His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 33: I Really Doubt That

Livia folded her arms loosely. "This is the best I can do."

Richard’s brows lifted, unconvinced. "I really doubt that."

"If you don’t like the way I dance," she said, lifting her chin slightly, "you can leave."

"I wonder what would happen," he mused, "if I went back to your tavern owner and asked for my money back. Because," he continued, a teasing edge creeping into his tone, "there is no way I am paying that much... for that." He straightened, then mimicked her.

A slight sway. A half-hearted turn. The smallest lift of the arm, exaggerated just enough to make it ridiculous.

"What was that you were doing?" he added, finishing with a mock flourish.

Livia’s cheeks burned. Richard’s eyes met hers again. He had seen through her completely—and worse, he was enjoying it.

"Come on," he said. He gave her a small wink. "Do better." His gaze dropped briefly to her breasts, then returned to her face. "Be better."

Livia closed her eyes for precisely three seconds — long enough to gather herself, short enough that Richard wouldn’t notice the struggle behind them.

"I’m still waiting, Diana."

She opened her eyes. "Hold your horses," she said flatly.

His mouth twitched. "Charming."

She took a breath and shifted. Her shoulders dropped. Her chin lifted. She began to move.

The music filtered through. Livia used it. She let it carry her, her skirts whispering.

She let her fingers trail across his shoulder as she circled him. She felt the stillness in him. She moved to face him then, and when she bent forward — slowly, achingly slowly — drawing her fingertips up along her calves, then her thighs, then rising again, she heard the subtle shift of his weight in the chair.

When she straightened fully, her eyes met his. He looked at her the way men looked at things they had already decided to acquire.

Then his hand shot out, and she had approximately half a second of surprise before she was tumbled — quite ungracefully into his lap.

"When the month finally ends," he said, "and your current contract expires." His gaze moved, to the neckline of her gown. "The things I will do to you..."

"This isn’t part of the arrangement, sir," Livia managed.

Richard’s arm remained firm around her waist, holding her in place. "Nicholas will look the other way if I offer him more," he said.

"Please... please let me go," she said.

Richard simply looked at her. He was trying to understand why she resisted when resistance, in this place, was rare. He raised a brow slightly. "You are a loose woman, aren’t you?" he said. "Then why do you act like this? Like you have never been touched before?"

The label hit exactly where it was meant to—stripping her down to what the world had decided she was, regardless of what she felt.

"Or is it me?" he continued. "Is it my touch you are not interested in?" his fingers drifted down her neck and cupped her breast, squeezing.

Livia swallowed hard, her hands braced lightly against his chest. "I beg of you..." she whispered.

"No matter," he said at last, a faint smirk returning. "I like a little fight... if that’s what you’re playing at."

She shifted, testing the loosened hold. "I’ll like to take my leave," she said carefully. "Can I take my leave?"

"Of course," Richard said easily. "See you soon, Diana." He watched her go.

She fled up the stairs in a rush of red fabric. He was going to enjoy chasing this one. The way she pushed back without quite knowing how to fight.

That was rare. Richard adjusted his coat, smoothing the front, got up and made his way through the crowded tavern floor. Nicholas spotted him immediately and hurried over, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Well, Your Grace?" he asked, practically vibrating with eagerness. "I trust the experience was... satisfactory?"

"How much for next month?"

Nicholas beamed. The number he named was outrageous. Even for a duke, it was excessive. Enough to buy horses. Good ones.

"Fine," he said, reaching into his coat. "She’ll be with me throughout?"

Nicholas’s smile tightened just slightly. "No, no, Your Grace," he said, shaking his head. "Kingsmere is far, and I must ensure my girls are properly managed. You understand—standards must be maintained." He spread his hands in a placating gesture. "But you are always welcome here. Whenever you wish. I have private rooms upstairs for a modest fee, of course."

Richard hummed softly, considering. Beaumont was greedy, yes—but not foolish enough to lose control of his most valuable asset entirely.

Richard pulled out the money and placed it into Nicholas’s eager hands. The man nearly glowed.

"Thank you! Thank you!!" Nicholas exclaimed, bowing repeatedly. If dignity allowed it, he might have dropped to his knees.

Richard turned and stepped out into the night. Across the street, stood a man he did not expect to see in such a place.

Stephen. The king’s valet. Richard’s brow lifted slowly, amusement already creeping into his expression as he took in the sight of him—well-dressed, alert... and unmistakably out of place.

"Stephen?" Richard called, his voice carrying easily across the dimly lit street.

The man straightened at once. "Duke Montague," Stephen replied, inclining his head with respect.

For Richard, the surprise lingered—but for Stephen, not so much. If there was one place the Duke of Kingsmere could be reliably found after nightfall, it was somewhere like this. The Queen Mother had once described him—within earshot of half the court—as a rake of the most incorrigible sort. A man who treated scandal as a pastime.

And truthfully... she had not been entirely wrong. Richard had a reputation. A loud one. Stories followed him like a shadow—some exaggerated, some entirely accurate. There had been that incident with the baron’s daughter, whispered about for weeks. Richard was caught pants down, cock deep inside her in the barn. The wedding had been called off at dawn, though no one dared say why aloud.

(Brought to you by Missy Dionne 1/3)

****Please, see author’s note.