The Brigadier's Daughter

by Catherine March

  The maid dipped a curtsy as she opened one half of a set of tall double doors, standing aside so that they could enter. Sasha stepped in before Reid, and halted as she looked about. The bedroom was the largest she had ever seen in her life, easily three times the size of her own bedroom in London. Two sets of long windows on the opposite wall opened onto small balconies that overlooked the Nevsky Prospekt and the River Neva, filmy white voile screening the windows between voluptuous swags of maroon-and-gold brocade curtains.

  ‘Can I get you anything, ma’am?’ asked the maid.

  Sasha turned, surprised by the girl’s accent. ‘Why, you’re English.’

  ‘Of course, ma’am. My name is Jane, and all the staff are English, ma’am. It wouldn’t do to have them foreign lot in here.’

  ‘No, indeed.’ Reid placed his hand on the door, discreetly hinting that it was time for the maid to depart.

  She bobbed yet another curtsy, and closed the door behind her as she went out.

  ‘Goodness, Reid!’ exclaimed Sasha, wandering around the vast bedroom. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it? Look at the size of that bed! I’m sure at least five people could sleep in that.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Reid unbuckled his leathers and then peeled off his gloves, glancing sardonically with one raised brow at the four-poster bed in question. ‘I could certainly enjoy a good night’s sleep in that.’

  ‘Oh, no, you won’t!’ Sasha flung herself down like a starfish, staring up at the canopy of pleated pale gold silk above her. ‘We’re not married, remember? You couldn’t possibly sleep in the same bed with me.’

  ‘We’ve just spent quite a few days sleeping in a space the size of a broom cupboard,’ Reid pointed out drily.

  ‘True, but we had separate beds.’

  He strolled over, leaning a shoulder on one ornately carved and gilded bedpost, his smile teasing. ‘What difference would it make? Besides, there are enough pillows on that bed to build your very own Wall of China.’

  Sasha turned her head slightly, gazing at the pile of pillows beneath the covers at the head of the bed, relief at having arrived on dry land bringing out a little mischief as she smiled. ‘Don’t you mean a Wall of Chastity?’

  He chuckled, and moved to stand closer, looking down at her as she lay spread-eagled on the huge bed. ‘Your virtue is safe with me, Miss Packard.’

  She pouted, and then jumped up as she ran to the wardrobe, a towering edifice of gleaming rosewood. ‘I’m sure Russia is a land of giants, look at how huge everything is!’ But Reid had wandered over to the window and was staring broodingly out, while another sight had caught Sasha’s eye. She opened a door and went into a tiled bathroom. An enormous white-enamel bath stood on brass claw feet, ornate gold taps set into the patterned tiles of the wall at one end. ‘Oh, Reid, come and look at this! Oh goodness, how divine, I would absolutely die to have a bath at this very moment.’ Sasha groaned, emerging from the bathroom and wandering around the room examining objets d’art and the silk wallpaper, the walnut writing bureau set between the two windows, and then she came to a halt at Reid’s shoulder and looked up at him.

  ‘It’s all so incredible and beautiful.’

  He turned his head, catching the note of wistful sadness in her soft voice. The light of Russia had a special quality, a depth and clarity that shone now on Sasha, his eyes lingering on her flawless pale skin and the shape of her pink mouth, the little determined dent in her chin and the line of her delicate jaw and nose. He reached out and lifted her chin with the crook of his forefinger. ‘And all this opulence makes you sad?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied solemnly, gazing out at the distant expanse of the wide Neva glimpsed through the voile.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because…’ She paused for a moment, hesitating, considering her thoughts and the weight of them. ‘Because it is all a charming, wonderful fantasy and I must return to reality.’ She raised her eyes to him. ‘Soon.’

  ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘Home. To England.’

  ‘But that could take weeks to arrange.’

  ‘My mother has many cousins, aunts and uncles in St Petersburg. I am sure someone will take me in.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘Don’t I?’

