then the kingdom would be secured.
Lucas closed his eyes briefly and heaved. The issue of an heir is something he has been reminded of daily for years.
"Send word to the Bronze Palace. Inform Concubine Catherine…" he paused, lips curling,
"...that I would be spending the night in her bed."
Both Thomas and Robert, who had just stepped onto the chamber's edge, exchanged brief, puzzled glances. But they say nothing.
Nathan bowed, delighted.
"At once, Your Majesty."
As Nathan left to deliver the message, Lucas turned his icy gaze to Thomas.
"I don't want to see her face for the rest of the day."
Thomas looked at him puzzled.
"You mean Her Majesty?"
Lucas doesn't answer. He simply gives him a look that confirms it.
"Arrange work for her."
"Keep her occupied as long as she remains here," he instructed.
"But we have enough servants for the works here."
"There is nothing else to assign," Thomas voiced.
"Make her grind ink, organize scrolls, run errands for the court historians. I don't care. Just make sure she's nowhere near me."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Thomas replied quietly.
Lucas lowered himself into his chair, his jaw tightened again as he flicked through a report without seeing the words.
His mind kept shifting back to last night and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he couldn't get his mind off it.
Lucas couldn't accept that an ordinary kiss would make him so bothered and ordered some refreshment. Once he tastes something better, then he will get rid of any lingering feelings.
The snacks were set before him in a few minutes, and he took a bite, but the taste still reminded him of her.
The way she grinds the ink with steady hands, and she pulled at his robe yesterday
Lucas frowned, tossing the piece in his hand and furrowing at the thought of her smiling at another man so easily.
~
consort Palace
Steam curls gently from the rose-scented bath, clinging to the marble walls like a lover's breath.
Consort Eleanor slides out of her crimson robe and steps into the warm water, sinking slowly until it kisses her shoulders. Petals float atop the surface.
One of her maids knee beside the tub, hands gentle and practiced as she helped Eleanor wash her body.
Eleanor closed her eyes, letting the heat seep into her skin, relaxing the tension in her limbs. Her mind drifts, intoxicated by the subtle luxury of silence and solitude until the door creaks open.
Missy, her trusted handmaiden, slips into the room, walking swiftly to the bath's edge. She leaned close and whispered into Eleanor's ear.
A slow, knowing smile curved up on Eleanor's lips as she opened her eyes.
She knows definitely that telling her father about the letter would help her take down her enemy.
Without a word, she rises from the bath, water cascading down her lithe figure.
Missy wraps her in a towel and carefully dries her off, then massages a delicate oil into her skin, a blend of sandalwood, sultry and soft.
Eleanor inhaled deeply, her body glowing under Missy's touch.
She dresses in a red silk nightgown that clings like flame to her curves, then strides gracefully to her bedchamber.
Inside, a young man named Cole lies waiting on her bed, reclining lazily against the pillows.
When she entered, he quickly sat up and bowed his head slightly.
"Your Highness," he greets, voice low and eager.
Eleanor doesn't answer right away. Her eyes scan the room then flick to her maids.
"All of you. Out."
"No one is to guard the door tonight" she commanded.
The maids curtsy and scurried out, leaving the room in heavy silence.
Eleanor moved toward the bed and Cole rose, his steps slow, careful, as he closed the gap between them.
His hands find her shoulders, kneading gently at first, then sliding lower with practiced confidence.
Eleanor sighed, letting her eyes flutter closed as his touch grew bolder, coaxing desire from her like breath from lungs.
When he saw her body respond, Cole stripped away his tunic. His hands slipped under her gown, brushed the underside of her breasts, lifting the fabric away to expose her.
The warmth of his palms, the boldness of his fingers, everything ignites her.
Hungry now, Eleanor pushes him down on the bed. Their mouths crash together in a frenzy as they tear away what remains of their clothing.
Since the King last touched her, only twice, out of obligation, he hadn't so much as looked her way.
That cold neglect had left her starving. Cole is no King, but he knows how to satisfy a woman.
He cupped one breast with one hand, his mouth claiming the other. Eleanor moans, sharp and breathless, as a pulse of pleasure shoots through her.
She clings to him, burying her face in his neck just as he positioned himself between her thighs, the door bursts open.
Startled, both of them froze and Eleanor whirled her head around, startled and shocked.