A confirmed bachelor far too consumed with his writing and his work to take care of things himself, Gregorio kept a housekeeper and a cook. The furniture of the house was serviceable and comfortable, but had an air of neglect. Gregorio lived inside his head most of the time, Evangeline was sure, and so didn’t pay a lot of attention to his surroundings, and he had no woman to give the house a feminine touch.

Once Anatol had been stable enough to move, he’d been relocated from the Temple of Dreams to Gregorio’s town house, where he was installed in a spacious bedroom at the back of the residence. Evangeline stayed there with him.

It was easy to avoid Gregorio for the next six weeks while Anatol recovered from his injuries. Gregorio was gone most of the day, coming home for lunch occasionally, but always leaving after a scant half an hour. He wandered in late at night looking exhausted, with his tie and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone.

The episode in front of Belai where she had helped to drive the emotion of the people to a more positive place was paying off. A council of citizens had been organized to discuss their next form of government. Gregorio was leading it and, therefore, was spending most of his time in meetings.

The council had decided to appoint a representative from each of the provinces of Rylisk in order to allow the rural areas their say. Gregorio worked with them from first light to star shine every single day of the week.

He hadn’t asked for any more of Evangeline’s help, leaving both her and Anatol to themselves in the big house. Perhaps out of a sense of guilt over their circumstances, he was very generous with them both, having the cook make them meals three times a day and sending clothes makers to them. Evangeline was well dressed, clean, and had a full stomach every day. She’d gained back some of the weight she’d lost, her hair had regained its thickness and luster, and the skin around her jewel had finally completely healed.

She didn’t feel guilty about accepting Gregorio’s generosity at all. After all, he was the one responsible for their being destitute in the first place.

On the second day Evangeline had stumbled upon Gregorio’s huge library. It was a well-used room, filled with all kinds of tomes, both fiction and nonfiction. All of Gregorio’s books were housed there, too, as well as a clearly loved copy of Kozma Nizli’s, A Future without Royals. Wanting to entertain Anatol while he was prone in bed, she’d picked some of the fiction up, eschewing the Nizli book and everything penned by Gregorio.

Finding the library in the house had been like discovering treasure. Books had always been her guilty secret, something that seemed so frivolous in the context of palace life. Reading had always been a way to escape, even if she hadn’t realized it back then. After the revolution, it had been the loss of her book collection that had grieved her the most—not the gowns or the small amount of jewelry she’d been able to amass.

So she spent her afternoons sitting at Anatol’s bedside and reading him books about sea captains, warriors from distant lands, explorers who fell off the edge of the world, and tales of valiant princes who waged war against angry tyrants.

Even as the weeks passed, she avoided Gregorio’s political tracts at all costs.

Gregorio apparently enjoyed strategia, a strategic board game wherein pieces had to be moved around on a board. Anatol asked her to bring the board to his room, and they played a fair amount of that, too, after he’d taught her the game. She got good at it. Soon Anatol was losing to her almost every time.

After Anatol was able to move around again they often went to the porch on the back lawn that was enclosed by a high fence, separating them from the bustle of the city streets and alleys. As the weather warmed, going from winter to early spring, they drank tea there and talked about everything and nothing, sharing more in those weeks of healing than they’d ever shared in their years of being together at Belai.

Anatol reached over and caught her hand in his. His eyes held a heat that hadn’t been there in the weeks he’d spent bed-bound. Apparently, he was feeling better.

She smiled and pushed a tendril of hair out of her face, suddenly feeling shy with him for some reason. It was funny how emotion seemed to change everything—made things richer and so much more complicated at the same time.

He tugged on her hand. “Come over here.”

She rose and walked to his chair. They were alone on the porch on this exceptionally warm day. The cook and the housekeeper had both gone to the market. Steaming cups of tea sat side by side on the table between their chairs, but from the timbre of Anatol’s voice, she had a suspicion they’d soon be cold and forgotten.

At his urging, she sat down, straddling his lap. When she leaned over, setting her forehead to his, her long, loose hair made a curtain around their faces. “Is it wrong to say that I’ve been enjoying our time together, considering the reason we’ve had that time to spend?”

