Page 85 of The Princess and the Rogue

Wolff’s face might have been made of granite, it was so stern. He shifted his weight as if uncomfortable with her praise, but his eyes never left hers.

“It was my duty,” he said gruffly. “Any one of my colleagues at Bow Street would have done the same.”

Anya’s spirits sank at his brusque dismissal of his heroism. As if she were simply another onerous case with which he’d been burdened.

“Thank you, my lord,” Dmitri said formally. “You cannot imagine the torment I have suffered, believing my beloved sister in the hands of that monster.”

Sebastien lifted his brows. “You think I cannot?”

Dmitri frowned at that enigmatic statement, and Anya’s heart clenched in sudden hope. What did he mean? That he was capable of imagining torment because of his wartime experiences? Or that he, too, had been plagued by fear because he cared for her?

The stubborn man refused to elaborate. He straightened and placed his empty brandy glass on the polished side table.

“You have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll leave you.”

He gave them a curt bow and disappeared through to the adjoining sitting room.

Anya let out a small sigh.

Dmitri’s eyes twinkled with speculative interest. “Little sister,” he said, switching to the Russian they were both more comfortable with. “Youhavebeen having adventures, haven’t you?” He lifted his brows and tilted his chin at the outer room, and Anya felt her cheeks heat.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She reached for the glass of water on the side table.

“Do you love him?”

Anya almost choked on her water. “Dmitri! What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one.” A serious look passed over his face. “My months in the hospital gave me ample time to think; it’s amazing how being so close to death helps clarify the mind.” His fingers closed over hers. “I came to realize that nothing really matters except people. Not things. Not possessions.People. Life is worth living because of relationships. With family. With friends. With lovers.” His gaze caught hers. “What really matters is love.”

Anya felt tears prick her eyes at his fervent honesty. He was right. How simple it was.

A sudden urgency seized her. “Yes. I love him,” she said fiercely in Russian, knowing Sebastien wouldn’tunderstand, even if he was listening outside the door. “I don’t know when it happened, but it’s true.”

Dmitri’s smile lit up his whole face. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Not after seeing the way he’s been with you. He’s been like a man possessed.”

Anya frowned and glanced at the window. “I can’t have been asleep for that long. It’s still dark.”

Dmitri shook his head. “You’ve slept for a whole day and a night. And Lord Mowbray has never left your side. He’s been here watching over you, forcing you to drink water and milk for hours.”

Anya gaped at him.

“I think he loves you too,” Dmitri said with a smile. “He’s sent away every caller—and there have been many—Elizaveta, some dowager duchess, a woman named Charlotte—and tended you himself.”

“I would marry him,” Anya confessed. “But I don’t think he wants to marry me. He asked me once, but it was only to protect my reputation. I told him it wasn’t necessary.”

She frowned down at the sheets at her waist, pleating them absently with her fingers. “I think he thinks I should marry someone better than him. Someone with a loftier title or a fatter purse. But Dmitri, thereisno one better than him. Not for me. He’s everything I ever wanted in a husband. He’s loyal and fierce, protective and kind. He makes me laugh,” she added with a sigh. “Even when he doesn’t mean to.”

Dmitri gave her hand another squeeze. “That sounds like an excellent start. You have my full support. If there’s anything I can do to help, I shall do it.”

Anya’s heart expanded with love. She was so grateful that he was back in her life.

He stood. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I shall goand eat some of Monsieur Lagrasse’s excellent blini and get some sleep. I’ll leave you in Lord Mowbray’s excellent hands.”

He waggled his eyebrows, and Anya laughed at the roguish twinkle in his eye. Honestly, he was as bad as the dowager duchess when it came to unsubtle matchmaking. “Good night.”

Chapter 39.

Seb stood staring out of the window, one forearm braced against the wooden frame as he tried to make sense of the host of emotions swirling in his chest.

---