Just For Pleasure

Magnus

I had always believed that desire was one of the simplest weaknesses to understand. A man saw something he wanted, decided whether it was worth having, and then took what he had chosen without allowing unnecessary emotion to complicate the matter. That was how I had approached Lydia when I first saw her at the market, and that was certainly how I had approached the bargain with Abel. She was beautiful, she had caught my attention, and I had wanted her in my bed; there had been nothing mysterious about it in my mind. Even now, after the unexpected softness of the previous night and the changes I had already noticed in her, I still refused to give the situation a meaning it did not possess.

She had barely left the dining hall before I found myself looking toward the doorway she had disappeared through. I picked up one of the reports lying before me and forced my eyes across the first page, but the words blurred together because my mind kept returning to the image of her sitting at my table. She had looked more relaxed that morning, especially after speaking with Kiekie and Ginny, and I found myself wondering whether she had finally realized that life in my mansion was considerably different from the one she had endured with Abel. The thought pleased me, although I dismissed it as simple satisfaction that the woman I intended to keep in my bed was comfortable enough to stop looking at me as though I might devour her.

The dining hall doors opened again, and Benito Pippo entered with the confidence of a man who had earned the privilege of ignoring unnecessary formalities. Benito was my Beta and right-hand man, although he was an Alpha himself, and there were few people in Bridgevine whose judgment I trusted as much as his. He had fought beside me, handled matters of the kingdom when I was away, and stood at my shoulder through years when loyalty had been more valuable than gold. His sharp eyes moved from me to the doorway and back again, and the faint amusement appearing on his face immediately told me that I was about to regret allowing him into the room.

“You are staring at the door,” Benito said, pulling out a chair. “I am looking at the door,” I corrected without lifting my eyes from the report. “You have been looking at the door since Lydia left.” “Then perhaps she left something behind.” His mouth twitched. “Did she?” I finally looked at him. “Do you have a reason for being here, Benito?”

“I came to discuss the southern patrols, but I can return later if you are occupied.” “I am not occupied.” “That is unfortunate, because you look very occupied.” I gave him a warning stare, but Benito only smiled and opened the folder he had brought. He began discussing the patrol rotations, the condition of the southern road, and the reports from two border villages, yet I noticed the way his gaze occasionally lifted toward me. He knew me too well to miss the fact that my attention was not entirely on the kingdom. When he finally closed the folder, he leaned back and said, “You have changed since she arrived.” “No, I have not.” “You have.” “I am still Alpha Lord of Bridgevine.” “I did not say you had become incompetent.” I almost smiled despite myself. “Then say what you mean.”

Benito folded his arms. “You are watching her.” “She is new here.” “You watched her before she came here.” That silenced me for a moment, because he was right. I had seen Lydia at the market and remembered her, but I refused to pretend that memory meant anything more than attraction. She had caught my eye because she was beautiful, because she carried herself with unexpected confidence, and because there was something about her scent that had stayed with me after I left. I had wanted her, and when Abel had come begging for land, I had finally found an opportunity to have her.

“I saw a beautiful woman,” I said calmly. “I wanted her. I arranged for her to come here. That is all.” Benito studied me. “And you expect me to believe that?” “I expect you to mind your own business.” He laughed. “That sounds more like you.”

When Benito left, I returned to my reports and eventually managed to finish them. By afternoon, I was in the training yard, where the familiar sounds of weapons striking and warriors shouting instructions gave me something useful to concentrate on. I corrected stances, demonstrated defensive movements, and sent one careless young wolf sprawling into the dirt after he left his side exposed. He climbed back to his feet immediately, embarrassed but determined, and I nodded when he corrected his mistake on the next attempt. A warrior who allowed distraction to govern him would eventually get himself or someone else killed.

I saw Lydia in the garden with Kiekie and Ginny, and the sight stopped me in the middle of an explanation. She was laughing, genuinely laughing, with her head tilted slightly backward while Kiekie appeared to be telling her something ridiculous. Ginny was laughing too, and Lydia looked so different from the frightened girl who had first entered my bedroom that I almost failed to recognize her. I told myself that I was pleased because the atmosphere in my household had finally made her comfortable. I told myself that was all it was.

Then Lydia looked toward the training yard and caught me watching her. Her laughter faded into a shy smile, and I dismissed the warriors earlier than usual before crossing toward the garden. Lydia immediately straightened, while Kiekie and Ginny exchanged glances that made me suspect they were both more observant than they pretended to be. “You seem comfortable,” I said, stopping a few feet away. Lydia looked around the garden and replied, “I am beginning to be.”

“Good,” I answered, while Kiekie smiled and said, “We were showing her the rose garden, my lord.” “I can see that,” I replied, and Ginny lowered her head, although I noticed the amusement in her eyes. Lydia touched one of the white roses carefully and admitted, “I do like these.” I warned her to be careful because the thorns were sharp, and she looked directly at me before answering, “I know.” Something about the way she said it made my mouth curve, because it sounded almost as though she were speaking about something other than roses.

Kiekie covered her smile, while Ginny suddenly became very interested in the flowers. Lydia's cheeks warmed as she told me, “Perhaps you are the one making everything sound suggestive.” “Perhaps,” I replied, and she shook her head while trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. I told the two maids to go, and Kiekie curtsied with a mischievous expression before saying, “Yes, my lord,” while Ginny followed her with an equally knowing glance toward Lydia. Once they were gone, I stepped closer and remarked that they seemed fond of her, and Lydia answered that they had been kind.