  Reid turned then, his hands lifting and settling on her waist, drawing her closer to him. He had to stoop to see her face, so small was she against his taller frame. Beneath his hands her waist felt so soft and slender, and he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers, ‘Do you know that we have never even kissed?’

  ‘Yes, we have, on the ship.’

  He shrugged. ‘You can hardly call that peck a kiss.’

  Sasha held her breath, feeling the warmth and strength of his hands upon her waist, holding her firmly, and her lips parted slightly as he leaned closer. She closed her eyes, her senses delighting in the closeness of him, his warmth, his male scent, the promise of pleasure as his mouth hovered close above her own.

  A knock upon the door made them both start, and they broke apart, almost with guilty haste as the door opened and the maid announced that Lady Cronin was waiting for them to join her in the drawing room. They stepped apart, with a fleeting glance, and followed the maid downstairs and there gave themselves up to the curiosity of their hosts, though Reid kept Sasha close to his side and fielded any awkward questions with all the skill of a true diplomat. He noticed that Sasha began to wilt, sometimes almost flinching each time she was addressed by the name of ‘Georgia’. After luncheon, he discreetly mentioned to his hostess that his wife had been very ill on the sea voyage and begged their pardon. Lady Cronin was somewhat reluctant to let them go but, as ‘Georgia’ was saying very little, she saw no point in keeping them.

  Once he had settled Sasha in their bedchamber, Reid took himself off to meet Sir Stanley to discuss his forthcoming duties.

  The afternoon passed all too quickly and Sasha woke as the maid tiptoed in to light the lamps and draw the curtains. She drew a hot bath for Sasha and started unpacking her cases, taking herself off to the laundry to press an oyster-pink chiffon evening gown while Sasha lay back in the hot and comforting water of the huge bathtub.

  Gazing up at the high ceiling, she noticed the mural painted on its surface, her eyes widening at the erotic scene of naked lovers reclining upon a grassy knoll in the woods, surrounded by flowers and sunshine that left little to the imagination. She studied the naked buttocks and muscular legs of the male lover as he leaned over the female, and wondered what Reid would be like naked, leaning over her. She glanced down at her own body, not quite as curvaceous and well endowed as the woman in the painting. What would it be like to make love? She felt a heat rise in her cheeks and her neck, spreading down into her belly and between her legs. In the bedroom she heard the door click and quickly reached for a bar of soap, intending to wash and climb out.

  ‘Just leave it on the bed, please, Jane,’ she called out, convinced that the maid had returned with her gown.

  There was no reply, but she heard footsteps, and then the creak of the bathroom door and she glanced over her shoulder, about to tell the maid to find her silk stockings and corset and lay them out, too, only to discover that it was not the maid standing there. ‘Reid!’

  Instinctively she sat forwards and hunched over as she drew her arms across her chest. From where he stood in the doorway, Reid could see no more than the smooth, wet curve of her back, her hair twisted up in a knot on top of her head and revealing the delicate slenderness of her neck.

  ‘What do you want on the bed?’ he drawled, leaning on the door frame, his voice soft and lazy as he looked at her in the bath, then raising his eyes to the lurid mural.

  ‘Go away!’ Sasha exclaimed, blushing hotly.

  ‘Why? I’m rather enjoying the view.’

  ‘Well, don’t! I’m bathing.’

  ‘I can see that.’ He smiled, and added, ‘I was talking about the ceiling.’

  ‘Don’t be a cad, and close the doo
r!’

  ‘A cad? Sasha, I don’t think there is much of you that I haven’t already seen.’

  ‘That’s different, I was ill then.’

  His smile deepened into a grin as he levered himself away from the door and came in, unlinking the cuffs on his shirt sleeves. ‘And now you are not ill. And we are, to all intents and purposes, husband and wife.’ He looked at her for a long moment with his dark blue eyes. ‘Or we will be as soon as we have the opportunity to, um…consummate.’

  Sasha gasped, her eyes lifting to his. ‘I thought we agreed that I would leave—’

  ‘Did I agree, Sasha?’ He finished unbuttoning his shirt, shrugged it off and then sat down on a small gilt stool as he removed his shoes and socks. ‘It has suddenly occurred to me that really the best possible solution is for us to stay married.’

