She ran her fingers lightly over his lips. “I believe Nvengarian women like their husbands to be beasts in the bedroom, although I assume they do not mean so literally. At least, that is what it says in Adolpho’s Book of Seductions.”
His dark brows drew together. “I have been meaning to ask, who gave you this book? I am aware of no translations of the Book of Seductions in English.”
“Penelope is copying it out for me. Her Nvengarian is much better than mine, so she is translating and sending it to me in letters.”
“Is she? Good God.”
“Why? What is the matter?”
Alexander raked a hand through his hair. “You and Princess Penelope, the leader of Nvengaria, reading the Book of Seductions together. I thought English girls were shocked at the mere mention of men and women sharing the same bed.”
Meagan grinned. “Of course we talk about seduction and bed games and men’s physiques all the time. We are simply discreet. I never told you about TTs.”
He looked perplexed. “TTs?”
Quickly Meagan explained her girlish game of tight trousers with Penelope, and Alexander’s eyes glinted with humor. “Is that what ladies whisper behind their fans in ballrooms? And I thought Englishwomen were demure to the point of tedium.”
“We learn to keep our ribald ways well hidden. Are you shocked? Did you want a shy bride?”
“I believe I told you I wanted no bride at all.” His blue eyes heated. “Until I saw you, and I could not keep visions of you out of my head.”
“That was the love spell.”
“It was more than that. It was you with your red hair and adorable freckles and the most sensual body I’d ever seen in my life.”
“You’re mad. You can’t really like my freckles.”
“I love them.” He bent his head and drew his tongue across the line of them on her collarbone. “I love every inch of you.”
“Then I shall tell my stepmama to stop bleating at me to put buttermilk on them.”
“You could put wine on them,” Alexander murmured against her skin. “Or perhaps chocolate.”
“I’ve never heard of those as remedies for freckles.”
“No, but I would enjoy lapping such things from your skin.”
Her body heated with anticipation. “We shall have to see what we can do about that. And now…”
“Mmm?” He softly kissed her shoulder. “I thought you were tired, my wife.”
“I am exhausted and do not believe I shall remain awake more than five minutes. But will you do something for me? Just to please me?”
“Name it,” Alexander said.
“Will you shift into the panther again?”
He studied her a moment, his gaze sharpening. He asked in a quiet voice, “Why?”
“Because there is no fire in the room and your fur would be warm to sleep against.”
He watched her, eyes glowing with the magic inside him. “I thought you wanted me to remain Alexander.”
“But you still would be Alexander. You would just have a soft coat.”
He stared at her incredulously, then suddenly he began to laugh. The laughter built up from chuckles to a full-blown roar and he flopped over onto his back, his arms across his stomach.
She had never heard him laugh so, not the full surrender to mirth that shook the bed and filled the room with his gravelly voice. Tears streamed from his tightly closed eyes as he gasped for breath.
“I love you,” he said, rolling over to kiss her again. “I have been fighting myself all this time, and you sum it up in one simple sentence.”
“Well, ‘tis true,” she said.
“It is true.” He kissed the tip of her nose, his smile wide. “But it took you to tell me.”
“I am pleased I am so wise. Now, will you?”
He kissed her, a long satisfying kiss that made her wish she were not quite so tired. But after a sleep, perhaps…
“For you, my Grand Duchess, I will oblige.”
Meagan raised up on her elbow as Alexander rolled over, putting his tightly muscled back to her.
She was not certain she saw it begin, but Alexander’s hands curved to claws, then his arms thinned as his shoulders grew broader and heavier, his face elongating to the black harshness of the big cat. And then all of a sudden her bed was full of wild animal, a smooth blackcoated panther lying next to her, its breathing loud in the darkness.
“Thank you,” she said. She snuggled down next to his furred warmth, sliding one arm around his middle. “Good night, Alexander.”
She heard and felt the rumble deep inside his body, and then she fell into sleep.
Lady Anastasia quickly opened her hotel room door when she heard the soft knock, sensing with her entire body who it was. Clad once again in her velvet peignoir with nothing beneath, she stood aside to let Myn enter.
“Alexander?” she asked anxiously.
“Found, and well,” he said as he closed the door. “His wife is with him.”
“And everything is—all right?”
“She loves him,” Myn answered, his large blue eyes never changing. “She will ground him and keep him as he needs to be. And he loves her well in return.”
Anastasia relaxed. “Well, I know you would not have left him if all was not settled. Thank you for looking after him. He is a difficult man, but he deserves his happiness.”
“I watch him as a favor to Princess Penelope. The logosh serve the princess.”
“How kind of you.”
She felt brittle and nervous, and she did not know why. He’d come to make love to her again, that was certain, because why else would he come? Not to reassure her. He unnerved her and baffled her and made her long for his strong body and the intensely satisfying way he’d taken her.
She had never wanted another man since Dimitri’s death. When she’d gone to bed with men since then, she’d done so because she needed something from them, secrets or favors to further her ruthless quest against Austria.
