Marie fought to free her wrists, but the movement only made her rub against Lorenzo's groin. She could feel something hard there, the bulge that Lorenzo wore to maintain her disguise as a man. The friction made Marie gasp.
Marie started trembling.
Lorenzo, feeling the pressure building, unzipped her pants slightly to allow more freedom of movement, to enjoy that friction more intensely.
At this point, the thirst was starting to take over, and Lorenzo was becoming reckless. The lust she felt toward Marie made keeping her composure harder with every passing second. She could feel her fangs beginning to push their way out of her gums, aching to pierce that pale throat.
"Let me go!"Marie begged, her gasps less controlled now, her thighs trembling beneath Lorenzo's touch.
Lorenzo could tell somehow it wasn't entirely fear. Marie wanted this, wanted to be taken roughly, to surrender despite herself.
To keep herself calm, to maintain control, Lorenzo pulled back slightly and asked, "What do I get in return?"
Marie spoke hastily, noticing that Lorenzo seemed less interested in letting her go now. "I will do my duty. I will take care of the estate matters. I will play the part of a good wife—which means I will not confront you in front of your men and staff."
"And in exchange?"Lorenzo prompted.
"In exchange, I never want to feel your hands on me this way again. I never want to be this close to you. Everything about you annoys me."
Lorenzo nodded slowly. "But you broke our agreement first. You deserve a punishment."
Marie started fighting harder against her grip. "This is not fair! Let me go! An apology should suffice!"
Lorenzo leaned in close, whispering against her ear, "I want one night with you."
Marie gasped loudly, trying to push him off with renewed desperation. "Never! That will never happen!"
Lorenzo remembered what Marcello had told her, she had to assert herself, had to make Marie understand who held the power here.
She bit down on Marie's neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark that would be visible for days.
Marie gasped and moaned, the sound escaping her lips unbidden. "Please—ask for anything else!"
Lorenzo licked the spot where she had bitten, soothing the sting, and ground her bulge against Marie's center. She groaned at the sensation, Marie was getting wet, she could feel it even through the layers of fabric.
"One night..." Lorenzo's voice was strained, rough with desire. "I want to share the bed with you. And I will keep my hands to myself. You have my word."
Marie ground her teeth together, fighting to keep herself from moaning again. "Why should I trust you?"
Lorenzo held her gaze and started thrusting her bulge against Marie deliberately, the rhythm building, seeking more friction, more pressure.
Marie whimpered loudly, the sound escaping her throat unbidden.
Lorenzo's breathing grew ragged. She was hunting the pleasure now, chasing it with single-minded focus. Her grip on Marie's wrists tightened, and she pulled Marie's hips forward to meet her thrusts. "You broke the agreement,"she growled, her voice rough with desire. "I lived up to it."
Marie's body betrayed her. Her hips moved forward involuntarily, seeking the pressure, the friction, even as her mind screamed at her to stop. Her gasps came faster, shorter, her chest heaving. She could feel herself getting wetter, her body tightening with arousal she didn't want to feel, responding to him in ways that horrified and thrilled her at once.
Lorenzo groaned, feeling Marie's heat even through the layers of fabric. She whispered roughly against Marie's ear, "You feel that? You want this as much as I do. Your body knows it even if you won't admit it."
"Stop—"Marie gasped, but her hips rolled forward again, betraying her words.
Lorenzo's hand slid higher on Marie's thigh, possessive, demanding. "Say yes,"she whispered. "One night."
Marie, realizing how far this was going, panicked. She had very little knowledge of men, but she could feel Lorenzo pressing and rubbing against her with increasing urgency, could feel the hard pressure from his groin growing more insistent. She assumed he was having an erection, and if she did nothing to stop this now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself later.
"Fine!" she gasped, her voice breaking. "One night. I agree!"
Lorenzo stared at her neck, at the mark she had left, watching the pulse beat beneath the skin. She could feel the blood coursing through it, calling to her, tempting her beyond reason.
She turned around abruptly, hiding her face from Marie, and started zipping up her pants with trembling hands. She forced herself to do the breathing exercises Marcello had taught her, the ones meant to control her bloodlust.
*What the hell is happening to me?* she thought desperately. *I bit Marie. I drank her blood. And now this.*
Marie curtsied quickly and fled through the other exit, not wanting Bess to see the state of her dress, rumpled, askew, evidence of what had just transpired written all over her.
