AWAKENING THE SHY MISS (16 page)

Evie’s heart sank. That meant it was an Englishman, a workman hired in good faith by Dimitri in an attempt to bring labour to the area. It was a cruel way to repay his kindness. ‘I’m sorry.’ She smoothed back his hair, wishing she could smooth away his cares just as easily.

‘We’ll catch him, but, Evie, you must say nothing or he might become alert to us and that would ruin the plan,’ Dimitri cautioned.

Evie snuggled down next to him. ‘Thank you for telling me. You can tell me anything. You don’t have to be the Prince with me, you know.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ His arm tightened around her, holding her close. She loved the possessiveness of that gesture, of knowing that she was all his.

‘That you take too much on yourself,’ she murmured.

She let herself doze a while after that, savouring the warmth of Dimitri’s body until she could no longer ignore that lateness. Shadows were falling outside, the summer dusk rapidly speeding towards true dark.

‘I’ll take you home.’ Dimitri stirred, reading her thoughts. He sat up and rolled out of bed. He padded out of the room, giving her a glorious view of his backside in consolation, and came back with his clothes. He pulled on his trousers and flashed her a smile. ‘It’s getting late. Your parents will worry. We need to get you home.’

There was some irony in knowing that they had to be more careful than ever now that the act was done. She would not trap him into an impossible situation that would rob both of them of their happiness. And yet she couldn’t help but feel she was already home, that home might always be wherever Dimitri was.

Chapter Twenty

H
e could tell her anything?
The invitation was like a knife in the heart as he drove Evie home, her body close to his on the narrow bench of the gig as the sun slowly set. He couldn’t possibly take her up on that generously made offer. When had anyone ever asked to share his burdens? Or seen that he had burdens to share? But Evie had. She’d always seen beyond the Prince to the man beneath, even that first day in the street when May had pressed the invitation on him.

Evie deserved so much more than he could give her. She deserved to be swept off her feet, deserved to be loved for who she was, deserved to live a happy life in the comfort of Little Westbury. She deserved the perfect happy-ever-after with a perfect man. What she’d got was him. How could he tell her that part of returning home to Kuban included marriage to a woman he’d never met? But how could he keep it from her now? Originally, that piece of his life hadn’t mattered. He’d told her from the start he had to leave. He’d even told her about his sister. The other reasons were irrelevant. They didn’t change anything, so why share them? But now he’d taken Evie to bed and that act had changed everything. It had changed
him
.

He had made
love
today for the first time and it had rendered him speechless. Not just sex, but love, earth-shattering, mind-blowing love that left him exhausted and sated, and with a clarity that had him upending the world as he knew it. In the clarity of post-coital release, he’d known without question what he wanted just as he had that night in the conservatory. He wanted Evie. Evie had been beautiful in her passion, her body arching, her hair falling, her little moans, her sobs of surprise as pleasure caught her. She’d given him all of herself, body and soul.

When he’d awakened and seen her beside him, a wave of contentment had rolled through him, fierce and primal. What would she say to these thoughts if he spoke them out loud? What would she say if he told her he’d give it all up, that he’d find another way to save his sister? For the first time in his life, he was a coward. He was afraid to find out.

So here they were, driving to Evie’s house in absolute silence while he debated what to say and came up empty. The silence wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, no silence with Evie ever would be. It was one of her many gifts. A person could be silent in her presence and not feel awkward. Maybe they would have driven in silence anyway. Her own thoughts had to be as far flung as his and there was much about the evening to appreciate without talking; the last of the summer light was fading, the sky was a lovely shade of purples and blues, stars piercing the twilight while crickets began to chirp.

He opened his mouth, looking for a way to begin, but he’d waited too long. Now that he had something to say, it had to keep. They were nearly at Evie’s house and someone was there. A carriage was parked outside.

He felt Evie’s hand tighten on his arm as she whispered, ‘It’s Andrew.’

He felt as pale as Evie looked. ‘It seems we’re to have a welcoming committee.’

‘I didn’t plan this. He’s not supposed to be here,’ Evie said as he came around to help her down.

‘Evie, I won’t let anything happen to you.’ Dimitri reminded himself Andrew knew nothing. What could he know? This drama was irrational. But should it become necessary, he would do whatever had to be done. Evie would not be shamed.

‘No, stop, Dimitri.’ She pressed a finger to his lips. ‘Do not make promises. I understood exactly what I was doing and what the risks were when I stepped inside your pavilion today. You do not need to atone for any of my decisions.’

Did she not understand the seriousness of this? Her very answer was an affront to his honour. They might have agreed in the heat of the moment not to create expectations. But if
others
had expectations, those would have to be met, especially if those expectations cast aspersions on either of their characters.

