Chapter Eight

Regina Vanechka’s high-pitched laughter brought a smile to Daniela’s face as she sat in the tiny chair the next morning, holding a delicate china cup to her lips. The princess’s blue-gray eyes practically sparkled as she held out an equally delicate-looking china teapot. “More?”

“Of course.” Daniela held out her cup. She’d been passing by the nursery, thinking about making another attempt to go riding, when the little girl darted out and promptly tripped over her long dark blue skirts. Daniela helped her up, righted her, and couldn’t resist the invitation to tea, especially when it was issued in so sparkly a voice.

So there she sat in the corner of the princess’s lovely chambers. The walls were so white they were almost blue, with deep rose draperies and matching quilts. A doll’s house, a perfect miniature replica of Iarnia Palace, stood in one corner, the dolls scattered on the floor before it. They were in the opposite corner, sipping imaginary tea from those translucent cups.

Fading afternoon sunlight filtered through the draperies to highlight the princess’s dark hair. Like her father, Regina’s hair was so black it was almost blue. Very much like Antonin’s. That blue-black hair was also a Vanechka trait.

She swallowed a rising sigh along with her invisible tea. Perhaps coming to Iarnia Palace wasn’t such a wise idea. How was it she still felt Antonin’s loss so strongly, when he’d been gone for so long? When would the emptiness ever go away for more than a short while?

It was odd, she mused, that she should be thinking so much on Antonin. Perhaps it was being back there for the first time since his death, but perhaps it was something more. When left to wander on its own, her mind conjured up images, but not of a fiery-tempered, dark-haired man with black opal eyes who would one day become king. Instead, the man popping up in those errant thoughts was a giant. A giant with green eyes and dark gold hair and broad shoulders who—

“Mrs. Bertalan?”

Regina’s voice was reedy and high, jolting Daniela back to the present. “Yes?”

“More cream?”

“No, thank you.” She set the cup on the table. “Do you play with your dolls much?”

Regina nodded, her long tangle of curls bobbing about her thin shoulders. “Yes. They go with me.”

“When you return to Vasek, you mean?”

Another nod. “Yes.” Regina bent her head back over the blue-and-white flowered teapot. “Will you come with us?”

“No. I’m afraid I can’t, sweetling. I have to go back to my home in a few days.”

“Where’s that?”

“Hamgarth, in Sandinia.”

“Is your papa a king, like mine?”

“No.” Daniela shook her head, tucking her skirts about her ankles as she shifted her position. The chair was that much too small for her, and it pinched in a most uncomfortable way. Never mind the numbness creeping into her feet. Still, she was enjoying herself, which made her discomfort bearable. “But he is in a very important position.”

“Do you have a little girl I could play with?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Although I wish I did.”

“You should.” Regina brought her cup to her lips again. “I’d like that.”

“I think I would, too, Your Highness.” The backs of Daniela’s eyeballs ached, and she blinked to try to clear the unexpected tears stinging them. She did so wish she and Peter had been able to have a child before his death. She loved children, dreamed at one time of a houseful of them. Now she realized the likelihood of that ever happening grew slimmer with each day. She was a score and seven, and closing in on another birthday without a suitor or prospect in sight. Just thinking about it made her sad.

Kristian swept into the room in a bustle of heavy midnight-blue muslin. “There you are.”

“Mama!” Regina jumped up from her chair and raced to her mother as the queen came into the nursery.

Kristian lifted her easily and snuggled her close. “I hope you aren’t pestering Mrs. Bertalan, sweet pea.”

“No, of course she isn’t.” Daniela rose from her chair. “We were having a lovely time at our tea party.”

“Can we go see Nadia, Mama?” Regina asked before shoving a thumb into her mouth.

“In a moment. I need to discuss something with Mrs. Bertalan first.” Kristian turned as a somber-faced woman in staid dark gray linen bustled into the nursery behind her. “Mrs. Androva, take Princess Regina to see her sister. I’ll be along in a minute.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Mrs. Androva took the princess from her mother’s arms and left the room. Daniela watched her go, wondering what it was the queen wished to discuss with her now. What else could she want?

