He turned on his brother, ready to do battle. “I left herbecauseI love her. For her own sake.”
Maxim smiled. “There is something I’ve learned about women, brother, and it’s that they prefer to be asked their opinion on matters rather than having it decided for them.”
Nando’s hands had balled into fists at his sides. “What are you saying?”
“That you should have asked her what she wanted before you got on that damned ship. That’s what I’m saying.” Maxim nodded. “And I’m also saying that she appears to be a good woman who loves you enough to travel an ocean chasing after your stupid arse. If you don’t fall at her feet and kiss her slippers, I’ll push you out the nearest window.”
“No need for threats.” Nando scowled at his brother. “We both know you love me too much to toss me out a window.”
Maxim held up his hands and mimicked a double-handed shove, his countenance devoid of expression. “Thud.”
Nando strode past with a growl. “Tend to your wife, brother. And let me tend to mine.”
His brother’s irritating chuckles chased him as he fled his private rooms and all but ran to the salon where Eleanora was awaiting him. The familiar distance felt as if it took a lifetime to traverse until, finally, he reached the marbled hall of the first floor. A liveried footman flanked the closed salon door. He offered Nando a bow.
“Your Royal Highness.”
Nando brushed past him when he moved to open the portal with a grand flourish. “Thank you, but no need to stand on ceremony.”
The man looked startled. “Of-of course, yes, Your Royal Highness.”
Another bow that Nando couldn’t bother himself to acknowledge, and then he was bursting through the door, racing over the threshold, heart pounding.
She was seated at a table laden with tea and sweets, along with Tansy, but at his graceless entrance, both ladies stood. He had eyes for only one.
“Eleanora.” His voice was hoarse with emotion, with need.
He wanted to cross the rest of the chamber and haul her into his arms, but he somehow restrained himself.
“Nando.” Tansy’s voice, like her smile, was warm and welcoming. “I’ll leave you and Eleanora to your talk.”
“Thank you, Tansy,” he managed.
She went to Eleanora’s side and whispered something unintelligible to her before departing from the room.
He was moving before the door to the salon clicked closed at her back, eating up the distance keeping him from the woman he loved. “You’re here.”
Regardless of how many times Nando gazed upon the seemingly endless glory of the sea, he always found himself in awe, marveling at it anew, captivated by its innate allure. And he experienced that same sensation deep within now as he looked upon her. Starting in his marrow and blossoming outward.
He reeled.
Eleanora was beautiful. More breathtakingly beautiful than she had ever been, even if her skin was a touch paler, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. But everything else, from her lustrous golden hair to her elegant posture, was just as he had remembered every night as he had gone to sleep to memories of her, wondering when their separation would hurt less, if indeed it ever could.
“I’m here,” she said quietly.
“How are you?”
He needed to know. He had left when she was still healing, and the silence between them had been torture.
“My wound has healed well enough, if that is what you’re asking.” She was serious, somber.
“Yes. That is what I was asking.”
She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Well enough for travel to you.”
Another step, and she was within reach. He wanted to seize her hands. To touch her. But he didn’t dare. He didn’t know if he had the right. His fingers flexed, useless, at his sides.
“Why?” he asked, needing to know, afraid to allow his reckless heart to dream that she had come for him, to him. To believe that she could love him, despite what he had done.
