Alone. Finally alone. And this time not in secret. Franz moved toward Elisabeth, reaching out his hand and running a thumb along her hairline, tracing the heart of her face, wondering at it. She was his. He was hers. They’d made it happen.

She closed her eyes at his touch, leaning into it. His thumb wandered to her lips, pressing lightly on the bottom one, watching them part. Franz leaned in, kissed her bottom lip gently. She smiled, and he kissed each corner of the smile, each happy crease at the corners of her eyes. And then they were lip to lip, and she was taking the kiss deeper, drinking him in. Franz ran his hands softly up the curve of the back of her neck, fingers pressing into her hair. Then he traced back down—from delicate shoulder to the gentle slope of her back, hips curving outward. He pulled her toward him, her fingers tracing his jawline. Then her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed her whole body to his. His rose up to meet it.

She was the one to pull away first, breathless, pressing hands to flushed cheeks. The happiness in her face shivered into something else: unease.

“What is it?” he asked.

Elisabeth shook her head, closed her eyes. “She will never forgive me.”

Franz knew she meant Helene. He’d seen Helene’s face, heard their raised voices in the hall. He pulled Elisabeth back into his arms, this time resting his chin on her head.

“Do you regret it?” His heart waited.

She wrapped her arms tighter around his torso. “No. I regret how hurt she is. But I could never regret you.”

Franz smiled. He’d never felt so expansive, so powerful, so fully himself. The most incredible woman he’d ever met had fallen in love with him. For him, not his power. It took his breath away. She had so much to lose, and still she didn’t regret it. Didn’t regret him.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“Now you go home. And in a few months, we’ll be married in Vienna.”

Married. It was the first time he’d said the word aloud, and instead of feeling like a cage, it was wildness and freedom. Elisabeth wasn’t another person he had to please; she was a person he wanted to please.

She pulled back, blinked at him in surprise. “A few months?”

He nodded.

A familiar spark lit in her eyes, teasing. “And what if I want to marry someone else by then?”

He touched those perfect lips again. “Lucky man, whoever he is.”

She laughed then, fully, relaxing into herself. It was a laugh that released the lingering tensions of the moment, a laugh that banished thoughts of anyone else from the room.