The Rest of the Day
Marie threw herself into work with a vengeance.
She met with the head housekeeper first, a stern Italian woman named Signora Rossi, who walked her through every room of the castle. Marie took careful notes, listing each piece of furniture, each tapestry, each ornament.
The east wing needed new draperies. The great hall's tapestries were moth-eaten in places. The kitchens required additional cookware.
She spent an hour in the linen rooms, counting sheets and pillowcases, blankets and tablecloths. Everything had to be catalogued.
By midday, she was in the library, examining the shelves. Many were half-empty. She made notes about which subjects should be acquired, histories, philosophies, poetry.
The maids followed her from room to room, answering her questions in broken English or Italian. Marie asked about cleaning schedules, about which rooms were used most frequently, about supplies that were running low.
Pierro trailed behind at a respectful distance, ever watchful.
By late afternoon, Marie was reviewing the gardens with the groundskeeper, discussing which herbs should be planted, which hedges needed trimming.
She was thorough. Meticulous. Relentless.
She did not want to think about breakfast. About his hands on her. About the way her body had responded.
So she worked until her feet ached and her head spun with Italian words and lists and plans.
***
Marcello was making his way to the training grounds when he noticed the unusual activity around the castle.
Staff moved with purpose, smiles on their faces. Maids carried linens and cleaning supplies. The groundskeeper was directing two young men in the gardens. Through a window, he glimpsed Marie herself, dressed in her fine green gown, standing with the housekeeper and gesturing at a wall hanging.
He smiled slightly. So Lorenzo had found a way to motivate her after all.
***
The Training Grounds
When Marcello arrived, he found Lorenzo in the midst of training the new recruits and she was being brutal.
She moved like lightning, her sword strikes precise and punishing. The young soldiers scrambled to defend themselves, but they were hopelessly outmatched. One recruit stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have bruised him badly even with a practice blade.
The older soldiers stood to the side, watching with a mixture of concern and amusement.
Marcello approached and bowed. "Your Highness, may I have a word?"
Lorenzo nodded curtly and followed him to the edge of the training ground.
"Is everything well?" Marcello asked quietly.
Lorenzo exhaled sharply. "I am having a difficult time with my wife."
Marcello scratched his head. "She is quite a handful, that one."
"That is an understatement,"Lorenzo muttered.
Marcello reached into his coat and produced a sealed letter. "This arrived this morning from the capital. I hope it brings good news."
Lorenzo broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. As she read, her shoulders relaxed slightly.
Marcello read over her shoulder:
*Dear Cousin,*
*Although We do not approve of your methods, we will allow it.*
*May your new wife make your life easy.*
*Emperor Alfonso Di Sforza*
Marcello smirked. "Official approval. That must be a relief."
Lorenzo folded the letter carefully. "It is."
"Now," Marcello said, his tone shifting to one of gentle reprimand, "could you perhaps go easier on the men? You have grown stronger somehow. Faster. You need to take it easy, or you will injure someone."
Lorenzo looked at the recruits, who were catching their breath and eyeing her warily. She nodded. "You are right. I will."
Marcello studied her for a moment. Privately, when they were alone, he used the pronouns that reflected her truth, she, her. But in public, in front of the men, he maintained the illusion. "Good. They are trying their best for you, my lord."
Lorenzo returned to the training ground. The soldiers tensed.
She called out in Italian, "Userò solo la mano sinistra da ora in poi. Rilassatevi." *(I will only use my left hand from now on. Relax.)*
The soldiers erupted in cheers of relief, and training resumed with considerably less terror.
***
Dinner
Marie returned to her chambers exhausted, her list of tasks completed. She changed into a dinner gown and made her way to the dining hall.
Lorenzo was not there.
The table was set for one.
Marie sat, and food was served. She barely touched it, moving the roasted chicken around her plate, taking small bites of bread but tasting nothing.
She was anxious. On edge.
Bess stood near the wall, watching with concern. "My lady,"she said gently, "you have been like this since breakfast. What happened?"
"Nothing," Marie said shortly.
Bess did not believe her, but she held her tongue.
That night, Marie drank more wine than usual. Glass after glass, trying to dull the confusion in her mind, the unwanted heat in her body.
It was then that Bess noticed the mark on Marie's neck, a dark bruise, almost like a bite.
She sucked in a sharp breath. "My lady..."
Marie stood abruptly. "I am retiring for the evening."
