Chapter 198: I Followed You
Her heart ran to him. She wanted nothing but to cross the room and fall into his arms.
"What..." Her voice caught, and she steadied it. "How did you find this place?"
"I followed you," he replied.
Livia turned to Tabitha, who stood near the door with worry written plainly across her face. "One moment, please, Tabitha."
Whatever doubts Tabitha carried were plain on her face, but she was wise enough to know that some conversations could not be guarded from the doorway. She inclined her head and stepped out, closing the doors softly behind her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Richard stood near the window, his hands at his sides, his eyes fixed on her. Livia remained by the door, still as a woman caught between sense and longing.
Livia gave him a faint smile. It trembled at the edges.
"I have missed you," he said simply.
That was what undid her. Livia crossed the room. Richard caught her as though he had been waiting his whole life for that single movement. His arms closed around her, pulling her against him with a force that made her breath catch. Then his mouth was on hers.
Livia clung to him. She kissed him like a starving woman. Richard groaned against her mouth, his fingers sliding into her hair, cradling her face, holding her as if he could pour every unsaid word into the kiss and make her understand. She had missed his taste, his warmth, the reckless way he made her feel wanted.
His mouth moved over hers again. Then he remembered himself. With visible effort, he tore his mouth from hers. His forehead rested briefly against hers, his breath uneven, his hands still framing her face. "Diana," he said hoarsely. "Come with me. Now. We can leave before anyone knows I was here."
"Richard, we talked about this."
"What is your plan?" Richard asked. His hands remained on her arms. His eyes searched her face with desperation. "How do you intend to get out of this?" he pressed.
She wished she could fall into his arms, let him spirit her away but she was tired of being carried from one man’s decision to another. "I do not intend to get out of this."
Richard frowned. "What?"
"I intend to fight back with everything I have left in me."
His face tightened. "How?"
Livia drew a slow breath. "You will not like it."
"I already do not like any of this."
"Richard—"
"Tell me," he urged. "Do not shut me out. Not now."
"Well," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady, "since the King intends to make me his personal whore, I have decided to remain a whore."
The words seemed not to reach him. Then they did, and his expression changed so violently she almost looked away. Shock first. Then horror.
"What?" he breathed.
"I told you that you would not like it. That is why you should not be here."
"Do not say that and then expect me to stand quietly. You cannot do this." Richard swallowed. "You cannot let anyone reduce you to that again."
"They already have."
"Diana, please."
"I can do this. It is my life. Why is it I have no control over it."
"This is not you taking control," Richard said, his voice rough with panic. "This is you hurting yourself."
Livia looked away. "There is nothing you can say, Richard."
"There is always something I can say."
"I would rather hurt myself than stand still while other people hurt me. At least then the choice is mine."
Livia folded her arms around herself, as if trying to hold together what little remained. "You should stop coming to see me."
"I cannot."
"You must."
"I cannot," Richard said again, and this time the words tore out of him. "I wish I could obey you. I wish I could do the noble thing, board that damned ship, sail to France, and tell myself I left because you asked it of me. But I cannot." His breath shook. "You... I..." He stopped, helpless beneath the weight of his own feeling.
"Nothing feels right without you."
Her heart broke quietly. She lifted her hands to his face, her fingers brushing the roughness of his cheek. He leaned into her touch at once, as if he had been starving for even that small mercy. "You have to let me go," she whispered.
His jaw tightened beneath her palm. "No."
"You have to." Her thumb moved lightly over his cheek. "I cannot let you see who I am to become."
His face crumpled. "Do not do this, Diana," he begged, kissed her cheek, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth, each kiss desperate and reverent. "Please," he whispered against her skin. "Please..." His mouth found hers again.
She leaned into the kiss, fingers tightening in his coat as his arms came around her. Her body betrayed her with a shudder of relief, already coiled tight, starved for warmth, for touch, for release. She had missed him. Livia wrapped her arms around Richard’s neck and rose onto the tips of her toes, chasing his mouth.
Richard caught her at once. His hands gripped her waist, then slid beneath her thighs as he lifted her against him. Livia’s legs locked around his hips, her skirts bunching between them. He found the nearest chair by instinct more than sight.
The moment he sank into it, he pulled her fully into his lap and held her there. The woman he loved, was trembling against him and kissing him like she was starving.
Richard forced himself to pull back just enough to look at her. His breathing was ragged, his eyes dark, his hands shaking where they held her. "Do you want this?" he asked, the words rough against her lips. "Do you want me to fuck you?"
Livia’s lashes lowered. Her breath came fast, her body already moving restlessly against him, seeking friction, warmth, release. She looked wrecked by wanting.