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ demanded Sasha, suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe, her cheeks scarlet, distracted from what he was saying by his actions.

  ‘I’m going to have a nice, refreshing bath before dinner.’

  ‘But— But— I— I’m in the bath!’

  His eyes scanned the huge enamel tub. ‘Well, move over, then, and make some room.’

  ‘I most certainly will not!’

  ‘Why?’

  Sasha heaved an exasperated sigh. ‘Why do you always have to ask “why”?’

  He shrugged, standing up to unfasten his breeches. ‘Because like most males I cannot follow your female train of thought.’

  Sasha averted her face as he peeled off his breeches, and then she looked back, convinced that he had not yet removed his under-drawers, only to find him standing there naked. She could not stifle a small exclamation of surprise, nor a discreet peek about the floor.

  ‘I’m not wearing any,’ he murmured. ‘Spoils the fit.’

  Sasha blinked, arrested by the stunning sight of Reid with no clothes on, her eyes skimming over the suntanned width of his shoulders, his broad chest covered with a scattering of bronze hairs that arrowed down the lean flat planes of his abdomen, his heavily muscled biceps a reminder of how easily he had carried her. Her eyes moved down to the male parts of him, her curiosity overriding her embarrassment, and she could see that he was as perfectly formed as any Grecian statue of a male god. She was still looking when, with an agile movement, Reid climbed into the bath. As two feet landed in the water between her ankles Sasha suddenly jumped up, in her haste slipping on the bar of soap she had dropped in the water.

  ‘Steady.’ Reid grasped her by the elbows and looked down at her, his glance sweeping over her small high breasts, her slender hips and the dark patch between her thighs.

  Sasha had never, of course, stood naked with a man before in her life, and she looked up at him with huge eyes, her lips parted, swollen and red from the heat of the water and her sensual thoughts. The molten surge of arousal was a new sensation for her, yet warring with her blushing inexperience of such an intimate situation. She became aware that his body had reacted to her gaze and to her naked female body as much as she had reacted to his maleness.

  He smiled, unabashed, amused by her awestruck glance, murmuring reassuringly, ‘Don’t be afraid.’

  ‘Reid, I’ve never— That is, I— I…’

  ‘Shh,’ he murmured. ‘I know.’

  ‘I don’t think I could…’ Sasha gasped, with a nervous glance downwards at the much enlarged evidence of his arousal.

  His hand gently stroked her hip, urging her closer, but just at that moment the bedchamber door opened and they heard the tap of heels and the soft voice of the maid as she idly hummed ‘My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean’ under her breath, moving about the bedchamber as she laid out the freshly pressed gown and Georgia’s underwear on the bed.

  ‘Damnation,’ Reid exclaimed under his breath, ‘are we never to have any privacy?’

  Sasha quickly climbed out of the bath and reached for one of the large fluffy white towels placed on a low marble-topped table, wrapping it around her, and backing away from him, averting her eyes from the sight of so much powerful and blatant masculinity. With a sigh Reid sank down into the water, and lay back for a moment, saying, ‘Close the door on your way out, please.’

  Sasha needed no second bidding and she did as he asked, then hurried to put on her underclothes. Jane helped her to dress, fastening the long row of pearl buttons at the back of the evening gown, the bodice made of lace and high-necked. The bustle supported a train that swept elegantly behind her as she walked, the very height of fashion, but just a little too long, the gown having been made for Georgia.

  Once she was dressed she sat down at the ornate triple-mirrored dressing table and Jane set about brushing and sweeping her dark brown hair up into a smooth chignon, fastening a small, delicate pearl-encrusted tiara above her fringe, a box of jewellery being a wedding gift from Reid to his new bride.

  ‘There, madam, looks lovely.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Sasha stared at her reflection, and then behind her at the door of the bathroom as it opened and Reid emerged, wearing nothing except a towel about his waist.

