The Brigadier's Daughter

by Catherine March

  ‘Come here, you beautiful little thing.’ He grabbed hold of Sasha about the waist and began to waltz her about the room. ‘Where have you been all night?’

  Sasha grimaced, clinging to him and trying desperately to stay on her feet as he whirled and dashed about. ‘I have been here all the time. Where have you been, sir?’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Suddenly he stopped, holding a hand to his head as if the room spun in dizzy circles. ‘Where’s the bed? I think I’d better lie down.’

  ‘Yes, I think you’d better.’

  Sasha guided him to the vast bed and he sat down gingerly on the edge. ‘Be a sport, sweetheart, and fetch me a glass of water.’

  ‘Shall I ring for a pot of coffee?’

  ‘No, water, please, got an almighty thirst.’

  She went to the ornate bedside cabinet and poured a glass of water from the carafe left there by the maid. She gave it to Reid and he drank quickly, holding out the glass for more. After his second glass he handed it back to her and then flopped back onto the bed with a groan.

  ‘God, what a day!’ He lifted his head and looked up at Sasha, patting the space beside him. ‘Come here, you’re too far away and I don’t have the energy for shouting.’

  Sasha kicked off her shoes and climbed up onto the bed, kneeling beside him, her skirts billowing in a froth of silk gown and chiffon petticoats. She looked down at Reid as he lay on the bed, her eyes caressing the flaxen locks of ruffled hair that fell across his forehead, his straight nose and wide mouth, the very dark blue of his eyes, the strong column of his throat.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ he asked, his hand reaching out for her waist and pulling her down to lie beside him.

  Sasha caught the whiff of alcohol on his breath and suddenly she became aware of the heat of his body and how big and powerful he was. She lowered her eyes demurely and shrugged, instinctively aware that Reid in this condition was an unknown quantity, and all her own anxieties of the day and their situation making her nervous.

  His fingers grasped her chin and tipped her face up so he could see her eyes. ‘For God’s sake, don’t go all prudish miss on me now,’ he growled, raising himself up on one elbow and leaning over her, turning her so that she lay upon her back, beneath the heavy weight of his broad chest and shoulders. His eyes devoured the pink curves of her tender mouth, moving down to the pale skin of her neck and the arousing swell of her bosom. He groaned, and lowered his head to kiss her.

  At the first touch of his lips on her own Sasha melted, her hands lifting to his shoulders and sliding down his back, her fingers digging into the hard strength of his muscles, her mouth opening. Yet as his kiss deepened and she felt the weight of his body, heard his heavy breath and felt his fingers fumble to lift the hem of her gown, she felt a cold sense of panic.

  He became aware of her hands pushing at his chest and her mouth leaving his as she turned her head away from the deep plunging force of his kiss. ‘Whar’s wrong?’ he slurred.

  Her heart was pounding and her breath came in loud, ragged pants as panic flared through her. ‘No, Reid, we agreed to wait until we are married.’

  He groaned. ‘I can’t wait that long.’

  ‘It’s only until tomorrow.’ She stared up at him with a dawning suspicion. ‘You did arrange it with the minister, didn’t you?’

  Reid paused as his fingers pulled down the tiny sleeves of her bodice, considering the simple question with obvious difficulty. ‘I think so. Damned if I can remember.’

  ‘Oh, Reid!’

  ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, if not tomorrow, then another day!’ His hot mouth grasped at her smooth breast, his teeth gently scraping her soft skin as he felt the sudden urgent force of desire building inside of him, the sweetness and nearness of her body driving all thoughts from his mind except the need to be one with her, with sweet, generous, clever little Sasha. Suddenly it dawned on him how right it felt, how good it would be with her, yet he struggled with his ardour and the dull ache of too many vodkas to convey this fact properly to her, and he grasped her chin to kiss her more thoroughly, hoping that kisses would achieve more than muddled words.

  Sasha gasped, and pushed at him, frightened now as her efforts failed to make him move away. ‘No, Reid, not like this.’ She struggled in earnest when his knee spread her legs and his fingers reached beneath her skirts to grasp the silk bow holding up her drawers. ‘Stop it, Reid, you’re drunk, I don’t want you to.’

