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Zabrina shook her head. ‘No, thank you. To be honest, I’d just like to be left on my own now.’
‘Is something...forgive me for my presumption, Your Royal Highness, but is something wrong?’
Zabrina was biting the inside of her lip but she forced herself to smile. Because what if she answered that question honestly? What if she dared to admit even to herself that she was scared of the way Roman could make her feel? She didn’t want his disapproval and yet she didn’t want to go seeking his approval like some tame puppet. So where did that leave her?
‘No, nothing is wrong.’ She widened her smile, hoping it looked more reassuring than it felt. ‘It’s just been a long day and that was my first official introduction as Roman’s future bride.’
‘All the servants were saying how fine you looked, mistress,’ cooed Silviana. ‘And that you will make a wonderful queen.’
‘That’s very sweet of them. Go now and make sure you get a good rest. You’ve waited up very late.’
But once the servant had left, Zabrina found herself unable to relax and, even though she undressed and climbed into bed, the adrenalin which was rushing around her body made it impossible for her to sleep. She stared at the ceiling. She stared at the necklace which lay discarded on her dressing table, the pile of stones glittering in the moonlight like a handful of shattered glass.
She thought about Roman, working in his office, no doubt. And then she thought about Midas—because that was easier on her heart than thinking about Roman—and was suddenly overcome with an urgent need to see her beloved horse. She could put her arms around his neck and give him the kind of unconditional love she’d never felt comfortable channelling anywhere else apart from to her siblings.
Sliding on a pair of jodhpurs and a fine wool sweater, she slipped silently from her room, listening for a moment as the door opened soundlessly, her gaze darting down the wide marble corridor. But there was nobody around and maybe that wasn’t so odd. Servants had to sleep.
She made her way towards the stables, moving as noiselessly as she could and sticking mainly to the shadows but thankfully encountering nobody along the way. Outside in the fresh air the moon was still waxing—every night getting bigger and brighter—and the stable yard was bathed in ghostly silver. Ignoring the heavy sounds of breathing and occasional snorts coming from the King’s thoroughbred horses, Zabrina made her way to Midas’s loose box and peered inside.
To her surprise, the horse was lying down, fast asleep—which meant that he must be much more contented in his new home than she’d imagined. But he must have had one ear pricked up and heard her, for he instantly picked himself up and came over to nuzzle her. She petted him for long minutes, murmuring to him in Albastasian sweet talk, and felt much better as a result. It was only when she decided that she really did need to get some sleep and reluctantly began to walk back towards the palace that she saw a silhouette standing motionless on the other side of the yard. She did not jump but carried on walking towards the shadowed figure because she assumed...and that was her first mistake.
‘Stefan?’ she whispered. ‘Is that you?’
‘Why, is that who you were hoping for?’
Instantly, Zabrina knew who was speaking and it wasn’t Stefan. Because although the groom was young and articulate, he did not speak with a velvety Petrogorian accent, nor have such an aristocratic delivery. Nor would his words ever have been tinged with unmistakable accusation.
‘Roman,’ she breathed.
He stepped out of the shadows and she was appalled by her body’s instant response to all that powerful masculinity, because surely her overwhelming emotion in such a scenario shouldn’t be one of desire... He was still wearing the formal suit he’d had on at the ball, though she noticed he had removed his tie and loosened the collar. Just as she noticed the brooding quality of his darkened features and the censure which hardened his sensual lips.
‘Surprised?’ he taunted softly.
‘A little. Have you been spying on me, Roman?’
‘You dare to accuse me?’
‘Too right I do! I want to know what you’re doing here. Why you suddenly sprang out of nowhere at this hour.’
‘But you weren’t scared, were you? You didn’t scream and raise the alarm as many women in your situation would have done.’
‘So I am to be rebuked for reacting maturely and not like some hysteric?’
‘Don’t try and change the subject!’
‘Then perhaps you could try getting to the point. How did you know where I’d be?’
‘Did you really think you could wander the palace at the depths of night without being detected by anyone, Zabrina? That my corridors would go unguarded and my servants not have your welfare at heart?’ He gave a bitter laugh as his gaze flicked over her. ‘When one of Andrei’s aides came rushing to my office and told me that the Princess was out exploring at the dead of night, I knew immediately where you’d be.’
Her heart was thumping painfully but she tried to put a flippant face on it. ‘Really? Since you’re not a practising clairvoyant as far as I’m aware, perhaps you’d like to let me into the secret of how you “knew” where to find me.’
‘Where is he, Zabrina?’
She wanted to say Who? but she knew exactly who he meant and to pretend she didn’t would surely imply guilt. ‘I suppose you’re talking about Stefan,’ she said slowly. ‘What did you imagine, Roman—that I would creep down here to have sex with my groom at the first available opportunity?’
He flinched. ‘Did you?’ he grated and Zabrina wondered if she had imagined the shudder of pain in his voice.
She stared at him, not bothering to hide her incredulity. Did he really think she’d be interested in a man like Stefan—indeed, in any man—when the only one she had ever wanted was standing right across the yard from her? What kind of women had he dealt with in the past if his level of distrust was so deep and so instant?
