Melting the Snow Queen

by Mary Lancaster

  “I did. I left him in Paris, with permission, finally, to return home.”

  “How did you find your family?”

  “Better than I had feared, although the estates were—are—in pretty dire shape. The French had passed through twice, and then our own soldiers. We’ve begun repairs, and moved to one of the eastern estates for now. At least, there is enough food there for the winter. Then the Tsar remembered my existence and summoned me to Vienna—although he has a huge entourage already there. He wanted me to take a letter to the Prince Regent, with great discretion, and wait for a reply.” He glanced at the children. “This is a secret among the four of us. And probably Count and Countess Lieven and anyone else who saw me at Carleton House, but I am trying to follow orders.”

  “But you aren’t waiting for a reply,” Kai pointed out.

  “I am. I’m just waiting here. I’m sure the roads from London to Dover are closed, too, so even if His Highness answered, I couldn’t do anything about it.”

  He had come to bring Gerda home. He had a sleigh, so he could return to London any time. Panic surged. Surely, he would go now that he had seen her recovering. He wasn’t even staying at Winbourne, but at the local inn.

  But the servants arrived with tea and luncheon, distracting her. And in the banter between Yuri and the children, she relaxed enough to join in occasionally.

  The children were just finishing up the last scraps of food when the duchess sailed in, dismissing the twins to the schoolroom.

  “As for you, Prince,” she said stiffly, “I am not sure it is entirely proper for you to be here, at all. But my daughter is clearly tired now and I must ask you to leave.”

  “Of course,” Yuri said at once. “I did not mean to tire her.”

  “You didn’t,” Alba said hastily, “I’m not.”

  Yuri laughed and took her hand. It jumped in his and then was still. “You sound like a child trying to avoid being sent to bed.”

  “That doesn’t work either,” Her Grace observed. “As I’m sure you recall, Alba.”

  Alba’s fingers clung to Yuri’s. “You will come again?” she asked, unable to hide her anxiety.

  “Tomorrow, if the duchess permits.”

  “Tomorrow,” Her Grace agreed.

  Yuri pressed Alba’s hand and smiled. He even closed one eye infinitesimally and laughter caught in her throat. “Then goodbye until tomorrow.”

  ***

  In spite of her denials, Alba slept all afternoon, waking only in time for dinner, which she had on a tray in her bed. Afterward, Rose came and played cards with her and read to her for a little until she fell asleep once more. There was no despair, no darkness about her sleep now, just a certain pleasurable excitement, because she would awake to a new day and Yuri’s visit. She wouldn’t and couldn’t think beyond that. For now, it was enough. Even the dreams of cold and death did not disturb her beyond waking, for nightmares were a small price to pay for life.

  Yuri came earlier than the day before and so, with Siddons in attendance, carried her down to the garden himself. Alba didn’t complain, although she felt much stronger today. In fact, once Siddons had gone, she stood and took Yuri’s arm for a short walk around the still white garden. If anything, the solitary rose bud looked more alive than ever, with its petals about to unfurl. They admired it for a little.

  “I found a pressed rose under my pillow,” Alba said.

  “I hoped you would.”

  “Is it the one I dropped the last time we met in the summer?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what? It was never mine to take.”

  “It would have been.” She paused, frowning. “It’s almost as though I knew I should not be happy after Harry. That I was still looking for a reason not to be. I saw the worst when I should have looked for the best.”

  Yuri led her back to the bench, patting her hand as it lay on his arm. “Between us, we made a bit of a mess of it, just at the end.”

  She swallowed. “I’m glad you are here, Yuri.”

  “So am I.”

  When it was time to go back inside, she insisted that she could walk.

  “But then I have no excuse to hold you,” he teased, swinging her into his arms.

  She laughed and allowed it, for, in truth, it was sweet to be so close to him.

