Valentina Luellen

by The Countess

  Alexandreya watched the brown features harden with the memory, and her heart brimmed over with anguish. Compared to this woman Jean-Paul was an amateur. She had escaped with a broken heart, newly mended with a deeper, truer love. Dmitri would bear the marks of his fruitless love until the day he died.

  "Does she still live in Moscow?" she asked, wondering if he had perhaps seen or visited her during his stay there.

  "She died in a fire at her house some while ago."

  "I'm sorry," she said simply and it was enough.

  "Thank you, but then you realise a little of what I felt, don't you? I mean someone once hurt you, did they not? Natasha said you were to be married-" He broke off as her face clouded with the mention of her sister's name. "For­give me, I promised myself I would cause you no pain tonight."

  "Natasha is dead and I must learn to accept it," Alexandreya returned bravely. "Why did she tell you?"

  "I asked her. I could not understand why a woman of your intelligence and station has never married."

  "Most men prefer their wives to have looks, but no brains. If they have money, then even beauty is not impor­tant. As a young girl, my life at Bratz was very sheltered, Colonel, my mother and father were my sole world. With them both dead and Natasha married, I was terribly lonely and foolishly romantic enough to believe when a man said he loved me, he meant it."

  "Was it your money?" Dmitri asked gently.

  "Only that. I was twenty and he was the first man ever to kiss me." She blushed as she looked at Dmitri and recalled how possessive his kisses had been. They had made her into another woman. "You may laugh if you wish, Colonel, I often do when I think back on my stupid­ity. I soon learned he had much in common with all other men - that is why I have never married."

  Dmitri stared at her over the rim of his glass, a familiar mocking glint in his eyes.

  "If you gave all your riches to the poor and came to me in rags, I would still want you, mala koska," he mur­mured.

  Alexandreya caught her breath, her gaze transfixed on his face. Without warning he was out of his chair and at her side. His arms closed around her like a steel band; his weight bore her back on to the couch and his mouth took command of hers. She did not know if it was the brandy or her own emotions which caused her head to spin sud­denly. She made no attempt to push him away, those times were past, her love too strong. Until this moment, she had not realised how much she craved the comfort of his arms.

  "Dmitri." His name broke from her lips for the first time.

  It halted the wild onslaught of kisses. Slowly, unsteadily Dmitri drew back staring almost unbelievingly into her flushed cheeks. The last doubts had gone and he knew he loved her, yet caution made him remain silent. Given time he felt sure she would come to love him too, and he could wait until that day came. He bent and kissed her briefly on one cheek.

  "I am reverting to the bete noire you hate so much. You may slap my face if you wish."

  "Don't mock me, please," Alexandreya pleaded. She tried to turn her face away, ashamed at her lack of control, but he caught her chin and forced her to look up at him.

  "Nothing has changed, I still want you, but not this way. I told you, I respect you; no woman has ever heard that from me. You are in need of sympathy and gentle­ness, someone to care for you and share your grief. If I took advantage of the situation now it would be the most dishonourable thing I have ever done in my life and in the morning you would hate me as surely as I would loathe myself. I want your friendship, little one and your trust."

  He looked down into her quivering features and gently raised her into a sitting position, holding her hands tightly against his chest. "Come to Peterhof with me; stay with Catherine, she will care for you like a mother. God knows I've given you no reason to make my company in the least desirable and I won't blame you if you refuse-"

  "The villagers at Bratz have a saying, 'The journey of a thousand miles often starts with a single step'. I fear that first step, yet I know I must take it. I will come with you."

  Alexandreya's voice was hardly audible. She was deeply shaken emotionally and drained of all strength physically. She became aware he had released her and was holding out the remains of her brandy.

  "Drink it," he ordered quietly, "and go to bed. We will make an early start in the morning."

  Calling for Irina to come and attend her mistress, he escorted Alexandreya to the bedroom door and closed it firmly behind her without touching her again.

  Alexandreya slept throughout the night untroubled by dreams, and awoke to the sound of voices in the adjoining room. Someone outside was calling loudly for Sergei. Dmitri's voice was instandy recognisable, and memory of the previous evening flooded back.

  Her arms still felt tender from his fierce grip, her mouth bruised from his kisses. For so long she had fought off his advances, yet when she surrendered, he had refused to take her. She experienced a moment of shame, then it was gone and in its place came a feeling of exaltation sweeping away all unhappiness. She would go to Peterhof with him and pray for the time when he came to care for her just a little. To confess her love now could be disastrous. He might feel an obligation after her recent bereavement, and stay with her out of kindness. She did not want that.

  Her own silk blouse and the riding skirt lay across the end of the bed, washed and pressed. She did not call Irina, but washed and dressed herself and managed to arrange her hair into a fairly presentable coil.

  Dmitri was standing by the window in the other room, so obsessed with this thoughts he did not hear her until she was at his side.

  "Good morning." He turned to examine the pale face before him with a slow smile that sent her heart racing! "I hope you slept well?"

  "The brandy was a wonderful nightcap, although I must admit to drinking a little too much."

  "Nonsense, we spent ,a most enjoyable evening together. Come and have breakfast. Irina has kept some food hot for you."

