by C. N. Bird
“Please, I am Katinka. Pray, sit down”
“Katinka. Thank you. I am Amaury.”
He moved towards the fireplace and sat upon the upturned bucket, stretching his long legs out in front of him and felt the glow of the fire seep through his trousers into his muscles before taking a sip of his vodka.
“Amaury... How did you ever come to become a soldier, Amaury?”
He looked up from his glass and just for a moment he feared she saw the sadness in his eyes before he blinked it away. He offered her a wry, resolute, amused expression.
“Well, Your Excellency, in much the same way that most soldiers do, I suppose. Families with too many sons and too little land. I daresay in Russia that is less of a concern. Should all French sons expect to inherit from their parents, the situation would become quite tense very quickly indeed.”
He crossed one leg over the other and took a deep sigh. “And indeed, there is adventure to be had at war, an examination of one’s character. I grant that it’s a noisier form of character discovery than entering the clergy but I suspect that many would say it were the more honest occupation.”
She chuckled as she sat down with her glass, revealing a flash of her delicate little teeth and he smiled in turn, glad to have been the cause of that smile. “Ah yes. La Belle France is still under the thrall of her beloved pope, no? For all her assertions of grandeur, liberty, mastery over her own destiny and that of her people? Yet still she bows the knee to peddlers of indulgences. Do none of your people know of the truth of the Orthodox Church?”
“That isn’t exactly how it is known outside of Russia, madam. With the very greatest of respect.”
“Mmmm. It is imperfect, that is true, but it is at least an honest attempt to maintain the truth of the faith of Jesus Christ.”
He smiled and tilted his head to one side. “Madam, the French people do not agree. Indeed, they believe deviations from the leadership of the descendants of Peter and their chosen ones to be quite misguided.”
She smirked and flicked her hair over her shoulder, a lock grazing her collarbone. Amaury was entranced. For one dangerous moment, he was tempted to run his hand along that ridge. Perhaps a little further along too.
“Misguided you say. My family’s advisors could not have chosen a more diplomatic term. Such manners and care for the feelings of a bereaved woman too. You came from a diplomatic family perhaps? You have spent much time in Paris?” She swirled her drink in her glass and looked across to him.
“Alas, madam, my family have but modest assets. My father is now a merchant and has gained some land from his efforts. Any grace with words I have is down to the influence of my dear Maman.”
“So it is true that the Frenchman, these great soldiers, they are all mother’s boys? Mollycoddled like their Italian brothers?”
Her eyes glinted with mischief and he roared with laughter.
“Madam, you wound me so to make such comparisons.” Chuckling gently, he picked up his glass from the ground. “Ahh but consider the Romans. The Italians might be masters of the world if they ever emerged from behind their mother’s skirts and their mistress’s bosoms.” He paused and his smile fell. “Forgive me, I was most crude there.”
She looked towards the fire, waving his apology away and he paused for a moment, considering how to respond. He swirled his drink in the glass before looking across to her, a rakish grin across his face. “Besides, is it truly such a sin to respect one’s parents?”
She giggled and he thought to himself how agreeable she was when she was playful, like a small kitten with a ball of wool.
“Hmmm I should say that those who would claim to be masters of their own destiny should not defer to the wishes of small, old women. Or for that matter, short, fat generals.”
He smirked and arched his brow. A kitten with claws. “Madam, I fear you try to tempt me into treasonable speech. I must decline to step into your trap.”
“Your general has ears everywhere does he, mon Capitaine?”
“I come not to lay down false words about my Générale. He has brought greatness to France and to her people. He has provided a grand direction, a purpose after the… the difficulties of revolution.”
“Yes…” she looked down to her lap. “Your revolution. You know, Papa always needed to come to me in the night when I had nightmares. I read of the Terreur when I was much smaller. Pyotr, the stable boy would tell me about it in the most graphic and horrific details. Most certainly embellished, I’m sure. I-I suppose that these things would be nothing to the things you have seen at war. Regardless, the idea of men turning up at the houses of those they imagined had wronged them, imprisoning everyone inside and then the nobles would never be seen again until heads appear on spikes. It would scare me so much.”
