To her utter frustration, the king did not straighten to his full height, nor did he step away from her.
“You don’t ask the questions, Lady Tansy,” he growled darkly. “I do.” And then he did move, but not in the manner she would have preferred, giving her some much-needed distance from his massive presence and equally large, masculine form. He lifted his head just enough that they were almost nose to nose, his breath falling over her mouth as if it were a kiss, his dark stare burning into hers. “Now tell me what it is that makes such shadows hide in those gray eyes of yours.”
She was thinking of Princess Anastasia’s determination to give herself to the man she had hired to help find her brother. It was a bold plan, a foolish and reckless one. For Tansy feared that on King Maximilian’s wedding night, he would discover the truth and there would be hell to pay. She feared for the princess.
Feared that even now, the princess’s lack of punctual return signaled that she had cast herself headlong into ruin. But Tansydidn’t dare make any such revelations to the handsome, sinful king.
He was her enemy, and she must not forget it, even if he was far too handsome and her unwanted attraction to him wouldn’t abate.
“You noticed the color of my eyes,” she said instead, feigning a boldness she didn’t feel. “I am honored, Your Majesty.”
Not only had she failed to answer him, but she had also refused to refer to him as he had demanded.
A small smile curved his lips, and he tilted his head, as if to study her better. “So, that is to be the way of it between us, then.”
She disliked the way he saidbetween us, implying that the two of them were anything more than strangers. Somehow adding an underlying intimacy that made her heart pound faster and made yearning pool in her belly. It was a yearning that must never be answered.
Tansy held his regard, unflinching, willing herself to remain as impervious as stone. “That is very much the way of it.”
Had he doubted it would be any different? She was the lady-in-waiting to his future queen. They had been inseparable since they had both been young, naïve girls. Before the world had changed and jaded them. And Tansy did not just consider Princess Anastasia the sister she had never had; she owed the princess her life. Without the St. George family, Tansy would have been adrift in the vast sea of the Boritanian court, without a home or anyone to care for her.
She owed the princess nothing less than her pure, constant loyalty. And that was what made her uncontrollable reaction to King Maximilian all the more infuriating. She hated herself for the way she felt in his presence. For the restless urge to touch him, to be touched by him.
“You do know that you are speaking to your king, do you not?” he asked then, tearing her from her ruminations.
“You will not be my king until you marry Her Royal Highness, Princess Anastasia.”
They stared at each other, each of them unwilling to relent. His hand rose, and she could not contain her flinch at the sudden movement. Her instinctive reaction made him frown severely.
“Have I given you reason to believe that I would strike you?” he demanded.
She bowed her head, feigning subservience in the hope that it would calm his ire. “No, Your Majesty.”
Fingers were on her chin as they’d been the day before. The pads of his fingertips were callused. And the way he touched her…
He forced her head up, not harshly, and yet unrelenting. Forcing her to look at him.
“I don’t harm women, Lady Tansy.”
He stroked his thumb over her jaw, a place she had never previously been aware would be so responsive to a touch. And yet, she couldn’t deny the reaction the simple caress evoked. Her knees trembled.
“You’re safe with me,” he added.
Only, she recognized his assertion for a lie at once. Because being in his presence was the greatest peril she had experienced. Not to her person, but to her loyalty to the princess. She was desperately drawn to King Maximilian, and it seemed there was nothing she could do to change that.
“I don’tfeelsafe with you,” she whispered, the admission torn from her.
She hadn’t intended to make it.
“Why not?” His forefinger moved slowly, stroking the underside of her chin, the steady glide a seduction in itself.
“You are a dangerous man, Your Majesty.”
“Perhaps.” He continued his light caress, holding her captive with scarcely any effort. “But I am also just. Which is why you should tell me what you’re keeping from me before you make me cross. I assure you, Lady Tansy, that you don’t wish to see me when I’m cross.”
His baritone was as soft and tantalizing as his touch.
“What happens when you are cross?” she asked, inwardly chastising herself for the breathless quality of her voice and the rapt fascination with which she watched him, as if she were his to touch, to play with.
