“Well, yes.” Meagan laughed. “That is the point of catching fish.”
Alex looked at the struggling fish a moment longer, then unhooked it from his line and tossed it back into the lake.
Alexander glanced over at Meagan, his blue eyes full of mirth. “He has a soft heart, I think.”
“It is all right.” Meagan placed a hand on the tiny swell of her abdomen where Alex’s brother or sister grew. “We have plenty of roast from yesterday evening.”
She lay back on the blanket, resting now as she needed to do more often these days. The sky arched blue above her, a few clouds drifting past to give cooling shade once in a while. A perfect English day in a perfect English summer. Her father and stepmother were wandering the gardens somewhere, enjoying Alexander’s hospitality while giving him and Meagan privacy.
Alexander had invited her parents and looked surprised at Meagan’s surprise that he should do so. Of course they should grow to know one other, he said. They were family.
Myn had departed soon after Meagan’s rescue of Alexander, stating that Alexander no longer needed him. Anastasia had resigned as Alexander’s spy and had gone to Nvengaria with Myn. She had looked both relieved and rather bewildered at the turn of events, but the haunting grief had eased from her lovely eyes.
“Your Grace!” Nikolai’s voice floated down the hill and soon his lithe form loped toward them from the direction of the house.
Meagan stifled a sigh. When Nikolai came to find Alexander in person, there was usually some tedious errand Alexander had to perform, such as meet with an ambassador or soothe the English king’s ruffled feathers. Some things never ceased.
Alexander looked around but did not seem alarmed. He never looked alarmed, drat him. He could be calm and cool even as a wild panther.
Nikolai came panting up, his polished boots the worse from the muddy path. “A letter, Your Grace,” he said, waving a folded paper. “A letter from Nvengaria. From the Imperial Prince himself!”
Without undue haste, Alexander carefully thrust his pole in the bank and waded to shore. Alex copied his movements and followed.
“The Imperial Prince has written before, Nikolai,” Alexander said. “Why is it an occasion to interrupt something as important as fishing?”
“He’s never sent a letter magically, Your Grace,” Nikolai panted. “It popped in on the tray in the hall—poof—sent by a spell.”
Alexander reached for the paper, carefully wedged his finger under the wax, and opened it. He read for a moment, then his face lost color and he curled his fingers to his lower lip.
Meagan struggled to her feet. “Alexander, what is it? Bad news?” Her heart beat faster, wondering if Penelope or her child had taken ill or become hurt.
“No, it is nothing like that.” Alexander looked up at her, his eyes intense. “Damien is recalling me. He wants me to return to Nvengaria to help him with a few problems.” He tried to sound matter-of-fact as he scanned the letter again. “More important than me keeping the English king under the whip.”
Meagan reached him where he stood statue-still over the letter. But his body shook, and happiness kindled in his eyes.
“You mean we are going home?” she asked.
“Yes.” He lifted her suddenly and spun her around, then crushed her against him. “Home.” He said the word with such longing that her heart nearly burst for him. “With you, where I belong.”
Nikolai stared at them. “To Nvengaria?” he repeated as though too stunned to comprehend it. “We return to Nvengaria?”
“Yes, Nikolai,” Meagan said, laughing. “His Grace has just said so.”
Nikolai jumped straight into the air and punched it with his fist. He let out a ululation, then he turned a cartwheel and rushed up the path, shouting the news at the top of his lungs.
Alex ran after him, attempting the cartwheel and nearly falling in the mud. He scrambled up, brushing himself off, and sprinted after Nikolai’s retreating form.
Alexander held Meagan close. “Do you mind? Leaving England? Your father and stepmother may come with us, of course. I would not separate you from those you love.”
She framed his strong face between her hands. “Stepmama will adore living in a castle. Do not worry, dear Alexander, it has always been my fondest dream to travel.”
“Then we will go together. As leisurely as you like, stopping in as many places as you like. I will show you the world, my Grand Duchess.”
“If I see it with you, it will be a fine thing.” She kissed the bridge of his nose.
He pulled her into a darker kiss, one filled with promise and excitement, and of number one hundred twenty of Adolpho’s Book of Seductions that they’d shared last night, the one that involved soft leather tethers.
The lesson might have commenced at once had it not been for Simone’s shrill voice and her slight form racing down the hill. “Oh, my dears,” she cried before she reached them. “Nvengaria. In the palace with darling Penelope and my grandson. I shall have to have entirely new gowns—gracious, there is so much to do. Fancy me and your father in a royal palace.” She pressed her hands together. “Oh, the Duchess of Gower and Deirdre Braithwaite will stew in envy now!”