“I am glad,” I said, watching her carefully. Lydia looked up at me and asked, “Do you always send people away when you want to speak privately?” “When I want privacy, yes,” I replied. “And why do you want privacy with me?” The directness of her question caught me off guard, although I refused to let her see it. “Because I wanted to speak to you without an audience,” I answered, and she gave me a thoughtful look before saying, “That sounds like something an Alpha Lord would say when he does not want to explain himself.”

I laughed softly. “You are becoming troublesome.” “I was troublesome at the market too.” “I remember.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and Lydia's expression changed immediately as curiosity replaced her teasing. “I remember you,” I admitted, and her lips parted slightly as the garden suddenly seemed quieter than before. “You barely knew me,” she said, and I answered, “I knew enough to want you.”

The honesty of the answer made her blush, and I watched the reaction with more satisfaction than I should have while my wolf responded to the subtle change in her scent. I stepped closer, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel my presence. “Do you still find me frightening?” I asked. Lydia hesitated before admitting, “Sometimes.” When I asked, “And now?” she looked at me and said, “Now I find you confusing.”

“Why?” I asked, and she explained, “Because you are not behaving like the man I was told you were.” I studied her face and said, “Perhaps you were told exaggerated stories.” She gave me a faintly skeptical smile before I added, “Or perhaps you simply have not seen enough of me yet.” Her breath caught, and I noticed it immediately. “What does that mean?” she asked, and I replied, “It means you should not decide what kind of man I am after only a few days.”

She held my gaze. “Then what kind of man are you?” I considered giving her an easy answer, but something about her expression made me choose honesty instead. “A man who knows what he wants.” Her eyes narrowed slightly before she asked, “And what do you want?” My gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes, and I answered quietly, “You already know.”

Her cheeks flushed again, and I could feel the tension gathering between us. I wanted to touch her, but I remembered how frightened she had been and deliberately kept my hands at my sides. Wanting her did not mean I had to rush, and I had waited a year after seeing her at the market; I could wait a little longer now that she was finally within reach. Lydia looked away first and admitted, “You make it difficult for me to know how to behave around you,” and I told her, “You do not need to behave any particular way around me.”

“That is easy for you to say,” she replied, and I asked her to tell me what she was afraid of. She hesitated before admitting, “I am afraid that if I become comfortable here, I will forget that I was bought.” Her words sobered me, and I answered, “You will not forget, and neither will I.” When she looked back at me uncertainly, I added, “But being bought does not mean you must spend every moment behaving like a prisoner.” Her expression softened as she asked, “Why are you kind to me?”

I nearly answered that I did not know, but that would have been a lie. I knew exactly why I was being kind: I wanted her willing, relaxed, and unafraid in my bed. Fear would make the arrangement unpleasant for both of us, and I had no interest in forcing a woman who was meant to be my pleasure into something she dreaded. “Because I have no use for a frightened mistress,” I said, deliberately keeping the answer practical. Something unreadable crossed her face, and I realized she had expected something else.

“You really think of me as your mistress,” she whispered. “That is what you are.” I looked at her for a long moment before explaining, “I have known you for two days, Lydia. I am attracted to you. I wanted you here because you are beautiful, because I remembered you, and because I wanted you in my bed. I am not going to pretend there is some deeper reason when I have not discovered one.” Her expression tightened, but she nodded slowly. “At least you are honest.”

“I will always be honest with you,” I said, and she gave me a small, uncertain smile before replying, “That might be the most dangerous promise you have made.” When I asked why, she answered, “Because I might start believing you.” I wanted to tell her that believing me would make everything easier, but I stopped myself because there was no reason to complicate what was supposed to be a simple arrangement. She was beautiful, she intrigued me, and I wanted her. That was enough.

I reached toward her and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Lydia became still beneath my touch, but she did not pull away. My fingers lingered briefly against her cheek, and the warmth of her skin made my restraint considerably harder. “You should stop looking at me like that,” I murmured. “Like what?” she asked, and I answered, “Like you are wondering what I am going to do.” Her lips curved faintly as she replied, “Maybe I am.”

I leaned closer, stopping just before the distance between us disappeared. “And what do you think I am going to do?” I asked, and she whispered, “I don't know.” “That is probably wise,” I murmured. Her eyes remained on mine, and for one suspended moment neither of us moved. I could feel her heartbeat, quick and delicate beneath the quiet of the garden, while my wolf urged me to close the remaining distance. I did not, choosing instead to lower my hand and step back because there was no reason to rush what I had already decided I wanted.

Lydia exhaled softly, almost as though she had been holding her breath. “You are very frustrating,” she said. “So I have been told.” “By Benito?” she asked. “Among others.” She laughed, and the sound eased something in me that I refused to examine too closely. I had wanted a beautiful omega in my bed, nothing more complicated than that, yet Lydia was already proving that having her near me would be far more interesting than I had anticipated. I did not know what I felt beyond attraction, and I had no intention of searching for answers I did not need. For now, she was my mistress, and I was the man who had bought her because he wanted her. That should have been enough, and I only had to make sure I remembered it.