He had behaved despicably, but he had to try. He would always wonder why.
He swallowed, and repeated, “So, you are the Czarina, are you?”
Annika was staring, and her father behind her was glaring in a most unpleasant manner.
“What do you want, you cad?” Sir Thomas spoke quietly, evidently unwilling to create a crowd, but his words were venomous. “Please leave my daughter alone.”
Maxim’s eyes moved to Annika, who was blushing.
“I am no Czarina, sir,” she said calmly, her gaze not leaving him. “I believe one must marry a Czar for that.”
Was there warmth in those words, or just shock? Maxim could not tell, and he had little opportunity to discern her expression as she grabbed his arm and pulled him away from her father towards a corner of the room. Christmas decorations filled most of it, but she was able to force him away from everyone else before she hissed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Happy Christmas,” Maxim said weakly. What was the matter with him? He had had this all planned out, all agreed internally, and now he was standing before her, his legs were jelly and his mouth had no ability to speak coherently.
Annika rolled her eyes. “That is not helpful, Maxim. You know what I mean.”
He sighed, dropping his gaze, and finding it immediately resting on her delectable form. His eyes snapped back to her face. “I know what you meant. I am sorry, it is just…I have not done this much before?”
Curiosity shone in her face. “What, exactly?”
“Apologised,” he said blandly. Why was his voice shaking? “I…I needed you to know that I will always regret losing you all my life. Even more so than losing the Czardom.”
It was impossible to tell whether his words were having any impact. She was certainly still standing before him, and had not slapped him yet. Surely that was a good sign? Did she, perhaps, want him as much as he wanted her?
“I could not live with myself,” he said in a low voice, “not trying again. To see whether it would be possible for…for you to forgive me.”
Maxim held his breath. His entire future, his potential happiness, was resting on the response Annika now gave him.
It did not appear that he would be made happy. Annika’s forehead had puckered into a frown, and her arms had folded before her.
“I do not know why I should,” she said quietly, her voice steely. “You were not completely honest with me, and I in turn was not entirely honest with you. Perhaps…perhaps it would be best for both of us if we do not see each other again. You are not in Kent often. It should not be too difficult.”
Any hope Maxim had of reconciliation, perhaps even a stolen kiss, disappeared. Éduard had not warned him about this horrendous sinking feeling, when one realised that the love of your life was willing to go the rest of her days without laying eyes on you.
“I am not willing to give up,” he found himself saying, all his pent up fears pouring from him. “We have experienced too much, shared too much, just to ignore how we feel about each other, Annika.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “And how do we feel about each other?”
Maxim swallowed and looked around the room. There was no one too close to them, no one who could overhear him. But this was a statement he had never made before, and when it came to speaking it aloud, his courage failed him.
“I was wrong, and I apologise,” he said instead, hating himself for being such a coward. “I was…surprised, shall we say, by your admission. That surprise does not make my reaction acceptable – if anything, it makes it worse. I should have listened to you, heard the whole story.”
Even his admission of guilt did not seem to be melting Annika’s heart. Suspicions were in her eyes, and when she spoke, it was in an accusing manner.
“And where has this change of heart come from?”
Maxim did not answer immediately, but instead reached out and took her hand in his. It was warm, heating his whole body and bringing him back to life.
“A good friend attempted to knock some sense into me,” he murmured, “but I realised I could consider myself an impressive Czar all I wanted, but that meant nothing if I did not have compassion for those I truly loved.”
With his final word, Annika looked down at her hand which was being held in his. She did not speak, but she did not pull her hand away.
“I treated you with no compassion and that was wrong – as not just a czar, but a human being,” Maxim said urgently. “You make me feel alive, in a way I had not done since losing my family.”
“You made me feel the same,” she whispered, her eyes lifting to his. “But I can’t be hurt like that again.”
“It hurt because this means something, because it’s something valuable we must not lose,” he said fiercely. “Annika, everything in my life has changed now. My priorities were…I mean…everything I thought was important just pales in comparison when I look at you, and…”
Maxim’s voice trailed away. It was not possible to put into words what he had risked when he had pushed her away. Had he utterly lost it? Was there no way back?
Annika frowned. “We met but a week ago. How can you be sure that these – these feelings, are real?”
That, at least was a question he could answer. “I just know. I love you, Annika. I love you.”
His free hand moved to the pocket of his coat and pulled out the gift he had considered throwing in the Thames yesterday. Her eyes widened as she saw the small box move towards her.
“One last gift,” he whispered.
Almost seemingly against her will, Annika reached out for the box and opened it, gasping as the candlelight sparkled in the exquisite diamond ring.
“That was my great-grandmother’s ring,” Maxim breathed. “It was her daughter’s, and her daughters, and one day, I would like it to be your daughter’s. Our daughter’s, if you will permit me the greatest privilege of being part of Meredith’s life…and yours.”