Evie gave him a stubborn stare. ‘I mean it, Dimitri. No gallantry is required. We’ll start with “we were working late” and take it from there. Agreed?’ Perhaps he hadn’t been too far from the truth when he’d said she’d be the death of him.

They found her parents and Andrew on the veranda, enjoying tea and biscuits and a tray of fresh fruit. Apparently there’d been seed cakes from the looks of the crumbs. Sir Hollis must have relented. ‘There might have been some left for you if you’d been earlier.’ Andrew’s tone was sharp, his eyes hard blue stones. He glared at Dimitri. ‘Early bird gets the worm and all that, old chap.’

‘We were working late.’ Evie took a seat on a wicker sofa, smoothing her skirts under her, her own tone a little too bright. Would anyone notice? Was he being too critical? ‘A particularly fine pair of artefacts has gone missing and I wanted to find them.’

‘And did you?’ Andrew asked, his gaze intent on Evie. Dimitri began to worry. Now that he looked at her, perhaps someone
could
tell what she’d been up to. Her lips were pink and slightly puffed, her face was soft, her eyes had a certain indefinable quality to them, the way a woman’s face looks after she’s been well loved. Perhaps in the dusk she could fool her parents. He doubted she’d fool Andrew. The only hope they had was if Andrew fooled himself. He’d been so adamant in the past that Evie Milham was of no interest, perhaps he’d find it hard to believe anyone else would feel differently.

‘Where did you look?’ Dimitri didn’t care for the edge in Andrew’s voice. He had to get Andrew out of here before things took a turn for the worse. ‘Did you look in Dimitri’s pavilion?’

‘No, we did not.’ Evie sighed. ‘I am hoping they show up tomorrow.’

‘Speaking of tomorrow,’ Dimitri interrupted swiftly, ‘it’s late and there’s a lot to do with the site and the gala. Andrew, you and I should take our leave.’

They managed a civil getaway, each of them in their own carriages, and Dimitri drew a sigh of relief when Evie’s house was behind them. But it wasn’t over. Andrew signalled they should pull off to the side of the road and Dimitri steeled himself. Better to settle it between the two of them privately than in front of Evie and her parents.

Andrew jumped down and met him between the carriages, his temper evident even at a distance. ‘You couldn’t keep it in your trousers, could you?’ Andrew shoved him hard, but Dimitri was braced for it. ‘I knew something was going on when I saw the two of you at breakfast! I should have said something then.’ Andrew shoved at him again. This time Dimitri grabbed his arm.

‘You forget yourself,’ he warned.

‘Oh, right,’ Andrew sneered. ‘You’re a prince of the royal house of Kuban and can’t be touched.’

‘No,’ Dimitri countered, letting go of Andrew’s arm with force. ‘Because I’m better in a fight than you are. You remember Crete?’

‘I remember Crete.’ Andrew spat, beginning to circle, fists up, forcing Dimitri to do the same. ‘I remember that I had your back that night.’

This was going to come to violence. Andrew was mad and Andrew was at his least logical when he was angry. ‘I had your back,’ he repeated, ‘which is a sight more than I can say for you these days. “Working late”? I doubt it. “Looking for lost artefacts”? Where? In your trousers, in that damn bed of yours?’

‘Be careful of your accusations,’ Dimitri warned, his own temper straining at its leash. ‘I will not tolerate Evie being slandered.’ A fist in Andrew’s face would feel good right now and the bastard had just about earned it.

‘Not even when it’s true? Do you think I can’t tell when a woman’s been bedded? What were you thinking? That we’re stupid country folk because we don’t have a kingdom waiting for us? That you can come here and do whatever you like?’

‘Why do you care at all?’ All this righteous anger was more than a bit suspicious, especially when it was aimed at a woman Andrew had sworn he had no interest in.

‘Because you’re
here
! Because this is
my
town.’ Of course. He should have known. Jealousy. It was always about Andrew. Andrew was the centre of his own universe. ‘
I
invite you into my village and in the matter of a month,
you
manage to turn our most innocent spinster into a wanton whore.’

That earned it.
The words had barely left Andrew’s mouth before Dimitri’s fist connected with his jaw. Andrew’s head snapped back, he reeled back hard against the tailgate of the curricle, grasping at it for balance, his other hand clutching his face. ‘What the hell was that for?’

‘No one calls Evie Milham a whore. Our discussion is over.’ Dimitri turned and sprang up into his carriage. If he stayed, he’d give Andrew worse than a sore jaw. Never mind that Andrew had spoken the truth, even if he disagreed with some of Andrew’s adjectives. Evie was no more a spinster than she was a loose woman. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d made a royal mess out of everything. He’d punched his so-called friend, had a thief on his hands just weeks before the important gala, he’d bedded a virgin and managed to do the one thing his father had warned him never to do: he’d fallen in love.

