Free The Constant Queen by Joanna Courtney Page B

sure that she had no chance to protest, even had she wanted to. For a moment she was drowning deliciously in the kiss, but then he was spinning her
round and pointing up the river as if nothing had happened at all. His hand, though, was still on her waist and the musky scent of him was all around and his words were rippling through her mind as
if she were truly riding the rapids this time.
    ‘’Tis Gregor!’ Edward cried and Elizaveta forced herself to pull away from Harald a little as the green tunic whirled into view upriver, Vladimir’s purple close
behind.
    They took the first turn around the rocks almost together, Vlad pressing hard and then suddenly the top of the Prince’s canoe clipped the other boat and Gregor slewed wildly sideways and
disappeared. The crowd gasped.
    ‘Where is he?’ Elizaveta asked, grabbing Harald’s hand without even thinking.
    Vladimir’s boat wobbled on the edge of a tricky whirlpool. The stern tipped and shivered and then, thankfully, he righted it but still Gregor was nowhere. Elizaveta scanned the river
desperately and then suddenly Harald pointed to the far side where, miraculously, the young count’s canoe had popped up below the rocks, barely a hand’s breadth behind Vladimir. The boy
was soaked to the skin and shaking his head wildly to throw the water from his eyes but he pushed on, his paddle flashing in the spray, and now he was gaining on Vladimir. Vladimir sensed the
danger and picked up his own pace but he was too late. Gregor shot between the grandstands to a hero’s roar and beneath the rope to victory.
    ‘How did he do that?’ Elizaveta gasped.
    ‘Nerve,’ Edward said admiringly, swinging Agatha down to the floor. ‘Nerve and not a little luck. He must have caught an undercurrent through the channel. And look, here comes
Ivan in third. A good day for your family.’
    ‘Indeed,’ Elizaveta agreed softly. Agatha was bouncing excitedly, Anastasia had seized the chance to fling her arms around Andrew, and even solemn Anne was clapping, but it all felt
dreamlike. Had Harald really spoken of marriage? Had he truly asked for her hand or had she just been mixed up in the race?
    ‘Will you excuse me?’ Harald said, strangely formal. She
had
imagined it. ‘I must seek out your father.’
    ‘Now?’
    ‘Whilst he is in a good mood and likely to look favourably upon an exiled prince. You are sure, Elizaveta?’
    He
had
spoken.
    ‘Sure,’ she squeaked.
    ‘Then I shall go.’
    Harald bowed low and began to fight his way towards the Grand Prince. Elizaveta watched his fair head weave through the crowd and hugged her arms around her chest. The canoes were gathering at
the finish and she was glad to be distracted by them and pleased to see Vlad slapping Gregor on the back and towing him to the bank, for the lad was shivering violently. Men helped them onshore and
threw great fur cloaks around them as slaves pulled the canoes to land and then they were brought to the grandstand to receive their prizes from Yaroslav.
    ‘A great race,’ the Grand Prince proclaimed. ‘Perhaps the greatest ever and a worthy victory by Gregor the Seal.’
    The crowd roared in delight at this byname and Gregor beamed. He was trembling too much to take the cup but he beckoned up Lady Beatrix, his voluptuous young fiancée, to accept it on his
behalf. She did so and then, to even more uproarious approval, kissed the victor full on the lips before them all.
    ‘Must be catching,’ Elizaveta said quietly, feeling the recent imprint of Harold’s lips on her own.
    Anastasia squinted at her.
    ‘What must be?’
    ‘Oh, nothing.’
    ‘What, Elizaveta? What’s catching? What’s happening?’
    ‘The feast, I think,’ Elizaveta said wickedly. ‘Shall we go?’
    She turned down the walkway, falling into step with Halldor Snorrason.
    ‘True love?’ Halldor grunted, nodding to the victor and his clinging woman.
    ‘I don’t know, Hal,’ Elizaveta threw back with a smile. ‘I