“When in doubt, attack. But dash it—now I see how easy I’ve made it for you to develop your bishop.”
He held her gaze and his lips curved. “You English are too impatient.”
“You Russians are too…” Charlotte cocked her head. “I would have said too soulful, but you’ve never struck me that way.”
The prince laughed. “No, no, please do not worry. I left my soul back in Russia.”
“As an Englishwoman, I’ve a duty to say all talk of souls makes me shudder. But…” She studied him as she framed her question. Despite his laughter, there was something lost about him, drifting like a ship without an anchor. “What do you care for, if you left your soul behind?”
“I try not to care. You and I, we find the entertainments in life instead, yes?”
Warrick’s voice came to her, low and urgent.Don’t throw yourself away on that damned Russian. He drowns himself in pleasure.
“I must confess, chess really isn’t my game,” she said. “Do you mind terribly if we stop playing? I offer two kisses as forfeit.”
“Impatient again! But I win doubly, so I accept.”
The prince swept the pieces off the board, and Charlotte half expected him to yank her into his arms. Instead he leaned back against the chestnut and put his hands behind his head, emphasizing the broadness of his chest and his biceps, as big around as birch trunks.
He grinned, knowing precisely how handsome he was, and let his eyes linger on her, drinking her in much more leisurely than he tossed back his vodka. Charlotte remembered that he kissed in the same slow, lazy way he talked, as if he were savoring each taste.
Clever, she thought, even as she felt herself warming under his regard.He’s using my English impatience against me.
“Tell me,” he said, “how English are you? When we marry, will you want two rooms?”
Charlotte’s lips twitched. “You must believe me very ignorant, but I happen to know that Russians often keep separate rooms when they marry. I believe Catherine the Great kept a separate palace.”
“She was German and married to a contemptible man. You will marry me.” He sat up and his eyes went hot. “We shall keep very close, I think.”
His hand curved around the nape of her neck and Charlotte thought,Here we go, a proper kiss. Although she couldn’t help thinking of the night before, the incredible heat of Wolfgang’s mouth on her—
The prince shook her gently, his mouth hovering above hers. “I do not kiss women who are thinking of other things. You are with me?”
That drew her eyes to his. “I’m with you, Misha.”
Even still he didn’t rush, waiting until her pulse began to flutter before he dropped his mouth to hers.
Charlotte’s hand drifted up his shoulder to draw him closer, her blood heating, her pulse drumming harder and harder until it shook the ground. But wait—was the ground shaking withhoofbeats? She lifted her gaze so she could look over the prince’s shoulder, only to spot a warhorse thundering up the neighboring hill, carrying the massive silhouette of—
“Oh!” Charlotte shot out of Belozersky’s arms with a gasp of dismay.
The prince glanced behind him and shook his head, amused. “It is only Warrick. He is an Englishman who drank like a Russian. Today, he will notice nothing. You see? He turns around already.”
“Of course,” she agreed, but her stomach turned sour.
She picked up a little tart and bit into it with a smile at the prince. The sun shone above in the merry blue sky and Belozersky relaxed against the tree once more, and yet try as she might, Charlotte couldn’t get rid of the uncomfortable feeling of something lost, or something wasted.
Something good gone forever, never to be seen again.
CHAPTER 28
Ah! An afternoon undisturbed.
The dowager sat at one of the potting tables in the back of her orangerie in a wrought-iron chair with the most wonderfully comfortable seat cushion Charlotte had sewed for her, embroidered all over in a riotous pattern of lilacs and damselflies, with a false widow spider hiding in one corner under the curl of a lilac leaf. How like Charlotte, not to leave any scene too sweet.
The spider had made the dowager laugh the first time she spotted it; even now, she often rubbed it absently with her finger when she was mulling over particularly spiky problems. It reminded her to keep an eye out for the unexpected, a thought worth holding when exploring the fascinating world of Mother Nature.
Or the fascinating world of granddaughters.