Not taking his eyes from her, he lowered himself onto bended knee. There were murmurs around the room, and he could distinctly hear Lady Romeril’s voice near the back.
“Proposing? I thought they were engaged?”
“All secrets are out now,” he said quietly. “Let us make this a Christmas we never forget.”
He had expected – well, hoped – that Annika would smile, accept him, and perhaps even give him a kiss. At the very least, he had thought she would smile.
But she hesitated.
“What are you nervous about?”
Annika reached out and touched his hand, and whispered, “Any more secrets?”
No matter what her words said, he could feel the warmth in her fingers, could see the way she leaned towards him.
A smile crept over his face. “Many, but none that really matter. The rest are just detail. You?”
Annika smiled and spoke so softly that only he could hear. “The father of Meredith is a Kaiser.”
Maxim froze.
Her laugh seemed to resound around the room. “You will have to become accustomed to my sense of humour when we are married, you know.”
She pulled him up to his feet, and then pulled his face towards hers. Maxim kissed her passionately, pouring all the frustrations of the last twenty four hours onto her lips. When they finally broke apart, there were astonished gasps around the room. Maxim glanced over at Sir Thomas, who was smiling broadly.
“Well, no time like the present,” Maxim said lightly. “Father Michail?”
Father Michail stepped forward, rather out of breath. “I came as soon as I received your note, Czar, but – ”
Annika was laughing as Maxim pushed the ring onto her finger. “You came prepared! How on earth could you possibly know that I would say yes?”
Maxim entwined his fingers in hers as Meredith came running over, her eyes shining. “Every Czar needs a Czarina by his side.”
Epilogue
Anne sighed as she leaned back in the carriage. “Are we a
lmost there?”
Every inch of her ached, and she could not remember the last time they had slept in an actual bed. Her back hurt more than ever, and her eyes itched with tiredness. It was not her habit to complain, but if they did not arrive soon…
The carriage jolted and she placed a hand over her swollen belly protectively. As though the little one knew precisely what she was thinking, it gave a little kick.
A smile crept over her face as she looked up. “I suppose a better question would be, are we going to get there before this baby arrives?”
Maxim laughed, his eyes twinkling. Seated opposite her in the carriage, he had encouraged her to place her weary feet up beside him, reducing the weight on them.
“Now then, what sort of a question is that to ask your husband?” he said mischievously. “Have I ever let you down?”
There was a snort from the gentleman beside him. Anne smiled at her father, who was frowning at his son-in-law in a most aggressive way.
Meredith, seated beside her mother, giggled. She was wrapped up in furs to keep the freezing weather from her bones, and she looked very snug.
Anne’s smile did not disappear as she said, “He has had a further eight months to do so, and so far Maxim has done very well. The question is, what about the next thirty years?”
Maxim leaned over and took his wife’s hands in his own. “And the rest.”
She could not help but beam. Alexei Dmitry Immanuil Maximilian Konstantinvich. He was everything she could have ever hoped for, more than she deserved. Doting on Meredith, respectful and caring towards her father, and devoted to her.
What had possessed her to push him away, just at the moment when she could have lost him forever?
Even more strangely, why had she thought she had not wished to marry?
But then, she had not even met Maxim when she had struck that bargain with her father. Her last season. Thank goodness, Maxim had chosen that time to attend St. James’ Court. How different their lives would have been…
The carriage came to an abrupt stop, and Anne pulled her hands from Maxim’s, holding her stomach protectively.
He had immediately peered out of the window, and he said with the joy of a child, “We are here, we are here!”
“Thank God,” Anne muttered. The constant rocking of the carriage of the last – what was it three weeks? Four? They had all merged into one, and now at last she would be able to rest properly in the small family home Maxim had promised her.
True, it was in Russia, hundreds if not thousands of miles away from her beloved Romney marshes, but he had promised that this small house was in one of the warmest parts of Russia.
It did not feel like it when Maxim opened the door. A freezing wind rushed in, making Meredith and Sir Thomas pull their furs more tightly around them.
“What a journey,” Sir Thomas said weakly. “It will be all be worth it, I am sure, once we get into this home of yours, Maxim…”
His voice trailed away as he descended from the carriage.
“Father?” Anne called out, but he did not reply. Instead, a hand appeared to help her down which she took grateful. “Father, what – oh, my!”
Her jaw dropped as she stood beside a grinning Maxim, holding his hand.
Before her was not a home. It was a palace, monstrous in size, elegant, and covered in snow. Four large towers pinned in the corners, and there was a gatehouse with a portcullis, and battlements…
“It is a castle,” Sir Thomas breathed. Meredith was beside him, her eyes wide. “A castle, Maxim!”
“More like a palace, actually, Sir Thomas,” Maxim said airily. “Do you like it, Annika.”