  He laughed then, his mouth pressing rough kisses on her neck as he tugged at her drawers. ‘Of course you want to, you’ve been eager for me to take you from the first moment we met.’

  ‘Get off!’ Outrage warred with embarrassment at the grain of truth amongst his words and Sasha lifted her hand, slapping him smartly across one cheek with her open palm. Her hand stung, the sharp sound ringing about the room, yet it had the desired sobering effect and Reid suddenly rolled away from her.

  He rose from the bed and strode away, throwing over his shoulder, ‘If you were Georgia, we’d be rolling around naked by now, with her on top, panting and enjoying every moment! She’s the sort who knows what a man wants.’

  His words cut her to the quick and Sasha turned her face away, closing her eyes at the sudden spurt of tears. She did not open them again until she heard the click of the door and looked up to find herself alone.

  Just before noon the next day Jane brought a tea tray and a somewhat terse note from Lady Cronin. Reid did not stir when Sasha woke, roused by Jane’s knock and the rattle of cups. With a sigh she sat up, pushing back the waves of her long dark hair as she unfolded the note, and greeted Jane good morning in a soft whisper, glancing at Reid as he continued sleeping, lying on his back with one arm stretched above his head. He had returned to their bedchamber some time during the night, but she had feigned sleep and remained in a curled-up position on her side of the bed, as far from him as possible.

  ‘Morning, mum.’ Jane poured her a cup of steaming tea and handed it to her, asking, ‘Shall I run you a bath, mum?’

  Sasha nodded with a grateful smile as she sipped her tea and read the note that summoned her to the drawing room as soon as she was presentable. Her heart fluttered a little; she was never one to enjoy confrontations and wondered if Lady Cronin intended to administer a lecture. Glancing again at Reid, she refrained from waking him. The note was addressed to her specifically and after last night’s events she had no wish to see or speak to Reid any time soon. With a sigh and resolute straightening of her shoulders, she thrust back the warm covers and jumped out of bed. She bathed quickly in the deliciously hot water Jane had drawn for her, dressed with the maid’s assistance in a modest skirt and jacket of warm burgundy wool, with a cream blouse buttoned to the throat, and her hair demurely swept up into a chignon at the nape of her neck.

  Downstairs she knocked on the drawing-room door, opening it and peeking in. Lady Cronin sat in an armchair beside the fire hearth, a pair of pince-nez balanced on her nose as she gazed at a sheaf of papers in her hand. She looked up and imperiously crooked her finger at Sasha, indicating that she should enter.

  Sasha walked into the room slowly, resisting the temptation to twist her hands behind her back like a naughty schoolroom chit about to be disciplined by her governess.

  After a long moment of silence, Sasha said quietly, ‘You wished to see me, ma’am?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Lady Cronin removed her pince-nez and fixed Sasha with a glowering stare. ‘I feel most unhappy about having to speak to you in this fashion, Mrs Bowen, but far better that I should be the one, rather than involve my husband.’

  Sasha felt pins and needles of alarm rush through her limbs. Her glance strayed involuntarily to the papers, perhaps letters, that now lay discarded in Lady Cronin’s lap. Had they been found out? Was disaster about to fall upon their heads?

  ‘Of course I realise that you are young, and that is why I am prepared to be lenient and grant you the benefit of ignorance. But last night I felt your behaviour was m
ost—’ she hesitated for a moment, searching her mind for the right word ‘—reprehensible.’

  Sasha stared at her, trying hard to conceal her dislike for this cold and imperious woman, her anger lighting a slow fuse that she only hoped would not explode before she left the room.

  ‘I did warn you that Countess Irena was persona non grata and I do feel that it is not in your best interest, or that of the British Embassy, for you to consort with such a woman. And in addition, I think you would do well to speak to Major Bowen and make sure that in future he…well, he restrains himself from making public shows of…affection. I realise that you are newly married, but I am afraid it is not at all dignified.’

  For a long moment Sasha was silent, then she smiled tightly and asked, ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘I think that will do, for now.’

