RUSSIAN WINTER NIGHTS Page 3

  And when she squeezed, his thin ribbon of control broke.

  He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back, his nose to her throat and his teeth scraping her skin. Ekaterina stilled.

  “Am I doing it wrong?” she asked uncertainly.

  “No,” he grunted. “No.”

  “Then?”

  He pulled her face to his and kissed her hard.

  “You’re driving me mad,” he groaned as he feathered kisses over her cheekbones.

  “How?”

  “You make me want to do things I can’t do.”

  Ekaterina pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. The sensual tension between them pulled taut.

  “Like what?” she asked breathlessly.

  He pushed her hand back over his throbbing, hungry member, his larger hand covering hers. He leaned in close, his lips moving over her ear.

  “I want to lift your skirts right here,” he told her in a harsh whisper. “I want to rip away these beautiful clothes from your beautiful body. And I want to put this inside of you.”

  A shudder ran down Ekaterina’s spine, and her cheeks flushed scarlet. No noble would dare speak to her in such a way; none would not know her identity. Polished courtier he was not, and her doubts evaporated. She wanted to be with him; she wanted to know more about him. But she didn’t want him to hate her for leading him on, for making him think she was no one important. She frowned. If he found out she was more than a simple palace girl…if he found out she was the niece of the Empress, then he would think she was like all the other aristocrats—using and abusing those lower than themselves.

  “Hey!”

  Ekaterina stilled at the childish voice. She turned to see one of the friendlier servant girls calling to her from around a corner. The girl looked desperate and ready to run off at any second.

  “She’s looking for you!”

  Ekaterina didn’t need to be told who she was. She jumped away suddenly. Gathering her skirts, she met Andrey’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she explained. “I’ve got to go. I’m so sorry.”

  Andrey held out a hand, but Ekaterina had already taken off running. She had to make it back to the ballroom before her aunt got too impatient—or all her hard work being invisible would be for naught. She dashed into the great hall. Pushing past the drunken nobles, she skipped to a halt in front of her aunt’s dais.

  “Oh!” her aunt called excitedly. “There you are, Ekaterina!”

  “Yes, Empress,” she said with a deep curtsy.

  “Come,” she said, beckoning with her pudgy fingers. “Come meet my new friends.”

  Friends? Ekaterina shivered involuntarily. She knew that her aunt had no real friends, only supporters and victims. The question was: which type were these?

  “I found the most lovely man while I was in Italy,” Empress Anna said, giggling like a schoolgirl. “An architect. I’ve commissioned him to complete the Hall of Light.”

  She pulled a skinny man to the fore. He was elaborately dressed, his eyes darting about nervously.

  “This,” she said proudly, “is Bartolomeo Rastrelli.”

  Ekaterina dipped her head in greeting.

  “And he has the most brilliant apprentice,” Empress Anna continued. “But where is he?” She looked around, mumbling his praises. “Ah!” she called. “There he is.”

  A man stepped through the crowd, and Ekaterina’s heart stopped.

  “This is my niece, the Lady Ekaterina Romanova,” Empress Anna announced to the men.

  Her aunt’s nasally voice faded as she met the eyes of the architect’s apprentice. She already knew this man—but evidently not as well as she had thought.

  “Ekaterina,” the Empress said, “this is Andrey Kvasov.”

  Chapter Three

  Ekaterina watched, dumbfounded, as Empress Anna placed a chubby hand on Andrey’s shoulder. She could feel Andrey’s glare, but her eyes were transfixed by the sight of her aunt’s bejewelled hand sliding down to his chest. When the Empress gave him a quick pat, Ekaterina lifted steely, challenging eyes to his.

  “It is an honour to finally meet you,” Ekaterina said politely, enunciating each word with aristocratic precision.

  “Finally?” her aunt exclaimed. “Have you also seen his magnificent work, Ekaterina?”

