by The Countess
He was reaching out towards Alexandreya when Dmitri called him. Unceremoniously he took her arm, and propelled her forcefully into the bedroom.
From the bed where he lay, hardly conscious and fast losing blood again, Dmitri stared at her for a long time as if she were an apparition, and then his face darkened.
"What are you doing here?"
His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. He struggled to sit up, but the effort was too much for him and he fell back on to the pillows with a groan.
"I heard you had been injured-"
"And so you came to watch me die." He gave a mirthless laugh which ended in a fit of coughing.
Alexandreya shook her head, near to tears, dismayed and shocked by his appearance. His face was grey with pain and there was a thick growth of beard on his chin. She had never seen him unshaven before. It gave him a wild appearance to match his unkempt hair. On the table beside the bed there was an empty jug of braga and another still half full. He had been drinking instead of eating, that was why he looked so thin, and if he had refused to see a doctor, then his wound was probably infected.
"I told you I would kill you if we ever met again," Dmitri said.
"My life is as important to me as yours is to you, and at the moment it would appear to be of little importance." She glanced down at Sergei's fingers, still clutching her arm in a painful grip. "Please let me go, I have no intention of trying to leave. Someone has to stop his wound bleeding."
"I'd rather bleed to death than have you tend me," Dmitri snapped; nevertheless the Tartar released her.
Removing her riding jacket, Alexandreya bent over him and loosened the bandages swathed across his chest.
"If you do not lie still and let this heal you will never be strong enough to kill me," she said calmly. He flinched as she lifted the bandages and saw the ugly gash which brought bright tears starting to her eyes.
"Did you weep over Krylenko's body too?" Dmitri demanded harshly. "Why are you seeking solace with me after I killed him - or is that an unimportant fact?"
"You did what you had to do, I don't blame you. Sergei, bring some fresh bandages and then ride to Peterhof for a doctor."
"No, no doctor." Dmitri was adamant. "Damn you, go away and let me die in peace. Find some other fool to keep you warm at night."
Alexandreya drew back as if he had struck her, her eyes growing reproachful. Although she knew she deserved his scorn and far worse, it was still hard to bear such cruel words.
"If you will not have a doctor, then I must stay and look after you myself."
"Aren't you afraid I will drag you into bed with me as thanks for your ministering? It is the least you can expect from a peasant."
"You will hurt me in whatever way you see fit," Alexandreya answered, "but it does not matter. If it did I would not be here. I love you -I know you won't believe me, but it is the truth."
He started violently and grew paler, if that was possible with his awful colouring.
"Love," he sneered. "If you mention that word again I'll have Sergei cut out your tongue. My God, I shall never understand women! You come here knowing I might kill you, or at least make you my mistress, and regardless of the fact that I cut down your future husband. You really must have loved him."
"I hated him," she whispered brokenly.
Dmitri looked startled. His fingers clutched at her skirt, dragging her closer to him.
"Then why marry him? Tell me. If this is a trick, I swear you will pay dearly."
"We made a bargain." Alexandreya brushed a hand across her eyes. "In a way it was my life for yours. He knew you had killed Madeleine de Veaux and he threatened to tell the Czar and have you executed. I promised to be his wife if he would keep silent."
Dmitri seemed to be having trouble in understanding her. His bewildered gaze searched her face for a moment before his eyes closed, and a deep sigh escaped him. Alarm seized Alexandreya. She bent over him and touched the unshaven chin with trembling hands.
"Dmitri - don't die. Please open your eyes and tell me you understand. I know you think of me in the same light as Elena, but I'm not like her. I do love you. What else could I do? You would have been arrested and Vladimir promised to give me your head as a wedding present."
She shuddered at the recollection of that terrible day and fresh tears spilled down over her cheeks. "I said I would - would submit to him as long as you were allowed to live. It was a small price to pay - at least I thought so until the moment came when I had to tell you. I've wished so many times since then that I had died with Natasha."
"God forgive me." Dmitri mustered the last of his strength to speak. He was so weak that he could hardly keep his head raised. "Sergei - fetch the doctor," he muttered and lapsed into deep unconsciousness.
The next few moments were a blur to Alexandreya. She swayed forward, near to fainting with relief at his words. The next clear thing she knew, she was seated in a chair beside the bed with Sergei peering down at her.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes - yes - but Colonel Varanov?"
"Unconscious. I shall have to ride hard if I am to bring the doctor back in time."
"Do you believe me, Sergei?"
