"I am serious, Matthew." Her gaze searched his. "Would you have me if I were no longer a princess?"

"I would have you if you were a frog," he teased.

"I said I was serious." She pulled away from him, wrapped her arms around her knees and stared into

the fire. Long moments passed. At last she sighed. "Do you recall when I told you about Phillipe?"

"Vividly."

"Phillipe's nature was... how shall I say it? Weak is the best word. He did not take well to being the

husband of a princess." She turned her head toward him and rested her cheek on her knees. "He had no

real duties, no particular interests-outside of other women, of course." She smiled wryly and he wondered if the pain this man had caused her was indeed past or if a touch would linger always. Anger on her behalf swelled within him.

"I have often wondered if another man, one with a stronger sense of purpose or a stronger sense of himself, would have fared better. Would have carved a place for himself at court that was something more than merely the husband of the princess.

"But then I wonder as well if any man could remain unchanged. We expect the wives of kings to be subservient to their husbands, in truth, their sovereigns. But a man in that strange office of spouse to royalty..." She shook her head. "I think it must take a man of extraordinary strength to survive unscathed. I suspect you might manage it."

"You shall quite turn my head, Your Highness," he teased.

She laughed softly. "To what end?"

He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips. "To whatever end is desired."

Her gaze caught his, and even in the firelight he could see determination in her eyes. "I shall not put

another man in that position."

His heart clenched. Of course she couldn't. And he could never live as nothing more than a royal consort.

"However, I would give up my title and all that goes with it, and gladly, for a man I loved."

"But a man who returned your love would never ask such a thing. We are who we are, Tatiana. Nothing can change that."

"We are who we are inside, Matthew." Her gaze bored into his. "The rest of it-Her Highness, his lordship, wealth, poverty-it is all trappings and, in truth, of no real consequence. A king can be just as unhappy as a pauper."

"Indeed." He grinned and drew her back to his side. This discussion was fraught with all kinds of dangers and he dared not risk a confrontation about the future, hers or his, at the moment. Because, at the moment, he might not have the strength of purpose she saw in him. "But the trappings of a king are ever so much more enjoyable than those of a pauper."

She laughed softly and he wondered if she was as relieved to end this discussion as he.

They spoke on and off of various things through the long hours. The dowager's ball was planned for two days from now, and Tatiana worried whether those Effingtons who had recently been in Avalonia would recognize her by name if not by sight. She spoke of her brothers and her father and her home, and even managed to get him to speak of his own family. And she promised to tell Her Grace the truth. They talked late into the night until Tatiana fell asleep in his arms.

Matt found it impossible to rest. Impossible to do anything save stare into the fire and consider all that had happened and all that was yet to come.

His ballooning days were over and the realization did not especially distress him. It was great fun, but he'd never had a grand passion for it. It was little more than a means to an end and as close as he could get to skimming over the waves on board ship. Yet he had no desire to return to sea. If there was a passion within him, it was for the business of shipping itself. There was something uniquely exciting about the arrival of a ship fresh from foreign ports with exotic goods and visitors. The very thought of dispatching men and their vessels to the four corners of the world fired his blood. The idea of nurturing, of building a shipping fleet-no, a shipping empire-was as exhilarating as anything he'd found at sea or in the sky.

He had the heart of a businessman. He chuckled to himself. If his father were alive, he'd no doubt be scandalized publicly. But privately the old man would probably be pleased. And it was past time Matt did something about it. Perhaps the place to start was with a small shipping firm, eager for a man of his unique experience. He could get a job as a-he shuddered-clerk for now, but he'd watch his money, invest carefully and someday he'd own the place. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was solid and smart, and he had no doubt he could succeed.

Still, a clerk could scarcely be married to a princess.

He stroked Tatiana's hair in an absent manner and contemplated everything she'd said and everything she hadn't. When all was said and done, it came back to one thing, and one thing only.

Whether she'd give up her life for him wasn't as important a question as whether or not he'd let her.

Chapter 15.

Tatiana sat on her bed, pillows propped behind her head, and stared at her aching feet. She was rather amazed they were not the size of Matthew's balloon.

Poor Matthew. He had indeed lost everything he had worked for, yet after that one outburst, he had appeared to take it all in stride. As always, she did so wish she could read his mind.

It had taken them the better part of the day to make their way back to Effington Hall. Thankfully, Matthew had an excellent sense of direction and managed to find a road he had seen from the air. Eventually they met a group of riders sent from the hall to find them.

The dowager had been extremely concerned, particularly after the discovery of the disarray in Tatiana's room, and was most relieved to see them alive, although she was somewhat appalled at their condition. Both Tatiana and Matthew were disreputable in appearance, their clothes torn and ragged, Tatiana's slippers in tatters. Her Grace was also clearly disappointed by the destruction of Matthew's balloon, and insisted on sending servants and a wagon with him at once to recover the wreckage.

