of my few long-term romantic relationships was with a woman. And she’s in our wedding party. And has seen you naked. Maybe asking Starr to be one of her bridesmaids had been a mistake. Aggie didn’t like to feel guilty, yet intentionally keeping secrets from Jace had that effect on her.
“Me too,” he admitted.
He held her hand as they followed several paces behind chatting Charity and wide-eyed Mom. At least, he held her hand until the members of his band, along with Dare Mills and Dave Blake, came out of the ballroom. As soon as the rowdy bunch of men spotted Jace, he dropped Aggie’s hand as if she’d suddenly contracted leprosy.
“You know,” she said, “you’re going to be saying some really mushy and embarrassing stuff to me in front of all these guys tomorrow. Are you sure you can handle it?”
Jace took her hand again and smiled crookedly. “Yep.”
The guys were in various states of annoyance over Eric’s rehearsal-dinner after-party.
“You don’t really expect us to wear those clothes do you?” Sed said in his deep baritone.
“You better wear them,” Eric said. “You were the most difficult person to fit. Do you know how rare it was for a human to reach your size centuries ago? You’d have been labeled a freak and had to join the circus as a giant.”
“You’re taller than I am,” Sed pointed out.
“By an inch,” Eric said. “It’s those extra-wide shoulders of yours.”
“That drive the ladies wild,” Sed said with a wink.
“I’d say it’s your ass that drives the ladies wild,” Mom said. And she was not hiding the fact that she was checking it out. With excessive appreciation.
Sed wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her up beside him so she couldn’t ogle what he had going on behind. “My wife gets very jealous when MILFs check out my ass,” he said.
Aggie chuckled when her mom tripped over her feet as the definition of MILF sank in.
The guys followed them outside—ribbing each other as if they were brothers—and over to the church. Aggie’s attendants were already congregated in the back of the building, surrounding the tomb of Queen Katherine.
“Did you know her third husband was Henry the Eighth and her fourth was Thomas Seymour?” Myrna asked anyone who would listen.
“So Aggie isn’t the only woman willing to marry a guy with the last name of Seymour,” Eric said.
“How did she die?” Rebekah asked and was immediately engulfed in her husband’s embrace.
“About a week after her and Thomas’s daughter was born, Katherine died of childbed fever,” Charity said.
“I bet Thomas was devastated,” Rebekah said.
Charity lifted a scandalized eyebrow. “So devastated that he turned to the ladies of the court to ease his broken heart. He was courting a princess within months of Katherine’s death.”
“I can understand that,” Sed said. “Nothing like copious sex with strangers to ease a broken heart.” His words earned him an elbow in the stomach from his enormously pregnant wife.
“He was an ambitious man. Incredibly charming,” Charity said. “And apparently attracted to powerful women.”
All eyes turned to Jace and Aggie. Aggie grinned. She knew for a fact that her man was attracted to powerful women.
Trey whacked him on the back. “Maybe you are related to this dude,” he said with a laugh.
Jace gnawed on his lip, but didn’t respond.
“Did Seymour remarry?” Myrna asked.
“No.” Charity shook her head. “He was beheaded for thirty counts of treason only six months later. He was accused of conspiring to kidnap his nephew King Edward—Jane Seymour’s son.”
“Nice relatives you have here, Tripod,” Eric said.
“History has painted him in a rather villainous light,” Charity said, “but I believe he loved Katherine. He loved her before she married into the royal family.”
“I’m sure I’m not related to the guy,” Jace said. “He didn’t leave any sons to pass on the family name.”
“But he and Katherine did have a daughter,” Aggie pointed out. “What happened to her?”
“She was taken in by her mother’s lady in waiting because her father wanted nothing to do with the child after Katherine’s passing. There are no records of the girl beyond her early childhood. It’s likely that she died.”
“No records?” Aggie said. “Not even a death certificate?”
Charity shook her head.
“So maybe she is Jace’s great-great-great-great-grandmother,” Eric said.
“She would have passed her husband’s name, not the Seymour name, to her children,” Charity said.
Eric lifted a finger and pointed at an unseen idea. “If she married. Maybe she had a child out of wedlock.”
Charity crossed her arms. “Tut! Pure speculation.”
“Indeed,” Eric said, “but it is possible that Jace is the descendant of a queen of England.”
“Queen by marriage, not blood.”
“He does sort of look like her,” Brian said, tilting his head to contemplate the carved visage of Katherine lying in peaceful repose.
“He is quite lovely,” Eric teased and poked Jace in the shoulder. “Definitely my favorite of all the princesses.”