Kristian turned back to her with a friendly, if tired, smile. “She is fascinated with the baby, which I suppose I should be grateful for.”

“And one day, they will be the best of friends. I would have liked a sister,” Daniela replied, stacking the small china saucers in the middle of the table. “What did you wish to discuss with me, Your Highness?”

“Miss Orlov’s chaperone received a message a while ago that her mother has taken ill. The chaperone’s mother, not Miss Orlov’s.” Kristian came completely into the room to perch on the edge of the princess’s high, narrow bed. “And her departure would leave Miss Orlov without a chaperone, which would make it impossible for her to remain here. So I wanted to ask if you would act as chaperone for her. It would make your matchmaking a bit easier as well, as you’d be spending so much time together.”

It might have been a request, but it certainly wasn’t one Daniela could turn down. At least, not if she wished to stay in the queen’s good graces. But she had the feeling that if she turned Kristian down, it wouldn’t be long before those good graces dried up entirely, and most likely permanently. So, despite her initial impulse to scream and run toward the forest to lose herself, she smiled and nodded. “Of course I will, Your Highness.”

“Wonderful.” Kristian smiled and rose from the bed. “The remaining guests will be arriving throughout tomorrow, into Sunday, with the grand ball being held Sunday eve. I have every confidence in your matchmaking abilities to hope that by then, Luka and Miss Orlov will be well on their way to betrothal, and you will be able to simply enjoy the ball before you return to Hamgarth.”

Daniela pasted a smile to her lips, even as her dread grew. “As Miss Orlov seemed quite taken with the general, I’d say that’s a distinct possibility.”

“Mama!” Regina’s voice rang out down the corridor. Daniela joined the queen in the doorway as Kristian peered down in the direction of her daughter and the nursemaid.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bertalan. Now, if you will excuse me.” The queen didn’t wait for a reply but left Daniela standing alone in the nursery, staring at an empty doorway. She sighed softly as she gazed about at the now-childless nursery. It was so quiet. Even her footsteps were silent on the rich carpet.

Chaperone. She was old enough (and widowed enough) to be a chaperone. That saddened her unlike anything ever had. Despite the sunshine, the room felt gray.

She moved to the windows. The sill was wide enough to form a bench, so she sank onto it, drawing aside the deep rose drapery to peer out at the snowscape. A family of deer meandered along the forest’s edge, peaceful, with their noses to the ground. Sunlight, pale but golden, split the gray to dance along the snow’s surface. The rippled glass pane was cold against her cheek as she leaned against it.

“I don’t suppose I can remain here for the rest of my life,” she murmured as the deer moved off, out of her view. She was expected at supper, but for some reason, she wasn’t very hungry.

Still, she couldn’t very well hide in the nursery until it was time to return to Hamgarth. With that in mind, she reluctantly rose from her bench to go back to her chambers, where she was greeted by a frowning Helga.

“Where have you been?”

Leaning back against the closed door, Daniela fought back a sigh. “I was entertaining the princess. We were having a tea party.”

Helga turned back to the iron and basket of clothes at her feet. “A tea party? But you aren’t dressed properly for—”

Daniela smiled as she shook her head. “It’s all right, Helga. Princess Regina hosted it, and she wasn’t at all concerned about my attire, I promise you.” She pushed up from the door. “You can stop frowning now. It wasn’t as if I was sneaking off on horseback again.”

“And that’s a good thing. It’s dangerous out there. The Royal Guard still hasn’t found the person who shot at you.”

“I understand that. But I still find I’m growing tired of being trapped indoors.” Daniela crossed over to stand before her lady’s maid, hands on her hips. “Clio must be going mad with the need to run. And no one knows for certain I was the intended target.”

