Page 81 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

‘No, I came straight to you.’ Now it was his turn for a little panic. Now that the moment of reunion     had passed, he had a task to perform. ‘When you didn’t write back, I worried for you. Are you safe here? There were unpleasant reports about your exodus from London.’

Dove’s smile faded. ‘I am not safe here. My father is making plans for me to marry again and there are definitive consequences if I don’t.’ She shot another look at the house and dragged him deeper into the rose garden. The whole sordid story came out in rapid detail: the drugs, the threats, the price of her temporary freedom. ‘I fear the only the way to avoid his plans this time is to run away,’ she concluded. ‘But if I am caught…’ Her voice trailed off, the thought too horrifying to complete.

Silently, Illarion passed her an envelope. ‘I gave this to Ruslan the day of the duel. Open it.’

She slid the sheaf of paper out of the envelope and unfolded it, her eyes going wide. ‘You gave me your house?’

‘So that you would have a place to go, so that you could be free whether or not you want what I offer you. But now I’m here and I would rather give you the protection of my name—if you would have me?’

* * *

If she would have him? She was still accustoming herself to the fact that he was alive, that he’d come for her! She was to be given a second chance after so stupidly having ruined the first with her hesitation. She never should have left him that day in the Portland Square ballroom. She kissed him softly. ‘I will walk out of here today with you, right now. Not because you offer me escape from an unpalatable situation, not because you offer me a house, not because you’re a prince, but because I love you, Illarion Kutejnikov.’

He bent his head to hers, murmuring, ‘Why do you love me, Dove? I’m a man without a homeland, with a title that probably means very little.’

‘Because you love me, just me, not my dowry. Because you make me feel alive. I’ve been dead these last weeks, Illarion, because I’ve been without you and I never want to feel that way again.’

‘Then let’s go speak to your father.’

That startled her. She drew back. ‘Let’s just go. There’s a gate right there. We can just go.’

His hand closed over hers. ‘A prince of Kuban doesn’t run and neither does a princess. We will face your father. He can decide if he wishes to participate in our lives.’ Then he winked. ‘But let me do the talking, I can be very persuasive.’

‘With women.’

‘With anyone.’

* * *

Dove would never forget those moments: walking into her father’s office, a place of dread, the very place where he’d chastised her and offered his threats of marriage or imprisonment in an asylum; of watching him take in Illarion’s presence, of noticing her hand in his hand, her head held high, Illarion’s broad shoulders straight, his blue eyes confident.

‘What are you doing here?’ Her father’s outrage was palpable.

Illarion was not deterred. ‘Your daughter and I have come to ask your blessing for our marriage, your Grace.’

Her father half-rose from behind his enormous desk, hands braced on the polished surface. ‘I thought I told you your suit was not welcome. It was not welcome in London and it is not welcome in Cornwall.’

Illarion nodded. ‘I understand that. However, we are not asking for your permission. Only your blessing. Do you understand that?’

Dove was aware of a presence at her back. Her mother had come in silently. Illarion let go of her hand and stepped forward. She moved to go with him, but her mother’s soft hands at her shoulders cautioned her. ‘Let the men settle this,’ she whispered, surprising Dove with a show of alliance. Then again, she’d always favoured the Prince. But Dove shook her head. She would not leave Illarion again. Even so, this was her future, too, and she would be part of settling it.

‘Dove and I will marry,’ Illarion said firmly and Dove felt a trill of excitement move through her at the thought of this man as hers for ever, this man who was willing to fight for her, defend her in all ways; with words, with weapons. ‘We will marry for love, surely you remember what that was like?’ Dove’s attention sharpened. What was he getting at?

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