“Duke Morax is very, very wealthy and highly influential,” the Tsaritsa purrs, tucking a sparkling diamond pin into Signora’s hair. “When he marries Signora, it will be a great boon for our family.”

“If he marries Signora,” Scaramouche whispers to Childe. He’s lucky the Tsaritsa doesn’t overhear.

Childe just shrugs. It’s pretty likely Morax will fall at her feet like most men do. Childe is just along for the ride. He and Scaramouche aren’t even actual members of the family, but were adopted as boys to serve in the kitchens and later became enforcers and occasionally assassins.

It’s a pretty far drop in status from the Tsaritsa’s beautiful daughter Signora, but he doesn’t care. Nobles spend all their time scheming and bickering anyway. He’s glad to have a job that keeps him active, that involves danger and violence.

Signora doesn’t say much on the carriage ride over. Childe knows she’s not happy about this; she doesn’t want to get married but she’ll do what’s best for the family.

When they get there, Scaramouche draws the short straw and has to wait in the stuffy drawing rooms with Signora until the Duke arrives. Freed momentarily from bodyguard duties, Childe wanders the spacious grounds, marveling at the Duke’s wealth.

The gardens are divided by thick hedges and carpeted by lush green grass. Childe follows the stone path to the shore of a lake. The water is clear and cool, enticing on a sweltering summer day like today.

Childe has never been good at propriety, or following the rules. And he really, really likes to swim. After a quick glance around, he strips down to his underclothes and dives in, letting the refreshing water wash away the grime and weariness of the long journey.

But when he comes back up for air, someone is standing by his pile of discarded clothes. The man is tall, and possesses a stern dignity that belies his youthful appearance. He is also ridiculously handsome, and despite the chilled water, Childe’s face flushes as he makes his way back to shore.

He doesn’t miss the elegant gold fastenings on the man’s clothes, the quality of the cloth and the rings on his fingers. This has to be the Duke. Childe is standing, nearly naked and dripping wet, in front of the guy Signora is supposed to convince to marry her.

Well, shit. Nothing to do but roll with it. He gives Duke Morax his most charming smile and laughs like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Your lake is so nice, I couldn’t help myself. I have to thank you for your hospitality.”

The Duke’s eyes linger on Childe, dipping to take in his muscular thighs, then running upward over his chest, until the Duke breaks his gaze away with some dark, unfathomable emotion in his eyes.

“The Tsaritsa sent me.” Childe wants to reach for his clothes, but he would have to bend over and get intimately close to the Duke to get them.

“Ah,” Morax says. “She has indeed been very persistent in bringing us together. Perhaps I was wrong to dismiss her advice.”

“Huh?”

“Surely you know your mother has been most eager to see me take a bride.”

Well. They say Duke Morax isn’t one to beat around the bush, but prefers a direct approach. And this is about as direct as it gets.

“Perhaps it is time that I should.” Morax bows deeply, a slight smile on his face. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Signora. You are as beautiful as was promised.”

Childe squeaks, then flushes red. “I… uh. Thanks. But I’m not Signora. I’m just the bodyguard.”

“Hmm. But you are a treasure. Will you let me court you, bodyguard?”

The Tsaritsa is going to be pissed, but there is no way Childe could refuse. Morax’s very presence is intoxicating, his voice rich and resonant and his eyes gleaming like true gold.

After that, it’s just like a story. They talk late into the evening, sitting on a bench near the lake. And when Childe kisses him just as the stars come out, Morax pulls him into his arms like he’s always belonged there.

They make love in the gardens on the rich, thick grass, so wrapped up in each other they forget where they are, or what time it is, or the fact that Signora and Scaramouche are still in the Duke’s sitting room, waiting politely for the Duke to come meet them.