“One of the grooms will see to it that she is taken out.” Helga lifted a corset from the basket to place over her board. The flatiron warmed over the fire, and Helga lifted it to smooth the wrinkles from the linen. “You should dress for supper. I’d wager the queen will not be so unconcerned about attire as her daughter.”

“I know.” Daniela turned around. “Unbutton me?”

“Of course.” The heat from the fire crackled warm along Daniela’s back as Helga deftly slipped silk-covered buttons through their holes.

As the linen pooled at her feet, Daniela said, “Her Highness asked me to play chaperone to Miss Orlov, in addition to playing matchmaker. I’m about to become her second shadow.”

“Why? Step out.” Helga swept up the discarded day dress and tossed it into the second basket.

“Because her chaperone had to leave, and she will not be able to stay without one. Since I am a perfectly acceptable chaperone, Queen Kristian asked if I would do it.” She moved to the wardrobe to retrieve an acceptable gown for supper, settling on the midnight-blue velvet that was her favorite.

Helga helped her dress, saying, “It would be difficult to make a match between the giant and Miss Orlov if she is not here to be courted. Here, let me tighten that first.”

“Stop referring to General Morovic as ‘the giant.’” Daniela sucked in a sharp breath as Helga suddenly yanked on the silk cords of her corset and a corner of a bone stay bit into her hip. “Take care, please.”

“My apologies.” Helga grunted and tugged harder. “There.”

The velvet was thick and warm, perfect for a winter evening, and when she was ready, even Helga smiled. “You look lovely. It’s a shame you are so determined to keep yourself on the shelf.”

“What was that?” Daniela turned to face her companion, glaring at her.

“I said, it’s a shame—”

“No, I understood that. Why is it a shame? I’m happy with my life, comfortable with my station. Why would I want to give that up?” Daniela reached across the bed to lift her reticule from the counterpane.

“I beg your pardon, of course, Mrs. Bertalan.” Helga caught her by the shoulders, her face warm with concern that bordered on maternal. “But you seemed so happy when we first arrived.”

“I was happy. That is, I am happy. It’s been such a long time since I last saw His Highness, and I do so enjoy pairing people together.”

“I know you do, but you don’t seem to be so happy to do this. The general seems to fancy you. Do you fancy him back?”

“He doesn’t fancy me, Helga. Miss Orlov won his favor, and did so rather quickly. I know he’s admired her from afar for some time now, and when they met this afternoon, she seemed equally enamored of him. I think this will be my easiest match yet.”

Helga pressed her lips together, and Daniela waited for her to argue, but all Helga said was, “I see.”

Feeling as if she somehow disappointed Helga, Daniela pulled away and moved to the door. “I’m going down to supper now.”

“Enjoy, Mrs. Bertalan.”

Daniela nodded and went below. At the foot of the staircase, Nicholas appeared. “Good evening, Mrs. Bertalan. Please come. The others are in the drawing room.”

She followed him down the wide corridor to the drawing room, where Stefan and Kristian, as well as Luka and Erika, awaited her. All eyes turned in her direction as she stepped over the threshold, and she was painfully aware of being the outsider. Of being solitary in a room of couples. She should be accustomed to it by now, but it seemed even more jarring now.

Luka smiled and rose from his seat on the small gold damask sofa. “Good evening, Mrs. Bertalan.”

“Good evening.” She smiled to the king, dipping into a curtsey for him and the queen.

“How lovely to see you,” Erika Orlov said with a smile. “Has your headache gone?”

“Yes, thank you. It feels much better now.” The room was too warm, and the closer she drew to the sofas, the worse it became. No one else seemed to feel any discomfort, however, so she resisted the urge to fan herself. Hopefully, they’d be taken to the dining room soon.

“Please sit,” Kristian urged, gesturing to the dark green leather chair nearest the hearth. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one to feel the heat. Smothering a rising groan, she sat, and all talk resumed as if she hadn’t interrupted.

“Will the baron be joining us?” Kristian asked.

