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M ichael kissed Hannah’s shoulder, her hair falling against his face as he plunged inside her. He couldn’t stay away from her, no matter how hard he tried. When he was with Hannah, the emptiness of his life and his past failures all seemed to dissolve. She made him feel whole again.

No kingdom was worth being without her.

She was close to her release, and he pushed himself against the wetness, driving her nearer to the fulfillment she craved. Half-sobs were coming from her, but the long smooth strokes weren’t giving her what she needed.

“Hold on,” he urged. Bracing her hands against the couch, he took her roughly. The increased tempo and pounding of his body inside hers made her breathing quicken.

His erection grew harder, and as her body tightened around him, squeezing him in her liquid depths, his control was splintering apart.

Michael stroked her nipples, coaxing her, “Reach for it, Hannah.” He didn’t care how long it took; he wouldn’t stop until she succumbed to the pleasure she needed.

He reached down to caress her intimately.

The touch of his hand made her buck against him, and the counterpressure of her hips sent his own release blasting through him.

At last, she emitted a shuddering gasp, her body trembling wildly.

Her inner walls climaxed around him, and he groaned, pulling her hips tight against his own.

For a moment, he rested his cheek against her back, no longer certain he’d be able to walk. No woman had ever made him feel this way. He couldn’t possibly let her go. She was his to protect, his to care for.

He withdrew from her, sweeping her into his arms and taking her to bed. They lay facing one another, skin to skin. He kissed her lips, apologizing, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Her cheeks were glowing, her green eyes luminous. “I felt like a conquest of war.”

He lowered his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry. I rather lost my head.”

She shivered, and he held her tighter, her bare breasts teasing his chest. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, either.”

His leg moved atop her hip. “We could stay here. Scandalize all of them by remaining in bed.” He kissed her mouth. “Then you’d have to marry me.”

She looked away, her face disconsolate. “Michael, be serious. This is your future. It’s where you belong, and you need to choose a wife who can endure a life such as this.”

He didn’t like the tone in her voice. “And that wife isn’t you?”

She didn’t answer, and he let her pull away from him. With only a sheet covering her, she looked fragile and uncertain. His frustration deepened, for he couldn’t understand why she was so reluctant to become a princess.

He ran his hand over the curve of her body, down to her bottom. “I’m not a man who begs, Hannah. Either become my wife or don’t. It’s your choice.”

Without another word, he dressed and left her bedchamber.

“You have not done as I asked,” the voice said. “The lieutenant must not be allowed to take the throne. I want him removed.”

“I am so sorry, my—”

“Apologies are unacceptable. Either dispose of him or you will not like the consequences. You have a wife of your own, I believe.”

“She is innocent,” the servant insisted. “Please, I beg of you. Don’t bring her into this.”

“You will not presume to tell me what to do. Take care of the lieutenant and use any means necessary. Even Lady Hannah, if need be. Is that understood?”

“It is.”

“Good. The king must not recognize Michael Thorpe as his son.”

The servant bowed. “I will see to it.”

It took all his restraint to allow another man to dress him.

Michael stood while the valet helped him out of his afternoon attire and into the formal black cloth coat and white cravat.

The Graf had arranged for his belongings to be sent to the Schloss, along with the clothing Hannah had ordered from the tailor.

When he saw the reddened skin on Michael’s arm where the bullet had grazed it, the valet asked, “Do you require a new bandage, my lord?”

“It’s all right.” The minor wound had healed enough that he could put it from his mind. The neck abrasions could be hidden with his cravat. He preferred it this way. It was easier to blend in with the nobles, not drawing attention to himself.

He was going to face a battle of a different sort this evening, though he’d prefer not to do so in public. Tonight would be a test, and he suspected that his half-brother, Fürst Karl, would be in attendance.

But not the king.

Michael tensed at the thought of his earlier audience.

It had been brief, for the frail ruler was hardly able to receive guests.

When the Graf had whispered to him about Michael, the aging monarch had tried to sit up.

With long gray hair and a short beard and mustache, his father appeared far older than he was.

But the king’s eyes had held intelligence and curiosity.

An unexpected memory had flashed through Michael. Of apples, strangely enough. Without asking permission to leave the king’s side, Michael had walked toward a bowl of fruit in the corner, retrieving a single apple.

