Vladimir to love her that way?
Was she in love with him?
How could Tanya possibly know the answer to that when she had never loved anyone, or had anyone love her, but her parents and her brother? All now lost to her, in one way or another.
She glanced at Vladimir from beneath lowered lashes, her chest swelling merely thinking of being loved by a man as spectacular in every way as he. A man who was respected, revered, and deeply loved by his family and servants.
“Why do you look so serious?” Vladimir placed her on the bed before sitting beside her to smooth away the frown from between her eyes. “Have you changed your mind about making love to me?” His expression was one of caring and concern.
He was also, Tanya acknowledged, a man totally confident in his own nakedness in a way she doubted she would ever be. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. I was just thinking of how mismatched we are, in so many ways.”
“We are perfectly matched,” he stated firmly. “The fates do not make mistakes, Tanya, and in you, they have chosen to give me a fierce and brave warrior for my mate.”
She grimaced. “I don’t feel very fierce and brave most of the time.”
“I am aware of that, but you hide it well,” he praised. “Please believe me when I tell you that you are everything I could ever have wished for in my mate.”
She eyed him uncertainly. “Really?”
“You will cease this self-doubt immediately,” he ordered imperiously.
“Oh, will I?” Tanya teased, moving onto her knees to gently push him down until he lay on his back on the bed.
He looked up at her with those dark and fathomless eyes which seemed to see into her very soul. A soul that, until three months ago, Tanya acknowledged had been filled with nothing but hatred and a need for vengeance.
Those months at the Romanov winter palace, without having to think of where her next meal was coming from, or if she could afford to pay the rent on their apartment, let alone turn on the heating, had somehow given Tanya a respite from the bombardment of demands constantly being made upon her for so many years. That respite from worry had allowed her time to think. To reassess and question so many things.
Exactly how and why her parents had been killed had only been one of them.
Because despite her accusations to Vladimir yesterday, Tanya was no longer as sure as she had been as to what had really happened to her parents.
She had also become aware of how much of her love and energy had been given to Pyotr and his future, mainly without any thanks on his part. He’d simply taken her care of him as his due rather than any sort of sacrifice on Tanya’s part.
Sacrifice was far too tame a description of what offering herself on the streets of St. Petersburg for so many years had been for Tanya. Not only so that she could survive as she waited for her brother to be allowed to leave the orphanage, but also so she could use some of that money to bribe the people in charge there, to make Pyotr’s life more comfortable.
Learning that Pyotr had escaped the Romanovs two months ago but made no effort, as far as Tanya was aware, to find and set her free too only seemed to confirm how selfish her brother had become without her even realizing it.
For so many years, Tanya’s wants and desires had been buried beneath a need for survival and ensuring Pyotr’s life wasn’t the hand-to-mouth existence her own had become.
These months of respite at the Mikhailov Palace had allowed her to breathe easily for the first time in years. To think for the first time in years. A lot of those thoughts had come to less than pleasant conclusions.
Not that Tanya was willing, as yet, to admit any of these things to Vladimir.
Vladimir…
The man Tanya had for so many years believed to be her enemy, but who was now the one responsible, with his constant care and protection of her and his unmistakable desire for her, for giving her back the sense of self-worth and self-respect that had been lacking inside her for so many years.
Maybe it was all a ploy to gain her compliance to the mating, and once that was achieved, he would—
No!
Tanya firmly dismissed any lingering doubts she might have about Vladimir. He was exactly as he appeared to be. He