Daniela assumed she meant her father, but before she could answer, Stefan broke in, “Yes. He and the others will meet us in the dining room.” He smiled, looking more refreshed than he had in days. “He needed to post a letter to Premier Niemchoff.”

Daniela’s ears perked up, and she sat straighter. “Has an agreement been reached?”

Stefan nodded. “It has, thankfully. But we will not discuss politics and treaties and the like. I understand you and my daughter had a nice tea party this afternoon?”

“We did.” Her smile came to her lips suddenly. It’d been such a pleasant afternoon with Princess Regina. It’d been a long time since she delved into her imagination and let it guide her for the afternoon. “She’s quite the hostess.”

Erika’s smile faded. “You spent the afternoon having a tea party?”

“Yes,” Daniela said, turning toward her, “a bit of time with a little girl can do wonders for a pounding headache. After my second cup of tea, it was completely gone.”

“So you like children, do you?” Erika asked as Nicholas came into the room bearing a tray of goblets and a decanter of what looked to be wine. He served the king and queen first, then Luka, before turning to Erika.

“Yes. I do, actually.” Daniela looked up at Nicholas as he approached her. She accepted a goblet and sipped. Definitely wine. Quite sweet wine, actually. She wasn’t a wine connoisseur, but it was quite good, as far as her standards were concerned. She turned her attention back to Miss Orlov. “And even if I didn’t, it would be rude to decline a princess’s invitation.”

Stefan chuckled. “Not rude, Mrs. Bertalan, but it would be noisy. The word no is not one Regina accepts often, or easily.”

Luka shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. And she isn’t shy about letting you know how much she dislikes that one particular word.”

The ruby wine sparkled as it swirled about the bowl of the cut-crystal goblet and threw off glittering bits of light. Daniela sipped. Fruity. Heady. Each sip tasted better than the last. And when she lowered the goblet, it was to find Luka looking at her. The feeling that he waited for her to respond surged through her, so she said, “I’ve not had much of an opportunity to tell her no. I enjoy a good tea party as much as the next lady.”

“She spoke of you the entire way to Nadia’s nursery.” Kristian slowly twirled the goblet in her hand. “You are her new best friend, Mrs. Bertalan. I hope you realize that. You might wish to clear a few days’ worth of time for more tea parties. She loves them.”

Daniela forgot about the discomfort caused by her proximity to the fire. “Well, that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a while. I consider it an honor that she thinks so highly of me. If she wishes another tea party, I will gladly attend. I will go to as many as she will have me at.”

Laughter rippled through them, and Daniela felt very pleased with herself as she sipped her wine again. Although she might not have been happy with Daniela’s arrival initially, the queen seemed to warm to her after all. By the time Nicholas came to escort them to the dining room, Daniela’s head buzzed from imbibing a second glass of wine.

The formal dining room at Iarnia Palace was one of the most elegant rooms she’d ever seen. The walls were pure white, the moldings gilt, and pure gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one flickering with the light of hundreds of pure white candles. The plates were fine china, edged in gold, the flatware was the finest silver, and as she sat in the heavy, ornately designed chair, another butler came into the room with the first course of their meal.

Since Erika was seated beside her, Daniela leaned over slightly and said, “I thought that, since everyone will be arriving sometime tomorrow, perhaps you and General Morovic might like to take a stroll through the conservatory after supper.”

Erika smiled. “I would love to. I love flowers. Especially orchids, and I understand some of the rarest orchids in Mordainia are grown here.”

Daniela nodded. “They are. And there are some lovely roses and wild strawberries as well.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“General.” Daniela turned to face Luka, seated across from them. “Would you enjoy going for a stroll through the conservatory this evening?”

Judging by the decidedly unenthusiastic look on his face, he wasn’t the slightest bit game for such a thing. “Isn’t it a bit chilly to be looking at flowers?”

“Silly,” Erika chided him playfully, “the conservatory will be as warm as the drawing room. Perhaps even a bit warmer.”

