Svetlana clamped her hand over it as the first note gurgled out. “I believe you.” She giggled, actually giggled right there in broad daylight for all the public to witness. Who was this woman she was turning into, the one only Wynn seemed to bring out? The more time she spent with him, the more the layers of loneliness and self-protection seemed to melt away, releasing the coldness she once harbored.
His warm breath seeped through her glove, filling her palm. He gently took hold of her hand and pulled it away from his mouth but didn’t release it.
“I love hearing your laugh.”
There he went again. Effortless. Earnest. With a deep voice that wrapped around her like the White Nights of a northern summer. It caressed her senses, teasing her ears and tempting her heart.
“You are easily won over, sir, to find my crinkling nose an amusement. To laugh is considered undignified for a princess, but to have my nose scrunching at the same time is beyond humiliation.”
“Despite your best efforts to prove undignified, you are the singular most intriguing woman I’ve ever met. Princess crinkles and all.”
“If they weren’t the crinkles of a princess, what then?”
“You know I don’t care for titles. Titles muck things up from their true essence. That truth is the most fascinating. What I see is a radiant woman smiling at me. Nothing else matters.”
She’d known of his distaste for titles since first they met, but to hear him state it once more confirmed him as a man apart from all others. She didn’t have to be the perfect princess with him, nor bring him wealth or standing in the noble ranks as had been her expectations since birth. She could be Svetlana, who got lost in a pair of honest hazel eyes that saw deep inside her when no one else bothered looking.
Voices in that indecipherable Glaswegian accent vibrated in her ear.
“Standin’ there all day, are they?”
“Might be goin’ somewhere private, aye.”
“’Tis the middle of the day, for goodness’ sake.”
“’Tisn’t a proper distance they be keepin’.”
She and Wynn stood in the middle of the sidewalk. People swerved around them, twisting their heads back to gawk.
Svetlana tried to take a step back, but her hand remained captive in his. “Wynn, please. You’re embarrassing me.” Embarrassed. Warm all over and wishing there weren’t a hundred curious people milling around them like a circus spectacle when all she wanted was for him to lean forward and kiss her.
“I’m complimenting you. There’s a difference.” Offering no kiss, which was probably for the best as a priest had stepped outside of his church to squint at them through his spectacles, Wynn readjusted her hand in the crook of his arm and continued down the sidewalk, the fern swaying merrily in his other arm. “If I’d wanted to embarrass you, I’d keep singing.”
“Then I would be forced to leave you here like the
“What does that mean?”
“Lunatic. Crackpot.”
“Sounds better in Russian, Lana.”
“What is this Lana?”
“My name for you.”
“My family and friends call me Svetka. Or Svetochka, Svetulya, Sveta. It’s common for Russians to have several diminutive versions of their names, but I’ve never heard Lana.”
“Good. I don’t want to sound like everyone else.”
“I don’t think you could even if you tried.” This outing was proving to be more daring than she first imagined. If she wasn’t careful, she’d let the magic of it sweep them into the middle of the street for a dance. Weren’t they supposed to be doing more serious things instead of giggling like children and almost kissing like lovers? The hospital! Yes, that was their purpose. “We should go or you’ll be late for your meeting at the hospital.”
He stepped toward the curb and lifted his arm to hail a passing motorized taxi. There were no horses left in the city after all of them had been sent to France for the cavalry. “I’ll have you taken to the Willow Tearooms. Mother is a friend of the owner, Miss Cranston, and says it’s the only acceptable place to have tea in Glasgow. Renowned artwork of some kind inside. I’ll meet you there after my meeting.”
A taxi swerved over and they climbed inside to the worn black leather seats. It was no warmer than the frigid January air outside.
Wynn shut the door and scooted close. “Willow Tearoom—”
“Glasgow Hospital,” Svetlana said, taking her fern from him and propping it on her knee where the bright green tips could trail down her skirt.
He looked at her with brow puckered. “You can’t come with me.”
“Whyever not? The decisions made at this meeting will affect both of us. I see no reason for me not to lend you my support on such a momentous occasion. Glasgow Hospital, please.”
The driver twisted his head to look at Wynn. “Off to where now, aye?”