She walked to her bedchamber, pushed open the door—
And found Lorenzo inside, conversing quietly with Marcello.
Both men turned at her entrance.
Bess, behind Marie, contained her annoyance with visible effort.
Marcello bowed immediately. "My lady, forgive the intrusion." He nodded to Lorenzo and left swiftly, closing the door behind him.
Marie faced Lorenzo, her jaw tight. "Please keep my room off limits. Any meetings you wish to have should remain in other spaces."
Lorenzo inclined his head. "Fair enough. I am still adjusting to your presence in these walls. I will ensure such situations do not occur again."
Marie moved behind the dressing screen to change.
As she did, Bess approached her with trembling hands. She reached for Marie's hands and whispered, "It will be fast, my lady."
Marie looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I know the master touched you during breakfast," Bess said, her voice thick with emotion. "I can see his savagery on you."She pointed to the mark on Marie's neck. "Tonight... just think of something else as he does his dirty bidding. He seems worked up. It will not last long."
Marie sighed and nodded, too tired and too drunk to correct her assumptions.
Bess left the room.
Marie emerged in her undergarments but these were different from her usual nightclothes. They were shorter, made of thin silk that showed far more skin. The Italian maids must have chosen them deliberately, knowing the master would be sleeping in his lady's room tonight.
Lorenzo, who had been standing near the fire, removed her jacket and boots. Then she pulled off her shirt, revealing a muscular torso.
Marie climbed into bed and sat up, staring at the flames in the hearth.
Lorenzo spoke quietly, her back still turned. "As promised, I shall not touch you. You have nothing to worry about."
Marie's reply was slightly slurred from the wine. "Is that why your maids have dressed me like a slut?"
Lorenzo chuckled softly. "They must think we are going to have sex. In Italy, a husband sleeping in his wife's room implies intimacy."
Marie rolled her eyes. "How backwards."
Lorenzo turned then, and for the first time, Marie saw the scars on his back—long, silvered lines that crisscrossed the skin. He had a beautiful body, she realized. Strong limbs, broad shoulders, a lean waist. Her eyes drifted lower, to his groin, where the bulge was still visible beneath his undergarments. Proportionate, she thought, then blushed furiously at her own observation.
Lorenzo noticed her staring and asked with amusement, "Do you like the view?"
Marie replied nonchalantly, "You are a beautiful man."
Lorenzo approached the bed and climbed in, keeping a respectful distance between them. She took a deep breath. "You should not say such things to a man you are about to share a bed with while dressed so lightly."
Marie pulled the sheet higher, covering her body more. "I have nothing to fear. You made a promise."
Lorenzo bit her lower lip. "Yes. I did."
There was a pause, and then Lorenzo asked carefully, "Are you still sore? From that night?"
Marie laughed, the sound bitter and cynical. "No, thank you for asking. It is always delightful when your captor inquires about the private parts he ravaged."
"I tried to be less invasive," Lorenzo said quietly. "I only used my hands, after all."
Marie looked at her, baffled. Emboldened by the wine, she grabbed Lorenzo's hand and held up her fingers. "You really think me stupid? When you flipped me over like a whore, it felt far more invasive! You put your thing inside me!"
Lorenzo's eyes widened in shock. She sat up, suddenly anxious. "I used more fingers. Marie, I swear—you think I lied to you?" She paused, understanding dawning. "That is why you have been so angry. You think I penetrated you with—"
"Did you not?" Marie demanded.
"No! I told you I would not, and I did not!"
Marie stared at her, processing this. Then, with the reckless confidence of too much wine, she straddled Lorenzo.
Lorenzo's breath caught.
"There is only one way to know for certain," Marie said, her voice low. "You will slide inside me the exact number of fingers you used that night."
Lorenzo swallowed hard. Marie's nipples were visible through the thin silk, hardened peaks that made her mouth water. She could smell Marie's arousal—sweet, intoxicating. And her lips, flushed from wine, were begging to be kissed.
But she was drunk. And aroused. And vulnerable.
Lorenzo exhaled sharply. "You are not serious. You told me you hated my presence, that you never wanted my hands on you. But here you are, throwing yourself at me."
Marie shrugged. "You made sure everyone in this kingdom knows that is the type of woman I am. I am merely acting accordingly."
Before Lorenzo could respond, Marie kissed her.
Her hands ran through Lorenzo's thick black hair, and her hips began grinding slowly against Lorenzo's bulge. The friction was maddening.