EPILOGUE
A wild panther roamed the woods of Nvengaria, sleek and black, his blue eyes glowing. The rare panther existed in the northern mountains of the country, but this one was a little bit different.
For one thing, a red-haired young woman walked next to him, unafraid, resting her hand on his strong shoulder. The second odd thing was that two children rode on his back, fingers sunk in his fur.
One child was a seven-year-old boy with black hair and blue eyes and an eager smile. The second blackhaired boy also had Nvengarian blue eyes but was about a year and a half old. The older child steadied his young friend as they rode, with great responsibility. The woman carried a child trussed on her back, a small girl with reddish-black hair who had been born six months before.
Following the panther and the woman came the Imperial Prince and Princess of Nvengaria, both in casual clothes for walking in the woods. Behind them trailed a few Nvengarians bearing a wide picnic basket between them. Heaven forbid that Prince Damien and Princess Penelope should venture into the woods for a picnic without a full seven-course meal complete with wine, cutlery, and crystal.
“Are you certain it was up this hill?” the Prince called ahead.
His handsome face held an easy attractiveness, his lips curving to a ready smile. His eyes contained intelligence, a man who knew how to use his attractiveness and charm to his own benefit.
He addressed his question to the panther, who rumbled low in his chest.
“He is certain,” the red-haired Grand Duchess of Nvengaria said over her shoulder.
“How she understands him is beyond me,” Damien muttered. He closed his hand around Penelope’s and helped her over a rock.
“Love,” Penelope answered, giving her husband a warm smile. “It translates everything.”
For a moment Damien let Penelope remain on the rock, which put them at eye level, and gave her a long kiss. “What do you translate from that?” he murmured.
“That I am looking forward to retiring to our chamber this evening.”
“As am I, love.” Damien kissed her again, then helped her down and caught up to the others.
The panther waited impatiently, one blue eye peering around his broad shoulder.
Damien put his hands on his hips and looked around him. “Are you sure? It has been years. A decade and more, in fact.”
The panther’s rumble became an irritated growl. Meagan turned wide brown eyes to Prince Damien. “Alexander never forgets anything.”
Damien made a conceding gesture. “That is true. Carry on.”
“Besides, his senses are ever so much keener now,” Meagan said. “Alex, dear, make sure the little prince holds on tight.”
The panther continued his prowl, moving carefully to not jostle the two boys on his back. The
little girl Meagan carried slept on, oblivious to the summer day and the two most important men in the land cutting their way through the woods. She knew only that her mama carried her and her papa was at her side.
After another five minutes of climbing, they broke through a clearing. The panther walked ahead after giving Damien a “next time, trust me” look from his animal-blue eyes.
Meagan stood at the edge of the clearing in awe. The trees gave way to a beautiful valley containing a crystal lake, framed by soaring mountains. Wildflowers covered a meadow, rolling out a carpet of blue, red, yellow, violet, and pink at their feet.
Next to her, Penelope pressed her hands together. “It is absolutely beautiful. You used to come up here, Damien?”
“When we were boys,” Damien answered, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “We’d run out here at the break of dawn, Alexander and me, to fish and pick berries and get into all sorts of trouble.”
At the edge of the lake, the panther gently rolled onto his side, letting the boys slide from his back. Young Alex gave the panther a fond hug, and the little prince patted him.
Meagan hurried down the slope, her mind switching to practicalities. “Alex, dear, give your papa his clothes.”
Alex solemnly held out a bundle hanging from a strap. The panther took the strap in his mouth and loped away beneath a thick stand of trees.
By the time Penelope and Damien and the entourage with the basket reached the lake, Alexander the Grand Duke of Nvengaria emerged from the woods dressed in breeches, shirt, and boots.
Meagan admired him as he strode to them. She loved it when he left the Nvengarian finery behind and wore clothes that showed off his physique. His muscled chest was shadowed in the V of the loose shirt, giving her a glimpse of black hair that curled across his skin. The breeches hugged his thighs in a fine way, and Meagan found it difficult to drag her gaze away.
“It seems like forever since we last came here,” Damien breathed as he and Alexander strolled side by side while the ladies set up their luncheon.
“A long time, certainly,” Alexander agreed. He glanced at his son and Damien’s playing together in the tall grass, the older showing the younger some gentle game. “Things have come full circle.”
Damien nodded. “There was a time I never thought our children would play together.” He bent a glance on his wife and Alexander’s, two women from England who had their heads together, giggling over something.
