“And as she will be my queen, your loyalty will be to me as well,” he pointed out, absurdly nettled.
This entire dialogue hardly mattered. He had not come here to argue with his future queen’s lady-in-waiting. Rather, he had come to speak with his future queen.
His future queen, who remained, quite conspicuously, absent.
Lady Tansy watched him, her countenance immobile, her mysterious eyes more potent than he could bear. Her intense regard was making his prick go hard. Ye gods, when had a woman’s mere regard ever made him get a cockstand?
Never.
“Speaking of my future queen,” he bit out, changing subjects and tactics abruptly, “where is she?”
That made Lady Tansy blink.
Ah.
Telling, that blink. The lone indication that she was not entirely at ease.
“She has gone on your errand, at your request,” she said.
He knew that, of course. Princess Anastasia had taken his carriage. His most-trusted men watched her and kept her safe. The life of the woman who would be his queen was of the utmost importance. And Maxim didn’t trust the princess’s uncle, King Gustavson, as far as he could throw the bastard. He suspected the king had sent assassins to London to watch the princess and kill her if she proved herself more liability than asset.
Concern brewed within him as he took note of the gray pall beyond the windows. “The hour is growing late, however. Should she not have returned by now?”
“I expect her at any moment,” the lady-in-waiting said, her tone dutiful, her voice kept carefully low, lest any of the guards beyond overhear.
And he couldn’t blame Lady Tansy. For they all played a dangerous game with Gustavson’s guards. Princess Anastasia feigned illness whilst secretly seeking her exiled brother, the rightful king of Boritania and the one man Maxim truly needed to be able to wrest the throne from Gustavson. Because he needed peace in Boritania. He needed the kingdom to prosper and flourish. He needed trade and an alliance between Boritania and Varros that would be worth more than the damned paper upon which it was written.
“I’ll wait, then,” he said, testing her to see if she was lying on behalf of the princess.
A second blink, and then the small pink tip of Lady Tansy’s tongue crept over her lower lip, leaving it glistening. “I am certain Your Majesty has better uses for his time.”
The appearance of her tongue had left him briefly bereft of air. A sizzling arrow of lust had landed straight in his groin, and all he was able to think about was how feminine, how lush, how desirable the petite lady-in-waiting was. She had a foul mouth to rival any sailor’s, and he wanted to know what other wicked things she might say and do with it.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he snapped, irked by his unwanted reaction to her.
Maxim prided himself on his iron rule and his iron control. He was forty years old. This slip of a girl should not tempt him so.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” she demurred.
And he couldn’t shake the feeling that her humility was false, like a mantle she donned solely for his benefit. That the true Lady Tansy was hidden somewhere beneath her calm, imperturbable mask.
“How old are you?” he asked, needing to know.
“I am of an age with Princess Anastasia,” she answered primly.
As if he knew how old the blasted princess was. He stared at the lady-in-waiting, trapped in the mysterious, cool depths of her eyes.
“How old is she?” he asked finally.
“She is your betrothed. I thought Your Majesty would know.”
There was a tiny thread of censure wrapped about her tone, as if he had disappointed her with his lack of knowledge about the princess. But he wouldn’t feel a crumb of guilt over it. He wasn’t wooing the princess. He wasn’t some love-sick hound trailing at her heels. He was a king intent upon strengthening his rule and bringing more wealth and prosperity to his people.
“She is young enough to bear me children,” he grumbled, running a hand along his jaw to find the prickle of whiskers his man had just shaved that morning already returning. “Her precise age never interested me.”
Nor had the princess, aside from what marriage to her would enable him to obtain.
Lady Tansy’s gaze traveled to a point somewhere over his shoulder. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