  “Why, yes, indeed,” Ekaterina replied, her tone slightly sardonic. “I have seen his great skill in action in a very different setting. But I never thought he’d been applying his skills elsewhere, my honoured aunt.”

  “If I’d known I’d been courting such a noble audience, I can promise you that I would have given you due respect, my lady,” Andrey stated, his voice flat.

  Ekaterina lifted her chin, her eyes cold.

  “You don’t seem to be a fan of Andrey’s work,” her aunt commented blithely. “Were you not impressed?”

  “It wasn’t worth remembering,” Ekaterina said with a bitter slant to her lips.

  A crease formed in her aunt’s brow. She turned to the architect’s apprentice and patted his arm affectionately.

  “Don’t take my niece’s words to heart, Andrey,” she said reassuringly. “She’s an excellent girl, but she has little taste for the finer things of life. Why, just look at that shabby dress!”

  Empress Anna laughed at her own joke, oblivious to the heated glares passing between the two people near her.

  “Now go,” Anna said, nudging Andrey’s shoulder. “Get me a drink, will you, my dear?”

  His cold eyes sliding away, Andrey strode away from the throne and into the crowd. As soon as he was out of earshot, Anna turned to Ekaterina with a conspiratorial wink.

  “Well, isn’t he quite the catch?” she said with a suggestive waggle of her fat brows.

  Ekaterina inclined her head, careful not to disagree but also not to show too much interest. Emotions were dangerous at court. Even so, she discreetly followed Andrey with appraising eyes. In fact, it was hard not to notice him as he stood at least a head taller than most of the people in the hall. But his height wasn’t even his most striking feature. He was magnificent, with his thick shock of dark hair, his broad shoulders and his tapered waist. He was the picture of masculine perfection; yes, he was a perfect catch.

  Manipulative, social-climbing fool, Ekaterina thought bitterly.

  “He will do well at court,” she mused aloud.

  “Yes,” her aunt agreed with a sniff. “Especially after I take him as a lover.”

  “I thought he was meant to be working here as an architect?” Ekaterina said, trying to sound disinterested.

  “Oh, he’s already been instrumental in designing many parts of the palace. But I’m sure Rastrelli will be able to spare him now and again,” the Empress replied with an indifferent shrug. “Besides, he couldn’t do better, really.”

  “No,” Ekaterina murmured quietly. “He really couldn’t.”

  After all, how could the niece of an empress compare to the Empress herself? Despite her determination to remain aloof, Ekaterina felt her throat constrict. She blinked back the mist in her eyes. It hurt, she admitted to herself. It hurt more than she could have imagined.

  Aunt and niece watched as Andrey walked through the crowd with purpose, neither turning to the right nor the left. He didn’t even pause, except when a beautiful young noblewoman stopped him by putting her dainty hand on his arm. He turned slightly as she drew closer, her thick lashes fluttering. Andrey’s expression didn’t change; his facial muscles were like stone.

  But the Empress was not amused.

  Ekaterina had to resist the urge to take a step away as her aunt’s face grew nearly purple with rage. The Empress stepped forward, her chest heaving and a short finger pointed accusingly at the unsuspecting noblewoman.

  “You!” she shrieked, her voice piercing. “Come here this instant!”

  The noblewoman froze, her head slowly turning to face Anna, the terror vivid in her eyes.

  “Yes, you,” her aunt bellowed maliciously. “
Move!”

  The poor woman picked up her skirts and scurried forward. She hastened to kneel, her head bobbing up and down in a desperate apology.

  “Your Majesty,” she stammered, frightened out of her wits. “Please forgive me. I had no idea he was of any interest—”

  “Silence!” Empress Anna demanded. “You grovel like a pig.”

  “Empress, please—”

  But Empress Anna stamped her foot, cutting her off. She lifted the hem of her dress, exposing the toe of one of her shiny shoes.

  “Apologise,” she hissed angrily.

  “A thousand apologies, my—”

  “Not with your mouth, with your tongue,” the Empress commanded with a sadistic grin. “Lick my shoes clean, you cow.”

