Olga’s still-beautiful eyes were a little faded, but they narrowed perceptively as her gaze took in the enormous emerald and diamond engagement ring which glittered on Zabrina’s finger.
‘You are Roman’s woman?’ she asked, very softly.
This was a tricky one to answer, but how could Z
abrina possibly demand the truth, if she was not prepared to speak it herself?
‘I want to be.’ The words came out in a rush. ‘I so want to be.’
Olga folded her hands together on her lap. ‘I wondered when you might come.’
Roman stared out of the window, but the sweeping beauty of the palace gardens remained nothing but a green and kaleidoscopic blur. He turned back to find Andrei regarding him with an expression of concern he hadn’t seen on his aide’s face in a long time. Probably not since he had masqueraded as Constantin Izvor on that fateful journey from Albastase to Petrogoria, he thought grimly.
‘Where,’ he repeated furiously, ‘has she gone?’
‘We don’t know, Your Majesty.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know? How can you not know?’
‘Is the Princess not free to travel at will?’ Andrei asked mildly.
Roman glared. ‘Of course she is. It’s just...’
Just what? Had he expected her to be pale-faced and remorseful over breakfast this morning, telling him she’d been too intrusive with her questions last night and promising him it wouldn’t happen again? Yes, he had. Of course he had. For he wasn’t blind to the effect he had on her—women were notoriously bad at hiding their feelings when they had begun to care deeply for a man, and he knew that cancelling their wedding was the last thing Zabrina wanted.
At first he had even been prepared to overlook her lateness, aware that she was going to have to lose face by backing down and was probably dreading making her entrance and her apology. But as his coffee had grown cold and the servants had hovered around the table anxiously, he had realised that she wasn’t going to show up at all. Not only had she failed to appear, but she had neglected to do him the courtesy of informing him until much later. Wasn’t such an act towards the monarch completely unacceptable?
He had gone to his offices and tried to lose himself in his work, but for once his grand schemes had failed to excite him. Even the prized Marengo Forest seemed to represent nothing but a cluster of trees which had forced him into making the most stupid decision of his life by agreeing to marry the stubborn and foxy Princess who refused to conform to his expectations of her!
Now it was getting on for midday and still she hadn’t returned and his slowly ignited temper was in danger of erupting. He could hear Andrei talking quietly on his cell-phone and then the aide gently cleared his throat as he finished the call.
‘Your Majesty?’
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘The Princess’s car arrived back at the palace a short time ago and she—’
‘Have her sent here as soon as she—’
‘You don’t have to have me sent anywhere,’ came a voice from behind him. ‘I came all of my own accord!’
He whirled around to see Zabrina standing there, a look of challenge sparking from her green eyes which matched the faint sarcasm underpinning her words. Her cheeks were flushed with roses, as if she had been outside in the fresh air, but there was no contrition on her face, he noted. No sense that she had offended him on so many levels he didn’t even know where to begin.
‘Where have you been?’ he questioned coldly.
She opened her mouth as if to respond and then looked at Andrei.
‘If you will excuse me, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness?’ said the aide smoothly, backing out of the double golden doors with indecent haste.
Roman wanted to demand that his aide stay, or that Zabrina return later, when he might deign to schedule in a slot to see her. Or even to suggest she wait until they were having lunch—because any of those propositions would demonstrate very firmly who was in charge. But the glint of determination flashing from her eyes made him realise that any such request would be futile. And besides, why not get it over with?
‘So,’ he said coolly, once the doors had closed behind Andrei. ‘Are you going to answer my question and tell me where you’ve been?’
She made a big show of wiggling her shoulders so that her dark hair shimmered against the yellow blouse—the fine fabric hinting at the slender but muscular body beneath. Had she done that deliberately to emphasise her allure? he wondered achingly. To remind him how much in thrall he was to her agile physicality?
‘No ideas, Roman?’ she asked, with equal aplomb. ‘You aren’t going to accuse me of trying to seduce my new, Petrogorian groom?’
‘Hardly,’ he snapped. ‘Since you were seen leaving by car, with Silviana!’