RUSSIAN WINTER NIGHTS Read online

  “I think your legs are in the wrong position, Ekaterina,” he purred wickedly.

  “Oh?” she teased playfully. “And how do you think I should be sitting?”

  “Let me show you.”

  Andrey smoothed his hands up her shapely calves, hooking his fingers under her knees. With a sharp jerk, he pulled her legs apart and pressed his hips to her core.

  “Oh,” she breathed, twisting her ankles around his waist.

  “I will make you remember me,” he promised in low, determined tones.

  Andrey grinned and leaned her back against the dusty table, sliding his open palm from her jaw to her breast. With a flash of teeth, he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt. Ekaterina arched off the surface, but Andrey pinned her hips down, relentlessly thrusting. He leaned over her, and she dug her fingers into his muscular shoulder blades. She inhaled the heady musk of his sweat, the chalky scent of sawdust a pleasant undertone. She scraped her teeth over his neck, relishing the salt on his skin. Then, he angled his hips just so and her world exploded in white spots. For an endless moment there was nothing but sweat, skin and the rasp of their breathing. And then he gave a primal cry, filling her with a violent shudder.

  Andrey buried his face in her bosom, panting and murmuring her name. She gathered him closer, her fingers tangling in his thick locks. They stayed locked in that embrace for as long as they could, each passing moment more precious than the one before. When finally they separated, they dressed slowly and reluctantly. They did not know what the evening would bring.

  Right before they parted, Andrey gently pressed his lips to her knuckles. His eyes met hers.

  “Until we meet again, my Lady.”

  Chapter Seven

  Empress Anna was positively seething.

  She paced the length of her royal chambers, muttering and casting glares at the two people standing in her reception area. There was the architect’s apprentice, Andrey, who stood tall and broad-shouldered, his lips thin and his eyes grave. And then there was her niece, Ekaterina, with her fierce blue eyes and defiant slant to her chin.

  But appearances were deceiving. Andrey’s palms were clammy, and Ekaterina’s stomach was turning somersaults. Neither knew what Empress Anna would do.

  “Foolish girl,” the Empress bellowed as she turned on Ekaterina. “You’ve toyed with my commands and turned my own subjects against me.”

  “You misunderstand, Aunt,” Ekaterina replied, her voice cool. “My suitors abandoned me.”

  “Manipulative minx,” her aunt countered. “You are delving into a game you can’t hope to win.” Anna advanced on her, chest heaving in anger. “Well, you can take your little aspirations back to the North, you ungrateful girl,” the Empress told her, teeth clacking together as she spoke. “You are banished from my court, Ekaterina Romanova. Go back to your father. Tonight!”

  Ekaterina resisted the urge to shrug. Such a sentence was hardly even a punishment. She’d never wanted to come to the Winter Court anyway. Now, she was only worried for Andrey.

  “And you,” the Empress said venomously, jabbing a finger in Andrey’s direction. “You should thank your lucky stars that your mentor has brought to my attention that the work on this palace would never be finished without you.”

  Andrey’s breath caught in his throat as he dared hope.

  The Empress turned away, her hands clenching. She suddenly slammed her fist into a table and spun around, her cheeks aflame. Andrey felt his heart sink.

  “I will give you a month to finish here, and then,” she hissed, enraged, “and then you will be off to Siberia whether or not you are done. You will spend the rest of your life hauling goods under the whip, until your beautiful back is torn to ribbons and your jaw cracks under the strain. You will die my slave, Andrey Kvasov, this I promise you.”

  Ekaterina’s voice, clear and melodic, cut through the fog of his panic.

  “I’m sorry, aunt,” she said evenly, “but that will not be possible.”

  Both the Empress and Andrey turned to look at her, bewildered.

  “Are you mad?” the Empress sputtered. “Do you think you can command me?”

  “No, Empress.”

  Ekaterina steeled herself and straightened imperceptibly. She forced every ounce of her aristocratic upbringing into her next words.

  “But you cannot send this architect to Siberia.”

  Her aunt spat, her expression shocked and enraged. Ekaterina stared down her aunt, commanding and glacial. Andrey had never been so proud or terrified.

  “You. You!” the Empress stammered, for once at a loss for words.

  Ekaterina took a breath, and got ready to put her plan into motion. All the other pieces had fallen into place; now she just needed to trap her aunt.

  “I am Ekaterina Romanova of the North,” she said, lifting her eyes proudly. “And my father, the Baron Dimitri, has requested the services of the architect Andrey Kvasov in this letter.”

  She held out a parchment, which her aunt snatched away, her beady eyes scanning the scrawled words. Her face grew even redder, her cheeks puffing in aggravation.

  “That scheming brother of mine,” she said through gritted teeth. “How dare he!”

  “How dare he?” Ekaterina sniffed delicately. “When without his funds, you would not be able to maintain this palace? We all know how much you rely on his money.”

  Empress Anna looked like she was about to explode. Both Andrey and Ekaterina fought to keep their ground. Shaking her finger at her niece, Empress Anna finally conceded defeat.

  “You conniving little fox,” she spat. “You are nothing but a thorn in my side. Get out.” She turned away in a huff. “Both of you—out of my sight!”

  They did not need any other encouragement. Without a moment’s hesitation, they marched from the royal suite, leaving the Empress to sulk by herself. As soon as they were far enough, they both stopped and embraced in relief. Ekaterina grabbed Andrey’s shirt and pulled him close.

  “I must not linger,” she told him in a low voice. “We have angered her enough, and who knows how she will retaliate if I stay but a moment too long.”

  “Then go,” Andrey urged her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But know that you and your father have surely saved my life.”

  Her answering smile was gentle. She cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

  “We will meet again,” she promised.

  “Yes,” Andrey agreed. “And in a month, I will come to you in the North.”

  Ekaterina sighed and kissed him one last time.

  “Stay out of her way. Stay safe.”

  With that, she turned and hurried away, brushing away the tears that had collected at the corners of her eyes. Their farewell had been too brief, too rushed—but she knew that time was of the essence. She had to go, and she had to go now. Hopefully all would be well; hopefully.

  “Ekaterina!”

  She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at the sound of him calling her name. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were grave, but his smile was wicked and brave.

  “I will build you as many secret passages as it pleases us to use.”

  Ekaterina blew Andrey a cheeky kiss and winked, her heart swelling. Yes, they still had much to explore together…and she had many more games to play.

  *

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  ISBN-13: 9781460323625

  RUSSIAN WINTER NIGHTS

  Copyright © 2013 by Linda Skye

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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