As June ended and with parliament drawing to a close, Simon and Ellise decided to go home to Herst. Her sister-in-law chanced upon her the afternoon before their departure and gave her warning. "You will not be challenged by Belcourt alone, Aliya," Ellise said, "but also by the Royal Circus. I can only imagine that they do not trust you."

"I have already figured as much, Ellise," she said with a smile. "Give my love to Mason, will you?"

Ellise blinked. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I request that you do. He needs to know that I am constantly thinking about him."

"Then perhaps you can pen him a letter. I will read it to the child."

With a laugh, Aliya nodded. "Very well, I shall do that tonight."

Aliya was doing just that later that evening when Oliver stepped into the library. "Wife!" he hissed conspiratorially, quietly closing the door. When she heard the distinct sound of the lock, she instantly knew what came next and thought that she had to hastily finish her letter.

"What is it, husband?" she asked, her hands scribbling words for Mason.

"We will soon be alone," he said, sitting on the desk, his thigh resting just inches away from her hand.

"Yes," she said, a chuckle escaping her lips.

"And we can have the entire villa to ourselves," he added, reaching out to untangle her hair from its clasp.

"Ollie, I am writing a letter for Mason."

"I know, I am merely having a conversation while you are working," he said, kneading the back of her neck.

With a resigned sigh, Aliya placed the dipping pen back in its slot and pushed the paper to the side. With a wicked grin, Oliver slid to the center of the table, his strong legs at either side of her.

Aliya narrowed her eyes as she placed her hands on his thighs. "May I remind you, husband, that we are not yet alone? You cannot debauch me in the library."

"We are almost alone," he said, cupping her face and tilting it forward to receive his kiss. "It is a fantasy of mine to make lust with you this library."

She laughed in his mouth. "Make lust?"

He nodded, nibbling on her ear. "And we are yet to give the parlor a more meaningful existence."

Aliya had never been ashamed of being passionate, but with Oliver, she was brazen and she was not contrite about it. She was unforgivingly selfish with her desires because he was the epitome of freedom. With him, making love was more than just the pleasure. It was an act of selfishly rewarding herself because she deserved it as a woman and a wife.

Working on the buttons of his trousers, she moistened her lips and said, "You make me fear what you have in mind for the kitchen."

The muscles of his thighs tightened as her hands deliberately teased him. "Now, darling, do not start talking about the kitchen because I have a very specific fantasy about the pantry," he said, pulling her to her feet. In her ear, he groaned as her hand found him, and he whispered, "Imagine how I would taste sprinkled in sugar."

"Good God, Ollie," she said, eyes wide, "you have the most brilliant imagination." She kissed him with renewed yearning. "Tell me more," she said, nibbling his neck.

His hand was on one breast as the other unhooked the buttons of her dress. "There are honey and jams," he said with a growl, closing his eyes at the pleasure her hand was giving him. "And..." he swallowed, "there are marmalades..."

A shaky sigh flowed from her lips and she searched for his mouth again, her mind imagining the things he mentioned. "And what would you do with them?" she asked, biting his lower lip.

His hand grabbed hers and he said, "Stop for now, darling," he said, "I would not last long if you keep torturing me." He jumped from the table and pulled her into his arms. Turning, he laid her on the table. "Now, what was your question?" he asked, kissing an exposed breast.

"What would you do with the honey and the jams and the marmalades?"

His tongue furtively teased as his eyes wickedly looked at her through the curves and planes of her chest. "What do you think?"

A groan escaped Aliya and she grabbed his head through his hair and pulled so she could kiss him. "Can we go to the kitchen now?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Not now. Library first."

She whined as he pulled her dress lower. "But Ollie, we may soon run out of jams."

"I have a list, wife," he said. "We ought to save the best for later."

Aliya could not complain more as Oliver rendered her speechless, showing her just how much he was capable of without the jams or marmalades.

They started to make love on the large table and finished at the settee where they found release not just once, but twice. They took their time, comforted by the thought that the entire household was asleep.

Spent and breathless, Aliya remained wrapped around him, straddling him on the settee with her face buried in his neck. His large, gentle hands ran up and down her sides and hips, tenderly soothing her body.

She could no longer imagine a day in her life without this man. It should threaten her—scare her—but she felt none of that. Somehow, she knew she would be with him for quite some time.

Lifting her head, she moved and lifted from his lap, her knees digging into the cushions. She tilted his head back so she could stare down at him and caress his bearded face with the tip of her fingers, tracing the curves of brows, his eyes, nose, and beard. His hands brushed her hair over her shoulders as she planted a light kiss on his lips. He smiled at her, his beautiful hazel eyes looking straight into hers, glimmering with adoration. "I love you," she said with confidence. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, drawing her midriff closer against his chest. "I am afraid that you can make me an extremely easy woman around you, Oliver St. Vincent. It is your magic."

She saw his eyes start to gather tears before he buried his face between her breasts, his arms gripping her tighter. As her husband silently sobbed, Aliya kissed the top of his head and closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek.

That night, she knew Oliver St. Vincent loved her beyond words.

