“Shetouched his hand, and he went stock-still. Sheleaned over to examine it, the top of her headbrushing beneath his nose. Only his suddenimmobility stopped him from violently pulling away.“From the candles?” Had she bathed in bloodyhoney?”

“Oh!” This was said brightly, as if she was happy he had noticed. “I decided I needed my own workspace, instead of constantly infringing upon yours. So I had a few of the boys move a desk in here.”He stared at the petite, feminine, desk that was pushed against his. And wondered how the bloody hell she had managed to convince men who were terrified of him to move the desk inside his domain.“Absolutely not.” ***Two hours later, he was still scowling as she happily worked on . . . whatever the hell it was she was working on. Across from him. At her desk. How the hell . . .He remembered saying no. He remembered cursing. Threatening her unborn children. Then there was a sort of hazy period of smiles and calm words. Then she had touched the back of his hand with her naked fingers.And now, here he was with . . . her desk . . . pressed to his—surreptitiously watching her scratch her paper, the tip of her tongue poking from the side of her mouth as she worked.”

“Good morning.” His lips quirked. “I nearly expired from old age, waiting to see if you would actuallyknock on the damn thing. My heart couldn’t take it any longer.”She lifted her chin and stepped inside, brushing past him as she did so. “So you are saying that if only Ihad had a few beats more, I would finally have been rid of you?”She caught his lazy grin as she passed. “I plan to haunt you even in the afterlife,” he whispered, the air ofhis words brushing her ear, the door engaging behind her.”

“Her jaw dropped. "You - you -"He chuckled and winked at her. Her ire evaporated like the steam from the pot--coiling and disappearing into the air. When he used his wiles on her, he was tantalizing. With that purely happy look on his face he was devastating."You do realize that I will have my revenge?" she said calmly, though her heart was racing. "I could hope for no less." He flashed her a grin, and she gripped the side of the table to keep from moving closer."I dislike you.""Always a comfort to know." He looked at the kitchen clock, a small mantel piece positioned precariously on a shelf. "Right on time for the night."She blinked. She supposed it was something of a nightly ritual. "Wouldn't want to disappoint you, your highness.""Your majesty, if you will.”

“But it had always been that smile. Not her positionas Henry Wilcox’s possible wife nor the possibilitythat he could take his enemies down by manipulatingher family. Those hadn’t been the things that haddriven him when it came to his feelings for her.It had been that smile. Through the shadows of thetheater that first night. When their eyes had met. Shehad smiled. Simply. Warmly. Looking directly at him,unaware that she should be afraid.”

“That if he were killed in the next few weeks, it would assuredly be near her. At her feet, in her bed. Inside of her.Unfortunately, that last thought just made him think that if he had to choose his final moments, beinginside Charlotte would really be the way to go.”

“She gifted him with that soft smile. And it did thatstrange thing to his insides. He would probably leada revolt against the king if she asked him to do itwhile wearing that smile.”