She had succeeded, made something of herself through her own skill and sweat. Even knowing that, being fully confident didn’t erase the knowledge that the risk had been slight.

With Alexander there would be no net to soften a tumble, and a fall with him would mean a nosedive, no blindfold, from a dangerous height. The risk was there, every bit as frightening as the temptation to take it.

If she stepped off the edge and counted on survival, she was a fool. But something told her that if she played it safe and kept her feet firmly planted, she was an even bigger fool.

Caught between common sense and feelings, she dropped to the window seat and let the sea air cool her skin.

* * *

He wasn’t sure he could survive another night. His rooms were quiet, in sound, in mood. They had been decorated in greens and ivories, cool against warmth, with paintings of the sea and shore dominating the walls. Calm seas in his bedroom where he came most often to be alone and think. The sitting room beyond had deeper colors, more vivid hues. It was there, rather than his office or the family rooms, that he most often entertained friends. It was large enough for an intimate dinner or a competitive game of cards.

Shirtless and shoeless, Alexander paced the bedroom now in an effort to rein in the emotions that had haunted him throughout the long, tedious dinner and entertainment. His fists strained against the soft linen of his trousers as he shoved them into his pockets.

No, he wasn’t sure he could make it through another night.

She was only a matter of rooms away, a dozen walls he’d already passed through countless times in his imagination. Sleeping. He thought she would be sleeping now as the clocks in the palace readied to strike twelve.

Nearly midnight and she slept. She slept and he wanted. He ached. No amount of training, no sacrifices, no studying had ever prepared him for the dull, constant ache this woman could bring to him.

Could she feel it? He prayed that she could so he wouldn’t suffer alone. He wanted her to feel the pain. He wanted to protect her from all hurts. But tonight, dear God, tonight he simply wanted.

It was a wanting that had grown with the years, heightened, turned edgy. There had been times when he’d told himself the need would dissipate. Times when he’d believed it. Months would pass when he wouldn’t see her—though he would still wake in the early hours alone, her face just at the tip of his consciousness. He could fight that back, smother the longing that seemed so nebulous in the face of obligations, responsibilities and a backbreaking schedule.

But whenever she was here, close enough to touch, the longing was no longer vague and was impossible to fight.