Page 56 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

‘He would not hurt you intentionally. Don’t you see,’ Illarion pressed softly. ‘Katya’s story is extreme. But marrying Percivale is no less dangerous. You risk the same unhappiness. Anyone who marries away from their own choices does.’ He paused, deciding how to continue. ‘In Kuban, some parents place their daughters in nunneries when they’re eleven and they encounter no men until their weddings have been arranged. If a man visits the convent, the girls are blindfolded until he leaves. There was even one wedding I attended where the bride was blindfolded until the vows were performed.’

‘That’s barbaric,’ Dove gasped. ‘Why don’t they run away?’

‘The same reason you don’t, Dove,’ Illarion said with a gentle sharpness. She’d known her answer even as she’d asked the question. She didn’t run because she couldn’t. Where would she go? What would become of her? Because she, like those girls, needed a champion in a system that didn’t let them fight for themselves.

‘You were there. Why didn’t you try to stop it?’ There was a hint of accusation in the question.

‘I did try.’ Illarion answered solemnly. ‘The girl had been young, scared, the blindfold soaked with her tears while all around her there was praise for her parents and the virtuous daughter they’d raised. I saw no virtue in that. I penned my poem “Freedom” that very night. I read it at court the next day. Within two days, Katya was dead and Kuban was on the brink of revolt. The Tsar used her death as a means of putting down the revolt and the poet responsible for it. He did a good job, Dove. I haven’t been able to write since, not like that, not until I met you.’

Dove sat in silence, absorbing, processing. No wonder he was so careful with her. Illarion Kutejnikov, this bold, audacious man who spoke his mind and tempted her to act on her convictions, was afraid. Afraid of his power, afraid of his feelings. And yet, that fear had not stopped him, not completely. He fought against that fear, he fought for her. ‘Thank you.’ He’d given her an enormous gift tonight in revealing so much of himself, even at the risk of making himself vulnerable. She smiled at him. ‘Your secrets are safe with me.’ She whispered the words he’d once spoken to her.

He touched her face. ‘And you are safe with me, Dove. Whatever you decide, I will keep you safe.’ Not merely secrets. But herself. Her person, her soul. The words moved her, perhaps too much because she wished they were true. ‘Let’s get you dressed and then we have to get you home.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘How did you get here, anyway?’

‘I walked.’ She saw the belated concern on his face and hastened to assure him, ‘No one saw me.’

Illarion raised an eyebrow in doubt. ‘Dressed in white? You are a beacon in the dark.’

‘No one knows I was coming. I told my parents I had a headache and that I was going home with a friend. They will be at the ball all night. My father has meetings. He and his friends have been closeted behind closed doors the entire evening with some important Parliament business.’ She leaned towards him, concern shadowing her eyes. ‘You’re safe. I promise.’ Was he worried she’d compromise him? It was odd to think of it that way. Usually it was the men who did the compromising.

Illarion pulled on a pair of trousers. ‘I’m not worried about me, golubushka, I’m worried about you. You can’t go wandering around Mayfair at night alone.’

‘Golubushka? What does that mean?’ He’d called her that during lovemaking, too.

He came to her, his hands working the laces she couldn’t reach. ‘It means “darling”. There, that should do. Are you ready?’

She was many things in that moment—confused, happy, sad, sleepy—but she was not ready. She didn’t want to leave this room. Coming here might have provided her with clarity, but it had certainly not made her decision any easier. That brought her up short. Had she made her decision, then? Had she truly decided she would accept Percivale’s offer and walk away from Illarion? All because she was too afraid to tell her parents what she wanted? Dove put a hand on his arm. ‘What happens next, Illarion?’

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