Anne was not sure whether she would be able to find the words. “L-Like it? Maxim, you said it was a small house?”
“I said it was our smallest home,” he corrected, still grinning. “This is the smallest of the palaces I have ever lived in. What was I supposed to say?”
Anne stood and stared. Everywhere she looked, there seemed to be another window, another bit of finery. How was she supposed to live in this? How was she supposed to manage a home – nay, a palace this size?
“And on the subject of secrets – ”
She frowned at her husband. “We were not, but continue.”
Maxim laughed. “Did I mention there are servants here? Lots of servants. I had no idea that renouncing my title would encourage my extended family to give me such a large stipend, but they have, and it includes servants. I do not want you to do a thing while we wait for this baby.”
“Servants?” Meredith said with a frown. “Will any of them want to play with me?”
“You said no more secrets!” Anne said with a laugh. She could not help it. The entire thing was so ridiculous! How was it possible that the only daughter of a Kentish baronet could end up living in a palace in Russia?
“I said none that matter,” corrected Maxim. “Now, kiss me.”
Anne glorified in the feeling of his lips on hers, but blushed and pulled away as her father coughed loudly.
“Can I pick my own room?”
She laughed at Meredith, and then placed a hand on her stomach as her second daughter – or perhaps, her first son – kicked along with its sibling.
“You most certainly can,” said Maxim. “But remember, the baby will need its own room!”
He raised his voice as she darted away from Sir Thomas and ran through the gatehouse excitedly.
Her father moved towards them, and said gruffly, “You never mentioned this, Maxim. A palace. Servants. After your rejection by the Prince Regent, I was under the impression that you would be forced to work to earn your keep.”
Anne looked at her husband quickly, but he was not offended.
“My dear Sir Thomas,” he said gently. “I know I could never have bought you, you are too honourable for that. This way, you can be assured that you permitted me to marry your daughter for who I am, not what I am.”
It was all the reassurance Sir Thomas needed. After cupping his daughter’s cheek and smiling, he followed his granddaughter’s footsteps in the snow.
Anne sighed happily. “You know, this is one of the best secrets you could ever have kept from me.”
Maxim wrapped his arms around her. “It will be Christmas again soon. I will have to think about what to get you.”
She laughed. “I do not think I will have to worry – I have your present right here!”
Placing one of his hands on her stomach, they waited and then both grinned as their child kicked out at the world.
“You know, no matter what the world says, you are a Czarina to me,” he whispered.
Anne nodded. “I know, and I am perfectly happy to keep secrets from the outside world, not from each other.”
Maxim nodded, and leaned forward for another kiss. “Except, maybe, what I have got for you for Christmas…”
About Emily Murdoch
Emily loves to read and write sweet and steamy historical romance. If you love falling in love you've come to the right place.
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A Scot Most Wanted
by Angelique Armae
Prologue
Dundaire, Scotland
December 23, 1776
Catrina Lennox, known simply as Cat to those in her inner circle, which by most standards was not a large circle considering it only con
sisted of one good-spirited cook and one very small child, wasn’t a woman to shy away from a challenge. Not only had she willingly left her privileged life in London—which included walking out on a very handsome laird and his offer of marriage—to rescue her sister from a notorious highwayman, but she also acted as midwife and delivered her nephew, Fergus. And now, on the eve of her twenty-first birthday, she was about to chase down the rebel who’d taken her sister’s life and abandoned the child Moira had given birth to.
Which was why, on this cold and very snowy night, she found herself in town, battling the elements like any good aunt would do for the sake of her disadvantaged nephew. Though considering the trail of whispered curses she’d left in her wake, thinking herself good was growing debatable.
She headed up the road, her bootheels skidding on the ice-licked cobblestone.
Damn winter. What in God’s name possessed The Christmas Rebel to choose this time of year to go thieving? The man was an outright fool to put himself up against the weather, let alone add Christmas to his made-up name as public acknowledgment of the holiday had been banned for centuries in Scotland. Once caught, she prayed the man faced a punishment far worse than the average highwayman or thief. Though she supposed that was not her problem. She only desired to catch the brute to have him make amends to Little Fergus. That, and to give him a good tongue-lashing solely for the inconvenience of dragging her out during the snowiest season Dundaire had on record.
Bastard.
The man should be made to repent on his knees, his man parts encased in snow.
God, but she’d become bitter since uprooting from London. Which was another sin that needed to be added to The Christmas Rebel’s list of crimes. The man had outright stolen her cheery disposition. The moment she’d learned what he’d done to Moira, she’d lost all faith in men, in the fairy-tale of happily ever after. A lifetime of laughs, smiles, and dreams, all wiped away by one man’s selfish desire to covet what was not his. Capturing his sorry arse would be more than a delight.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2) Page 67