  "Have you eaten?" Alexandreya asked when he did not sit down with her.

  "Some while ago. You were sleeping so soundly I did not have the heart to awaken you."

  He left her to eat alone while he went to supervise preparations for the journey. It was only a three hours' ride, a mere trifle to someone like him, but he still did not consider Alexandreya to be in any condition to travel even that short while. The day was bright and sunny, but there was a cold wind, which penetrated the thick overcoat he wore. Instead of being forced to endure the journey on horseback he arranged for her to travel in a covered sleigh, drawn by the red-coated mare. He had come to accept this as Alexandreya's possession, and so it was fitting to take it with them. She could use it when they rode together on future occasions.

  He settled her in the sleigh, tucking numerous furs around her. He rode close beside her throughout the journey to Peterhof and twice stopped the sleigh to enquire if she was warm enough, or to offer her vodka from the silver flask he carried.

  Alexandreya's eyes glowed with pleasure as she walked beside him into Catherine's presence, her arm tucked beneath his.

  "Come here, child and let me look at you." Catherine studied her for a long moment before embracing her. "Dmitri has told me everything. Rest assured that those responsible for the death of your sister will pay with their heads."

  "Your Imperial Majesty is too kind," Alexandreya said with a curtsey.

  Catherine's probing eyes encountered Dmitri's, and she suspected he had not told Alexandreya who was behind the incident. He was being unusually considerate.

  "Take off your cloak and sit down," Catherine ordered. "I have had apartments prepared for you, near mine. You may go to them in a moment."

  Dmitri stepped forward to unfasten Alexandreya's cloak. As it fell away, Catherine saw dark bruises on the girl's neck, and the faint mark still visible on her right cheek where he had struck her. She had been informed only of the incdents at the fortress, and knew nothing of Alexandreya's ordeal before Dmitri found her. Her first thoughts were that he had taken
the girl as payment for his services.

  "In God's name, what have you done? You have seduced her!"

  It was framed as a statement rather than a question. A flush stole over Dmitri's neck and face, but he stood his ground unflinchingly before his Czarina's anger.

  "You are mistaken. The Countess came to the hunting-lodge in hysterics, I was forced to strike her in order to calm her."

  "And when she was calmer, no doubt you carried out the satisfactory task of making love to a girl too weak to resist you."

  Alexandreya started to her feet, but Catherine waved aside her stuttered,

  "But-but, he - did not, it - isn't true."

  "I am fully aware he has been attempting to make you his mistress since the day you set foot in St. Petersburg." Catherine's attention centred again on her Guard Com­mander. "I warn you, if she tells me you have harmed her in any way, you will end up in Siberia - or worse, under the executioner's axe."

  "I admit I did consider her an easy conquest in the beginning."

  Dmitri almost choked over the words. He stood straight and still, clutching the fur cloak, his gaze not on Catherine, but on the face of the girl who had intruded into his safe little world and made it impossible for it ever to be the same again. "It did not take long for me to discover that she is young not only in years, but in the ways of the world. It has been a long time since I have come upon such innocence. I am not afraid of anything she might say to you, she has nothing to fear from me and she knows that now." He looked squarely at Catherine. "Your Imperial Majesty must make up her own mind, but I swear I speak the truth."

  Catherine was silent, surprised by his frankness. She believed him, yet there were questions still unanswered.

  "The Countess has had a tiring journey," she said, forcing a smile to her stiff lips. "Perhaps it will be advis­able for her to retire."

  "May I suggest it becomes known the Countess Romanova has been taken into your service? The Czar knows by now of Natasha Krylenko's death and may begin to wonder about the Countess, if he is prompted enough. With her here, at court, he might come to believe she has accepted what happened and was in no way involved. It will be less dangerous for her to remain in your care and we can look after her."

  Catherine was swift to notice his choice of words.

  "We?"

  "I meant Your Imperial Majesty, of course," came the dry retort.

  Catherine threw him a suspicious glance. As usual, he had everything worked out to the last detail.

  "Call one of my ladies-of-the-bedchamber, Tanya, I think. Dismiss everyone else waiting outside." She waited until he was out of earshot before returning to Alexandreya. "I will send for you tomorrow when you have rested and you will tell me truthfully how Dmitri has behaved towards you. By that I mean exactly what pay­ment he extracted from you for his help."

  "Your Imperial Majesty misjudges him." Alexandreya was appalled by Catherine's suspicions. It did not occur to her that once she had held the same views. "He has taken nothing from me. At all times he treated me with far more courtesy and gentleness than I deserved. I owe him a great deal -" She broke off in confusion as Dmitri appeared from the shadows, the figure of a woman behind him.

  "Tanya is here," he said. If he had overheard any of the conversation, he did not show it, either in his expression or tone of voice.

  Alexandreya gave a quiet sigh. The memory of the lodge would never leave her. She could still feel the strength of his arms about her, see the lingering desire in his eyes and hear the softness of his voice dispelling her fears.

  "You are to stay with the Countess Romanova at all times," Catherine instructed the woman, Tanya. "If the Czar or any of his household tries to contact her, I am to be informed at once, is that clear?"