Holding it before the king, he said, “You used to peel these for me. With a jeweled dagger.”

He kept speaking, not knowing if what he was saying made any sense at all. “I used to sit on your lap and you would try to peel the entire fruit in one long piece. You promised that one day you would give me the dagger.”

The king’s expression paled at the story. And then Michael had shown him the scar.

“She was right,” the king whispered, before his eyes closed. “Tell the queen...she was right.” The monarch gripped the sheets, and the palace physicians surrounded him, making conversation impossible.

It bothered him, to have caused the older man further distress. Yet, there was nothing to be done about it. Michael now understood why the Graf had been so insistent on bringing him to Lohenberg with all haste. It was doubtful that the king would live much longer.

A few minutes later, Graf von Reischor arrived at his door. Escorted by two servants, they pushed him forward in the wheeled chair.

“You should remain in your bed until you’ve healed,” Michael chided.

“Nonsense. This is a dinner, and I’ll be seated most of the time. A man has to eat.”

And a man had to manipulate, Michael thought. As he walked alongside the Graf, he couldn’t suppress the sense of foreboding. This dinner was going to go very badly; of that, he had no doubt.

They arrived just before the seating of the guests. Michael remained behind the others, despite the Graf’s insistence that he stand near the front.

Michael watched the guests, nodding politely to Viscount Brentford and his daughter. He sensed their gazes upon him, and the light murmur of gossip.

Although he waited to catch a glimpse of Hannah, there was no sign of her. He was about to enter the banquet hall, when all of a sudden, murmurs of surprise came from behind him.

The throng parted, with a sea of curtsies and bows as Queen Astri made her entrance. She wore a champagne-colored silk gown trimmed with silver and gold embroidery, and two ladies-in-waiting helped manage her train. A moment later, the queen approached him.

Michael remained standing while the women around him fell into curtsies. He gave an awkward bow to his mother.

“Will you join us, Fürst Michael?” she asked.

A hundred sets of eyes stared at him, agog at the queen’s announcement. Michael moved forward, unsure of where to stand, and not knowing whether to offer his arm or not. The Graf discreetly motioned for him to walk behind her.

Michael continued in the royal procession, still hoping to see Hannah.

But once he had joined the queen at the head of the table, he had to turn his attention to her.

His mother’s face was alight with happiness, as though her joy could not be contained.

Throughout the meal, she peppered him with questions while he did his best to answer.

“Was the king all right after I left?” he asked her at last.

“I wouldn’t know.” Astri’s expression turned shadowed.

“He locked me in that tower for over twenty years. Tonight was the first time I was allowed to come and go as I pleased. I have the both of you to thank for it.” She cast a gaze at the Graf, and her face softened.

Michael detected a faint blush behind the ambassador’s countenance.

“The king has accepted you as his son,” the queen said. “And I am grateful that you have been returned to me at last.”

Throughout the remainder of the dinner, Michael waited for Hannah’s arrival. When the hours dragged on, his concern sharpened. It was considered unforgivable to leave a monarch’s side without prior permission, but he was beginning to see no alternative.

After the dishes had been cleared away, he stood and made his apologies, excusing himself. The queen’s expression faltered, but she gave him a wave of dismissal.

The people in the banquet hall stared at him, but he didn’t care about being rude. Right now, he needed to find Hannah and learn what was going on.

He hurried down the corridor, down another hallway, and up a flight of stairs. When at last he reached her room, he threw open the door without knocking. Hannah’s room was empty, with no trunks or belongings. The bed was made, and there was no sign that she’d even stayed in the room.

Something was wrong.

Michael strode down the hallway and when he caught sight of a maid, he cornered her. In Lohenisch, he demanded, “Did you see Lady Hannah leave?”

“Y-yes, sir,” the maid stammered. “Her cousins arrived, and she went to Germany with them an hour ago.”

He stepped backwards, cursing. He had never thought Hannah would actually leave him, but it appeared she’d already done so. He had believed she would give him a chance, that a marquess’s daughter might let herself love a soldier.

It seemed he’d been wrong.

“Lieutenant Thorpe,” a matron’s voice interrupted. “Might I have a word with you?”