A Royal World Apart(22)

Something she hadn’t realized was possible.

“You’re so surprised that I can cut my own meat? I can cook, you know. I spend a lot of time preparing my own meals.”

It seemed as though he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself.

“What?” she asked.

“What?” he countered, taking the platter from the counter, laden with lamb and pita bread, a small bowl of tzatziki in the center.

“You wanted to say more.”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging down. “It’s your birthday.”

“So. That doesn’t mean you can’t tell me something.” He walked out of the kitchen, heading to the dining room. She followed him. “In fact, I think that’s what I want.”

“What do you want?” he asked, setting the platter on the large wooden dining table that was positioned next to floor-to-ceiling windows, making the most of the view. The setting sun threw bits of pink glitter onto the snow, creating the impression of shimmering heat on ice.

“For you to tell me something. Anything. Just … don’t be so careful about what you say all the time. Talk to me. I like it when we talk.”

“Dangerous things get said when you and I talk,” he said, rounding the table to where she was standing and pulling a chair out. He inclined his head. “Have a seat.”

“I’m …” She sat and he pushed her chair in. She couldn’t deny the truth in that. “Well, we could always talk about those other things. We could talk about last night …”

“Never mind. I used to cook for myself. A lot. That’s what I was going to say.” He sat down in the seat across from her and picked up a bowl that had already been sitting on the table, serving her a green salad before offering her bread and lamb.

“Oh.” She picked up her fork and let it hover above her salad. “I guess I just thought … you have a housekeeper.”

He nodded. “Now. I didn’t always. I worked, I cared for Marina, I made sure we both ate. But I started getting offered those high-profile jobs that were matters of international security, and with that came more money. And less time at home. So eventually I had people sharing care, household chores. In the end, I hardly even had to be home. So, I hope you’re not imagining me as a saint. I’m a pretty selfish bastard, it turns out. Sometimes I would come here to the chalet so I didn’t have to go home in between jobs.”

“That doesn’t make you selfish, Mak. You cared for her as best as you could, but it’s not like she was really your wife.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. She was my wife. In sickness and in health, yes? Or does it only mean sickness to a certain point?”

“I … no.”

“Forsaking all others, as long as we both shall live,” he said.

Eva’s heart crumpled, as though Mak had taken it and squeezed it tight in his fist. “You really did?”

“I made vows to Marina. I kept them. We were married for over ten years.”

Eva set her fork down. “But …”

“Now I’ve talked. How was your birthday?”

“Fine. But, Mak …”

“Was there something confusing about what I just said?” he bit out.

“I …” Yes. Everything about it was confusing. Her brother changed mistresses with frequency, albeit discreetly, and her father had always done the same. She’d always imagined he’d done it even when her mother had been alive, though in his way, he’d loved her mother. To hear that Mak had stayed faithful to his wife for ten years, when there was no way they could have made love … it was beyond anything she’d been shown was possible. “No. Nothing.”

“Good. What did you do today?”

“I read. Went in the hot tub again. Drank hot chocolate and looked out the window. It was very nice.”

“That’s good. Do you usually have a party?”

“Yes. But I don’t know if it really feels like it’s for me. And here I go again whining about my problems, which include opulent balls now. I have been selfish in some ways, Mak. I see that now.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think you have been. Everyone, no matter where they come from, wants someone to care for them based on who they are.”

“Except for you,” she said, gently.

“Well, I’ve had it. And it can be wonderful. And then when you lose it, you’re very conscious of how great a loss it is.”

“That I do understand. My mother … she cared about me. About us. So very much. I got the feeling that there was nothing I could do that would make her see me as anything less than perfect. With my father, it’s sort of the opposite problem.”

“I’m sure he loves you.”

“Like Marina’s family loved her?”

His expression hardened. “I was foolish. I asked her to go against their wishes.”

“But shouldn’t real family just want you to be happy? You’re a good man, Mak. Why didn’t they want her to marry you?”

“We were young. Too young. They were thought it would ruin her life. It turned out they weren’t far from the truth.”

“Because you were in an accident? It could have happened any time, anywhere. And then you cared for her. You’ve given up so much, and you did it for her. Her family doesn’t convince me that love is real, or that it’s anything I might want. But you do. To be loved the way you loved her …” her throat closed up, emotion coursing through her. “Well, anyone would be lucky to experience that.”

His eyes met hers, and she was stunned by the depth of emotion there. Usually he kept everything veiled, concealed, and now, in this moment, the veil was torn and she could see a depth, a pain, that went so deep she had no idea how he could ever climb out of it. How anyone could.

Mak was the strongest man she’d ever met, and it had nothing to do with the strength of his body.

“Love is overrated,” he said.

Though they both knew it wasn’t. Because Mak himself embodied how much love was worth. Real love. He’d demonstrated it to his wife daily. And he was changing how Eva saw it too.

Eva stood up, her body trembling. She needed to touch him, needed to show him evidence of the emotion, the need that had her in its grip. She just wasn’t certain how. Or where it would lead. But she needed to take the chance.

She rounded the table and went to stand in front of him. He only looked at her, immobile, eyes unreadable. She leaned in, hands shaking as she placed her palms flat on his cheeks, moving her fingertips over his skin.

The air between them felt tight, as if it was closing in around them. There was no sound, only their breathing, harsh, uneven. Mak raised his eyes and caught her gaze, his brows locked together, his jaw set tight, a muscle in his face ticking. He was waiting. Waiting to see what she would do.

So was she.

She slid her thumb over his bottom lip. He tasted her, the tip of his tongue hot and slick on her skin. A tremor shot through her, an arrow of desire that made her core ache, her breasts feel heavy.

She started to lean in and he put his hand over hers, pinning it to the table. “Think this through before you do anything,” he said, his words strangled.

“I have,” she said. “You aren’t the only one who wants things, Mak. I want to touch you. To see you. Everywhere.”

“Eva,” her name was like a prayer on his lips. Or a curse. She wasn’t certain.

“Let me,” she said.

Desire made her bold. It made her certain. She didn’t question what she wanted, not now. She knew. She bent down and kissed him, his lips firm beneath hers.

He didn’t move, he simply let her explore his mouth, trace the outline of his lips with her tongue. A shudder moved through his body as his hands came up to grip her hips. His fingers were tight on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh.

She broke the kiss, rested her forehead against his. “I’ve never done that before,” she whispered, each word broken by a shaky breath.

“You do it very well,” he said, his voice rough.

“Hmm,” She leaned in and kissed his mouth again, softly. “I’m glad you like it.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple dipping. “Too much.”

She slid her fingers through his hair, and he kept his hands firmly planted on her hips, his eyes never leaving hers. “What’s wrong with liking it?” she asked.

He chuckled, that same sort of bitter, humorless release she’d become accustomed to hearing from him. “We’ve been over this before, my princess. I am meant to protect you. This isn’t protecting you.” His tone was bogged down with weight. With regret.

“But I want it.”

“You imagine I don’t?”

“You asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I was honest. Dinner was lovely. But I left out a big part of what I wanted. I want you, Mak. I want to … to be with you.”

He turned his head away. “Why?”

She pushed his hair off his forehead, the gesture natural and thrilling at the same time. “Because I want you. Isn’t that enough?”

He turned to face her again, his expression so hungry it was almost frightening. Almost. “Want is … want is something I’ve spent a very long time ignoring. Want is something I’ve spent a very long time pretending doesn’t matter. There has only been necessity. Only breathing.”