“I—I couldn’t say,” Lady Tansy said. “I received word telling me she was unable to return and that I must keep the guards away.”
“Who did you receive word from?” he demanded, trying to make sense of the bits she had told him thus far. “Has anything happened to you? Have the guards hurt you?”
“I am well,” she said, biting her lip. “As well as I can be. It is the princess who is in danger. I am told she was attended by a doctor.”
“A doctor?” He caught Lady Tansy’s chin in a gentle grip between his thumb and forefinger. “Who sent for the doctor? Where is she now?”
Lady Tansy nibbled at her lip. “I…I don’t know for certain.”
She was keeping secrets for the princess again, and Maxim damned well didn’t like it.
“Tansy,” he said urgently, dispensing with her title and formality. “Do you think me stupid? I can see that you know very well where she is. You must tell me.”
The future of Varros depended upon the princess’s safety. He needed her, not just as his queen, but to secure her exiled brother’s support. He needed Prince Theodoric to join him in challenging King Gustavson. The kingdoms of Varros and Boritania would be stronger together. Such an alliance would further increase his power and go a long way toward forcing lingering Charles loyalists to realize the futility of their cause.
“I cannot tell you.” Tears glistened in her eyes, forming rivulets that ran down her cheeks. “My loyalty is to Princess Anastasia.”
“Your loyalty should be to me,” he told her, frustrated by her refusal to give him the information he sought and bothered by the anguish in her voice. “As your king.”
“Wh-what will happen if she doesn’t live?” Tansy asked. “I warned her of the dangers. I begged her to take care.”
More tears rolled down her cheeks. The hood of her cloak had fallen down her back, and the glow of the lamplight in the small, intimate confines of the library caught in her dark hair, revealing the red and gold hues that were hidden within. She was so lovely, so obviously torn, and he couldn’t bear it any longer.
“All will be well,” Maxim soothed. “You were right in coming to me.”
He realized the importance of that action with impossible clarity. In a moment of panic, when she feared her world would come tumbling down around her, she had found her way tohim. Freely and despite her outrage at him the day before. She trusted him.
Because he couldn’t go another moment without her mouth beneath his, he kissed her.
Chastely at first, tasting the salt of her tears. And then, when she opened for him, with greater urgency. He had only intended to comfort her, to offer distraction from her upset, perhaps even to persuade her that she should tell him everything she knew.
And yet, the moment her hands settled on his shoulders and she responded to him, he was lost. He hauled her against him, the decadent crush of her breasts into his chest enough to bring him to his knees. She made a soft whimper of need that went straight to his cock. He licked the seam of her lips, and she sighed, giving him the opportunity to intrude. His tongue sank into the velvety heat of her mouth, and her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulder as she rose on her toes to align her lips more firmly with his.
He wasn’t meant to be kissing her.
What he truly needed was to find out what she knew about the princess, the extent of her injury, where she was this night.
But none of that seemed to matter, because Tansy was in his arms, and her scent was filling him with a raging fire that would only be doused in one way. He didn’t bother to think. He was mindless now, driven by instinct and raw, animal need.
Maxim lifted her with ease and carried her across the room, taking her to the chaise longue he had so recently vacated, and sat on it, bringing her into his lap without breaking the kiss. He tangled his fingers in the silken web of hair at her nape.
Her lips left his to trail a path of scorching kisses along his jaw. Reverent, hot gifts of her mouth on his undeserving skin. He tilted his head back to allow her exploration, vulnerable for her in a way he would never allow himself to be for another.
“Your Majesty,” she whispered against his skin.
“Maxim,” he corrected gruffly, because he wanted his name on those lips. Had to have it.
Especially when he was deep inside her. There would be no titles between them then. Surely she understood, on an elemental level, how inevitable it was that they would be together.
“Maxim,” she murmured, kissing her way to his ear, her lips grazing over the whorl in a place he’d never known he was so damned sensitive until this moment.
His name on her lips, her mouth fluttering over his skin. Ah God. It was the most exquisite seduction he’d ever known. His length strained against his trousers, drawn by the promise of her sweet weight in his lap, the tantalizing proximity.
She had come to him, and she was here now, exactly where he wanted her. The worries and duties weighing upon him were thrust aside by the driving need to have this woman. He would worry about the rest later.
“I’m here, sweeting,” he murmured, his hands coasting over her everywhere they could.
Waist, hips, along the stubborn delineation of her spine. He memorized the shape of her with his palms and fingers, tracing her curves and softness.