  Tanya curtsied and said it was quite clear.

  "Good, then be gone, both of you."

  Alexandreya halted before Dmitri and stretched out her hand.

  "Goodnight, Colonel Varanov."

  Dmitri caught her fingers and touched them to his lips. His eyes searched her face for a moment before he released her, without speaking a word.

  "It would appear I owe you an apology," Catherine said, frowning, as the door closed behind the departing figures. She hated admitting she was wrong, but had made it a strict rule always to do so when she knew she had made a mistake.

  "Your Highness is too kind," Dmitri answered.

  As usual, he was less formal whenever they were alone together. The tone of voice brought her wheeling around to face him.

  "You, sir, are an insolent dog. You forget yourself too often these days. You may profess to be my lost loyal subject, but you are not the most respectful," she snap­ped. Then instantly her mood changed and the anger dissolved. He had earned her favour for proving her suspi­cions of him unfounded.

  "Come here, my Colonel." She took a ruby ring from her finger and held it out to him. "Well, take it, or is it not enough? Is she worth more than a mere bauble? Two rings, perhaps a necklace?"

  "I am honoured, but I can accept nothing. I already have my reward."

  "So you lied and she condoned it," Catherine hissed. "You have had her."

  "I have had two things from the Countess. Her friend­ship and her trust," Dmitri returned flatly.

  Catherine stared at him in astonishment. Had he not sounded so sincere she would have laughed outright at the thought of him playing the role of a gentleman of honour. Where women were concerned, she knew he cared little for it, his or theirs. He was growing soft-hearted, or else he was in love!

  "The bruises you saw on her were not my doing," Dmitri said. "My messenger did not tell you everything. I wanted to speak of this to you myself."

  Catherine's eyes narrowed sharply. So there was some­thing else? She sat down.

  "Go on."

  "You know already of the plot to murder Natasha Krylenko, but not what passed before the Countess reached me at the lodge. The coach was waylaid, sup­posedly by robbers. Natasha Krylenko was fortunately killed when it overturned. The Countess' poor maid was not so lucky. She was raped and then had her throat cut. The Countess herself was assaulted by one of the men. Not surprisingly, she fainted." Dmitri hesitated and then decided to keep Alexandreya's secret. "When she reco­vered she was alone. By the time she had wandered through the forest to reach me, she was in an appalling condition."

  "You said the coach was supposedly stopped by rob­bers." Catherine's controlled tones masked a tumult of fury within her. The incident had Peter's twisted touch about it. He knew she had taken a liking to the girl. Was this a scheme to bring her out into the open; to rouse her enough to provoke a quarrel and thereby give him a reason to have her removed from the scene? "Why do you suspect otherwise?"

  "Sergei found one of the men who had been wounded when the coach was ambushed," Dmitri lied. "He had. dragged himself into the bushes and died. He was wearing new issue army boots. I am sure you would recognise them if I brought them to you."

  "The Czar's men playing bandits?"

  "Major Krylenko's men, to be exact; under orders, not from the Major, however, to kill the Countess and her retinue."

  "You say someone else is involved?" Catherine's fears of a plot against her life grew. "Do you know who was behind it?"

  "Yes, I do." Dmitri did not care to elaborate on his answer, adding simply, "I have dealt with her."

  Catherine heard and understood at once. He had settled a personal score and also removed 6ne of her husband's most devious agents. It was a job well done.

  "I shall not ask for details," she murmured. "I trust to your good judgement to have made sure I am not involved. Is there no reward I can offer you? I am well pleased, Dmitri, make no mistake about that. You are a rogue, but I cannot do without you."

  "Grant me one request."

  "Name it."

  "Allow me to place two of my men to guard the Coun­tess."

  Catherine smiled and saw his mouth tighten as he waited for her to make some remark.

 
; "Answer me a question first. Do you lay claim to the Countess?"

  "I do."

  "Does she know it?"

  "Not yet." It was Dmitri's turn to smile. "Experience has made me over-cautious perhaps. She will realise it in time."

  Catherine rose and gave him her hand.

  "Place as many guards as you wish. I give her into your charge."

  Dmitri bowed and kissed the jewelled fingers. Within a few minutes of him leaving the Czarina's apartments, two of his most trusted men were on sentry duty outside Alexandreya's apartments, with orders to allow no one to enter without first confirming it with him.

  The last days of May came and slipped away into June. Alexandreya had been at court for three weeks and although she had no particular duties, she had been accepted as part of Catherine's household. She had asked to remain in mourning for Natasha and was allowed to do so. It gave her a chance to accept more fully the awful thing that had happened, and to prepare herself for the onslaught of gossip she knew she would have to face once she emerged from the sanctuary of her rooms.

  Dmitri came daily to see her and relate the latest news. She heard how Vladimir Krylenko had returned to Peterhof the day after their arrival, apparently in a state of deep shock over his wife's death, and of the sympathy everyone afforded him. Alexandreya had received his condolences not long afterwards, and a message which said he hoped she would soon feel well enough to see him.

  She had thanked him for his kind wishes, but pleaded illness as an excuse not to see him. The lie confined her to the apartments for three consecutive days.