“I said, kneel,” Sophia reiterated, her tone low and unwavering.

Vic gritted her teeth against a major case of restraint fatigue, and not just from keeping her hands to herself through dinner, but also from the years of self-denial and discipline. She had thought she was past the fits of passion that plagued her youth. She’d prided herself on abstaining now, even, from the rough, fast abandon that marked the two or three trysts that immediately followed her divorce and stirred up a coinciding fervour in the press. In the last two years she’d gone on fewer than five dates and invited zero women into her bed, but apparently she’d deluded herself into thinking she had what it took to live that existence, if not interminably, at least until she found the right woman to complement her goals and dreams.

As Sophia picked up the riding crop from the chair beside her and circled Vic with a dark sort of lust smouldering in her eyes, Vic pushed away from the table and dropped to one knee before her.

Sophia gave a little purr of pleasure or amusement. “God, you didn’t even flinch. Do they teach you that at charm school, or are there some special classes for nobility on social hierarchies?”

“We’re tutored on how to properly present ourselves to a queen,” Vic admitted. “But it’s traditional to curtsey rather than kneel.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Sophia asked. “A curtsey seems too fleeting. Besides, you can do so much more for me on your knees.”

Her face flamed, but not from shame. “Then I am at your command.”

Sophia laughed. “Where was this submissive streak last night when you pinned me against the door?”

“You pinned me in your own ways. I’ve merely been responding on instinct ever since you broke in last night.”

Sophia cupped Vic’s chin in her strong fingers and tilted it up until their eyes met. “Your instincts are phenomenal. You should follow them more often.”

Vic took her cue to claim this woman she’d ached for every minute since their lips had parted this morning, but as she went to stand, Sophia pressed the crop to her shoulder.

“Not so fast, Your Ladyship. Who said you could rise?”

“You told me to trust my instincts.”

“I said you should trust them more often. I didn’t mean to imply you’d get to act on them tonight.”