Heat crept into Daniela’s cheeks at the low suggestion not so subtly tucked into Miss Orlov’s words. Luka didn’t miss it either, judging by how his eyes widened. Would she be expected to simply lose herself among the potted ferns and rose trellises? She’d never been a chaperone before, but remembered back to her days of needing one. Yes, she would be expected to lose herself. She certainly wanted her chaperones to dry up and blow away.

Erika’s smile held plenty of meaning as she said, “I look forward to it, General.”

“As do I,” he replied, reaching for his goblet.

Daniela also lifted her goblet, taking a much larger swallow than she’d originally intended. Fortunately, she was able to mask most of her cough, and even hid the definitely unladylike belch that followed. Damn it. Hopefully, this evening would take an uptick, because so far, she was the only one who seemed to be not enjoying herself, despite the tingling buzz that seemed to be taking root deep in the pit of her belly.

She couldn’t help it. Every time she looked up, her gaze fell on Luka and her memory went back to the afternoon in the forest. Would he have kissed her, had they not been interrupted?

And why was she so disappointed that she’d never know?

****

After supper, the king and queen excused themselves. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Erika set down her napkin. “Shall we?”

For a moment, it seemed as if Luka was about to say no, but then he pushed back his chair and circled the black walnut table to offer his arm. “Of course.”

As they made to leave, Daniela grabbed her goblet. There was about a mouthful of wine remaining, which she tossed down with little trouble. Then she hurried off after them. As she rounded the corner of the doorway, she spotted them strolling leisurely along the corridor. They looked perfectly suited, as Miss Orlov’s willowy figure complemented Luka’s stature. They made a stunning pair.

And neither seemed to notice she was not with them.

She glanced back at the dining room. There was still some wine left in the decanter on the sideboard. And she knew where the conservatory was. She could definitely find her way to it. Would it really matter so much if she joined them in a few minutes? Who would miss her in such a short time?

There was just enough remaining wine to fill her goblet. Two hurried swallows drained the glass, and as she was at the wrong end of the table, she couldn’t reach her napkin. Then she cast a quick look about, although she didn’t know why. The room was empty. Who would see her?

Velvet worked just as well. She dragged her sleeve across her mouth and then rushed to catch up with Luka and Miss Orlov before they noticed her absence. By the time she reached them, a few odd things caught her attention. First, her head felt as if it were wrapped in several layers of linen. Then their voices sounded slightly fuzzed over. Finally, the room seemed to slope to her left. A strange buzzing filled her ears, and the painting on the wall outside the conservatory door, the one of King Andrei glaring imperiously down at anyone who dared stroll his corridor, struck her as wildly funny. The king’s left eye turned inward. She’d never noticed it before now. Had Andrei ever seen it? Perhaps that’s why it hung in this darkened, narrow corridor.

A giggle bubbled to her lips, but she clapped a hand over her mouth before it could escape. However, on its heels rose an odd sort of gurgle, and she wasn’t quite so fortunate this time. It popped out, loud enough that Erika offered up a queer look over one shoulder. “Are you all right, Mrs. Bertalan?”

Her hand still clapped over her mouth, Daniela nodded. Now Luka stared at her, a furrow grooving between his brows. She forced her eyes wide, forced herself to meet his stare. He didn’t look happy. Not one bit.

With her free hand, she gestured to the doors. It would be darker in the conservatory. Perfect to hide her inebriated state. Perhaps that last glass of wine wasn’t such a good idea after all. No, there was no perhaps about it. The last glass of wine was most definitely not a wise choice. Considering how rarely she drank, her imbibing had gone right to her head.

Clearing her throat and lowering her hand, she said, “Go on, then. It’s difficult to see those orchids through a closed door, you know.”

She realized her mistake a moment too late. Seeing anything inside the conservatory was quite simple, really, as the door was glass. Unfortunately, her brain didn’t register that until it was too late, and Luka glared at her again. “Is something the matter, Mrs. Bertalan?”