  He stayed with her for most of the day, with Rose and the twins, the duchess and Miss Ellington all dropping in from time to time. Only Mr. Harper stayed away—from delicacy, he assured her via the messages he sent wishing her a speedy recovery. She and Yuri talked of many things, and sometimes simply sat in companionable silence. When it was decreed she should rest after luncheon, she heard him outside, playing with the children, and drifted into sleep with a smile still playing on her lips.

  When she woke, Siddons and Rose conducted her to the drawing room for tea, where the twins and Yuri cheered her as if she’d won a major battle. She laughed and soaked up the rare atmosphere of warmth.

  After tea, Yuri returned to the inn in his magnificent sleigh drawn by three matched horses all harnessed in a row. No wonder he’d caused such a stir driving this equipage.

  “It looks such fun,” she said wistfully.

  “It’s good to hear you saying such things again,” Rose said warmly. And perhaps she spoke to her mother, for the following morning, when Yuri was shown into Alba’s sitting room, he said at once, “Her Grace has just asked me to take you for a short, gentle ride in the sleigh. Will you come?”

  “Oh yes!” Alba said eagerly, already reaching for her fur pelisse.

  Almost as if she were going off on a long journey, everyone came out to the front steps to wave her off. Yuri carried her down and into the ornate sleigh. A rug was arranged over her knees and she had a hot brick at her feet. Then Yuri climbed up beside her and, in a tinkle of bells, they set off. Alba waved to her family and servants on the steps, then smiled at Yuri with great excitement.

  He laughed and pushed the horses a little faster. Since he had promised the duchess he would not stray from the grounds, and the horses could not easily pull the sleigh through the woods, it wasn’t a particularly long drive, but he did entertain her, swerving around bends that made her clutch his arm in glee and letting the horses gallop through the snow when they could.

  Then he reined the horses in to recover their breaths and for a little, they admired the expansive view of white fens as far as the eye could see.

  “Almost like Russia,” she said, remembering he had once said so. “Do you miss it?”

  “One always misses home. And there are things I should soon be doing there.” He glanced at her. “But right now, I’m in no hurry to go back.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad.”

  His lips quirked upward. His gloved fingers brushed her cheek, then cupped it. Afraid to breathe, she watched the mist streaming from his mouth, grew fascinated with the pattern of creases on his parted lips. He leaned closer and butterflies leapt in her stomach. She longed for his kiss.

  But his breath caught and he released her. “I promised to bring you home unharmed,” he said lightly, and urged the horses onward in their tour of the park.

  Despite her disappointment in losing the moment, her heart still fluttered, because she had seen in his eyes that he’d wanted to kiss her. Surely his love was no more dead than hers? But his face was stern as they drove homeward and she could not bring herself to ask.

  The rest of the day passed much as the one before, only once Dr. Banks had called to examine her, she was no longer banished to her own apartments. And the duchess invited Yuri to stay for dinner.

  It felt again as if he were one of the family. He even went up to say goodnight to the twins, who clearly adored him. Alba’s heart soared with all-encompassing warmth—even toward Her Grace, whose transgressions were much more understandable since Alba had committed her own moment of crowning folly. She could remember the strange madness that had compelled her to go to the lake that nigh
t, but she could no longer understand it. Perhaps her unwitting endangerment of her brother had jolted her back to sanity.

  Or perhaps Yuri’s kiss had broken some evil spell.

  She smiled at that, for her dream and the reality of that time had so merged that she still didn’t know if he had kissed her or not. She hoped he had.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rejecting breakfast in bed the following morning, Alba joined her stepmother and sister in the breakfast parlor.

  “I feel so much more like myself,” she answered Her Grace’s inquiry. “And better than I have for months. Perhaps I had a brain fever or some such thing, which the cold finally cured me of.”

  “Are you being flippant?” the duchess asked doubtfully.

  Alba laughed. “Actually, no, but I can see why you might think so.” She helped herself to her favorite dishes from the sideboard and sat beside Rose. “I thought I might ask Yuri to take me for a sleigh ride again this morning.”

