Signor Antonio's French henchmen emerged from the castle before Reine had a chance to make good on her threat. Knowing exactly what needed to be done, Christophe and Etienne quickly took Sylvana into their custody.
Max's bleeding had slowly ceased, allowing the wound on his abdomen to finally close. He was still weak, but with Reine's help, they were able to return to the castle.
When he heard what had happened just outside his doors, Antonio immediately set to work on contacting the Council, disproving Max's story that he didn't own a telephone. With only his bloody shirt indicating something unusual had just happened, Max also disappeared to start making calls.
After finalizing their arrangements, both men rejoined Reine in the elaborately decorated parlor at almost the same time.
"It is done," Antonio said as he settled into a gilded Rococo chair. "The Council has agreed to meet tomorrow evening if we can get the woman to them in time."
Max closed the floor to ceiling height door behind him. "That won't be a problem. My jet will be in Orleans by morning, and we'll fly directly into Ostend."
"She'll finally be put on trial, then?" Reine rose from her seat under a ten-foot tall portrait of a French queen and met him halfway across the room. With his swift recovery, she was able to concentrate on finally getting justice. "She'll have to answer for Gabe's death, and I guess for trying to kill you," she said, sticking two fingers through Max's torn shirt to touch his bare skin.
"Oh, I'm quite certain that knife was meant for you. I just happened to get in the way," he said, lifting her hand before gently kissing it. "But I'd rather try to forget about her until tomorrow. So, first things first. I need a shower and a change of clothes. Afterwards, I'd like to take you into town for a proper dinner. Sound good?"
"When you put it that way, how could I not accept an offer to get away from a homicidal maniac?" She tried to hide her shock at realizing how close her unborn child had come to harm. "I'm not really dressed for an evening out, though."
He looked her up and down. "Lucky for you, Blois has some excellent boutiques."
Half an hour later, they were sitting in the white SUV heading toward the regional capital where Joan of Arc began her campaign for the relief of Orleans. Max drove over a stone bridge spanning the low river just as the sun was setting over the city in front of them. Orange light bounced off the reddish-purple clouds overhead and lit the ancient, whitewashed buildings in a surreal display.
Parking near the Chateau Royal, they took care of the shopping first. Max kept staring out the lavish storefront, and Reine could tell he was bored out of his mind. He still made sure to compliment everything she modeled, and she soon emerged with several very expensive outfits for the next few days.
"And now, for some food," he said as he hooked an arm around her waist and led Reine in her new, little, black dress toward the central square.
The farther they walked into the historic town, the denser the crowds became until they saw the reason why. A large banner stretched across the roadway announcing a free, public showing of Verdi's "La Traviata" exactly where they were heading.
After a few more minutes, they finally reached a row of restaurants lining the square. The packed outdoor seating areas faced the central space holding a large stage where the opera was already in full swing. Alfredo was in the middle of the unmistakable drinking song, and the audience was singing along to the words encouraging celebration and love.
A shiver ran up Reine's back from the lively atmosphere, but the crowd worried her. "There's no way we're going to find an empty table," she observed, seeing throngs of people lined up at the doors waiting to be seated.
Max didn't slow his stride. Passing by the first establishment, he stopped to read the menu posted at the next.
Monsieur! Monsieur! Someone yelled from nearby and looking around, they saw a formally dressed man waving at them from the adjacent restaurant.
"Are you serious?" She turned toward Max with a smile. "Even a maître d' in the French countryside knows you?"
He squeezed her hand before walking to the empty table the man was offering them. "I tip well."
They placed their orders, and as Alfredo and Violetta's tumultuous love story unfolded in the background, Reine and Max reminisced about their own mostly happy - and often complicated - times together.
"It's a bit uncanny that we're finally going on a somewhat average date. I mean, after seven years of a very chaste courtship and six weeks of an extremely tantalizing marriage." Max winked before taking a drink of his water.
Reine's cheeks blushed. "Best six weeks of my life. Which reminds me . . ." She paused, taking a sip from her glass. "I've always wondered whether you had any lovers during our engagement. I mean, I certainly won't judge. You were twenty-five by the time we got around to getting hitched."
He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. "Well, it was a different time. Only women were expected to remain pure until their wedding night."
"We got rid of that obstacle pretty quickly didn't we? Because I'm pretty sure most of what we did that Christmas Eve was considered sacrilegious." She laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
He leaned forward, relaxing once again. "And how close were we to having to postpone the date again?"
