The Brigadier's Daughter

by Catherine March

  Sasha chewed on her lip, staring into space. But how?

  How would Papa’s plan work for Georgia? She would be an unmarried girl bearing a fatherless child. She would be disgraced and shunned. No doubt Papa would pack her off to their country estate, and the child would be given away for adoption. Then Georgia would return to London and…and what? She did not think Georgia, for all her faults or failings, would so readily abandon her baby, yet how on earth could she keep it?

  For some long while Sasha pondered on their problems, her mind darting this way and that as she sought a solution whereby everyone could be happy and free from scandal. But whatever way she looked at it, it was not possible. Someone would have to suffer, someone would have to make a sacrifice, and she had the dreadful feeling that that someone was going to be her. Had she not always protected Georgia, and taken the blame for every little escapade that she had ever tumbled into? She loved her sister, and her loyal nature would not allow her to fail her in any way. And in a different way she loved Reid, truly and deeply, and she could not fail him, either. She could not allow anything to happen that would tarnish or hinder his career or reputation. A plan began to form in her mind, and she knew that it was the only solution.

  Sasha had mulled things over, and listened for Reid’s tread on the stair, but she had dozed off long before he came up to bed. She awoke when his arms lifted her from the chair and carried her to the bed. He sat down on its edge, cradling her on his lap as he nuzzled her neck, breathing in the soft, feminine scent of her sleep-warm skin.

  ‘You were very quiet tonight, Sasha, and I think I can guess why. It’s all gone on far too long, I know, but don’t worry.’ He kissed her gently, savouring the velvet softness of her lips. ‘I have spoken to Captain Turnbull about a passage to England. We sail with him next Sunday morning, after the ball. And then, as soon as I can arrange for a special licence we will be married.’ His hand slid inside her nightgown and fondled the warm, smooth weight of her breast. Sasha stiffened in his arms, and he looked at her, with a plea and dark desire in his eyes. ‘I can’t wait any longer, Sasha, I want to make love to you, now.’ His voice lowered to a persuasive whisper, as he gently nibbled her collarbone. ‘What difference will it make? We will soon be wed.’

  Sasha smelled brandy on his breath. She had no doubt he and Captain Turnbull had consumed a fair share of alcohol and all Reid’s defences were down. She stared at his blond head, lowered to her breast, his lips caressing her nipple through the thin cotton of her nightgown. She suppressed a groan, her thighs melting at his touch. She should resist him, insist that he return to his own bedroom, but everything had changed and she greatly feared that tonight would be all she would ever have with him, for in the next few days she must give him up, and let him take his rightful place as Georgia’s husband.

  Her fingers lifted and caressed the nape of his neck, smooth and tanned from recent mounted cavalry exercises with Russian officers. She closed her eyes, breathing in his masculine aroma, a clean mixture of soap and musky-male and brandy.

  ‘Sasha?’ He sensed something was awry; she was so silent, almost pensive. ‘What’s wrong?’ He stroked her cheek with tender fingers, his thumb dwelling on the swell of her lower lip, a puzzled frown on his brows. ‘I will leave, if that is what you truly wish.’

  For a reply, Sasha gazed at him for a long moment, and then wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed him down onto the bed. He laughed, nuzzling her neck as he rolled over on top of her, delighted by her passion. She was quiet, but then so was he, as quickly she helped him to strip off his clothes. He lifted the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up and over her head, freeing her completely. Naked, they rolled into the middle of the bed, Reid stroking his hand down the length of her body, kissing her gently, tenderly, his lips and fingers brushing and nibbling and teasing her, and she reached up to explore his back and his buttocks and his chest with her own fingers, her kisses inviting and eager. She savoured the broad width of his muscular shoulders and the weight of his body as he lay half on top of her. She felt so warm beneath him, and fluid, as if all her nerves and muscles had melted into a puddle of chocolate. He licked and tasted and consumed, until the moment came when the wanting and the aching could not be contained any longer and she parted her thighs for him. Reid opened his eyes and looked at her. Sensing it, she opened her eyes, too. With her body and her eyes, she silently told him what she wanted, and he gave it to her.