Jace started, released Aggie’s hand, and turned toward the exit of the tomb. “Shouldn’t we be rehearsing?” he asked. “I no longer wish to be in here.”
Aggie stared after him, confused by the longing and remorse on his handsome face. Did he wish he’d found his roots here, or was something else bothering him?
Chapter Seven
During rehearsal, Jace stood where he was told to stand and said what he was told to say and tried to listen to the battery of instructions that Charity relayed with utter professionalism and patience. It wasn’t easy to get a twelve-member wedding party working as a cohesive unit. Especially when Eric was in such a good mood.
“Stand closer to her, Tripod,” Eric said, shoving Jace in the back. “She doesn’t have cooties.”
Jace stepped closer to Aggie. She definitely did not have cooties and if she did, he was willing to be infected.
“Closer,” Eric urged.
Jace and Aggie each took a step closer. Except where their hands were joined, they weren’t touching, but her body heat warmed his chest and a familiar and welcome surge of longing throbbed in his groin. He had a powerful need to get lost in her so he could get over the unexplainable feeling of loss that had consumed him in Katherine’s tomb earlier. He obviously hadn’t known the woman, but as the others had discussed her, he’d felt as if he were yanked from his body, floating away to avoid the crushing reality of the death of someone he loved. He’d felt much the same when he’d learned of his mother’s death and his first love’s—Kara’s—and even when he’d learned of his abusive father’s passing. He was not a stranger to surviving unfathomable losses, but what was truly unfathomable in this case was that he’d never met the woman in question and she’d died almost five hundred years ago.
Standing back to examine the bride and groom, Eric stroked his jaw and chin with one hand, as if contemplating a work of art and finding something off. “Still too much daylight between you,” he claimed.
Eager for distraction, Jace wrapped his arms around Aggie and tugged her against him—belly to belly, breasts to chest.
“Is this close enough?” Jace asked Eric.
“Not quite,” Aggie whispered in Jace’s ear. “I want your skin against mine. Your hard cock inside me. Filling my core. Making me whole.”
Jace couldn’t resist rubbing his overwarm face against hers as it was the only bare skin they currently had available. Her turtleneck sweater needed to go, even if it did hug her large breasts just right. His fingers tightened in the soft fabric at her hips as he fought the urge to make her naked so they could be closer.
“What do you think, Charity?” Eric asked. “Isn’t that better?”
Charity pressed her fin
gers to her very red cheeks. “Yes, well, uh… I’m not sure… It’s not quite… proper.” The last word came out in a loud whisper.
“There is nothing proper about these two,” Eric assured her.
Jace reached over and smacked him in the arm while the rest of the wedding party laughed at their expense.
“Indeed,” Charity said.
Two practice runs later, everyone knew their parts and now seemed to think they were having their intelligence insulted. Charity proclaimed them ready and they filtered out of the church toward the ballroom where their rehearsal dinner/costume ball would take place as soon as everyone picked up the costumes Eric and Rebekah had selected for them based upon precise measurements collected weeks before. Jace didn’t mind Eric and Rebekah throwing a party—he wouldn’t have even known where to begin—but he did think they’d overreached their bounds by dictating what each person wore. Rebekah waved Aggie over to the rack of ball gowns in one corner of the room. Eric was arguing with Sed over a pair of velveteen knee britches on the opposite side of the room.
Aggie brushed a kiss against Jace’s cheek. “Hurry back to the cottage. I need you buried balls deep inside me.”
Jace flushed with heat. “One nap coming up,” he said.
“Is that what you’ve decided to call it? Your nap?” Her hand brushed against the front of his pants. “I want to do wicked things to your nap, Jace. Don’t let Eric distract you with nonsense.”
Jace chuckled. Eric was an expert at nonsensical distractions. “I’ll hurry,” he promised. He strode over to Eric, who was now arguing with Trey and Brian over lace collars or some such nonsense.
“Why do I always end up wearing the most girly costume?” Brian complained. “Year before last, Trey and Myrna conspired to dress me as Prince Charming and now this? I’m not wearing a cape.”
“It will look good on you,” Trey said, flipping a cape around Brian’s shoulders and tying it under his chin. “See, you look—” He broke off with a snort before bending over to laugh himself breathless.
“Yeah,” Brian said, yanking the bow at his throat to untie it. “That’s what I thought.”
“At least it’s not blue velveteen,” Sed grumbled, holding up his very poofy knee britches. “Who in their right mind would wear these on purpose?”
“It was the epitome of high fashion back in the day,” Eric said, holding a surprisingly straight face. He glanced at Jace and winked before handing him a big white box with his name on it. No sense in standing there arguing, not when he’d soon be mixing nap and Aggie. Box in hand, he turned and stopped just in time to prevent himself from careening directly into Dare.