"That's right!" Her eyes widened at the recollection. "I almost forgot that my carriage's wheel broke even before it got out of our palazzo's courtyard."
"Didn't you start walking to the church instead of waiting for another?" he asked.
Reine nodded. "And in the snow, no less. I remember I had this massive gown - it weighed a ton from all the jewels and gold thread on it - and the hem was soaked from the slush. But nothing was going to make me delay marrying the delectable Massimo Baldovini."
He reached across the table and took her hand. "Hmm. Delectable? I don't think I've ever heard you call me that before."
"No? Well, I've always thought it," she revealed, weaving her fingers between his. "You were quite a catch, you know. Handsome, smart, rich. I was a lucky girl."
The smile suddenly left his face, and Max's eyes shifted to the candle flickering in the middle of the table. "I was the lucky one because you still wanted me even after so many years of waiting."
Reine squeezed his hand to get him to look back at her. "I still would."
The candid admission surprised her, but Max didn't see it as a compliment. Instead, he drew his hand away and let out a bitter chuckle. "Now why would you say that?"
She began fiddling with her napkin. "I don't know. It just came out, I guess." Reine took a deep breath. "But I do mean it. I think I've just been alone too long and being with you today, and then almost losing you again . . ." She trailed off, not knowing how to continue. Luckily, the opera provided a useful distraction.
"Oh, this part is so sad," she said as she turned toward the stage and listened as Alfredo falsely accused Violetta of loving another. "I always secretly wish they would have a happier ending."
"They would have if Alfredo's father Giorgio hadn't intervened. He basically drove her away from his son and to the Baron." Apparently, Max knew the story as well as she did.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But I can't fault him. He was trying to do what he thought was best for his family. He didn't expect such grand love from a courtesan."
Max crossed his arms. "So, you could forgive him, then? Giorgio, I mean?"
"If I was Violetta? Of course. Giorgio showed his remorse, and she died in her true love's arms. She was dying anyway, so at least she spent her last moments with the man she loved. There were a few bumps along the way, but it ended the same as if Giorgio never interfered at all. It was death that eventually came between them, not the Baron or Giorgio. Sssh." She put a finger to her lips. "I love this song."
They spent the rest of dinner finishing their meal while listening to the final act. As they left the restaurant, Max placed his jacket over Reine's bare shoulders, and they walked back to the parked car in the cool summer night. The number of people they passed on the way dwindled, until they were the only ones left under the brilliantly starry sky.
Arriving at the Mercedes, she stopped next to the passenger door, and Max reached around to open it. "Did you really mean it? What you said earlier about wanting to be with me?"
Reine put the bags of clothes on the seat and turned around. Silently looking at him, she nodded.
Max didn't need further encouragement. Stepping closer, he placed both hands on her hips and gently pressed his body against hers. She could sense the heat of his skin through her clothing and her heartbeat accelerated. He leaned his head down until their noses touched, but then hesitated.
"What is it?" she asked, cupping his face in her hands while searching his eyes for an explanation.
"I just love you so damn much." He shook his head with a sigh before covering her mouth with his own.
His lips were soft and warm, and they quickly parted to allow his tongue to find hers. Reine lowered her hands, caressing Max's neck with her fingertips. As they travelled toward his chest, she grabbed his shirt in an attempt to keep him close.
It wasn't necessary. The focus of his kisses moved to her jawline and then her neck, but he had no intention of pulling away.
"Max . . . you know I'm . . ." she said breathlessly, struggling to concentrate as every fiber of her being tingled from his touch.
"Yes, of course," he whispered between kisses, barely lifting his lips from her neck to do so. "I won't do . . . anything you don't want me to."
Reine's head reeled from the possibilities, and her knees went weak with the thought of where things could lead. "But I can't . . ." she began, but couldn't bear to say the rest: bring myself to stop.
She squeezed her eyes together even harder as Max's mouth once again found hers, devouring her with passion. Moving her hands up the back of his neck, she dug her fingers through his hair and pressed his head even closer to hers. He took the lead eagerly and shifted his entire body to mold onto her contours, but feeling his arousal against her abdomen, she pulled back once again.
"You're going to have to be the strong one," she whispered, listening to his ragged breath against her ear.
His laugh was harsh. Without taking his hands off her hips, he stepped back slightly. "I've never been able to be strong around you, amore mio. Oh, hello there!" He suddenly changed his focus and addressed the shaggy sheepdog that appeared behind him.