He reached up and cupped her cheek. “So have I. Although, it’s true, I would have rather have been well.” His other hand slipped to the small of her back. “I’m feeling better today, though.”

She grinned. “Are you, really?”

He grinned back at her and something light and free fluttered through her chest. Joy? “You know what that means.” His hand moved up and down on her thigh suggestively, the heat from his palm warming her skin through the material of her skirt.

She went breathless for a moment. “I can guess,” she murmured, dropping her mouth to his.

She kissed him slowly, first his lower lip and then his top, running her tongue along the seam of his mouth until he groaned and opened for her. His hand caught and held at the back of her neck, forcing her face down to his so he could spear his tongue into the depths of her mouth.

Heat caught and flared to life in her belly. She moaned against his mouth, feeling the jut of his cock against her softness where she straddled him. “Are you sure you’re well enough for this?” she whispered against his lips, breathless.

“I need to feel you, Evangeline. That will mend me better than anything.”

His fingers loosened the buttons of her dress bodice, exposing her bare breasts. He palmed them and then brought each rosy nipple to his mouth. With the tip of his tongue, he explored every ridge and valley thoroughly, making her hot and damp between her thighs. Her back arched and her sex swelled with anticipation, her body readying itself for him.

He slid a hand under her skirt and roughly pushed the panel of her panties aside to swipe his fingers over her slick folds. She shuddered against his hand as he speared inside her, her muscles clamping down and milking him. Her breath caught in her throat and came out as a little sob. It had been a long time since she’d felt him inside her and she wanted him so much.

He speared his fingers in and out of her, dragging a ragged groan from her throat as she rolled her head, eyes closed. When she looked down at him, he was gazing up at her with a raw expression of carnal hunger on his face.

She fumbled for the button and zipper on his trousers even as he yanked her skirts up and her panties down. One clumsy, impatient adjustment of clothes had her panties off and his cock free. She sank down onto his shaft, working herself over the crown and down his thick length inch by wonderful inch. When they were finally completely joined, their lingering sighs and groans emanated out into the air of the porch. She stayed that way a long moment, with his cock seated deep inside her, filling every part of her. Then she rose up and down slowly, making them both moan.

Mouths working, she rode him faster, his thick and wide cock tunneling deep into the heart of her and rubbing that place inside where it felt especially good on every downward thrust. His hands found her hips and gripped, guiding her movements. They fell into a perfect rhythm, bodies and mouths fusing into one animal.

“Anatol,” she whispered against his mouth as he stroked her clit with his thumb. “Ah, I’ve missed the feel of you inside me.”

She was magnificent. Her gently bouncing breasts were unbound from her dress’s bodice, kissed and covered by Anatol’s hands and mouth. Her well-worshiped nipples were ruby red and rock hard, glistening with saliva. Her hair hung down her back and her eyes were closed as her hips moved up and down on Anatol’s shaft, slowly milking the length of him.

Gregorio wanted to be the man inside her. He wanted to touch and suck on her breasts. He wanted his cock stretching the velvety soft muscles of her pussy, and he wanted to feel her body pulse and explode in orgasm while he stroked her clit and made her come.

It had started in the alley, maybe even before that—maybe it had begun the day he’d seen her at the Temple of Dreams when she’d brought the orphaned child to Lilya. He’d stood in the doorway of the kitchen and listened to her curse the revolution and all the damage it had wrought. He’d thought she was so beautiful.

He was not only fascinated by Evangeline; he was becoming obsessed with her.

The cup cracked in his hand and hot coffee dribbled down his hand. He set the cup down on the counter and turned away, gripping the edge of the table and closing his eyes. There was no reason for him to feel this way about her, but reason and logic didn’t seem to play any sort of role in his emotions.

Many nights after his day was done at Belai, which had been taken over for the People’s New Republic, he headed to the Temple of Dreams and sought out the women there who looked most like her. The ones with long, blond hair and large, soulful gray eyes. The ones with lithe dancers’ bodies that he could lift up against walls and fuck hard and fast, pretending they were Evangeline. It kept his hunger for her at bay, took the barest edge of it off—but it wasn’t enough.