  Sasha lifted her chin, ‘Fortunately, Lady Cronin, we are to leave this house today and my behaviour, or that of my husband’s towards me, is none of your concern.’ With that she turned sharply on her heel, ignoring the gasp that hissed from Lady Cronin’s thin mouth.

  She closed the door with a snap, her heart pounding uncomfortably hard in her chest as she began to hurry up the stairs with quick, sharp footsteps spurred by anger. Halfway up, though, she stopped, suddenly taken by an impulsive urge to thumb her nose at Lady Cronin. Why, she would go and see Countess Irena this very moment, while Reid was still sleeping. Indeed, she would spend the rest of the day with her and never return to this hateful house! She realised then that she would need her cloak and the card with the Countess’s address printed on it. She returned to the bedchamber, opening the door quietly so as not to disturb Reid. But as she entered the room and closed the door, her swift glance to the bed found it to be empty. Disappointment was her first reaction that yet again Reid had gone, without even saying goodbye, and then relief as she remembered their tussle of the night before. His comment about Georgia had wounded her and still hurt even now in the bright light of day. There was a lump in her throat, holding in a well of unshed sorrow, as it dawned on her that whilst his thoughts and desires were all still for Georgia, they could never truly be man and wife.

  She must go back to England. She must leave Reid and put this whole ludicrous charade behind her. But how? How would she get back to England on her own?

  Then she remembered Irena, and went to the reticule she had discarded on the dressing table and fished out her card. She took down her cloak from the wardrobe and as she did so a small sound reached her ears and she turned to gaze at the door of the bathroom. From the familiar tap-tap noise and swish of water, she concluded that Reid must be shaving. The door was slightly ajar, and she peeked through it.

  Reid stood with his back to the door, wearing nothing except a white towel draped around his hips. He stooped slightly to see his face in an oval mirror on the wall, and she watched fascinated at the play of muscles in his broad shoulders and arms, as they flexed while he shaved. His skin was smooth and honey-tanned, scattered with freckles across the shoulders bulky with muscle, his torso tapering down to lean hips and taut buttocks. She felt heat burn through her body, and an overwhelming desire to stand close behind him and slide her arms around his very masculine and appealing body, brushing the palms of her hands over the bronze hairs of his chest, sliding them down his flat stomach, pressing kisses to the strong, broad width of his back…

  ‘Are you going to stand there all day ogling?’

  Sasha jumped, startled that she had been caught out. ‘I— I… How did you—?’

  Reid smiled as he scraped a razor blade through the foam on his jaw. ‘I can see you in the mirror, sweetheart. Come in.’

  She pushed open the door, but stood on the threshold, acutely aware of the intimacy of watching a half-naked ‘husband’ attending to his early morning shave. Sasha swallowed, her eyes roaming everywhere except over Reid, yet wary of how easily her feelings for him could dissolve all sensible thought about leaving. And after what happened last night she felt indignant, and that he should be the one to speak first and apologise.

  He smiled to himself, watching her with one eye in the mirror as he finished shaving. But the chill of her stare forced a sudden and alarming thought. ‘Last night,’ he asked hesitantly, ‘did I…Well…did I behave myself?’

  Sasha took a step forwards, folding her arms across her waist and cocking her head admonishingly to one side. ‘No, you most certainly did not.’

  Reid felt the hairs on his forearms rise. He quickly rinsed his face and reached for a towel to pat it dry, meeting Sasha halfway by taking a step towards her. His eyes swept the length of her slim frame. ‘I hope very much that I did not hurt you. It was not my intention that your first time should be—’

  ‘What?’ Sasha stared at him with wide eyes, a blush suffusing pink beneath her pale skin.

  ‘Well, I know that I was foxed, and you are—were a virgin.’

  Sasha tapped her foot impatiently. ‘We did not, well, I mean, I would not let you—’

  ‘Oh? So you are still a virgin?’

  Her cheeks flamed and she swung on her heels, departing from the intimate confines of the bathroom. ‘Of course I am, you idiot!’