  Trembling, the pitiful woman got down on all fours and began to lick the Empress’s shoes to the feigned laughter of all around. Horrified, Ekaterina took the opportunity to slowly back away, not wanting to witness any more cruelty for the day. She knew her aunt would entertain herself with such cruel divertissements for a long time yet…and her presence would quickly be forgotten. So, Ekaterina quietly slipped from the hall, ready to retire to her chambers to nurse her bruised ego and conflicting emotions.

  But just as she turned into the royal wing of the palace, she felt a hand latch onto her wrist. She spun away, glaring. It was Andrey, his eyes fierce and demanding. He rounded on her, backing her into the wall and placing both hands beside her head.

  “You were toying with me, Lady,” he growled.

  “I was toying with you?” Ekaterina blurted out angrily. “You are the one set on advancing your rank by seducing the Empress!”

  “What are you talking about?” Andrey exclaimed.

  “As if you didn’t know,” Ekaterina accused, jabbing a finger into his muscled chest. “You will be the Empress’s new pet, won’t you!”

  “Her pet?” He leaned in close so that their noses were almost touching. “So says the Winter Court’s sweetheart.”

  “I should have known better than to trust you,” Ekaterina said, her voice trembling. “You got what you wanted from me, didn’t you? You sampled the wares but then hooked a bigger, better fish. I suppose you won’t be needing to seduce me any longer, now that you’ve gotten into the Empress’s good graces.”

  *

  Ekaterina turned away, blinking rapidly. Andrey frowned. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Her lower lip was faintly quavering.

  But why?

  It struck him suddenly, like a blow to the chest, and he nearly staggered backward. Of course, he realised, she hadn’t known his identity, and he hadn’t known hers. He covered his eyes with one hand. It might have been one massive misunderstanding.

  But before he could gather his wits to compose himself, Ekaterina pushed away from him with a choked cry and fled down the hall. He watched her go, his hands hanging heavily at his sides. Then he slowly turned away, a mournful expression on his face.

  Soon the hall was empty again, until one of the Empress’s maids stepped out from behind a curtain, a wicked glint in her eye.

  Chapter Four

  They were out riding, all three of them plus a retinue of courtiers. The snow was soft underneath their horses’ hooves, and the air was sharp. Ekaterina sat stiffly atop her mare, her back ramrod-straight and her face neutral. She hadn’t wanted to come, but it would have been impossible to refuse the summons of the Empress. Thankfully, they were on their way back to the palace now. Her aunt rode beside her, a strange smile playing about her lips. Andrey rode behind, his face sullen and brooding.

  A fine trio.

  “So, my dear niece,” the Empress began, her tone conversational, “how have you been lately? I haven’t seen much of you since you arrived at court.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Aunt,” Ekaterina replied. “I have—”

  “By the way,” her aunt interrupted brusquely. “Did you hear what happened to Sergei? The baker?”

  “I didn’t realise you knew him,” Ekaterina said lightly. “He is a good baker.”

  “Was.”

  Ekaterina blinked and tried to remain calm.

  “Was, Aunt?”

  The Empress sniffed delicately.

  “He was sent to Siberia yesterday,” her aunt informed her. “Because he was caught stealing bread for his family.”

  Ekaterina’s throat closed.

  “And his family?”

  “Thrown to the street, as they well deserved.”

  Ekaterina felt numb. The poor man and his family. She would have to instruct her own servants to find the family, give them money and hopefully help them find some means of living. Unfortunately, she could no longer help Sergei.

  “Do you know what that means, Ekaterina dear?” her aunt queried.

  “That his family will probably perish in the cold?”

  “Yes but no.” Her aunt clucked her tongue. “That’s not the lesson here, my dear.”

  The Empress reined in her horse, wheeling it around so that it blocked the path. She looked from Ekaterina to Andrey and then back again, her eyes narrowing.

