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Marit looked back over her shoulder at the man who had welcomed her by name. ‘Did you call ahead?’ she asked Lykos in a whisper.
He shook his head. ‘The staff here are as well informed as they are discreet,’ he explained as they were greeted by a woman wearing what looked like a costume from the English Victorian period. The hostess wore a waistcoat over a white shirt with some kind of old-fashioned cropped trousers, looking oddly stylish. Marit and Lykos were led down a dark hallway with wooden panels and a tartan carpet in dark browns and creams that made her feel cocooned until the hallway opened out into an inconceivably large room. Literally inconceivable as it was bigger on the inside than on the outside.
Unable to help herself, Marit spun in a circle, trying to take in her surroundings. A long bar made of green swirling marble ran the length of what she realised must have been at least two houses brought together. Behind it stood men and women also dressed in the same Victorian clothing, mixing brightly coloured cocktails. There were wooden plaques above doorways leading off the central area with gold cursive announcing ‘The Library’, ‘The Billiard Room’, ‘The Orangery’, as if the place was some old English country house.
Lykos, beside her, gestured for Marit to follow the hostess, who wove her way through tables that had discreet, gentle lighting to a doorway where Marit’s feet faltered when she read the plaque above it. ‘The Music Room’. Lykos drew to a stop behind her, the heat of his body blanketing her. Her heart pulsed with useless longing that she knew Lykos would never entertain and shook off the moment to follow the hostess into a room that took Marit’s breath away.
A chandelier hung into the centre of a large room, with a fireplace that might have dominated the room entirely had it not been for the grand piano that stole all of her attention. She had vague impressions of dark panelled wood, bookcases and pampas grass. Dark greens, burgundies and gold, but it was the perfect sound of the clearly very well cared for musical instrument that sounded like silken threads filling the air in the room. Threads that wound into her heart and pulled it into the sky.
The pianist seemed lost in his music and for just a moment Marit enjoyed the image of it, the fantasy of the Victorian music room. She turned to Lykos, knowing that he’d done this, that he’d tried to shape this evening around her and what she liked, and it meant so much more than he’d ever know. He might have withdrawn from her reach, but he had given her what he could. He had given herthis.
He looked at her, his eyes skimming over her features as if he were mentally recording her reaction and, once satisfied, gestured for her to take a seat. There were a few other tables in the room, couples seated close together, gently whispered words that couldn’t be heard but made a beautiful backdrop. Their presence made Marit feel more discreet as they become anonymous in the company of the room.
Marit took a seat at the small table where she could see the piano player best and tried to ignore the way she felt when Lykos sat, not opposite her but at an angle next to her. A drink was placed to her left and a different drink was placed beside Lykos by a waiter so discreet Marit barely saw him leave.
She stared at the tumbler, a white froth above a rich amber, topped with a twirl of orange peel and a bright glossy cherry.
‘What is it?’ she asked, looking up at Lykos.
‘You’ll love it,’ he said with a confidence that sang to the blood rushing in her veins.
She reached for her drink when his voice stopped her.
‘Marit...’ He paused. Shook his head a little, clenching his jaw so that she could see the flex of muscle there. He took a deep breath. ‘Marit, if you don’t want to go back—’
‘To Svardia?’ she asked in shock.
‘I will not make you. So if you want—’
Her fingers pressed against her lips to stop the tumble of words on the tip of her tongue because, for just a second, she feared she wasn’t strong enough to refuse his offer. Her shock had stopped his words, the concern in his eyes so much, too much for Marit to bear. He reached for her but she shook her head, and his hand stopped inches from her elbow.
If he failed to return her to Svardia, there was no way her brother would give Lykos the shares he needed. He would give that up for her? She couldn’t think about what that meant for her, for him. It was too much. As her heart began to settle and she forced herself to think through her feelings she smiled sadly, looking for the words that would explain.
‘I might not have been raised to be second in line to the throne, but Iwasraised a Svardian princess. It won’t be easy, and I’ll never be as good as my sister is, but IloveSvardia. I am proud of our country and I would be honoured to represent them. My brother will be a fantastic ruler and I... I would never do anything to jeopardise that.’ The truth and conviction ran through her soul, and sentiment and love raised goosebumps across her skin. ‘So, yes. I do want to go back. I willalwaysgo back, no matter what, because my family and my country need me and I would never dishonour them.’
For the first time since meeting her Lykos realised the truth of Marit’s royalty. There was nothing young or naïve about what she’d said, or even about her in that moment. It was a duty that, while she might not realise, suited her even if it demanded such a great sacrifice. A blush that had nothing to do with desire but was all about self-fulfilment lit her features and it was more devastating to his protective armour than even her touch. Her eyes sparkled with righteousness and assurance and he lost his breath.
‘But if I’d said yes, what would you have done? Without Aleksander’s shares?’
He wished he’d never told her. The fact that Kozlov’s name was even in his thoughts at this table with her was abhorrent to him. ‘I would have found a way,’ he said truthfully.
‘But how long would it have taken?’
Any number of years would have been worth it if Marit had wanted her freedom. Instead, he said, ‘This is hardly appropriate date conversation.’
She smiled and his unease grew rather than diminished. ‘Really? And whatwouldbe?’ Marit asked, taking a sip of her drink, and he watched as her eyes grew round with unexpected pleasure. ‘Oh.’ The exclamation fell from her lips, making him think wicked thoughts. With ruthless determination he turned his focus on her question, realising that his experience was less of the date variety and more of the companion variety.
She arched an eyebrow, as if coming to the same conclusion about his experience and was about to tease him on it when in a panic he threw out words that surprised them both. ‘I’d like to hear you play.’
The teasing expression on her face morphed into shock in an instant, and he could have cursed himself to hell and back.
‘What?’ she asked, her gaze locked on his even though he was sure that more than half her attention was actually on the piano.
‘You play, don’t you?’ he asked, not quite sure why he was pursuing this, other than the awareness that her reaction made him even more convinced that it was the right thing to do.
She shook her head, even as she said, ‘Yes.’
‘Then I’d like to hear it.’