A petite older woman with cropped hair hurried up the sidewalk. "Pardonnez-moi. Il s'est enfui." She apologized for letting the animal get away and hooked a leash to his collar.
"Tout va bien." Max scratched the dog between the ears before the pair moved on.
"I suppose we should be heading back, too." He turned to Reine, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes.
She smiled, holding his hand to her face before gently kissing it. "I suppose."
They drove back to the castle in silence, occasionally exchanging coy glances in the darkness. She was old enough to know better, but Reine felt like a giddy schoolgirl every time she thought about the man beside her.
After finding herself nonsensically grinning, she had to bite her lip to stop. Even then, when he opened her car door on arrival and helped her out, she couldn't wait to get close enough to touch him, smell him again.
Her body tensed when they passed the fountain, a puddle of Max's dried blood still staining the concrete basin's edge. While he may have thought she needed the support, Reine held on to his arm for fear of losing him again. She'd come too close that afternoon, and the thought made her inadvertently tremble.
"Are you cold?"he asked as they stepped inside the castle's door. Wrapping his arm around her, he rubbed her shoulder under his jacket. The gesture reawakened the butterflies in her stomach.
"A little," she fibbed, walking toward the double-helix staircase. "And tired too. It's been a long day."
"That, my dear, is an understatement." Max chuckled before abruptly stopping. Handing Reine the shopping bags, he scooped her into his arms and began lugging her up the stairs.
She gasped. "This really isn't necessary-"
"Just let me do something for you, for once," he chastised, while carrying her all the way into her bedroom.
"I really should have remembered how cold this place can get at night." He turned toward the large fireplace across from the canopied bed before crouching to examine its contents. "Even in summer, the walls are too efficient to keep the heat out. And Signor Antonio never bothered to install central heating. It's a good thing this is prepared." He nodded toward the kindling set in a tidy tent shape.
"Are you going to make a fire?" Reine asked as she sat on the edge of the bed, watching his alpha-male antics.
"If you don't mind. It'll make the room warmer in no time." He searched the mantle until he found a box of matches. "Go ahead and get ready for bed. I've got this."
Thankful that at least Antonio valued the importance of indoor plumbing, Reine headed toward the adjoining bathroom. Max must have made the fire quickly because even before she finished brushing her teeth, he yelled across the room. "Would you like some tea?"
"Sure." She stuck her head out long enough to answer, but he was already shutting the door behind him.
After finishing up with her toiletries, Reine undressed and put on a loose, floral chemise she'd picked up in the boutique. She was standing by the roaring fire enjoying the warmth on her skin when Max's voice sounded from the hallway.
"Hey, Reine. Can you let me in? I've got my hands full."
She walked to the door and pulled it open. Max had also changed into sleepwear, and he was holding two, steaming mugs.
"Is Amara buying your clothes now or did you accidentally pack Dodger's pj's?" She raised an eyebrow at his light-blue flannel pants decorated with ice-skating penguins.
He handed Reine a tea and pushed past her. "I'll have you know I ordered these on-line myself."
She chuckled. "You weren't brave enough to get them personally in an actual store?"
"Can't a man have a little whimsy in his wardrobe without subjecting himself to the scrutiny of total strangers?"
"Whimsy? Did Max Baldovini just say the word whimsy? What is the world coming to?"
"Maybe you're starting to rub off on me." He winked.
"It's about time. Only took five centuries." She brought her mug toward her face, but recoiled as the warm steam hit her nose. "Ugh. This smells absolutely foul. What type of tea is this?"
Max shrugged. "I have no idea. I found it in an unmarked tin. It was the only tea Antonio had. Why? Is it that bad?" He took a small sip of the drink. "Don't answer that. It's terrible."
He took Reine's tea out of her hand and placed both mugs on the mantle. "Sorry about that. I guess now I don't have a good reason to stay here with you any longer." He frowned.
"You don't need any excuses." She walked to the bed and folded back the covers. "With everything that's happened today, I'd actually feel safer if you'd stayed around."
"You're serious?" Max's eyes widened at the invitation.
Reine climbed into the bed. "Yes, as long as you agree that there won't be any funny business."
He grimaced. "You don't need me to pinky-swear on it or some such nonsense, right?"
She sighed and patted the mattress next to her. "Get in."
Reine fell asleep in his arms. When she woke the next morning, Max was still there, blissfully asleep.