  It was the most exquisite sensation she had ever known, and she gave herself up to it completely. She wanted it to go on and on forever, feeling him inside her, the strength of his body, his heat and his passion as he moved, sweeping her along on a tide that was at first slow and languorous, mounting and rolling, gathering them up on to its crest until finally the peak crashed and wrapped them together as one, gasping and panting, her cry smothered by his shout, and at last they gave each other the ultimate pleasure, satisfying the primitive needs of their desire in one final thrusting burst of energy.

  Gasping, his skin damp with sweat, Reid groaned softly with satisfaction, and eased his weight off her slender frame, rolling to one side, and turning her to lie beside him. He stroked back her hair, his forearm resting between her firm, swollen breasts, where he could feel her heart pounding, gradually slowing to a more moderate rate as her breathing slowed, too. He kissed her gently, willing her to open her eyes and look at him, his glance admiring her supine body, which had given him such intense pleasure. He was sure she had felt it, too, but this was her first time and he hoped that he had not hurt her.

  ‘Sasha,’ he murmured gently, ‘are you all right?’ And then he felt tears squeezing from between her eyelashes, and he raised himself up on one elbow. ‘Sasha, sweetheart, I am sorry! I’m sorry if I hurt you, I tried not to.’

  She shook her head then, and opened her dark eyes, gazing up into his eyes as she lifted her fingers to his face and gently stroked his cheek. ‘You did not hurt me, Reid. It was…wonderful. Thank you.’ It was indeed the most wonderful experience, one that she would treasure within her memories for the rest of her life.

  ‘Then why are you crying?’

  She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him about Georgia, about her plan, but she could not. She shook her head and drew him closer, snuggling up against him, her fingers stroking the hairs on his chest. ‘It’s nothing.’ She would have this night, just this night, if nothing else and she could not bear to spoil it. She would tell him in the morning.

  They slept, with Reid curved about her back, his arm draped over her waist.

  Before dawn she woke him with kisses and they made love again. This time, her body knew the pleasure to come; their lovemaking took only moments before she was climbing on top of him, taking him with a glorious, abandoned passion, her long dark hair swirling about their naked bodies as she straddled him and arched her head back, her breasts swaying before his fascinated gaze as he watched her moving on top of him, the early morning light casting a golden glow on her body. His teeth clenched, panting with a warring sensation of intense pleasure as he enjoyed their union, and self-discipline as he tried to restrain himself from reaching the end too soon. His hands gripped her waist, guiding her, feeling the hot sweat of her skin and then as she gave a cry he joined her in mutual release.

  ‘That was nice,’ he murmured, surprised at her wantonness, kissing her neck as she tumbled down to lie beside him. ‘I would never have guessed.’

  Sasha gazed up at him with a soft, loving smile.

  Reid drew back a bit and stared down at her. ‘Something is wrong. I can feel it. There is something you are not telling me, Sasha.’

  Now was the moment; she had to tell him about Georgia. But she could not. How could she speak the words that would destroy such sweet happiness? And how brief it was! Her lashes lowered, avoiding him.

  ‘Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. You can trust me, Sasha, you know you can. What is it?’ His fingers under her chin lifted her head, but her continued
silence now angered him, and he turned away, thrusting back the bed covers, not realising that as he left her bed their lives were about to change. ‘Very well! You can be just as stubborn as Georgia sometimes! I am going to bathe and get dressed.’

  Sasha half-rose on one elbow and stretched out a hand towards him, her lips parting to call him back. But she did not. Still some unseen force kept her quiet, in check, dreading the moment when finally they must part. Tears came to her eyes then, as she watched her love walk away. She felt sure that he would never come back, and she held a hand to her mouth, muffling the soft sobs, turning into the pillow and pulling the blankets over her head as she wept.