  “The lesson is that stealing will be punished harshly,” Anna said calmly. “No matter who the culprit is.”

  She let an awkward silence blanket the group before kicking her horse into a trot.

  “Remember that, both of you.”

  Ekaterina didn’t dare look back to gauge Andrey’s reaction. It was clear that the warning was meant for them, but why? Her stomach tightened at the memories of them in the field, in the corridor and in the royal wing. Someone had seen. Someone had whispered. And now they were both on thin ice.

  When they reached the palace, Ekaterina ignored Andrey and dismounted gracefully. She handed the reins to the stable keeper and bowed deeply before escaping her aunt’s oppressive presence. She wandered the echoing corridors aimlessly, her wind whirring.

  Danger on one side and unrequited attraction on the other. How she wanted to return to the country, to be with her loving family once again!

  “My Lady!” a page called to her.

  Ekaterina halted and waited for the breathless page to reach her. The boy bowed and presented her with a scroll.

  “A missive, my Lady,” he said as she took the letter. “From the architect’s apprentice, Andrey Kvasov.”

  Ekaterina nearly dropped the letter. The fool! She slid the scroll into her sleeve, feigning complete indifference.

  “You may go,” she said, waving the boy away.

  As soon as he was out of sight, she pulled the letter from her sleeve and unravelled it hurriedly. The words were hastily but beautifully scrawled out…and they would damn them both if they had been seen by another other eyes.

  My Lady, the missive read, I must explain. Please come to my suite.

  She crumpled the paper in her hands, her ire boiling over. Jaw set, she stalked to the western wing of the palace. She knew where he was staying; she’d had one of her guards investigate. Without knocking, she threw open the doors to Andrey’s suite and slammed them shut behind her. Andrey jumped up from his seat.

  “You!” she shouted angrily as she stormed towards him. “What were you thinking?”

  She shook the ragged letter in the air and then pitched it into the fireplace. It dissolved in a bright burst of flame.

  “I needed to see you,” Andrey explained, his palms up.

  “Could you not think of a way that doesn’t involve us both getting killed?”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  Ekaterina stared at him incredulously.

  “Haven’t you realised the Empress plans to make you hers?” she asked disbelievingly. “Or were you unaware that all your hard work has finally paid off?”

  *

  A look of abject horror passed over Andrey’s usually stoic face. Then finally, understanding dawned on him and he grew calm. He relaxed his stance and took a slow step forward.

  “I see,” he said in a low, almost gentle tone. “
Did you think I’d planned to be the object of her affection?”

  Ekaterina’s brow creased, confusion mounting alongside her anger.

  “Of course you did! Why else would you be at court?” Her voice quieted. “Why else would you lure ladies into your grasp?”

  “You are mistaken, my Lady,” he corrected sternly. “I am here as an apprentice to plan and construct the Hall of Light.”

  “Ha!” Ekaterina accused in disbelief, her voice bitter. “You are like every other man here. You prey on—”

  In three quick strides, Andrey was across the room and a hair’s breadth away from her. His hands closed over hers tightly. He captured her eyes with his, and her voice faded away in surprise.

  “You are wrong,” he said, his voice low but intense. “You have been at court for far too long, my Lady.”

  “You used me,” Ekaterina said flatly, her eyes hard.

  Andrey shook his head and pulled her closer, setting her palms on his chest so that she could feel his wildly beating heart.

  “I had no such ambitions,” he said seriously. “I thought you were a peasant girl. I had no idea you were royalty. In fact, when I found out who you were, I thought you were the one using me.”

  Ekaterina was silent as she searched his face for any hint of duplicity. But his face, though not expressive, was free of any of the tell-tale signs of dishonesty. Her brows lifted. He was right; neither of them had known who the other was. It was possible that he had wanted her for herself. It was possible. So…

  “So,” she said slowly, “you do not want to be the Empress’s lover?”

  “I could never touch that sadistic woman,” he said gravely. “Never.”