  “You should all probably make the most of it,” the duchess observed, “because Cranston is forecasting a partial thaw, if not today, then tomorrow. He is rarely wrong about such things.”

  “You mean Yuri will go back to London?” Alba said, shocked by how much the idea hurt her.

  The duchess’s eyebrow flew up. “I meant, there may be no snow for the sleigh! But I suppose he may well return to town. He has duties there, I believe, that Gerda’s mad start took him from. We must all be grateful for that.”

  “I am,” Rose said stoutly. “I’m glad you’ve met him again, Alba.”

  Her Grace snorted. “You wanted to marry him yourself, once.”

  “Well, he is handsome in a wild, romantic kind of way,” Rose excused herself. “But when Alba pointed out I would have to go with him to Russia where I’d know no one, I decided I didn’t really want to marry him.” She glanced at Alba “Mind you, I don’t want you to—”

  Alba interrupted, hastily turning the subject to something less personal, as though speaking about her relationship with Yuri would somehow doom it once more.

  The twins gave her plenty of warning of his approach, yelling downstairs that they could see him and the sleigh from the landing window. So, Alba went outside and waited for him in front of the steps.

  When he reined in the horses, she walked to their heads and patted each of their steaming noses in turn.

  “Good morning!” She smiled at Yuri’s quizzical expression. “Will you take me now? Or would you rather coffee and breakfast first?”

  “Now, since you’re ready.”

  Alba gave each of the horses a lump of sugar and took Yuri’s hand to climb into the sleigh beside him.

  “Where to, fair lady?” he asked lightly.

  “I don’t mind. Somewhere we can walk in the snow, if there’s any in the park untouched.”

  As the sleigh glided and bumped over the ground, they talked little. Alba found it difficult to take her eyes off Yuri. At first, she watched his deft yet relaxed hands guiding the horses with a light, easy touch. Then her gaze travelled up his arm to his lean, focused face and her heart fluttered with pleasure. She had never been so aware of anyone as this man who sat so close beside her.

  The sleigh bumped over an icy patch of ground, flinging her against him. She laughed and her whole body leapt with pleasure. He threw his arm around her to steady her and, greatly daring, she laid her head against his shoulder, nestling against him. Her heart beat and beat and her whole being melted with love.

  When, eventually, they came to a pristine patch of snow at the far end of the wood, Yuri jumped down and reached for her. He set her down slowly, as though reluctant to take his hands off her. They felt strong and firm through all her furs. She wanted them closer. His eyes, growing warm and clouded, devoured her.

  She drew in a breath. “Yuri—”

  “Can you run?” he interrupted, dropping his hands to take one of hers as he began to hurry toward the woods.

  It seemed all her strength had returned, for she could indeed run with him, scampering through the snow, making deep, fresh footprints. She laughed with sheer joy and he grinned back at her, sweeping a handful of snow off a tree branch as they entered the wood.

  “Will the horses not wander of?” she asked.

  “No.” Having made a round, shapely snowball, he hurled it at the trunk of a large oak, hitting it square in the middle. “Your turn.”

  Alba made her own snowball, but at the last minute changed her aim, threw it at Yuri’s shoulder, and ran for cover. A snowball bounced off the tree she’d fled behind. Laughing, she made another, and there followed a short, amusing fight, which ended in him taking one snowball to the chest just before he caught the hand holding a second snowball and bore it behind her back, smiling.

  “Now what?” he taunted.

  It was partly mischief, partly sheer desire. But whatever the motive, the impulse was too strong. She stood on tiptoe, reaching up to kiss him.

  But he moved quickly, his fingers covering her lips. “No, Alba,” he said tightly, as though in pain. “Not yet. Not until you’re sure.”

  Hurt by his rejection, and just a little humiliated, she jerked away from him. “Whatever happened to carpe diem, Yuri?” she demanded.

  “That didn’t work out too well for us, did it?”

  She stared at him, aggression dying away. “I hurt you.”

  “Because you were hurt. And you have not even asked about the cause.”