“No.” She shook her head, forcing a wide smile to her lips. Unfortunately, that smile felt too fake, too wide, and far too bright to be believable. And yet, she couldn’t rid herself of it. “Everything is fine. Of course you can see through the door. It is a glass door, after all. So, shall we then?”

Erika opened the door, and the blast of spicy-sweet air nearly knocked Daniela off her feet. It was even warmer than the drawing room in that blasted conservatory, and now, instead of a sloping floor, the damned room began to spin.

Oh dear. I need to sit. Now.

“How lovely!” Erika exclaimed as she stepped into the large glass room. The conservatory was a wing unto itself, with a soaring glass ceiling and high glass walls. It would be so easy to get lost among the foliage, and more than once, it was told, a scandal erupted over couples caught trysting in the shadows. At least, that was according to some of the stories Daniela had heard over the years.

“Is this vanilla?” Erika’s voice sounded so far away, but the lady was no more than ten feet in front of her.

“Yesh.” Daniela winced. Even she heard the slur in her voice. This time, when Luka looked at her, her cheeks heated up. “I should tell you the shtory of vanilla orchids. Itsh gory, but romantic.” Damn it, stop talking. You’re making a fool of yourself, you ninny.

Luka’s expression was queer as he stared at her over Miss Orlov’s head. Not queer. Unhappy. Very unhappy, judging by his tight jaw and narrowed eyes. He dropped Miss Orlov’s arm to step back to Daniela. “Perhaps you should sit.”

That sounded like a wonderful idea to her. Fortunately, there were black wrought-iron benches scattered throughout the conservatory, and there was just enough light to see, so she sank onto the nearest one. That helped the spinning a bit, but not nearly enough. But at least she didn’t have to fear toppling over. As the chill from the iron seeped through her clothes, she uttered a silent prayer of thanks that she didn’t miss the bench. And thankfully, her mouth stopped moving.

Luka crouched before her. “Mrs. Bertalan? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, General Morovic. Please go.” She waved him along with a smile. It’d been a long time since anyone fussed over her, and she didn’t like it very much. Not to mention Erika Orlov glared at them from her spot by the vanilla orchid. And why on earth did her face feel so…numb? Oh, my. Where did the feeling go? “Go on then. She’s waiting for you.”

He straightened, still frowning, but nodded. “Very well. Stay here. I’ll see you back to your chambers in but a minute.”

“No, please. I’ve no wish to ruin your evening.” Blast it all, why did she sound so far away? The buzzing in her head was louder now, and the conservatory was even warmer. No. That second glass of wine was not a good idea at all.

“You aren’t. I’ll see you back to your chambers and bring Helga down in your stead. That way, Miss Orlov’s reputation remains intact.”

Perfect. Because she cared at all about Erika’s reputation at the moment. Still, she nodded slowly. Her head felt too heavy to move. She really just wanted to stay right there, with her stone-heavy head resting against the wall and her eyes closed. That sounded like heaven. Her eyelids were almost as weighty as her head. “Very well.”

With that, Luka rejoined Miss Orlov, whose smile melted into a scowl and whose eyes narrowed as her gaze slanted in Daniela’s direction. Obviously, she did not like Luka’s suggestion. But Daniela didn’t care. Her heavy lids slowly lowered until she peered up through the fringe of her lashes.

Still, he returned to catch her beneath the elbow. “Come, Mrs. Bertalan.”

Some of the odd drowsiness faded as she sat up straighter. Mindful of Miss Orlov’s glower, Daniela fought to keep her smile from reappearing. She tucked her arm through his and allowed him to lead her out of the conservatory. Daniela felt Erika’s stare burning into her back, between her shoulder blades, as they left, and it made her uneasy enough that she stumbled over the doorsill. Dratted thing jumped up and grabbed her slippers.

Her giggles erupted as Luka caught her and righted her. “Mrs. Bertalan? What’s going on?”

