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Taming the Royal Brat (Book 1 of "The Royal Brat")

Ratings:
95 pages1 hour

Summary

The Princess needed a companion. The kingdom needed a miracle. The heir to the throne of Delania was a royal brat - rude, foul-tempered and cruel. When Nora is chosen to civilize the little beast, she had no idea how hard a task it would be.

Or how sweet the reward. For Kitiara didn't want the sweet caresses of a man, but the firm hand of a woman!

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

Her legs shifted under the gauze-like material of the robe, making it ride higher on her thighs. Nora swallowed. For months, she had been fighting a battle against herself, not daring to acknowledge how attractive the younger woman was becoming. “Tell me,” Kitiara continued, her lips curving in a grin. “Which one would have you taken to bed? The tall one? You could have climbed her like a tree.”

“They were all lovely,” Nora replied. She held up a hand and wiggled her fingers. “Which one of these is more attractive?”

“What?” Kitiara leaned back, her lips curling in a disbelieving smile. “The men, too?”

She shrugged, her face heating. “Yes.”

Kit shook her head. “Unbelievable. I would have sworn that you have never found a man attractive in your entire life, Nora.”

“And how should I have found a man attractive?” she flared, upset at her gentle mockery. “I was thirteen when I came to court, Kit. Thirteen! Should I have chosen a husband from among the pimply, stupid louts whose fathers farmed the lands around Buckhallow? They only had one thing on their minds. This,” she said, pointing at the spot between her legs. She was ashamed to feel her eyes pricking with tears.

“And when I came to court, when your mother chose me as Companion, I traded one set of fools for another. They didn’t want me. They didn’t want the brown-haired farmer’s girl who was in way over her head. No. They wanted the Heir’s Companion. All they saw was the power I could bring them. How if I married them, they could use me to influence you and the queen.”

Kitiara raised her brows, but did not respond to her unusual spate of ill-temper. “So you could bed a man, do you think?” Her voice was softly pensive.

“I could,” she sighed, suddenly tired. “I will never stop wanting women. But I could do it. With a man. I even wonder what it would be like, sometimes. The last time I was at the temple, I almost asked for one. But it would have to be the right man. Someone who was completely unconcerned with rank, and privilege, and power. Someone who was lovely, not just in his body, but in his soul. Someone I was sure was not trying to use me, or you, or your mother the queen.”

A tear ran down her cheek, and she sniffled. “Rotten brat,” she said, her lips trembling in a weak smile. “How do I always end up telling you everything?”

“Because you love me,” Kitiara said cheerfully, finishing her wine. She got up and walked to the sideboard, pouring another measure into her cup.

“Arrogant, too.” Nora drained her own goblet. The wine was stronger than what she was used to, rich and red, and she was beginning to feel pleasantly muzzy around the edges of her mind. “I obviously didn’t paddle you often enough when you were a child.”

“Maybe you should start doing it again.” To her utter astonishment, Kitiara bent over the arm of the couch that faced hers. The position put her rear only a foot or so away from her face. “Would you like to paddle me?” she asked, her voice suddenly low and sultry. “Paddle me, sweet Eleanora, and turn my little bottom nice and rosy pink?”

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