She went up on her toes again and kissed him. He could think of nothing else but the featherlight softness of her skin, the groove of her collarbone under his fingers, his hands tangling in the laces of her dress, pulling. Her hands rose up to match his urgency, fumbling with the first button of his uniform, the second, the third. And then—

A knock. They both jumped.

A servant entered. “Your Royal Majesty, your mother sent me with a message.”

Franz blinked at him.

“She said I’m not to leave you alone with the young lady anymore.”

He knew Sophie would never allow them to be alone for more than a few minutes, but still the disappointment was as cold as ice.

He straightened his jacket, tucked a rogue hair behind Elisabeth’s ear, and stepped back. “I’ll see you soon.”

She nodded, and he could feel her watching as he followed the servant out of the room.

In the hall, Maxi leaned against the wall, hands in pockets, head tilted. “I see you’ve gotten exactly what you want. Again. Even if you had to embrace scandal to do it. Bravo, brother. Never thought I’d live to see that.”

Maxi’s voice was amused, but his face was tight. It was the same look he’d worn when he found out about Louise. Jealousy—and pain. Franz wondered for a moment if it might be genuine. But no. He knew Maxi too well. His brother was, as always, just irritated that Franz had gotten what he wanted. Any win of Franz’s was a loss of Maxi’s.

Any other day, Maxi might have gotten to him, but today no biting words could touch Franz. He was too happy. Too relieved. That joy was armor against all things Maxi.

Franz smiled at his brother, mimicking Maxi’s habit of tipping an invisible hat as he passed by and tucking away the knowledge that the fallout was coming. Another reason to keep Maxi in his sights.

THIRTY-SIX

A SINGLE DAY WAS ALL THEY HAD TO CELEBRATE, TO feel the weight lift off their shoulders, to brush fingers in the hall, fold themselves into curtains to steal a minute, two, of kissing, exploring.

Each momentary look, each touch, was an electric shock. A breathless flight from one world to the next. Elisabeth’s whole body tingled with those touches, her skin alive with the heat of his. She’d never felt so aware of her own body: the curve of her breasts, the way fabric brushed against them as she moved. The sensitivity of an inner wrist, an inner thigh. A wanting that reached all the way inside her.

She pulled Franz behind a heavy curtain, and he kissed along her throat, the neckline of her dress, lips brushing bare skin that had never been touched before.

“Empress,” he whispered.

“Not yet.” She kissed her reply into his neck.