Alexander watched them too. He remembered what had happened the last time he’d caught Meagan and Penelope giggling together. Meagan had met him in their bedchamber that night, having once more strewn it with rose petals and scent. She’d been wearing nothing but a leather and lace corset with a collar of diamonds around her throat.
While he’d stood in stunned silence and feasted his eyes on her, Meagan had blushed deeply. “Do close the door, Alexander, before someone sees me.”
The door had banged behind him instantly, and Alexander had turned the key in the lock.
“Do you not recognize seduction number two hundred twelve?” she’d asked impatiently. “Penelope and I spent all day planning this.”
The lovemaking after that had been nothing short of explosive. Watching Meagan now, whispering with Penelope and throwing mysterious glances at him, made his arousal stir in anticipation.
“English roses,” Damien said absently.
Alexander snapped his attention back to him. “What?”
Damien gazed at their wives, sun gleaming on Meagan’s red hair and Penelope’s honey-golden. “English roses brought us happiness. And friendship again?”
Alexander had not had much time to speak with Damien personally, as the ten months since he and Meagan had arrived in Nvnegaria had been consumed with either political duties or Alexander’s preoccupation with the birth of his second child.
He’d become instantly besotted with his daughter, Annie, and stole as many minutes as he could to be with her and Alex and Meagan. Alex would grow up to be Grand Duke, and Annie would be a sought-after bride, but Alexander determined that they both would have childhoods, happy ones.
Alexander studied Damien, his oldest friend and a man he’d once thought was his bitterest enemy. As boys, they’d roamed these woods. As young men, they’d been pulled apart, and then hatred and fear had erected an insurmountable wall between them. At least, they’d thought it insurmountable.
“Your father is dead,” Alexander said as Damien waited, eyes watchful. “He was a monster, and he made us enemies. We should not continue to let him win.”
Damien’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “Precisely what I was about to say. Or at least, very close.” He held out his hand. “Friends?”
Alexander took Damien’s callused hand, and something warm laced his heart. “Friends.”
They shook firmly, then drew apart, looking back at their wives again, a favorite pastime of them both.
Damien’s eyes narrowed. “They are planning something.”
Both Penelope and Meagan were watching them with sly smiles, and Alexander’s heartbeat sped. “Yes, they look quite conspiratorial.”
“They’ve learned Nvengarian intrigue,” Damien offered.
“God help us.”
“We will need it.”
“They also have Adolpho’s Book of Seductions,” Alexander reminded him.
They shared a worried glance, then Damien broke into a grin. “Damn, but we are lucky men.”
“Indeed.” Alexander grinned back.
“Shall we find out what they intend?” Damien asked.
“Let them reveal it in their own time,” Alexander said as they started walking toward the ladies. “We can pretend we know, and drive them mad wondering how we guessed.”
Damien threw back his head and laughed. Sure enough, both women looked at them, their smiles wavering.
“You are an evil man, Alexander of Nvengaria,” Damien chuckled.
“I have had a lifetime of practice,” he answered, and then they went to their wives and children. Meagan greeted Alexander with a kiss that warmed his blood, her eyes glinting in suppressed excitement.
As the picnic commenced, Alexander and Damien gathered wild raspberries from a patch they remembered, which had grown even bigger and richer in the years between. They were joined soon after by Myn and Anastasia, Myn as cryptic as ever, Anastasia relaxed and laughing, happiness radiating from her.
That night, Alexander reposed next to Meagan in their huge bed in the palace, tired from their day in the sunshine and games with the children. He’d become a panther again and Myn a wolf, to the boys’ great delight.
When they’d at last retired to bed, Meagan had begun one of Adolpho’s elaborate seductions, which involved wine and fruit and scented oils, but Alexander had swept aside the accoutrements and taken Meagan in deep, satisfying lovemaking.
Now Meagan smiled at him across the pillow, her eyelids heavy. “I love you, Alexander.”
Alexander shimmered briefly into panther form and licked her face. She squealed and laughed, and he shimmered back. “Why did you do that?” Meagan gasped, wiping her face on the sheets.
“To say I love you too.”
“Perhaps you could say it not so wetly.”
Alexander grinned. He dabbed her face dry with the sheet, then rolled on top of her and showed her, by deed and by word, how very much he, Alexander the man, loved her.
Acknowledgments
Thanks go to my editor, Leah Hultenschmidt, as well as the art, production, and marketing departments at Dorchester; my agent, Bob Mecoy; and to Glenda Garland for tirelessly reading and critiquing the drafts of this book.
Critics Rave for Jennifer Ashley!
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