I throw on a long, white cloak from the wardrobe in my chamber and creep from the apartment. The noise from the party floors below covers my escape. I keep the hood low, my chin down, as I race through the halls. My heart races, a new vision appearing in my mind, a vision where I find my speck of happiness, where not only do I survive this dangerous game, but I am the victor.
My feet are bare on the stone floor as I head for the back entrance of the palace, waiting in a dark alcove until I see him enter, slinking in from the shadows. His dark hair is tousled, but in a handsome way, the stubble along his jaw freshly trimmed. As he passes, I reach out and grab his arm, drawing him into the darkness with me.
At first, he’s startled, then concerned.
“Sophie, are you all right? What are you doing out here?”
I pull him close as a maid passes, not seeing us.
“Sergei, I saw you from my window. Please, I need to speak with you privately. It’s urgent.”
He blinks, and then checks to make sure the coast is clear before leading me off to the south corridor, to an empty bedroom.
“What has happened?” he asks, taking my hands.
“Peter is in love with Elizavetta,” I say flatly. “He wants me to be declared barren and sent away so he can marry her.”
His face fills with confusion, then, as he works through what I’ve said, he frowns.
“What do you need from me? Should I fetch Alexander?” he asks, his voice tight with resignation.
I shake my head slowly. Alexander is married—and to my dear friend—with a child on the way. Perhaps it was not the life he hoped for once, but there is joy in it for him, and I would not take it from him for anything.
“I was not thinking of Alexander,” I answer slowly.
I reach up, taking the cord that fastens the cloak around my neck and tugging at it, letting it fall in a white pool at my feet. Standing there, the only light in the room coming from the bright moonlight streaming through the windows, in just my pink gown, I stretch my neck, showing him the marks where Peter put his hands on me.
With a gasp, he steps forward, touching my neck with just the tips of his fingers.
“Sergei, my champion, you told me once that I might find some small measure of joy in this life. And I know you are right. I feel it when we are together. When I see you, my heart feels safe. You are the only man I trust completely, the only man I wish to be with this night.”
I look up at him, allowing the truth of my words to fill my voice and shine in my eyes.
“Tell me, Sergei, will you do this for me?”
His eyelids lower just a bit, his breathing heavy.
“I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, my clever, brave Snow Queen.”
I smile slyly. I cannot imagine a better man to have in my arms or at my side as I continue on this dangerous journey. And if it should be his child who someday sits on the throne of Russia, how much better the place would be for it.
“Then kiss me now. Let this night be the beginning of our joy,” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He says nothing, but lowers his lips to mine, his stubble scratching at my face pleasantly. I feel a warmth spreading inside me, a slow boil under my skin. His kisses begin gently, but become increasingly urgent. His hand slides up my back and into my hair and I let go, losing myself in the feel of his hands, the scent of his skin like fresh pine. A familiar ache grows in my belly, and I know that there will be no pain this night—there is far too much else to feel. He lifts me, carrying me to the bed, where he sets me gently.
“Are you certain?” he asks, his voice hard, as though barely able to contain itself.
I nod and pull him to me. The last of his restraint gone, he begins to undress as I watch him, stopping him occasionally to run a hand along the muscles rippling in his stomach, back, and shoulders. When he is finally free of his clothes, he turns his full attention to me. The boil inside me becomes a torrent of pleasure and pain, and I feel myself writhe with his every touch.
Hours later, I lay in his arms, safe and content in a way I have never felt before. He traces my belly button with his finger.
“You should get back to your room before the sun rises,” he whispers.
I take his hand in mine.
“Only if you make me a promise,” I challenge.
He smiles, kissing my neck. “Anything.”
“Promise me that you will never leave me,” I say earnestly. Now that I’ve given myself to him, to my feelings for him, I never want to lose him. I never want to be alone again.
“I promise. Tomorrow, when you leave for Oranienbaum, I will be right there at your side. And every day after that.”
“And every night?” I ask coyly.
His answer is a deep, long kiss.
Queen of Someday Page 30