“Shhh…” She stretched up to press her forefinger into his lips. A strange giddiness swept through her to displace the fuzziness of her brain, to disperse the weight of her eyelids. Sleepy? Who was sleepy? The urge to laugh, to flirt and banter rose up, too powerful to ignore. “Don’t scold me. I’m an old maid now. I am allowed a sip or two of wine. I don’t even need a chaperone now. I am the chaperone, remember.”

They rounded the corner and Luka stopped. “Do you mean to say”—he glanced over one shoulder—“you are drunk?”

She peered around him, looking in the same direction as he did. The corridor was empty. Pulling back, she looked up at him. “Perhaps. But only a wee bit so.” She held up one hand, her thumb and forefinger pinched together but not quite touching. “The wine was a little strong.”

“The wine was a little—” He scowled. “The devil take it, you’re supposed to be helping me, not the other way around, or have you forgotten that?”

Oh, yes, he was definitely angry. One didn’t have to be sober to hear the heat in his words or see how tight his scowl actually was. “I am. This was your idea.” She poked him firmly in the middle of the chest. Her knuckle popped. “Oh!”

“Come along.” He resumed his stride, and she had to practically run to keep up with him, which was no easy feat, as the passageway tilted from one side to the other and she couldn’t stay straight no matter how hard she tried. Damn floor. It kept moving on her.

“General, slow down. Have mercy on those of us with short legs, please—oh!” The toe of her slipper caught in her hem. The resounding tear echoed through the corridor as she lost her balance to go reeling ahead of him.

“Son of a—” As he reached for her, his boots also tangled in her trailing skirts and he stumbled once. Twice. He did a half spin and then landed flat on top of her.

“Oof!” She groaned as the air crushed from her in a long rush. Good lord, he was heavy. And the damned room spun even faster. Especially when she closed her eyes. Somehow, it sped up each rotation. She opened her eyes again. The spinning slowed.

“Are you all right?” He rose up onto his forearms with a wince.

She nodded. His eyes were so green against the green of his uniform. Did Erika Orlov realize how beautiful his eyes were? Did she even notice what color they were? Did she even care?

Daniela’s giddiness faded, just drained away as if she had holes in the soles of her slippers for it to leak through. Her blood rushed through her like a tidal sea, the roar filling her ears as she gazed up at him. Not only did he look marvelous, but he smelled wonderful. Like the outdoors—piney and fresh.

He must have sensed the crackle of electricity between them, for he slowly shook his head. “Mrs. Bertalan.”

Without thinking, she slid her arms about his waist to press her hands flat into his back. The muscle on either side of his spine felt like marble, even through his clothes. And when he shifted, the right side bulged beneath her palm. She wanted to slide her hands beneath his heavy wool coat, beneath what she was certain was a fine linen shirt, to feel skin that she was equally certain was smooth and warm.

Despite the low warning in his voice, Luka didn’t move. Didn’t shift to get to his feet. Didn’t seem at all concerned that someone might happen upon them. She pressed her hands harder into him, tried to pull him closer as her eyelids grew heavy.

“Daniela.” His voice was a rumbling whisper, his breath warm against her cheek. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve had too much wine, and I don’t take advantage of drunken women.”

“You were going to kiss me that day in the forest.” It wasn’t a question. She knew the answer. Still, she waited for him to acknowledge that he was, in fact, going to do just that.

“I was.”

“So kiss me now.” It would be so easy. He was only inches away from her. His lips all but hovered above hers. She need only lift her head a fraction—

His irises darkened to almost jade. The air thickened, and her heart picked up its pace. He was going to kiss her. She knew it.

He groaned softly even as his mouth came down to claim hers. Lips that were surprisingly soft moved against hers, and she tightened her hold on him. Her breath caught, heat spread through her, and her lips parted of their own accord. His tongue, thick and slow, slid along hers in a caress so silken, it fired her blood and set her heart racing.