  Reid followed, his bare feet padding soundlessly on the glossy parquet floors, a slight frown creasing his brows. He tossed aside the towel in his hand and quickly reached out to grab the cloak clutched in her hands like a shield, throwing it on the bed and then clasping his fingers around her wrist and pulling her to face him. ‘Then what do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that I have just received a brow-beating from Lady Cronin about your “public displays of affection”, that’s what I mean!’

  His reaction was not one that she expected, or desired, as he laughed out loud and released her wrist from his clasp, his hand sliding to her waist and pulling her closer, his voice very soft and husky. ‘I am afraid you will have to enlighten me, sweetheart, as I was very drunk last night and have no recollection whatsoever. What did I do?’ His gaze lowered to the soft pink swell of her lips.

  Sasha found it hard to breathe for a moment, and then she replied tartly, ‘Why, you fondled and groped me as we were dancing!’ With her hand flat against his chest, she pushed him away. ‘And it’s no laughing matter! The old dragon made me attend her in the drawing room and stand like a schoolroom chit while she administered a tongue-lashing!’

  ‘Did she, indeed?’ Reid grinned, his hold still upon her wrist, light yet inescapable.

  ‘Yes! What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’ Her eyes flashed up at him.

  ‘She is the ambassador’s wife, there is little I can say.’ He let her go then, and walked to his wardrobe to select a shirt and trousers. ‘Don’t let it trouble you. We leave today and will soon be installed in our own apartment. We can do as we please then.’ Looking over his shoulder, he exchanged a very penetrating glance with Sasha. ‘Is there…anything else I should apologise for?’ He had a vague memory…

  ‘Well…’ Sasha glanced down at her shoes, reluctant to discuss the intimate complexities of the physical aspect of their relationship, and puzzled by her own wayward reactions to them, one moment aching with desire for him, and the next petrified of his advances.

  ‘Come now, Sasha, spit it out.’ He turned to face her, concerned by the pale stillness of her face.

  ‘You…wanted me to—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let you… Well… I had to slap your face to make you stop.’

  ‘I am sorry. I was drunk.’ He frowned then. ‘I can understand that you did not want your first time to be rough and careless with a drunkard, but do not make too much of it.’

  ‘You said that if I had been Georgia she would have—’ Sasha blushed, recalling his brazen words.

  ‘She would have what?’

  ‘Enjoyed it.’

  He shrugged. ‘Your sister is of a different nature.’ As though to prove a point, he unwound the towel a
bout his waist and laughed at her gasp as he stood naked before her.

  ‘You might have warned me!’ She looked away, quite astonished by the sight of such naked masculinity, the light from the tall wide windows clearly showing every detail of Reid’s beautiful male body.

  ‘No need to blush, Sasha. We are man and wife.’

  ‘We are not, as you very well know.’

  ‘I’ll get hold of that minister today.’

  ‘No, Reid, I really don’t think—’

  At that very moment the door opened and Jane entered, but seeing Reid standing naked in the middle of the room she exclaimed and quickly shut the door as she retreated.

  Sasha sighed, her tone much aggrieved with both losing the moment to tell him she was going to leave, and for his lack of modesty, as she snapped, ‘Now you have upset the servants, as well!’ She glanced at the card in her hand and her cloak lying on the bed, snatched it up, and flounced to the door. ‘I am going out!’

  He strode after her. ‘Sasha! Where are you going? We’re supposed to be getting—’ Suddenly sense prevailed and he bit back his words about getting married, heaving an angry sigh. He would have to find a minister himself, as soon as he could get away from the Embassy without anyone asking him where he was going or wanting to accompany him. Damn! How was he supposed to marry a woman who was already supposed to be his wife? And how could he convince that woman that he wanted her? His senses were starting to torment him as he yearned to make love with Sasha, her very presence and scent and the sound of her voice, day and night, seeping into his skin and her very self now firmly embedded in his heart. After the experience they had shared the other night, the thought of initiating Sasha into the pleasures of lovemaking were now far from being a daunting task, but one he longed to savour and enjoy. He made a move to the door, to run after her, but he was still in a state of undress and she was gone, only the sound of her footsteps tapping down the carpeted stairs left in her wake.