30
Vasili had not intended to go to the stable. Alexandra had said not to bother if he wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to hear, and he wasn’t. But instead of sending a servant around to collect his horse as he always did, he went himself.
It was a large stable, though it still wouldn’t have been able to accommodate all of Alexandra’s whites, plus her servants’ mounts, if his mother didn’t keep so few animals herself, no more than her carriage horses, and a few extras for running errands.
The stable was so large that, standing just inside the door, he couldn’t see anyone down the dimly lit aisle, and could barely hear voices deep inside, then laughter.
Following the sound, he soon realized the laughter was Alexandra’s, and it gave him a warm feeling, just as it had earlier at dinner. He had so rarely heard her laugh, and usually she did so only in mockery. But this was a sweet sound, full of real humor, and he wished…
Vasili turned around abruptly when he realized the direction of his thoughts. He had to be crazy to come in here to see her when he didn’t have to. And she was enjoying herself. He would only ruin that and…who the hell was she enjoying herself with?
He turned around again and, taking long, angry strides, reached the large, well-lit stall in moments. What he found, however, deflated the hot emotions that had just assailed him.
Four of her mares were in the stall, and Alexandra was applying a poultice to the foreleg of one of them, on a scratch that appeared too minor to fool with.
Of course, this was one of her babies and she treated them all as such.
And helping her was the Cossack Stenka, who was doing anything but helping, which was why she was laughing.
He was lifting the mare’s leg, but maneuvering it so that every time she tried to place the poultice, the leg would move out of her way.
“Enough, Stenka,” Alexandra said, still chuckling. “Go away now, or I will put this on you instead, and then you will stink so bad, none of the maids will—”
She didn’t finish. One of the mares had greeted Vasili with a nicker, and she turned in that direction and saw him standing at the entrance to the stall. Her entire demeanor changed, as he’d known it would, the humor gone, her expression becoming carefully blank.
“It’s over, then?” she asked.
It hadn’t occurred to him that she would immediately assume that by his presence. “Sorry, sweetheart, but we’re still very much betrothed.”
Alexandra could breathe again. It had felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her stomach when she’d seen him there. Now she felt queazy, as if she’d just experienced fear. But that made no sense.
She turned back to the mare. She was going to ignore him. He was probably here only to complain about her behavior at dinner, and she could do without that.
“Leave us.”
Her head snapped back around. Vasili was staring at Stenka, and Stenka wasn’t budging.
Her friend was angry, and no wonder. He’d just spent the better part of the past hour trying to lighten her mood with the most ridiculous antics, and having finally managed it, he didn’t appreciate Vasili ruining the effect.
But she’d succeeded in keeping Vasili and her friends from one another’s throats for the past five weeks.
She wasn’t going to let them have at each other now.
“It’s all right, Stenka,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Stenka nodded curtly and she finished applying the poultice to the mare. So she missed the looks that passed between the two men. Stenka’s expression said clearly, Hurt her and I’ll kill you. Vasili’s said, just as clearly, She belongs to me now, so don’t interfere.
Not that he really felt that way. He certainly didn’t. But he’d been compelled to give that impression to the Cossack.
His gaze came back to Alexandra as soon as the Cossack left the stall.
And Vasili had to wonder why she’d let the man go when he knew she didn’t like to be alone with him.
But they were definitely alone now. His arousal came immediately with the thought.
Oddly, it didn’t annoy him this time. He must be getting used to it.
But then, wanting her was so easy—and it happened so damn often.
Alexandra washed her hands in a bucket of water. When she deigned to notice Vasili again, she sighed. “You might as well get it over with.”
Could she possibly have been having the same thoughts as he? “What?”
“The complaints,” she said. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Actually, no,” he replied. “I thought the dinner went rather well, all things considered.”
“Your mother’s not furious?”
“‘Determined’ would better describe her.”
He didn’t elaborate, but he smiled, and she was always suspicious of a smile from him. “Then why did you come?”
“To get my horse.”
“You came to get your horse, instead of sending someone?” she said, her tone going beyond skeptical to the realm of disbelief.
“Don’t make it sound as if I never do anything for myself, Alex.”
“You don’t.”
Now he sighed. “Do you think we could have a conversation for once without arguing?”
“Probably not.”
“Could we try?”
Her look was wary, but after a moment she shrugged indifferently and asked, “Do you have something in particular you want to talk about?”
He didn’t. He simply didn’t want to leave yet. But he knew why, or thought he did. His body was hoping he’d do something about the state it was now in. He wasn’t going to. Making love to her again could be nothing but a bad idea, leading to complications—and addiction.