  With a curt nod to Sasha, he walked past them to the adjoining dressing room, where his batman waited with his evening clothes. Sasha could not help but notice that the maid followed him with her eyes, and indeed, Reid was a beautiful sight to behold.

  ‘Thank you, Jane, that will be all.’ Sasha spoke a little more sharply than she had intended, and with a dipped curtsy the maid turned about and left the room.

  For long moments Sasha sat and stared at her face in the mirror. It would be a very long evening, Sasha thought, another meal of many courses, the strain of making conversation with strangers, and a sense of loneliness that seemed to be unfurling within her now that the journey was over and they had arrived in St Petersburg. London seemed very far away indeed, and she wished so much that her papa and her sisters were all here with her. She had never in her life been apart from them, and their chatter and her father’s strict sensible ways would at this moment be so very welcome. She felt very unsure about who it was that looked back at her in the mirror, and what she would become if she allowed Reid to persuade her to fall in with his plans. Why had he suddenly decided to keep her as his wife? She was sure he was not in love with her, for though they seemed to get along well enough as friends, and respected one another’s minds, she feared there was little in the way of hearts involved, as far as Reid was concerned.

  Chapter Six

  At dinner Sasha enjoyed talking to Charlotte Hope-Garner, who sat at her left hand and chattered with light-hearted gaiety about her five children whom she so obviously adored; the eldest two boys, aged twelve and fourteen, were boarding at Eton, she explained with shining eyes, leaving her with the three young ones, two girls and another boy aged between seven and two. On her right sat a Russian guest by the name of Dr Alexei Bodanovsky, a physician commissioned to the royal court of Tsar Alexander. He complimented Sasha on her fluent skill with his native tongue and engaged her in an intense discussion about Russia. The food was excellent and the company interesting, yet her attention, her mind, her very heart and soul, wandered.

  Reid was seated farther down the table, on the opposite side, and his dinner companions seemed to be equally amusing: a Russian princess on his left and her military husband on his right. Yet throughout the meal her glance often strayed and met his. By the look in his blue eyes she was left in no doubt that his thoughts strayed, too, into secret places that brought a blush to her neck and cheeks.

  It was very late indeed when at last they retired. They took their leave of the few guests still lingering in the drawing room with their hosts and climbed the stairs to their bedchamber. As they traversed the thick carpet on the first landing, Sasha broke the silence by making a comment about the pleasant evening, and Reid nodded a reply. She glanced at him, from the corner of her eye. He seemed rather quiet and she wondered if there was anything wrong, if she had done something wrong.

  ‘Dinner was ex
cellent,’ Sasha ventured as they climbed the next flight of stairs.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The chicken was delicious. I wonder what it was.’

  ‘I think it is a dish from Kiev.’

  ‘I didn’t really enjoy that lumpy black stuff at the beginning.’

  He smiled down at her. ‘Caviar is an acquired taste.’

  They came to their door and Reid opened it, stepping aside to allow her to pass first. Once they were inside he closed it behind him, looked for a key, but there was none, and then loosened his white bow tie and shrugged off his black tails.

  Sasha kicked off her shoes, and removed the pearl tiara from her hair, sighing as she laid it on the dressing table. ‘I’m so tired I could sleep for a week.’

  She went to the bed and picked up the long-sleeved nightgown of frilled white cambric that the maid had left out for her, and then turned to Reid and asked for his assistance to unbutton her dress. He came to her side and deftly unhooked the long row of pearl buttons, unlaced her corset and then turned abruptly away from her, saying that he was going outside onto the balcony to get a breath of fresh air.

  Sasha looked up, holding the bodice of her gown modestly to her chest. ‘There is no need to leave, it’s freezing out there. I will go into the bathroom and undress, if you wish.’

  He stopped and turned back to look at her, with a quizzical frown. ‘It is not my wishes that matter, Sasha. I am only thinking of you, and your delicate…situation.’

  His remark puzzled her, and she called out as he walked away. ‘Reid?’

  Again he halted and turned to face her. ‘What?’

  ‘Have I done something wrong?’