But she wanted this man with his large blue eyes and quietness that soothed her and excited her at the same time.
Her hands trembled as she began to undo her peignoir. He moved to her and quietly covered her fingers with his. “Anastasia.”
Her smile shook as much as her fingers. “What is the matter? Once, and that is all I am allowed to have? Are you punishing me because I loved Dimitri so well?”
Myn slid his arms around her waist. His very obvious erection pressing her abdomen reassured her that he wanted her. “I will return to Nvengaria soon.”
A lash of pain went through her, one she’d not felt since the day she’d finally realized her husband was gone. “How soon?”
“A few days. You will come with me.”
“What?” She tried to shake her head. “I cannot. I have to stay and finish my missions. I have to help Alexander.”
“No.” His lashes were thick and dark, like his hair. “Your time here is finished. I will take you home.”
“You don’t understand. I cannot go back to Nvengaria. Not now, not ever. I can’t face it. I can never—” She broke off, words choking her.
“That is why you must go. You will return there to heal yourself—with me.”
“Why do you want me?” she asked. “Why do you want me to go with you, to fall in love with you?”
He traced patterns on the small of her back. “I knew Dimitri well. He wanted you to live. That is all he ever wanted.”
She nodded, remembering the honest vitality of Dimitri, how he’d whirled her into a waltz, then out onto a terrace for her first real kiss. He’d showed her life as hard as he could.
“I haven’t been living, have I?” she realized. “For six years, I have not really lived. I may as well have remained with my staid family in the staid middle of Vienna and never gone with him.”
“Nvengaria made you live,” Myn said. “Let me give you back your life.”
He was such a large man, and her body fit well against his. Sh
e remembered his hands on her in the night and how for the first time in a long time she’d actually felt.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting go of something that had hurt inside her for too long. “Very well. I will go with you.”
He kissed her, a bruising, almost brutal kiss. “It is well,” he said. “We will go. I believe you will like my family.”
She stared a moment, then she laughed. “Good lord. Never say I have to meet your mother.”
He smiled mysteriously and said nothing. It felt good to laugh, and good to see him smile. He kissed her again, and then to her delight, he continued unlacing her peignoir and pushed it from her bare shoulders, his hands finding the curve of her hips.
When Meagan woke to sunshine flooding the room, Alexander was Alexander again, smiling his handsome smile as he looked down at her. She returned the smile as he eased her onto her back, then he slid his body over hers and made love to her, fast and hard.
They dressed each other in clothes that Alexander kept here, a suit of subdued black for himself and a dark blue cotton gown for Meagan. He showed her a wardrobe full of dresses for her—when he had the seamstresses make her Town clothes, he’d had them sew more serviceable clothes for when he brought her to the country.
“You have kept this place a closely guarded secret,” she said as he laced her into her stays.
“I wanted to surprise you. There is excellent fishing in the lake. Do you think Alex would like it?”
Meagan glanced out the window to the green downs and the sunshine glinting from clear blue water at the edge of the woods. She wished she could have seen this loveliness last night as they charged here to save Alexander. She might have been less frightened had she known what beauty he had found.
“I think he will love it.” She turned when he finished and slid her arms about his waist. “As will I.”
“Then we will come here as soon as I finish with one errand in Town.”
She raised her brows. “What of our schedules? What of our social standing as Grand Duke and Duchess of Nvengaria?”
“Our schedules can go to hell for a few weeks. If I hadn’t been so adamant about being Grand Duke every minute of every day in Nvengaria, I might have had a real first marriage.”
“I don’t know,” Meagan said thoughtfully. “From what you tell me of Sephronia, she was in love with your position and not you. She adored being Grand Duchess, but she ought to have loved you better.”
“I am difficult to love.”
“No, you are not.” She smiled against his lips. “Loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done.”
His hand moved to the back of her stays, his fingers finding the knot that held them closed. “You should not have said that. Not if you are in a hurry to go home.”
She shivered against him. “Julius will be waiting with the coach. Impatiently, I wager.”
Alexander had told her that Egan, after ascertaining that everything was all right last night, had taken Julius and the others to the steward’s house to get warm. They’d drunk Nvengarian wine and told tales and played cards for the remainder of the night. Myn had disappeared, but that was typical of Myn. Meagan had a feeling she knew where he’d gone.
“Julius can wait a little longer,” Alexander murmured as his hand splayed open the laces of her stays. Meagan twined her arms around his neck and let him do as he pleased.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Grand Duke Alexander met with Prince Metternich, first minister of Austria, in a room in Carleton House that Alexander had bullied the English king into letting them use. Metternich had come to England for diplomatic talks and Alexander saw no reason not to exploit the time.
Metternich was an elegant man with carefully curled hair and a strong face that held just a hint of plumpness. The two men faced each other, each seated in a gilded chair across a short space of carpet woven with huge roses. Each man had a decanter of brandy and a goblet beside him, which footmen had filled before discreetly retreating. Alexander had demanded that this meeting be strictly private.