His hands curved on either side of her face, his thumbs grazing over her cheeks as he tilted her head slightly. Dear lord, what a sinful kiss! She felt it all through her body. Hot. Dangerous. Delicious.

Her nipples tightened. Her back arched to press those aching points into the solid wall of his chest, to feel him fully against her. If she were brazen enough, she’d catch one of his hands by the wrist and guide it down to curve against her breast. She wanted him to touch her in the worst way. Wanted to feel the gentle knead of his hand on her breast.

Was it only her imagination, or did his breath hitch? And she wasn’t imagining that part of him pressing into her thigh now. What would he do, if she slid her hand down, over that bulge?

Her fingers inched toward it of their own accord. She wanted to know what that part of him felt like, what it looked like. The curiosity burned through her with the same ferocity as her desire.

But then he drew back sharply, his voice husky. “No. We shouldn’t do this, Daniela. We can’t.”

He sounded as breathless as she felt, and her disappointment rose up in swift waves as he pushed up, away from her. He helped her to her feet, keeping one hand at the small of her back as the room swayed before her.

Any protest died on her lips as she looked up at him. Her lips still tingled from the force of his kiss. Her breasts still ached for the feel of his hands on them. And hot desire still tingled its way from the soles of her feet to the top of her scalp. It had been so long since she’d felt such powerful need, and feeling it for Luka was not something she ever expected.

He remained silent as they made their way above until they reached the door to her chambers. Then she swayed, reaching for the wall. Why was everything still moving around so damn much? Weren’t walls and doorways in a fixed position?

Luka’s hand on her hip steadied her, but when she leaned into him, he shifted back ever so slightly. “Mrs. Bertalan, you should go to bed now.”

“General Morovic”—she traced a fingertip over the rough wool of his lapel, around a heavy-looking silver star—“I do wish you—”

“Please don’t do this. You will regret it come morning. How much wine did you drink?” He caught her by the wrist to peel her hand from him.

She closed her eyes. The heaviness returned, screaming for vengeance once more, and it was heavenly to let them slide shut. Her entire body felt heavy. The pleasant hum of desire faded. Now she wanted to sleep. Forcing her eyes open, she looked up at him. “I beg your pardon, General.”

He rapped on the door with his free hand. “You needn’t worry about it. I will never speak a word of it.”

“Thank you.” The floor creaked on the far side of the door as she sagged into Luka once more. Her eyes opened slightly as his arm tightened about her, and then his lips brushed her forehead just as the door handle rattled.

“Mrs. Bertalan!” Horror was laced through Helga’s voice, but since her eyes had closed once more, Daniela couldn’t see just how horrified Helga was. “General Morovic, what happened?”

Daniela sagged even harder into him, and then the pit of her belly dropped away as he swept her off her feet, up into his arms. “A bit too much wine at supper,” he explained, carrying her over the threshold. “Please go below to the conservatory. Miss Orlov is there, most likely fuming over my absence.”

“I cannot leave Mrs. Bertalan here. Alone. With you.”

Despite what felt like thick linen wrapping itself about her head to make everything sound so far away, Daniela grinned at the shock in Helga’s words. Then Luka’s voice rose as a growling rumble came from deep inside him. “She is perfectly safe in my company. I’m only putting her where she needs to be. Now, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. Go below.”

“Yes, General.” Helga stomped out of the room but didn’t slam the door. Daniela wanted to open her eyes, but it was as if they were glued shut. They wouldn’t obey.

The floor creaked, and she welcomed the softness of her bed as the mattress conformed to her body. A stay dug into her hip, but it would take too much effort to undress, never mind that she couldn’t possibly ask Luka to help her.

The thought of offering to help must not have occurred to him, or he was too much of a gentleman to offer, for he drew the thick quilts up to her chin. “Good night, Mrs. Bertalan,” he whispered, then brushed his lips over her forehead once more. “Sleep well.”

Daniela forgot about the stay jabbing her skin. Only barely heard the thud of Luka’s boots on the floor. By the time the door swung shut, she was sound asleep.