“I can only be your queen if we are joined in holy matrimony as husband and wife,” she informed him. “And you are marrying another. Understandably, Your Majesty. I am but a humble orphan cast upon the benevolence of the royal St. George family.”
“Tansy—”
“Are you not marrying Princess Anastasia?” she demanded, her voice unusually high, her emotions rising, beyond her control. She was making a fool of herself and she did not like it, but neither could she rein in her reaction. Too much had happened. She loved Maxim. The King of Varros.
A man forever beyond her reach for so very many reasons.
“You know that I am marrying the princess.” His head dipped, a heavy sigh falling from his sensual lips. His dark gaze burned into hers. “Some circumstances are beyond my control. I am acting in the best interest of my kingdom. I’ve no choice to do anything less.”
Of course. She understood, even if the knowledge was akin to a blade between her ribs, rendering each breath painful. Even if tears she refused to shed pricked her eyes. She was not free to live the life of her choosing; her future had been decided for her, from the time her parents had both died and she had been given into the care of the Royal House of St. George.
Just as Maxim’s had been decided for him. He had been born to the throne; the blood of kings flowed through his veins. She was a mere lady, her claim to nobility limited. Her father had been neither wealthy nor powerful, and her mother had been a merchant’s daughter.
She was, by comparison, no one. She understood the disparity between them. She always had, but it had never felt greater than in this moment, his eyes searing hers with such tender urgency, words she would have otherwise welcomed falling from his lips. There could be no future for them. She could never live with being his mistress, and he could never marry her.
“I accept that you are bound by your duty to your people,” she told the king earnestly. “You must extend me the same courtesy.”
“I’m a king. The weight of my kingdom, the future of its people, rests upon my shoulders.”
His voice was low and soft, yet undeniably burdened with the heavy weight of responsibility. She wanted to kiss him. To fold her arms around him, to bury her face in his throat and inhale the decadent masculine scent of his soap and musk and leather. To hold him tightly, to lead him to the cot she had so recently vacated.
None of those things could happen.
“I understand, Your Majesty,” she said simply.
“No,” he bit out, shaking his head. “You don’t. Damn it, woman, heed me. There is danger afoot. I need to know you will be safe. I need you to understand that there are men who would do you great bodily harm.”
“Why?” Her brows drew together as she searched his gaze for an answer, trying to understand what had changed, why this difference had been brought about within him. “Nothing has changed, has it? Is the plan the same?”
His jaw tensed. “The plan remains the same. The only alteration is in the danger. The man who wounded the princess intended to kill her. He was an assassin either sent from King Gustavson or from one of my own enemies.”
One of his own enemies? This was the first occasion upon which she had heard of such a possibility. She had believed his reign over Varros had been solidified by his victory in the Great War.
Her frown deepened. “But you are the celebrated King Maximilian. What enemies do you have, after rescuing Varros from ruin? Your victories in battle are legendary. You have changed everything for your people.”
Maxim’s nostrils flared, his smile turning tight, almost feral. “My uncle has supporters who linger like vermin. There will never be a day that I do not have to fear that someone will bewaiting, with either a bullet or a blade or poison or something else, equally capable of bringing me low.”
She couldn’t contain her gasp, pressing a hand to her heart. “But you are the king.”
His countenance was fashioned of granite. “Even a king is a mere mortal. No one knows that better than the enemies of the king, and God knows I have enemies just as any other man. More enemies, in fact. My position is not as secure as I would prefer. Coming to London has taught me as much. Marrying the princess and bringing Prince Theodoric back to power will benefit Varros, but it will also help to solidify my power. With Boritania as a trusted ally, my detractors will be far less likely to make attempts on my life.”
For the first time, it occurred to Tansy that Maxim’s betrothal and marriage to Princess Anastasia was rooted in so much more than she had ever supposed. He was seeking to improve his own position, yes. But he was also apparently in danger, and marrying someone connected to another sovereign in the region would leave Varros in a better position of stability, particularly if he had heirs, should he die.
That brutal realization, coupled with his words, sent icy tendrils of fear through her.
She swallowed hard, trying to understand. “What else has happened? Has someone tried to do you harm? Is that why you feared that something had happened to me?”
If possible, his expression closed even more. “You needn’t concern yourself with the details.”
She scoffed, frustrated with him, loving him, hating him. At an impasse.
“Because I am a woman?” she demanded. “If so, I can assure you that I am more than capable of understanding such complexities as danger and trepidation.”
“Because you aremywoman,” he countered fiercely, “and I don’t want to fill your heart with ugliness and fear. I want you to remain as you are.”
Too late for that, she longed to tell him, and not without bitterness. She had been complacent enough with her life and her role in the past. But her involvement with him had changed things. Had changed everything. Had changed her, and—heaven help her—had changed her heart forever. And she couldn’t quite banish the warmth pooling inside her at his possessive pronouncement that she was his woman, even if she knew she could never truly be.
“You are in danger, Princess Anastasia has been wounded, and you believe I’m in danger as well,” she said instead. “That is the reason for the guards.”