  She did not go down to breakfast, but waited until Reid had departed for the Embassy before rising from the bed. She ran a bath, and lay in the hot water for a long while. Her body ached, pleasantly, a reminder of what she had shared with Reid. She felt languorous, as though she could lie in this bath all day and keep the world and its tragedies at bay. But eventually she had to get out, and pat her body dry with a white, fluffy towel. She stared at her body, at the faint pink marks from Reid’s fingers, feeling within her the ache that could not be seen, where he had possessed and pleasured her with his own male body. With a sigh, Sasha dressed and then went downstairs to the breakfast room, suddenly feeling hungry. She ate a lot more than her usual tea and toast, and then she called for Harry, knowing that she could no longer delay going to see Georgia, and telling her of the grand plan that would restore her to respectability and make their lives once more decent and honourable.

  When Irena greeted her, still dressed in her negligee, albeit opulent lilac satin that was remarkably modest with its billowing folds and thick material, Sasha responded with quiet confidence, no longer afraid of this woman, who was not a threat to her any more, knowing full well that Reid’s motive for paying her attention was not from infatuation or lust. She sat down at the table when invited to by Irena and accepted a cup of tea.

  ‘Darling, your sister is still asleep. I looked in on her just moments ago.’ She smiled at Sasha, rather like a cat contemplating a mouse. ‘What on earth are we going to do with her?’

  ‘That’s a very good question.’ Sasha smiled at her, seeking to make an enemy into an ally by taking her into her confidence. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘Well—’ Irena shrugged, artfully ‘—I don’t know. It must have come as quite a shock for you. What does your—?’ She paused delicately as she cut a piece of melon. ‘What does Major Bowen say?’

  ‘I have not told him.’

  Her brows arched in surprise. ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘There has not been an…appropriate moment.’

  ‘Perhaps…you do not wish to give him up.’

  ‘Perhaps…I don’t.’

  They stared at one another, and then Irena chuckled. ‘Perhaps it would be best if Georgia stayed out of sight, and then returned to England. No one needs to know that she is here.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right.’ Sasha caught her breath for a moment, realising that she was putting herself into Irena’s power, and wondering what price would have to be paid for her assistance. And her silence. But for her plan to work, no one must know about Georgia, or see her, until they got back to London. Sasha rose from her seat. ‘If you do not mind, I would like to see my sister now.’ As Irena rose to accompany her, she held out a hand. ‘I can find my own way, thank you.’ She softened her words with a smile. ‘I need to speak to her alone, find out what has happened to her in the last few months.’

  ‘Of course.’ Irena inclined her head.

  Sasha departed and walked along the landing and up a flight of stairs, remembering the way from when she had brought Georgia here yesterday afternoon. Was it only yesterday? she mused. So much had happened in such a short space of time, and it all felt quite unreal. Reaching Georgia’s bedroom door, Sasha knocked discreetly, but when there was no reply she opened the door and peeked in.

  The curtains were drawn and in the gloom she could only make out the vague shape of Georgia asleep in the bed. She hesitated, wondering whether to leave her, but it was mid-morning and the day could not grow old without Georgia being aware of her part in The Plan, and the need for her to stay out of sight. She stopped a passing maid and asked her to bring a breakfast tray of tea and toast. The maid bobbed a curtsy, her eyes wide and greatly impressed by the English lady’s perfectly spoken Russian.

  Sasha went into the room and opened the curtains, daylight flooding in, but still Georgia did not stir. She crossed to the bed and leaned over her, gently shaking her shoulder and calling her name. With a groan, Georgia shrugged away, and then at Sasha’s insistence she rolled onto her back and peered up, her hair a tangled blond mass on the pillow and her face creased as she squinted at Sasha.

  ‘God, is it morning, already?’

  Sasha snorted. ‘It’s very well near afternoon!’ At the sound of a knock on the door, Sasha retrieved the tea tray from the maid and then firmly closed the door. She set the tray down on the ornate cabinet beside the bed and poured a cup for Georgia, who now struggled up into a sitting position, ran her fingers through her hair and then yawned.

  ‘Oh, isn’t it lovely here, Sasha? I do like Cousin Irena, she’s so beautiful.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Sasha handed her the cup of tea and then sat down on the bed near Georgia’s feet, looking at her pensively. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Well enough.’ Georgia sipped from the cup, and then grimaced, turning to the tray to add two teaspoons of sugar. ‘And isn’t this house wonderful? I’ve never been inside a palace before. I think I shall enjoy staying here very much.’