  “I know the cause,” she said impatiently. “Lady Harley was getting her own back on me for detaching Her Grace from her clutches. Your wager flatters neither of us, but it was made before you knew me, and I know you did not kiss me to win it.”

  “How do you know?” he asked with quiet deliberation.

  She lifted her chin. “Because I love you.”

  His lips twisted and his eyes closed as though to hide some new pain.

  She stalked past him, unable to bear more rejection when she had revealed her heart. “Let’s go home now,” she managed.

  But she had not taken more than three steps before he caught her arm, swung her around, and crushed her between the trunk of the oak and his own urgent body.

  His eyes blazed down into hers, depriving her of breath. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

  “I do mean it,” she whispered. “I always meant it. Nothing is right without you, Yuri, and I so want to make you happy.”

  A moment longer, he stared down at her, anger and pleasure and lust and a hundred other emotions she had no name for, chasing each other across his face. And then he simply lowered his head and took her mouth.

  A sob of pure happiness escaped her as she threw her arms up around his neck, kissing him back with fervor.

  “I have been lost without you,” he whispered into her mouth. “So lost.”

  “Then never leave me.”

  His kisses grew deeper and wilder. Somehow, his arms were around her, under her cloak and pelisse, and her hat had fallen at their feet. And yet the cold never touched her. Heat rampaged through her, melting her as his hands and lips aroused.

  “I would make love to you here in the snow,” he said huskily, pressing his lips to the pulse galloping at the base of her throat. “I would take you and make you mine forever.”

  She gasped as he dragged his open mouth up the length of her throat to her jaw and fastened finally on her mouth. There was no way in the world she would even try to resist his plan. It sounded delicious and she rejoiced in every sensation, every emotion he excited.

  Her fingers fisted in his hair, wildly caressing. He cupped her cheek in his gloved hand, then his fingers pressed the corner of her mouth as though trying to detach her lips from his own.

  “But I won’t,” he said shakily, raising his head, at last. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?” she asked, bewildered and just a little disappointed.

  A smile flashed across his lips and died. “Because I am enjoying this too much. Even though I pr
omised myself I would not so much as kiss you until the snow melts. Not even if you wanted me to.”

  “I did,” she confided and parted her lips.

  He kissed her again, with tenderness and open sensuality. “So did I,” he whispered. Drawing in a deep, ragged breath, he bent and picked up her hat, then straightened and stood back, drawing her hand decorously through his arm instead. “Come, I must take you home. The last thing I want to do is exhaust you.”

  “I’m not tired,” she said happily. “I feel as if I’ve never been more alive, more full of energy.”

  At the edge of the wood, they paused and brushed snow off each other and off Alba’s poor hat, which was really too damp to wear. She drew the hood of her cloak up over her hair instead.

  The horses hadn’t moved much since they’d left them but were stamping their feet with impatience. Yuri spoke to them in Russian and handed her back into the sleigh.

  He sat close beside her as they drove back to the house, his arm and hip and thigh pressing warmly against her. It was one of those moments of perfect happiness—which, of course, rarely last for long unmarred.

  When the sleigh swerved around the house to the front terrace, a visitor was just mounting the front steps. He paused, turning toward the sleigh, and she saw that it was Ralph Bethurst.

  Her heart gave un unpleasant jolt. For, in truth, she had forgotten all about him. The talk of engagement between them was hazy in her mind but definitely there. She had treated him badly, too. Worse, she had not even mentioned this to Yuri.

  Yuri lifted her down from the sleigh and left it and the horses to the Winbourne grooms.

  “So, it’s true,” Bethurst said slowly. “You are back.”

  Yuri smiled, spreading his hands. “As you see. How do you do?”

  “How good to see you,” Alba said with only the faintest trace of nervous guilt. “Never tell me you walked all the way?”

  “No, the track is cleared as far as the lake now, so I had my man drive me that far and walked from there.” His gaze wandered back to the sleigh. “But I see Prince Volkov has the perfect means of travel in this weather.”