“I could have been on my deathbed, and I would have told you yes,” she murmured, twining her fingers through the soft strands of hair at his nape. “The answer for you is always yes, my love.”
His expression became serious, his eyes burning into hers. “You’ll marry me?”
“I’ll marry you.”
“Thank God,” he breathed, as if he had doubted her answer.
And perhaps he had.
He kissed her swiftly, softly. A quick meeting of mouths before he was frowning down at her again. “What happened to you at the docks… Tansy, I’m to blame. An enemy of mine was attempting to kill me, and you were wounded in the process. You could have died because of me, because of my recklessness.”
“You couldn’t have known what would happen,” she protested, hating that he believed himself to blame, when he already shouldered so much responsibility in what had happened to his previous wife.
“There had been assassins in London,” he revealed grimly. “We traced them back to some remaining loyalists. I’d believed them dead, but they were in hiding, lying in wait until the most opportune moment to strike against me. I need you to know that I’ll never again be so careless with you. The man responsible for what happened to you has been captured and imprisoned, and my men will have the name of any and every conspirator still on Varrosian shores. But I will see that you are protected in every way. I can’t bear to lose you. I’ll do anything you ask of me, but please, Tansy. Just don’t leave me. Never leave me.”
“Never,” she echoed, rising on her toes to press her mouth to his, sealing the promise.
He made a low sound of helpless need, kissing her hard before lifting his head. “There is more we need to discuss. With the war looming, it isn’t prudent for us to make Gustavson aware of the broken betrothal until the invasion begins. Otherwise, he may suspect us.”
“I understand.” She searched his gaze. “You’re not intending to go to battle yourself this time, are you?”
“My battlefield days are done. I have faith in my generals and my soldiers.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “The only place I’ll go to battle is in the bedroom with my stubborn queen.”
She smiled through her tears. “I like the sound of that, my king.”
He kissed the corner of her lips. “We’ll win the war, I vow it, and we’ll catch any remaining loyalists intending to do harm. I’ll not have you living in fear. You’re mine to protect.”
“I have faith in you, Maxim. I trust you above all others. That’s why I fell in love with you.”
“Thank you.” Another kiss fluttered over her mouth. “Say it again.”
“Always so demanding,” she teased. “Might you not ask nicely?”
“Say it again, please,” he growled.
“I love you, Maxim,” she said, falling into the glittering depths of his dark gaze. “I love you, and I’ll never leave you. I’m yours, always.”
His mouth was on hers again, possessive and voracious, stealing her breath. “And I’m yours, spitfire.”
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Maxim was marching.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
One, two?—
“Damn it, brother, I think I’m getting a cramp in my leg,” Nando complained at his side.
“It’s been hours,” he seethed without pausing his strides. “Fucking hours.”
“What manner of hours?” Nando teased with a light air that was wholly inappropriate for the moment and made Maxim want to punch him in the mouth.
“Fuckinghours,” he repeated grimly. “Don’t test me, brother. I doubt your legions of women would be tripping over their petticoats to get into your bed if you were missing some teeth.”