  Sasha shrugged. ‘It’s only a small one. There are many more palaces in St Petersburg, and much bigger than this.’ She watched as Georgia helped herself to a bread roll, spreading it liberally with butter and jam. ‘Georgia…’ She hesitated, wondering how best to delicately frame her question. ‘Georgia, when—that is, how far along are you? You know how erratic you can be.’

  Georgia shrugged. ‘I have missed at least one of my monthly times.’ She brushed crumbs from her nightgown. ‘What time do you think Reid will come to see me today? How did he react when you told him I was here?’

  Sasha swallowed, and picked at a loose thread on the hem of her skirt. ‘Well—’ she glanced at her sister ‘—the thing is, Georgia, it’s not going to be as easy as that. You can’t just walk in to Reid’s life and suddenly become his wife.’

  ‘Oh?’ Georgia seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I am his wife! Or at least everyone in St Petersburg thinks so.’

  Georgia nodded. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’ And then she looked at Sasha, with all blind faith. ‘What shall we do?’

  Sasha sighed, her voice constrained. ‘Well, if you are to become his wife again it will have to be back in London. Reid and I had planned to sail home next Sunday morning, after the Grand Ball—’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To—to see his Uncle Percy. He’s not been well.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I thought that you could sail with us. I will speak to Captain Turnbull and arrange for you to have a cabin alongside ours. And once we are underway, we will tell Reid and swap places. When we reach London, you will step off the ship as Mrs Bowen, and no one in London will be any the wiser.’

  ‘Providing, of course, that we do not bump into anyone from St Petersburg that could tell the difference.’

  ‘Yes. And providing you stay out of sight between now and when we sail.’

  ‘What!’ Georgia groaned. ‘You mean stay in this house for a whole week? I really wanted to explore!’

  ‘Not only stay in this house, but stay inside this room. No one must see you.’

  ‘Oh, Sasha, no!’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘I could wear a veil.’ Georgia pouted.

  Sasha shook her head and leaned forwards to grab Georgia by both wrists, giving her a little shake. ‘Do you want to sort this mess
out or not?’ She climbed down off the bed. ‘Believe me, Georgia, I have no more desire to do this than you do, but it’s the only way. Papa has written to say I must come home at once, that the marriage will be annulled, and if I do not comply I will not be at all surprised if Papa does not turn up on our doorstep! And then where will we be? No,’ she said firmly, ‘you are going to have to do as you are told and not go gadding about. Just for once, don’t be selfish and—and think of your child. Do you understand?’

  Silently, Georgia nodded. ‘But you will come to see me? You won’t leave me here completely alone?’

  Sasha went to her then, and hugged her, seeing the forlorn expression on Georgia’s face. ‘Of course, dearest, I will be here every day for as long as possible. It’s only a week; the time will soon pass.’

  Having secured Georgia’s promise to remain within her bedchamber, Sasha prepared to leave. She promised to call again soon and to bring Georgia whatever she might need.

  ‘Now remember—’ Sasha stood in the doorway ‘—you are to stay exactly where you are.’

  Georgia nodded with a glum expression, and Sasha closed the door. As she turned towards the staircase she caught sight of a flick of lilac satin disappearing behind one-half of the double doors leading to Irena’s private apartment and bedchamber. She thought it prudent to impress upon Irena that under no circumstances must Georgia leave her room or be seen by anyone, and followed after Irena. She opened the door, the air fragrant with Irena’s exotic scent, but at the sound of low voices Sasha paused on the threshold. She gazed across the richly furnished room to where Irena languished on a sofa, a man perched on its edge and stroking her throat with the back of his hand. Irena had such a look of bliss upon her face, unlike any expression Sasha had ever seen her present to the world before.

  Catching sight of Sasha, Irena pushed him to one side and the man instinctively glanced over his shoulder, before turning away and taking great pains to keep his back to her. How odd, thought Sasha, he was a rather rough-looking character, his clothes dark grey and black coarse linen, his lank brown hair unfashionably long and his face, though not ugly, weatherbeaten and tanned. He looked like a farmer, or a railway worker, Sasha mused, but already Irena was at her side, taking her by the elbow and ushering Sasha from the room.