Tatiana had slept through the remainder of the day, waking long after dark and only because a maid had arrived at her room with a light supper. Too tired to rise, she had had the girl place the tray on a table near the door. But a quarter of an hour had passed and Tatiana now eyed the offering. Were those strawberries? She glanced at her feet and back to the food. She certainly could not lay here forever, as delightful as that sounded. And in truth, she was rather hungry again. And strawberries? She did long for strawberries. Besides, it would be most impolite not to eat what someone had taken the trouble to send up to her.

She stretched her legs, pointed her toes, then flexed her feet back toward her head and winced. Her ankles were unbearably stiff. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gingerly attempted to stand. Her feet felt like stumps, her legs were wooden and she wondered if they would support her at all. Cautiously she took a step and groaned. Every muscle in her body ached. From her shoulders to her toes, there was scarcely an inch that did not scream in protest. Not surprising, really. She and Matthew had fallen from the sky, after all.

She gritted her teeth and hobbled slowly across the room, grabbed the tray and made her way back to the bed. She set the tray on the side table, then collapsed face first onto the deep, cozy mattress. She could well lie like this, unmoving, unthinking, forever. Still, strawberries beckoned.

With a resigned sigh, she rolled over and struggled to sit up. Surely she would feel better tomorrow if she lived that long. Tomorrow was the dowager's ball, and even while Tatiana was reluctant to meet those Effingtons who had recently visited Avalonia, she was quite looking forward to the ball itself. She was not, however, eager for the discussion she could no longer avoid with Her Grace. Matthew was right. This was an honorable woman who deserved to be treated honorably. She deserved the truth.

Tatiana plucked a strawberry from the bowl heaping with the luscious fruit. She took a bite and savored the delightful flavor, the lovely taste of warm summer days. It was something of a relief to have decided to tell the dowager all.

And a decided relief to have told Matthew everything. Of course, she was fairly certain he did not understand the true status of their marriage, although she could argue that she had indeed told him. Perhaps not in a clear and concise way, but she had said it aloud nonetheless. Of all the things she had kept from him, that was the most difficult to reveal. She picked up another strawberry and sucked on it thoughtfully. She was convinced he did care for her and possibly had never stopped, but there was something in his manner last night that was vaguely unnerving. She could not put her finger on exactly what it was and was sorely tempted to attribute it to her own state of mind.

Still, what did she expect? Indeed, if he was the kind of man willing to do nothing with his life save be the husband of a princess, or even the kind of man willing to take her money, he would be an entirely different man from the one she loved.

Did he mean it when he said a man who loved her would never ask her to give up her crown for him? It scarcely mattered. It was not his choice to make.

A knock sounded at the dressing room door and her heart caught.

"Yes?"

The door opened and Matthew poked his head in. "I was wondering if you were awake or if you were going to sleep through the rest of the night. You were so deeply asleep when I returned, I suspected Avalonian brandy may be involved."

She laughed. "There was scarcely any need for that. I could well have slept for a full week." She waved at the tray. "Would you care to join me?"

"Strawberries?"

"I simply snapped my fingers." She grinned.

He laughed. "As did I." He vanished for a moment, then pushed the door open, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other.

"Champagne?" She raised a brow. "What if I had been asleep?"

"I would have had to drink it myself. Drown my sorrows, and all that." His hair was damp, as if he'd just bathed. He wore a long, silk dressing gown and, she suspected, nothing underneath. He sauntered

toward the bed, a decidedly wicked gleam in his eye. "You have saved me from a devilish headache in the morning, and for that I am grateful."

"How grateful?"

"Eternally grateful." He reached the bed and handed her the glasses. She held them out to him and he

opened the bottle.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Don't be absurd." He filled the glasses. "The plan was to allow you to seduce me."

"And are you so confident that I will?" She sipped the wine and studied him.

He thought for a moment. "Yes."

"I see." She downed the rest of her champagne, set the glass aside and scrambled to her knees, all painful twinges forgotten. He finished his drink, placed the glass beside hers and stepped closer. She grabbed the tie at his waist. Her gaze met his and she pulled the sash slowly free. The gown loosened and opened. She was right. He had nothing on underneath. Her gaze followed the smattering of dark hair on his chest and the trail it led downward. A slow throb of desire started somewhere low in her midsection.

"My." Heat rose in her cheeks. "You are confident."

"Thank you." He laughed and reached for her.

"Not yet." She brushed his hand away.

He raised a brow.

She leaned close until her lips were but a breath away from his. "Tonight, Matthew, I am in charge of..."

She pushed the dressing gown off his shoulders and it fell softly to his feet. "Sailing the heavens."

"Are you?" Amusement sounded in his voice.

"You expected seduction, my lord"-she sighed the words against his lips-"and seduction you shall

get."

He drew back in mock horror. "And what of my virtue?"

"I think we settled the question of your virtue long ago." She rested her fingers lightly on his chest and

traced slow, lazy circles. His muscles tightened beneath her touch. "Matthew?"

"Yes?" Her fingers drifted over the flat of his stomach and he sucked in a sharp breath.

At once, she had an amazing sense of power and she bit back a smile. "As we were discussing

virtue"-her touch moved lower still-"do you think I am overly eager?"