Page 182 of Snowbound Surrender
“I feel strange needing to ask this question,” he said nonchalantly, picking up one of the shirts to inspect it, “but what is a respectable lady like yourself doing in here, Annika?”
She gasped. “What – why do you call me that?”
Maxim shrugged, picking up the second shirt. “‘Tis a common enough version of Anne from my country. You do not like it?”
“No, it is not that, it’s…that is what my family calls me.”
Heat grew in Maxim’s stomach as he considered the shirts. “Well, now I know that, I shall always call you by such a name. But that does not answer my question.”
“I thought it was a library,” she said, her voice a little unsure.
“A library?” Maxim repeated. “Well, I suppose you can read something in here if you wish, but you might find other things more to your liking.”
He turned away, berating himself for allowing his tongue to get the better of him. What did he think he was doing? He could not allow Annika to get the wrong idea.
He compared the two shirts to the two cravats also laid out on his bed, and tried to focus on getting dressed.
How did she have such an effect on him? He could feel his body getting ready for her, desperate for her touch, as though she was the one who was barely dressed. The wild thought took flight, his imagination serving up delectable images of Annika, dressed in nothing but a –
“Do you not have a valet for that?”
Maxim jumped. She was much closer than he realized. “I had to leave all my servants behind in Russia, I am afraid.”
Annika moved to the left so she appeared in his line of sight. Her face was curious. “Why did you have to leave Russia?”
He swallowed. Ignoring the question completely, he said instead, “You will have to tell me which you think works best.”
She hesitated, but to Maxim’s surprise moved closer, her cheeks still a little pink. Every second was an internal battle not to reach out and touch her.
Here they stood: both of them beside the bed, her cheeks pink, and his torso utterly naked. Just one swift movement, and they could both be on the bed.
“This shirt,” she said, a little breathlessly, “and the blue cravat.”
Maxim could not help but smile. He had the same effect on her that she had on him, then.
If only she was a servant girl, he could put a little silver in her palm and enjoy her – but she was a gentlewoman, and he should treat her that way, or he would get them both in trouble.
It was on the tip of his tongue to instruct her to leave before someone caught them, but then she spoke.
“Why, what medals!” Her eyes had caught sight of the trio of medals by the side of his bed. “Are they all yours?”
Maxim’s smile was forced. Telling her this would be strange, crossing some line. He had not told anyone else the meaning of those medals – but Annika was different, somehow.
“The very left was my father’s,” he said gruffly. “The central one, my brother’s. He…died last year. And the very right, my own. Earned through battle, though I will not say who with for this is an English court with English sensibilities. Just pieces of metal, really.”
He had thought his emotions had been forced down well, but one look at Annika told him he had not hidden his feelings as well as he thought.
“You miss them,” she said simply. “And your country, and your home, I think.”
Maxim nodded, not trusting his voice. Clearing his throat with a cough, he said, “Perhaps I am just here for a pension from the Regent. Perhaps I am no Czar at all.”
Annika smiled. “Perhaps.”
Her fingers reached out for the medals at the same time as his and the moment was electric. Something connected them more deeply than any other connection he had ever experienced. It was like nothing he had ever experienced.
Maxim’s eyes met hers, and he read in those eyes everything he needed to know. Acting on impulse, knowing he may regret it in the morning, he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.
She had not expected it and she almost gasped in his mouth – but instead of resisting, as he had expected, she moved into his arms and wove her fingers in his hair.