* * *

That disaster haunted him long after he had left Evie and returned to his pavilion, long after he lay on his empty bed staring up at the ceiling of that pavilion, trying not to think about Evie in this same bed that still smelled of her. His father had spent years warning him about the ills of love, how it could ruin a man. He’d seen the truth of it. His father was a good man, had raised him well, but his father had become a shadow of his former self. He was an ember, not a flame after his wife had passed. Love could indeed make a strong man weak. But his father had never told him love could also make a man powerful, brave enough to overcome impossible obstacles, or at least brave enough to try.

He ran through options in his mind. What if he took Evie back to Kuban? It would solve the returning issue. He’d be back before he turned thirty as required and perhaps some way could be found to spare his sister the marriage with the sultan’s son. Even so, what would that do to Evie? To leave Little Westbury?

What a disaster that would be.

Wedding him would be like opening Pandora’s box—there would be all nature of nastiness inside. Dimitri tucked his hands behind his head. Had Evie even thought of what marriage to a prince would require? But he had and it would be an unmitigated catastrophe. Perhaps this was why the Kubanian court had such strict laws about marriage requirements. Only other royalty could truly understand the burdens and duties that came with their position.

A commoner would be overwhelmed, and an outsider? ‘Overwhelmed’ didn’t begin to cover it. If the culture shock and the language weren’t enough to finish off a foreign wife, the court politics would be. The court would not be a friendly place for an unwelcome foreigner who had disrupted years of plans and he would not always be there to shield Evie from the worst of it.

There would be things she loved, though, things he would love showing her. The mountain trails full of wildflowers in the spring, the crystal rivers full of pure, cold glacier water, his house in the country where he’d grown up, where he’d played as child in the tall grasses of the fields. He could imagine too well his own sons running in those same fields. In that regard, he and Evie weren’t all that dissimilar. Family was important to them both. Evie would be a good mother. She would make a good home, where children would be encouraged to be themselves. She would be kind and patient.

He had to stop his thoughts right there. Returning to Kuban would be a compromise of the worst sort , one that would leave both of them unhappy—Evie because she wouldn’t fit in no matter how hard she tried. It would be like her debut in London, only worse. For him, he’d be tied to Kuban, tied to his royal position. The distaste that left him with was insightful and assuring. He wasn’t considering giving up Kuban for Evie alone, but for himself, a reminder that this wasn’t the first time he’d thought these things, toyed with these ideas. It was merely the first time thoughts of Evie had been tied to those mad schemes.

He got out of bed. Bed would only make it worse tonight. She was there in the sheets with him. He wished there was someone to talk to. In Kuban, he’d have talked with his friends but they were a thousand miles away and he’d punched the one so-called friend he had here in the face. Andrew wouldn’t be a willing conversationalist just now.

Dimitri reached for the decanter of vodka and poured a glass, sitting down hard on the divan. Did he dare think about it? He knew the path these thoughts led down—the path towards the most treacherous thought: what if he walked away from it all? What if there was a way to save his sister and decide for himself the course of his life? If all that were possible, would he do it? Would he give up being a prince? Would he give up Kuban?

Kuban was a ‘thing’, but to give up one’s kingdom was never a small consideration. It was the kind of decision one could not step back from and re-do. There would only be going forward. It was a hypothetical game, only. For him, there was no way to do it without forcing his sister to take his place on the marriage altar. Even if he could find a way out, it was a difficult decision. What if he traded the life he knew for the life he thought he wanted, only to be disappointed?

It was a dangerous game to play. But tonight the words ‘what if’ kept whispering in his head, insistent and haunting. What the hell was he going to do? Normally, when faced with a problem, he would write out all of his options and discuss them with his friends over vodka until a solution presented itself. But his options in this case were so extreme as to be ludicrous. He couldn’t imagine seriously contemplating any of them.

Perhaps if he pretended his friends were here? What would they say? He closed his eyes, trying to imagine it. Illarion, ever the dreamer, would commiserate with him as if the heartache were his own. He’d drink too much vodka and spout long lines from Russian literature about the fatal nature of love. There were no solutions there, but everyone needed a friend like Illarion to simply help one feel better.

Fierce, temperamental Nikolay would insist he marry for love, when what Nikolay really meant was that he should marry simply to spite the system. Nikolay despised the system developed in Kuban for keeping the peace. He rebelled against it at every turn and encouraged others to do so as well, even though he’d been warned several times that his actions bordered on treason.