After the preliminary dance of inquiring about the state of both men’s health and that of their families, and Metternich congratulating Alexander on his recent marriage, Alexander launched himself into why he’d cornered the savior of the Austrian Empire.
“Your toady, Otto von Hohenzahl,” Alexander said. “Please do not let him annoy me again.”
“Ah.” Metternich moved a ringed hand in a dismissive gesture as he reached for his brandy. “Von Hohenzahl has retreated to Vienna. I believe he has a country home outside the city where he tends roses with his wife.”
“I know he acted against your wishes and without your knowledge,” Alexander said. “But he is yours. I hope I did not startle you when I delivered my—package.”
Metternich’s eyes flickered. The morning after Meagan had healed him, Alexander had sent Julius and the others to wrap von Hohenzahl in cords and drop the trussed-up man outside the London house in which Metternich was staying. Alexander had tucked a note into von Hohenzahl’s dressing gown pocket to explain the matter.
“A whimsical prank,” Alexander continued, his voice colder than it had ever been. “But I was feeling whimsical that morning. However, if one of your servants is fool enough to endanger my wife and son’s lives again, you will pay and you will pay dearly.”
Metternich took a thoughtful sip of brandy. He was an intelligent man, who had not taken over the falling-apart Austrian empire and made it whole again without a great deal of strength and cunning.
“If Nvengaria were Austrian,” he said smoothly, “these sorts of things would not happen. Consider it, my friend. Your little country would never have to fear the press of Russia or the Ottomans again.”
“What about the Austrians?” Alexander said dryly. “We will never bow to you, we will never succumb, we will never let you in.” He picked up his own glass of brandy but did not drink. “Become used to the notion.”
Metternich sighed. “I really did not think you’d say ‘Oh, very well’ and hand Nvengaria over to me. But I must ask, Your Grace, while we have a private moment, why not? Why on earth should you not want to be part of the larger whole, part of the empire that is the most powerful and wealthy in Europe? In other words, why are you Nvengarians so damned stubborn?”
He asked it as though he was curious about an oddity.
“Because we should lose ourselves,” Alexander answered. “Because eight hundred years ago when the first leaders of our barbaric tribes made a pledge to each other to make life better for their people, we promised to never knuckle under to any outsider. We would remain Nvengarian, untouched and untouchable. We are a proud people, and we will remain so until the last one of us is dead.”
“Time marches, Your Grace. The world changes.”
“I know. Which is the point of me being here in England. To bring Nvengaria into the world without letting the world conquer it. Prince Damien is no foolish playboy figurehead, and never mistake him for one. He knows exactly what he is doing, and I stand right beside him.”
“Watching over his shoulder, eh?”
Alexander made a conceding gesture. “As you say.”
The two men studied each other, Metternich’s eyes shrewd. But he nodded and dropped the subject.
For today, Alexander had won. Austria and Metternich would never give up, Alexander knew, but neither would Alexander.
They finished the brandy and rose, both men extending hands at precisely the same time, breaking apart after one brief handshake. The footmen, cued, opened the double doors for them.
“I was introduced to your wife at the king’s soiree last evening,” Metternich said as they walked out of the room, side by side, at the exact same time. “She is quite a beauty. Again, I congratulate you.”
Alexander’s mouth softened as he remembered waking up next to Meagan in her bedroom in their Berkeley Square house that morning. He’d had a leisurely breakfast with her in the sunny morning room as
had become their habit, sending for Alex to join them. It was a welcome novelty, living as a happy family.
Meagan and her courage had given him that. If she’d not charged out to the country to show him that his love for her would keep the beast from hurting her—and that she loved him, beast and all—he would never have known, at last, what happiness could be.
He hadn’t really understood what Myn meant by surrender until Meagan had shown him. Myn had meant complete surrender, letting go of all the hurts and angers Alexander had accumulated in his life, the fear he’d learned to embrace at such a young age. The death, the vengeance, the years of watching and fear, were in the past. Meagan had made it possible for him to begin again.
“She is,” Alexander answered with a cordial nod, his heart warm. “I will convey the compliment.”
Metternich nodded back, and the two men parted.
“Fishing,” Meagan said, “is a satisfying occupation.”
She watched her husband and his son standing knee deep in water at the edge of the lake, both in tall boots, both with lines dragging on the surface. It was late June, the Season over, and sunshine sparkled on the deep blue water.
On a slight rise above them stood Alexander’s Elizabethan house, splendid and old and quaint and cozy. They’d retreated here days ago for a welcome respite.
Meagan stretched out on a blanket on the grass watching Alexander give Alex solemn fishing lessons. They stood side by side, one a miniature of the other, and let their lines bob.
When Alex’s line began to pull, he let out a cry of delight and followed his father’s instructions to the letter to pull in a flopping silver fish.
Meagan sat up and clapped her hands. “Excellently done, Alex. We’ll have Cook fry him up for supper.”
Alex looked in distress at the beautiful fish dancing on the end of his line. “We are going to eat him?”
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