Royal Affair (15 page)

The deep sincerity of his tone, the vivid hunger in his gaze confused her. “Max? Is something wrong?”

His heavy exhalation touched her lips. “Now that
it is a fait accompli, I wonder if you will regret the marriage.” His smile was self-mocking. “I wonder if you will grow to hate it…and me.”

Her heart contracted, then expanded to fill her whole body. “I could never hate you,” she told him softly.

“Then tell me, before I kiss you, how you feel,” he demanded.

He realized he needed to hear her words of love without the heady swirl of passion riding their senses. He needed to know why she'd stopped protesting the marriage and had accepted him as her mate. For a second, as she hesitated, he was aware of a pit of darkness before him, an abyss of unrelenting misery if she didn't care….

“I love you,” she said. “I have from the moment you set the match to the cherries jubilee. It was like a spark igniting my heart, lighting a path to my very soul.”

Relief speared through him as she smiled, her innate shyness flickering through her eyes. The strange tightness in his chest suddenly eased, too. He knew what it was now, recognized it and welcomed it even though it left him feeling open and vulnerable.

“You will be queen of my kingdom, but you'll always be the princess of my heart,” he told her. “My sweetheart rose…my love…” He kissed her tenderly.

Ivy closed her eyes until she could control the happiness that flooded her with joy. Wrapping her arms around his strong shoulders, she gave herself to him, to the passion, as she had that magical night.

My love,
he'd called her then.
My love,
he called her now.

With exquisite caresses, with sweet murmurings and laughter, he peeled away the layers of clothing, exposing more than their eager bodies and driving hunger for each other. They came together in mutual desire…and love.

“Max, I love you,” she whispered on a sob as he made her vulnerable with his touch and his kisses, his wonderful, wonderful kisses….

Minutes or hours later they rested, then languidly rose. He placed a lush velour robe around her and slippers on her feet, then quickly donned sweats and thick socks.

“Ready to eat?” he asked, leading the way to the living room and the table laid before the fire.

She nodded, actually hungry for food now that other needs had been fulfilled. A blush warmed her face at his smile.

“So am I,” he said.

There were various meats and accompaniments in the refrigerator. They filled their plates. When they were seated on each side of the small table, he raised a glass of champagne. “A toast.”

She lifted her glass and waited.

“I've felt odd the past couple of days,” he told her. “There was a tightness inside that I couldn't explain. Today I realized what it was.”

His eyes told her before he said the words.

“I love you. I always will. You're the one I've been waiting for all my life. I had thought I was foolish to expect a great love, but fate or my guardian angel knew what I needed. You.”

His gaze never wavering, he drank to her and them and their future together. She did, too. He spoke again.

 

“Be still, my heart, 'tis naught

But love that has wrought

This miracle of passionate delight,

And bliss of a most enduring sort.”

 

She recalled the poem of the lovesick Lantanyan whom Max had quoted what seemed ages ago. Now she smiled as these new words settled softly in her heart like rose petals, to be preserved forever.

“My knight of the roses,” she said, lifting her glass. “Champion of my heart and guardian of its treasures. May our love bloom eternal, a garden forever in the springtime of its flowering.”

They drank of the heady nectar of shared love and pledged their troth to each other for all time. Then they sealed it with a kiss.