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She grimaced at her reflection, then thought of the Grand Duchess of Edelforst who for thirty years had protected Annalena’s true identity and safety, while single-handedly ensuring their homeland wasn’t eviscerated by King Karl and his greedy cohort.
It’s your turn to step up, Annalena. No going back.
The grand ballroom had never looked more stupendous.
Rows of antique chandeliers glittered brilliantly after staff had spent a week polishing every crystal facet. Enormous mirrors lined the walls, reflecting an infinity of light and the shifting colours of the formally dressed crowd. On one side, French doors stood open to a terrace with views over the gardens where fountains played and spotlights turned night into day.
Everybody who was anybody in Prinzenberg, and for that matter Europe, was here.
And none, Benedikt realised as he escorted Annalena down the length of the room, outshone the woman beside him.
She took his breath away. Still.
The way she’d looked when he’d entered her room, soignée and alluring. But that was only part of it. The way shetasted. He’d kissed many women but none tasted like her. Delicious. Intriguing.Addictive.
When she’d clutched him, leaning up to take what she wanted, he’d rejoiced. Not because of how they’d look together at the ball, but because finally he had the real Annalena without artifice or caution.
It had been like holding a goddess in his arms, seductive and awe-inspiring, her passion so powerful it called to him at an elemental level.
What had begun as an exercise to make their partnership look convincing had escalated into a lust-fuelled adventure.
His one saving grace was that he hadn’t backed her onto a sofa and ravished her so thoroughly that neither of them would have been fit to attend the ball. She had no idea how close he’d come to lifting those silky skirts and having her there and then.
He could have because, despite her horrified reaction later, she’d been as swept away as he.
When he’d forced himself away and seen her, eyes slumbrous with invitation, hair tumbling about her shoulders from his urgent grasping, lips dark and swollen… She’d tempt a saint, something Benedikt had never aspired to be.
His stride now was shorter than usual. Not only because of the need to acknowledge greetings and make introductions, but because walking in his semi-aroused state was uncomfortable.
He glanced at the woman beside him, so composed, wearing the hint of a smile. Any concerns she mightn’t cope tonight disintegrated. She looked every inch the Queen she was about to become.
Except for that mouth. He swallowed, trying to ignore the increasing pressure in his groin. Those scarlet lips belonged to a seductress, not a monarch.
His gaze raked their audience and sure enough most of the men were gaping as if they’d never seen a woman before.
And she’s all mine…or will be soon.
‘Your Majesty.’
He paused, recognising Colonel Ditmar bowing before him.
‘Colonel, I’m pleased you could be here.’
‘Thank you.’ The old man shifted his attention to Annalena. ‘Princess, may I say you look ravishing?’
‘You may, Colonel. I’ll accept such flattery since you’re an old friend.’
Ditmar protested there was no flattery and Annalena’s smile grew wide. Benedikt was glad she had at least one friend here.
‘Your Majesty.’
He turned and there was Countess Heldenbruck. Her black hair shone like a raven’s wing, the deep blue of her dress highlighting her creamy complexion and dark eyes.
Regret slammed into Benedikt. Not because he couldn’t marry her as he’d once considered, but because he’d have preferred to tell her of his impending wedding in private. That hadn’t been an option. He couldn’t have risked a leak of the news he’d announce tonight before everything was in place.
‘Elise, it’s good to see you. You’re looking very fine.’
‘So are you, Your Majesty.’