*****

Being alone and without his father and sister as distraction, Oliver and Aliya found more time together to talk and discuss matters that they would have otherwise not given any thoughts before.

For one, she asked if he could confirm that Lord Winthrop was indeed a Royal, to which he replied by saying, "I can answer some questions regarding myself and my father, but not about other Royals, Ali."

"Then what is your true role in the Circus?"

"I am everyone's doctor—the Royal Doctor. I do quite like the sound of that, do you not agree?"

"It sounds so regal. I love it."

He chuckled. He looked around the garden, smiling at the memory of the hasty activity they did behind the shrubberies two nights ago.

"Why does the Circus need a doctor?"

"Belcourt have their doctors, yes?"

"Of course. They are amongst the best."

"There is your answer." He interlocked their fingers and guided her to the eastern part of the garden where his mother's small and dilapidating greenhouse was located. "Most Royals have missions."

"Interesting," she noted with a thoughtful frown.

"Most of the said missions, I am not privy to, but in some cases, they get hurt."

"I can say the same with the Belles. We did not always tell the specifics of our missions." She turned to grin at him. "Lord Winthrop was the last mission I had before I left."

He wickedly smiled at her. "Interesting."

"Which was why I was in Lady Winthrop's party. If you remember, of course."

"I do remember every moment I spent with you, Ali—foxed or not."

She paused when a thought came to her. "Then does it mean that you always have to be ready when the Royals come to your door?"

He shrugged. "Pemberton, the other Royal Doctor, is always ready. He could barely walk because of his old age, but the man will always be there when he is called. In my case, the Royals would often have to drag me somewhere. But that was the past, of course. I am now a sober, obnoxious doctor everybody hates to call unless they are at the brink of death."

She chuckled. "You are not obnoxious."

"Thank you, I try not to be whenever you are around."

"I like it when you get a little naughty, of course." Before he could think of something just that, his wife pulled him away from the greenhouse down another path. "Can you take missions as well?"

"Well, of course. You are, in fact, my current mission."

She frowned. "Why?"

"We have to prove that you can be trusted, Ali."

She nodded. "That may be quite challenging, considering what I was."

"Ah, fret not. The Royals may not blatantly call me their friend, but they are loyal to each other and that includes me and the rest of the St. Vincents."

"Then you do have friends?"

"You are the only friend I need." She smiled. "But of course, I do need a few useful friends in the Circus."

She turned to face him, walking backward. "Are you telling me more about the Circus now because I told you I love you?"

He blinked. "Yes and no."

She nodded and stopped walking. He stopped just a few inches away from her. "I can take advantage of the Circus as well. Will the Circus provide me and my sister protection should Belcourt come after us?"

"Yes, of course, if you prove yourself useful." He bent and kissed her forehead. "And you will be useful for the Circus, darling." They continued their walk without saying much. Finally, Oliver asked, "If your application is not approved, Delaney will have to be courted, yes?"

"Yes."

"And her courting ceremony is when?"

He saw her face harden. "Two weeks."

"And once she is courted?"

"Then I hope it is in the Court of Flowers because that is the best court for her to be free."

He slowly nodded. "We have to have a plan, Ali, in the event that your application is not granted."

"I know." Looking up at him, her face determined, she added, "And Ollie, once all of this is over, once I have Delaney, I want to correct Belcourt. I do not wish to destroy it, but I want it fixed."

Oliver sighed. "As a Royal Doctor, darling, I do not have much power. The Circus is not powerful enough, but if things go our way, we may have a chance in having the reform you wish for Belcourt."

She only nodded and Oliver hoped for nothing but what she dreamed of. His dreams had changed and it would constantly change because they would often rely on hers.

*****

Later that afternoon, Aliya finally received a letter from Belcourt.

She rushed to find Oliver in his study, ignoring the fact that he was cutting a piece of brain, and rushed to a corner he reserved just for her if she had to join him inside.

"It has arrived," she told him, her hands shaking as she tore the letter open.

He immediately dropped what he was doing and joined Aliya, standing beside her.

Without unfolding the letter, she handed it to him. "I do not think I can read it, Ollie."

He took the folded paper from her hand and kissed the top of her head before he opened it with one hand. His other was kneading on her shoulder to soothe her.

Aliya looked up at Oliver, moistening her lips and biting on the lower one with anticipation.

And she knew the answer to her question by the way his lips pursed and his hand stilled.

Anguish was too weak for the tears of fury that filled her eyes.

Her husband placed the paper on the table, face hard, his hazel eyes serious. "We need to furnish our backup plan, darling."

Aliya took the letter and read through her tears. And then an incredulous laugh escaped her. "She is too old. That is all they have to say."

Oliver settled in the chair across from her. "They must know that you are connected to the Circus. It is quite obvious now, Ali. They are doing this because they need your sister as leverage."

"They have my Vow as leverage."

"Then even more reason to have more advantage."

Dropping the paper on the table, Aliya growled, "I want to be a Royal."

Oliver blinked. "Darling, you cannot. That is impossible."

Her jaw tightened. "Then I want to have a word with West Blackwood."