She stood up and walked towards the decanter, filling her glass. “Tell me. Do you believe France to be a better place for the revolution?” Her voice trembled as she spoke and he felt a flush of longing and shame at his countrymen’s actions.
He sighed and rubbed his temples. “I was but five years old when it began. I’m told of the vile excesses of the nobility. I have heard that whilst honest, God-fearing men starved for want of grain fit only to feed livestock, those with no greater claim to power or fortune than the accident of their birth treated food like a plaything, to create over-elaborate concoctions of sugars and meats and butters and to waste so much.”
He paused and she stood still. A moment passed and he sighed. “Madam, I can only speak thus. If your conscience is clear that those people living under your father’s care had food every day that sustained them and their families, you should have nothing to fear from revolutionaries. Your people’s ears will be filled.”
They were silent for a moment, considering his words. After a small while, she sighed and held her arms, delicate fingers curling around her upper arms. “I suppose it is now not a question that is sensible to answer, nyet? Napoleon has brought his revolution to Russia and until my tsar sees fit to send men to fight le Grande Army, it will happen, whether it be the will of the people or not.”
She looked down and he watched as her shoulders began to tremble with thinly restrained sobs. He paused, unsure how to proceed. He wanted so much to hold her, make all her cares disappear. She must surely see that he—that l’Empereur and he intended no harm to her or to her compatriots. She must know that the Austrian and Polish nation states now within the new Empire had been permitted—encouraged in fact—to retain their royal families. She surely had no reason to be so distraught.
“Madam….” he paused and inhaled. “Madam, this war will not last long and the tsar is an honourable man with good sense. He will surely reach an accord with l’Empereur and stop his foolish trades with the English. Soon you will surely be able to go home.”
She snorted through her tears and brought her hands to her face. “But who will be there when I return? Papa and Vasili…”
She burst into a huge, chest rending sob and emotion and instinct overrode his restraint. He stood and came to her, wrapping her up in his large arms and holding her. She leaned her head against his chest, sobbing. A flood of protective feelings engulfed him and he held her closer, angry at the soldiers who were too hungry and afraid to follow orders. Angry at the tsar for provoking the world’s greatest military genius and providing the spark to the series of events that would bereave this young woman in such a senseless, unnecessary way. Angry at himself for not having the ability to make amends, to make her feel better.
Pressed against him, he felt as her sobs eased to hiccups and finally to gentle sniffles. Stilled, he pressed his chin against her forehead and heard her audibly inhale and soften in his arms. A moment passed before she turned her head, pressing her ears into his chest, against his heart.
He released one arm from its tight embrace and in silence, he leaned away and ran the back of his fingers gently along her cheek, wiping the tears from her face before skimming his knuckle gently along the length
of her lower lip. Her large, wide blue eyes looked deep into his and he felt her breath hitch. He stared into her eyes, an anxious burning gaze full of concern, before his gaze fell to her mouth, those full pretty lips. Her cheeks flushed and she reached for his hand, pressing it against her cheek.
“Hush now, my dear.”
He leaned down and touched his mouth to hers. She parted her lips and their tongues touched, softness against softness before passions increased and their kiss grew into a frenetic dance. Amaury ran his fingertips along the delicate, soft skin of her neck, so warm to the touch. She pressed herself up against him and moaned into his mouth, arms around his neck, pressing into his shoulders.
With a jump, he pulled away panting, holding her at arm’s length.
“Madam, I- I apologise most unreservedly.”
What was he thinking? Even if she was holding up well to the last few days, she was still a grieving woman. Undoubtedly she could only regret her actions later when her emotions passed.
She gasped and looked up at him confused, lips parted.
