Tanya Kirova decided at quite an early age that she would be foolish to expect very much from life, which was wise as it seemed that the older she grew, the more limited the possibilities became.
Tanya glanced at the window, where the dark night was still full of falling snowflakes, and laughed joyfully as she snuggled against him, and after a while they began to talk quietly and happily about the future, oblivious of passing time; and, as no one had the heart to disturb them, there they remained until long after everyone else in Petersburg had dined and gone about their pleasures at ball, theatre or soiree in the busy flurry of these last few days of the winter Season.
But the moment the thought entered her head, Tanya dismissed it as utterly impossible. A person had to have feelings in order to be jealous, and Prince Nikolai hadn't earned the name Ice King for nothing.
He seemed devoid of all emotion--particularly love. What had happened to him, wondered Tanya, to turn his heart so cold that no woman had been able to thaw it?
The answer to the question was shocking, and it turned Tanya's feelings into a confused mixture of pity...and love.