“This wasn’t your idea, was it?” Dare asked, one dark eyebrow arching high over a piercing green eye.
“No, I voted for a pirate-themed rehearsal dinner,” Jace joked.
“You know, if we didn’t like you so much, we wouldn’t put up with this bullshit.”
Jace felt the familiar heat of embarrassment rise up his throat. He had no idea how to respond to declarations of affection from Dare Mills. “I—uh. Thanks. Eric convinced me that this would be fun.”
Dare shook his head, smiling. “Yeah, well, his sense of fun is a little different.”
“Everything about him is a little different,” Dave Blake said. Jace hadn’t noticed him standing, wheelchair-less, behind Dare. “I’m not sure why my sweet baby sister fell for the guy.”
Jace didn’t feel inclined to remind Dave that his sweet baby sister was a little different herself.
“So what’s the story with you and the porn star?” Dave asked Dare.
Dare’s dark brows drew together. “Porn star?”
“Yeah, that redhead you’re walking with in the wedding. She’s a porn star. A stripper. Prostitute?” He glanced at Jace for verification.
Jace shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t know if Starr was a prostitute. She was a friend of Aggie’s, so she was all right in his book.
“No story between us,” Dare said. “Though I did notice she’s a little hands-on.”
“I’d think you’d be used to that,” Sinners’ soundboard operator said with a laugh.
“I think you’re confusing me with my little brother.”
The three of them glanced at Trey, who happened to be getting hands on with his best friend, Brian, at the moment. He had him in a headlock while Eric tried to force a white stocking on one bare foot.
“I figured he learned it from you,” Dave said.
“Not me,” Dare said. “I’m a paragon of self-control.”
Jace busted out laughing. He’d spent four months on tour with the guitarist and his band, Exodus End, over the summer. Jace didn’t think self-control was quite the right word for Dare’s interactions with the female gender. Speaking of females… He could be enjoying his favorite female’s company right now, rather than shooting the breeze with the guys.
He slapped Dare on the arm. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“See ya. In the meantime, I’ll try to retain my virtue from the porn star you set me up with.”
“Don’t struggle too hard,” Jace said. “She’s the kind of girl who likes a challenge.” He winked at Dare and left him standing with Dave.
Jace hadn’t gone five steps before being swept into the arms of the porn star in question.
“Hey, babydoll,” Starr said in his ear. “Where did Aggie run off to? I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to her at all since I got here.”
“I think she’s changing into her ball gown.”
“If the two of you need assistance, let me know. She’s the only woman who has ever topped me properly. Seems a crime that she’d marry a man.”
Okay, that was a very odd thing for her to say. Aggie had mentioned that they’d trained together, but Starr made it sound as if there was something deeper between them.
Surely he was mistaken. Aggie would have told him something that important. Wouldn’t she?
“Excuse me,” he said. “Aggie’s waiting for me.”
“Let her know I’m available if she needs me.”
Jace tilted his head, trying to make sense of the undercurrent he sensed in her words. She seemed to be hinting at something, but he wasn’t sure what.
“Needs you for what?” he asked.
“Why taking care of you, of course,” she said. “We all had a good time on your birthday. Remember?”
He remembered quite well. Remembered too the unfounded jealousy he’d felt whenever Starr had touched Aggie. Maybe that jealousy hadn’t been so unfounded after all.
“I have to go,” he said.
He scowled to himself as he stalked away. Aggie wouldn’t fool around with someone, would she? She was always very clear about what she did with her submissive clients, and he trusted that she told him the truth. Trusted that she wasn’t sexually attracted to any of them. Trusted that she wanted only him. Loved only him. But something about the way Starr acted had him wondering if Aggie had been playing him for a fool all along.
By the time he reached the cottage, he was seething. He slammed the door behind him and tossed the box containing his costume on the floor. He might have held on to his rage for a few more seconds if Aggie hadn’t been leaning against the bedroom’s doorframe wearing nothing but a pair of black satin panties and her red lipstick. He cursed the surge of lust that flooded his groin. Cursed her for looking so fucking hot and so uncommonly cold all at the same time. Cursed himself for being so goddamned weak to the woman.
Her come-hither smile faded as he remembered the reason for his anger and glared at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Why would anything be wrong?”
“You tell me. Last time I saw you, you were happy. And now, now you’re obviously not.”
“Have you been lying to me?” he asked.
Aggie’s eyes shifted from his face to the space over his shoulder. “About?”
“Your clients. Your training. Fucking everyth
ing?”
“I thought we were past this,” she said.