But for want of a subject, he said, “I noticed the wagons outside are still full. Aren’t you going to unpack?”
“I took a few trunks into the house. I don’t see any reason to unpack the rest.”
She was making it very easy for herself to leave on the spur of the moment. He found he didn’t like that idea. His body liked it even less, going into something of a panic as he thought of her never being available again to—
“I should go,” he said abruptly.
“About today,” she said at the same time, but she’d heard what he’d said. “Never mind.”
He’d tried, he really had. But if she was going to bring up his promise of making love to her if she committed any violence, what chance did he have of letting it pass?
“Come home with me, Alex, now.”
Her eyes flared, not so much because of the unexpected request, but because he had slowly started to move toward her. She started to back away.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to make love to you in a stable.”
“Stop it, Petroff! I was going to apologize. I wouldn’t have lost my temper this afternoon if that woman hadn’t used tears to try and sway you.”
“A common enough ploy, though I suppose it’s not one that you would use, is it?” He was still coming forward.
“Certainly not. But the point is, I was not going to threaten her. I would only have told her she had to leave, which I tried to do—”
“And you ended up threatening her anyway.”
“But that wasn’t my intention! Your ridiculous promise shouldn’t apply!”
“Yet what I saw was what you have repeatedly told me. You don’t want me, but nobody else can have me. Isn’t that about the gist of it?”
If she wasn’t panicking—her back had come up against the wall, and he was nearly upon her—she wouldn’t have gotten angry enough to snap at him. “Exactly! I don’t want you, but for the time being, you’re mine.”
He was beginning to like the sound of that. “That can go both ways.”
“But it doesn’t.”
“Who says it doesn’t?”
And he leaned into her, holding her there against the wall with his body, his mouth seeking hers, leaving her so little room to avoid it, taking what he could get when she did. And she still nearly lost it.
For long, breathless moments she was overcome by the feel of his hard muscles, his rampant desire, his lips on her cheek, and her own unbridled response.
For long moments she savored the feel of him, and those thrilling, wild sensations that only he could inspire.
She wanted so much to give in, to pretend…
But she didn’t lose control this time. She retained the painful knowledge that this would lead them nowhere, would serve no purpose other than brief—albeit wonderful—gratification.
And that was not something she wanted to get used to, when he had no intention of turning this into a habit for either one of them.
So she said the one thing that would stop him, before she lost the will to say it. And she spoke in a tone guaranteed to get results.
“Bojik!”
The dog growled instantly. Vasili hadn’t even noticed the wolfhound, since it had been curled up on the other side of the horses. But he knew now why Alexandra hadn’t been worried about being left alone with him.
He leaned away from her to say, “You don’t play fair, sweetheart.”
“Neither do you, Petroff.”
Hearing that, he grinned, understanding that it hadn’t been easy for her to resist him. She’d had a hard time just getting that reply out. And he wasn’t going to let them both suffer when a little charm and skillful persuasion would crumble her defenses—or so he thought.
As his luck would have it, he didn’t get the chance to find out. His name was shouted from the front of the stable, and he recognized that blustering tone as belonging to his friend Serge Lehar, whom he would have been delighted to see any time—except now.
Stifling a sound of frustration, he called out, “I’ll be there in a moment, Serge.”
To which a reply came. “They’re as magnificent as Lazar said.”
“A friend of mine,” Vasili said in a whisper to Alexandra. “He’s come to admire your horses, apparently.”
“I won’t sell to him if he asks.”
The unexpected statement didn’t surprise Vasili as much as the stubbornness he heard behind it. “Why not?”
“Because I remember every horse I’ve sold and still think of them often, and think of their owners caring for them. I won’t want to think of one belonging to a friend of yours, because I want no reminder of you once I leave here.”
Considering what had just passed between them, he found her reasoning amusing. “You don’t think we’re going to be married, do you? You’ve never really thought so.”
That might have been true a few weeks back, but the hopelessness Alexandra had carried with her into town today had destroyed that confidence. She wasn’t going to admit that to him, though.
“I know what kind of man you are, Petroff,” she told him plainly. “A lecher like you married? You’ll panic at the last minute and do what you should have done before you took me from my home.”
“It’s interesting that you should think so,” he replied, his fingers brushing softly against her cheek before he stepped back even farther. “I rather think we’re going to be married—or not. But the decision won’t be made at the altar, I can promise you that.”
He left her with those cryptic words. He could have told her what his mother intended.
He could have told her that if she didn’t cooperate and learn some proper behavior, she’d get her wish, that there would be no marriage.
But he didn’t tell her. He left it to fate, and he was damned if he knew why.