“Your Excellency, I must beg your greatest forgiveness for my trespass upon your person. I sought to comfort you and have wildly overstepped the mark. I have imposed my person upon you at a time when you are grieving.”
She gasped, her lips moving but no words emerging. It was unbearable to watch. He needed to leave her quarters immediately.
“I apologise without reservation, your Excellency. I will bid you a good night - I mean, I’ll leave. I’m sorry. I only meant to comfort you. I must go.”
“What? No!”
He walked to the door and bowed deeply, his eyes closed. “Your Excellency. Good evening.”
“Wait!”
He opened the door to leave and she ran at it, pinning the it shut.
“Capitaine, I think there are some things that need to be made clear now.”
He looked to her and then to the floor, awkward and uncomfortable before he steeled himself. Wafts of her perfume, lavender and musk flooded him afresh and he knew it could only be a matter of time before he lunged at her. Why wouldn’t she let him go?
“Capitaine. I am obliged to spend time as a French hostage, whether you call me your guest or no. Should I be expected to just sit here and wait for my food thrice daily, I will attempt to escape and walk back to Viasma. That would be deeply unwise for all concerned at this time of year.”
She placed her hand to his cheek, and he felt his stubble dragging under her palm. Despite himself, he looked into her eyes. “Thank you for comforting me. I must insist that even if you are ashamed of what just happened… I am grateful for our time tonight. I would see you again.”
He closed his eyes again and bowed.
“As you wish, Your Excellency. I shall ensu… tomorrow, Your Excellency.”
“Capitaine?”
“Yes?” He glanced up. She looked at him with an expression he could not read.
“Good night.”
Chapter Three
She awoke the next morning to find a food platter already placed on the table in her bedroom. Josefa and Pauline were nowhere to be seen. Grumbling, Katinka pulled on the dress laid at the foot of her bed but her mind was already elsewhere.
Her fingers ran to her lips involuntarily. That kiss… that kiss. Emotions curled in her stomach as she remembered his soft lips and the bristle of his stubble against her chin. She sighed. There was only one reason why he would have pulled away. He must not find her attractive. Why he would have kissed her in the first place, she could not say. It was surely impossible that he did not feel the frisson between them as they chatted.
She sneered quietly to herself. He’s a soldier. He has his… carnal needs. She undoubtedly had a lucky escape from a cad.
A cad’s carnal needs that he couldn’t even bring himself to satisfy on you, her mind scoffed.
Shame flooded her and she cringed. The memory of her invitation, no, her insistence that he come to see her again tonight came to her and humiliation consumed her. How could she have been such a fool? How was she supposed to look him in the eye? Her eyes began to puff with tears and she stopped and wiped her face angrily. There had been too many tears over the last few days. If she had been a fool, there would be time for her to correct that. If he came to her quarters tonight, she would act with all the dignity and nobility her birth bestowed upon her. That would be that.
She blinked hard and rubbed her hands over her face before standing and walking towards the table.
It was then she saw it.
To the side of her breakfast, tucked behind the teapot, was a single white rose with a small strip of paper tied to its base.
Even in the midst of battlefields, I have found beauty beyond the imagination. Though I know this does not compare to your beauty, I hope you will forgive me.
Time stood still and she held her breath, running her fingers along the petals. How on earth had he found this? And those words! Her heart pounded harder and faster and her stomach fluttered. She hugged herself and grinned. Beautiful! He used the word beautiful! But why would he still be asking forgiveness? How could he not know that she wanted him?
She needed to find him.
Quickly she flung her dress on and slipped into her shoes before she skipped downstairs with the strings from her half tied corset streaming behind her. Pulling on a cloak, she opened the door and ran out, leaping over half-frozen pools of water and mud, impervious to the chill descending upon the land.
A soldier stood on the road and she ran to him. “Où est le Capitaine s’il vous plaît?” she asked. He looked at her slowly, eyes widening in surprise and it struck her how especially slender the soldier was. He was evidently much weakened by either lack of food, dysentery, cold or some horrible combination of the three and she felt a rush of pity for him. Poor French boy, so far from home.