The scent of her hair and skin permeated his house now, taunting him at every corner. The sight of her bare ankle as she turned a corner or the sound of her voice made his cock hard in an instant. Listening to her come apart in Anatol’s arms on the porch right now was driving him insane, yet he couldn’t make himself do the decent thing and move away. This might be as close as he ever got to intimate contact with her. This might be the only time he ever heard the beautiful sound of Evangeline in orgasm.

He remained there, feeling guilty for listening in on the lovers’ tryst. Blessed Joshui, he was jealous of Anatol. He closed his eyes, listening to their soft coital aftermath, their low murmurings and kisses, the rustle of clothing being put to rights. Finally, all was silent.

He tore himself away from the counter and fled.

“Gregorio?”

He froze in the doorway of the kitchen, then slowly turned to see Evangeline standing just inside the kitchen.

She tilted her head to the side a little. “Are you all right?”

Could she sense the emotional turmoil inside him? He tried to answer her, but no words came out.

Her gaze went to the coffee cup and then to his face. Her clothes were once again arranged and all that showed of her encounter with Anatol was a slight flush to her face and her mussed hair. She looked beautiful. “Gregorio—”

He cleared his throat, straightening. “I just came home for a break. I’m headed back to the palace now.”

“Oh.” She fidgeted, looked at the coffee cup again. “We never see you, it seems. It feels wrong to stay here when you’re never in residence. I feel like we’ve taken over your home.”

“Things are busy right now, but you’re more than welcome to stay here. Just make yourself at home.” Which, clearly, they were. Jealousy shot through his gut once again. Just once, if he could touch her the way Anatol did . . .

“Perhaps you could make it home for dinner tonight? I mean, you have to eat, don’t you? You might as well do it in your own home. It’s time you took a break, anyway. You look exhausted.”

He hesitated, pushed a hand through his hair. This behavior from her was odd. He thought she hated him, blamed him for the revolution and the beheadings. She’d called him the enemy. He assumed she was only staying here because Anatol had asked her to stay, and perhaps to fleece him a bit—make him pay for what he’d done. His guilt was such that he was happy to let her.

“I’ll try,” he said at last. “Things are finally stabilizing a bit in the new government. It should be fine if I leave a little early.” Of course, that would mean no stop at the Temple of Dreams tonight, and he badly needed it after walking in on that encounter on the porch.

She smiled and he melted. “Good.”

He started to turn away, but stopped. “Evangeline, please tell Anatol that the group of vigilantes who are hunting down escaped nobles and magicked have been more active lately. I know you’re both careful, but please just continue to stay that way. Allow the cook to do the shopping and stay indoors.”

“But they wouldn’t dare touch anyone you’ve taken under your wing, would they?” There was a definite note of sarcasm in her voice.

He nodded. “As long as you reside with me, you’re safe. Still, you never know. This group is unstable.”

“Of course. Thank you for the warning. We’ll look forward to seeing you tonight.”

He’d looked so harried and disturbed standing there. So . . . lonely. When she’d probed his emotions, she’d found jealousy, lust, confusion. She had no idea where all that strong sentiment came from, but it was clear the man was miserable.

Despite the ill feelings she still harbored for the man, she couldn’t say he hadn’t done them a good turn. Sensing how unhappy he was, she’d needed to reach out to him. After all, it was clear he genuinely regretted the aftermath of the revolution. She wanted to keep punishing him for it, but she knew it wasn’t fair.

For as powerful and intelligent as Gregorio was, he had the air of a lost puppy sometimes. That attracted her to him—and attraction was something she did not want to feel.

He disappeared into the shadows of the hallway and she went back out onto the porch. Anatol studied her with his keen dark blue eyes. “Was that Gregorio I heard?”

She nodded. “I tried to get him to come home for dinner tonight.”

“Really? I thought you disliked him so much. Why did you do that?”

Shrugging, she gave a little laugh. “I’m not really sure. I’m still trying to figure it out.”