yes. Value. We mustn’t forget that. And of course their value is higher precisely because the world doesn’t know.’
‘Exactly. There’s no substitute for private letters.’
‘I’m sure that’s true,’ he murmured, sending warm breath skittering across her cheek. She saw how very close his mouth was to her own, and tried to control her riotous thoughts. But they wouldn’t be controlled. They raced ahead, speculating about the shape of his mouth, the firmness of his lips, how they would feel against hers…
She looked up and what she saw gave her a shock. Despite the apparent ardour in his behaviour there was only cool calculation in his eyes.
She tried to clear her head, to know what this meant, but that was hard when the world was spinning around her. As they slowed she realised that he had danced her right around the corner of the building. He was smiling at her, and she could believe, if she wanted to, that the chill look of a moment ago had been all her imagination.
‘You’re not the only historian who wants to write about my grandfather, Miss Boothe.’
‘No, but I’m ahead of the pack,’ she said simply.
‘Are you?’
‘Yes. Because of Aunt Lizzie, who knew him as nobody else did.’
‘I wasn’t forgetting that, nor that such knowledge is valuable.’ He stressed the word in a way that fell oddly on her ear.
‘Priceless,’ she agreed.
‘I’d hardly say priceless. Sooner or later most things have a price. The problem is agreeing on it.’
‘I’m not sure that I understand Your Majesty.’
He smiled. ‘I think you do. I think we understand each other very well, and have done from the beginning.’
The reserve had gone from his eyes, replaced by something that made her heart beat faster. Almost unconsciously she raised her face towards him as he lowered his mouth onto hers.
She was no green girl experiencing her first kiss, but it might almost have been the first from its effect on her. There’d been a time when a king had held his throne by being better, stronger, more skilled at everything than his subjects, and perhaps it was still partly true, for this king kissed like an expert, ardent, subtle, knowing how to seek out a woman’s weakness. Lizzie had never been kissed like this before, not even by the eager young husband with whom she’d shared a few months of wild passion before parting in bitterness.
His mouth caressed hers with urgency. In repose his lips were firm almost to the point of hardness, but now their movements were teasing, driving her as though he was being harried by his own desire. She tried to master her own rising excitement, determined to stay in control, but he was equally determined to strip control away from her. And he was winning.
He kissed the soft skin beneath one ear and she gave a small gasp. She was so sensitive there that normally she tried never to let a man approach it, but he’d known her weakness by instinct and gone for it without mercy. He continued the subtle assault down her long neck while she trembled and clung to him.
When he raised his head she longed to pull it down to her again and tell him to continue what he’d begun. Instead she became hypnotised by his eyes, which were brooding over her as though he too was trying to comprehend her, and failing.
‘You came here tonight for a purpose,’ he murmured. ‘Was this it?’
‘I—don’t know,’ she said wildly. ‘Perhaps—’
‘Ah, yes, the letters. Words on paper between people who are dead and gone. But we are alive. No woman ever felt so alive in my arms as you.’
And no man had ever made her feel so vibrant with life. Her head was swimming.
A noise from nearby made him release her reluctantly.
‘We must talk more—in Voltavia,’ he said. ‘I leave tomorrow. You will follow me next week.’
It was more than she’d hoped for but she couldn’t help rebelling against this diktat. She wasn’t one of his subjects.
‘Will I indeed?’ she asked.
‘If you’re serious about what you’re after, yes. Be there on Wednesday. If not—’
‘I’ll be there,’ she said quickly, fearful of seeing the prize snatched away. ‘I promise.’
‘Of course,’ he said, amused. ‘There was never any question of your refusing. No, don’t be angry with me. I hold all the cards, and you know it.’
It would have been wonderful to take him down a peg, but she was too close to her dream to risk it. She took the arm he proffered and they walked sedately back along the terrace to the little table. Frederick was waiting for them, with the reminder of an ambassador’s wife who must be honoured. Daniel inclined his head graciously to Lizzie.
‘I shall be waiting,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t disappoint me.’
He walked away, leaving her to return to the ballroom on Frederick’s arm. She felt as though she was walking on air. The glittering professional prize had been held out to her. That, she told herself, was the reason for the swift beating of her heart. That, and no other reason.
But she was deceiving herself, and she knew it.
* * *
When the last guest had departed the King relaxed with a brandy and soda, indicating for Frederick, his most trusted aide, to join him.
‘Did she say anything of importance to you?’ Daniel asked.
‘Not a thing, sir. She replied to all my questions but revealed nothing at all.’
‘That’s no more than I expected. This is an extremely clever lady, but I have her measure.’ A wry smile broke over Daniel’s face. ‘She’s going to be a pleasure to do battle with. You know the plan?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Frederick took a deep breath before venturing to say, ‘You don’t think that this way of doing things is a little—a little…?’ His voice ran down as his nerve ran out.
Daniel took pity on him. ‘Devious, unprincipled, cold-blooded?’
Frederick ran a finger around his collar. ‘Those are Your Majesty’s words.’
‘Coward,’ Daniel said without rancour. ‘Yes, Frederick, I’m being all those things. But then, so is she. This is no ordinary lady. She’s sharp, shrewd, and utterly unscrupulous. So the only way I can fight her is to be the same.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘A WOMAN is never too old to be glamorous,’ the Dame had been fond of declaring to her awe-struck young relative, and she had lived up to her philosophy to the end. Life with the great lady had been fun because she’d never been less than exotic.
But it was Bess who’d mothered the teenage Lizzie. Bess had been Dame Elizabeth’s dresser when she