“You have a strange accent… Pardonnez moi, mademoiselle, le Capitaine is probably in the storeroom.” He removed his hat and clicked his heels together, an odd, instinctive motion. “Mademoiselle, you—perhaps it would be better if I brought you to him, saved your pretty shoes? I can carry you without causing you shame.” She smiled, aware that it would be absolutely impossible for the young man to fulfil his chivalric promise but unwilling to shame him when he took the time to be so gracious. Especially at a time when he could least afford it.
“You are very kind, monsieur, but I must be on my way. I thank you most kindly for your help.”
He nodded slowly, fingers to his helmet and she smiled, raising a hand to his upper arm and inwardly wincing at how little flesh she felt there. “Please take care.”
He nodded, a glimmer of fear crossing his face before he looked stern again, a young boy playing dress up in Papa’s uniforms. Poor boy. He should be wining and dining some young girl, not stood here, dancing with death.
She curtsied before sprinting away. She could not delay.
She burst into the storehouse with a flourish, her muddy heels clicking on the floor. Amaury looked up from his ledger to her and inhaled sharply. He stood as she came to an abrupt halt. His gaze captured hers and her chest ached as if all the breath had been squeezed out of her. Neither could look away from each other.
“Capitaine,” she whispered.
The sound of her voice drew his attention and he strode towards her, stopping so close that the white clouds of his breath floated through her hair and then froze. Katinka frowned at his uncertainty. She looked up at him, nose close to brushing his chin. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his presence, so close, so tantalisingly close.
Who took the first step, they could never recall but they lunged together. He cupped her face with his hands, she gripped his arms and their lips pressed before tongues snaked into mouths. She moaned into his mouth, their tongues stroking, coaxing and joined in a frenetic dance. Desire exploded throughout her body and he groaned, a low, sexy sound from the base of his throat that she felt through her limbs. Their bodies pressed toge
ther and she could feel his arousal pushing against her hip.
He broke off the kiss and stepped back, sucking air into his lungs, eyes glowing with lust. “Do you have any comprehension of how much I want you?”
She leaned against the wall, panting, trying to find her voice through the flood of desire coursing throughout her. She felt a hunger so deep that her stomach ached. “Capitaine, come to me tonight.”
He ran his hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on her. A glimmer of doubt remained on his face. In a voice so low it was almost impossible to hear, he spoke. “Katinka, do you know what you ask?”
She nodded, breathless, eyes wide.
“I would not ruin you. You are a noble woman.”
“I know what I ask. I know what I want.”
He looked at her, joy and trepidation flickering across his face before he closed his eyes and spoke. “Then I will come tonight.”
***
As night fell, he approached her quarters. Not for the first time during that journey, he stopped, unsure where to continue. She wanted him, that was true, but he was an honourable man and he must do what was best for her, regardless of whether that was what she had wanted. Perhaps she just wished for companionship. It would be much less complicated, that was certain. He could not deny he wanted more than mere companionship. Since he first laid eyes upon her, he had felt himself pulled deeper and deeper into an emotional quicksand that scared him. Unbidden, the memory of that frenzied kiss flooded his mind and senses and he groaned aloud. He needed to steady himself and he stopped to take a deep breath.
When his head was as steady as his hand, he knocked on the door to her quarters and entered.
***
Katinka sat by the fire, a piece of lace in her hands that had evidently been wrought and re-wrought in her hands. She looked up at him with relief and a shy smile. “You came.”
He smiled. “Your Excellency… I have thought of nothing else all day.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
He walked slowly towards her and removed his hat. She stood and placed her lace on the chair. He leaned down and for an instant, Katinka thought he was going to kiss her. He held back, the tension palpable in the air. Desire seized her with a vengeance, her skin flushing with lust.and she felt certain that she saw her reactions mirrored in his stance, in his eyes.