"The Colonel does. You have given him a reason to live again - be content with that. I will send a man to fetch Irina from the village, you will need help to watch him while I am gone."
Alexandreya stared determinedly into the Tartar's hard face.
"I do love him, and I'll make him believe it somehow."
The doctor came and went and for two days Dmitri hovered between life and death, too weak to fight off the sudden fever which seized him within a few hours of Sergei's departure. With Irina helping her, Alexandreya regularly changed the bandages on his wound and bathed his face and body with cool water. She gave no thought to the indelicacy of the tasks she performed. This was the man she loved, there was nothing she would not do for him. As if realising the way she felt, Irina said nothing, although it grieved her to see a fine lady stooping to such menial work.
On the third day the fever broke and by the following afternoon Dmitri's strength appeared to be returning at a rapid rate. He was able to sit up for a while and take some broth. He allowed Alexandreya to feed him in silence, greatly unnerving her with the intensity of his gaze. When she attempted to remove the tray, he stopped her, his hand on her arm. His eyes were troubled.
"Stay, I must talk to you. You have much to forgive me for."
His contrition stirred Alexandreya's compassion. She smiled and gently disengaged herself.
"Not now. The doctor gave instructions you are to have complete rest."
"Rest be damned. I want to hold you and let your kisses show me how much you love me." He laughed at the sight of fierce colour flooding into Alexandreya's cheeks. "You haven't changed! What a fool I was to believe otherwise. I should have known there was a good reason for what you did. I was cruel, and I want to make amends as soon as possible."
Alexandreya hurriedly withdrew the tray and set it down on the floor while she straightened the blankets.
"Try to sleep."
"I will if you come here."
"Why?"
"I want to kiss you."
He caught her arm and pulled her down beside him. Alexandreya did not resist, afraid that he would reopen his wound with too much movement.
"Dmitri - be careful."
"I am stronger than you think. Let me show you."
His kisses were gentle yet still masterful, as if to prove to her nothing had changed since the last time they had come to the lodge. But it had, and Alexandreya suspected it might be a long while before he brought himself to trust her again. Vladimir had forced a wide gulf between them that only her constant love could bridge. She would have to show him she was content to feel his arms around her and his lips on hers and that this was all she asked.
In the space of a heartbeat the anger and mistakes of the past were erased, transporting her back to the night
Madeleine de Veaux had died. The journey of a thousand miles often starts with a single step, she had said - how true. They had begun their journey that night and lost the way. This time they would find the true path. Perhaps not today - or tomorrow, Alexandreya knew that this was too soon after all that had happened, but somewhere in the future, when he no longer compared her with Elena.
Dmitri drew her head down on to his chest, his lips against her hair.
"Sergei tells me you have been my nurse all this time. Have you had any rest?"
"A little," Alexandreya said. She had fallen sleep for three hours while watching her patient the previous evening. She had closed her eyes against the brilliance of the July sunshine streaming through the windows and instantly fell asleep. She dreamed of Natasha and little Anya, and awoke with such a start she had roused Dmitri, who had also been dozing. "You let me sleep, you shouldn't," she protested. "I promised to help Irina gather some fruit."
When she tried to move, she had realised he had no intention of releasing her; his arm had stayed tight around her waist.
"The fruit can wait."
Dmitri had been doing some serious thinking ever since his sanity had returned. Aware of the terrible injustice he had wrought through blind jealousy, he was terribly afraid of losing her again. At last he had come to accept her love was beyond reproach. She had proved that with her willingness to sacrifice so much for his sake. He had never known love before in the way he now loved Alexandreya, and was ashamed at the mistrust which had made him keep silent for so long.
A faint smile had touched Alexandreya's face as an amusing thought struck her.
"You once said if I came to you in rags you would still want me." She had touched the creased riding habit she wore. "These are all the clothes I have. The rest I left at Peterhof because they were part of my trousseau, or Vladimir had given them to me. I don't want them."
"I still want you," Dmitri had murmured. He had raised himself painfully on one elbow and looked down into her sparkling eyes.
"You have been here almost a week, God knows what, the court is saying about us."
"Does it matter?" Alexandreya had answered softly, secretly pleased that he cared so deeply. "They already believe I am your mistress, let them talk if they find pleasure in it. I care for no one except you."
If he had made love to her at that moment, Alexandreya had known she would not refuse him. Her body had ached with the longing to surrender and be mastered by the man she loved and who loved her. That was the miracle of it -he loved her. Dmitri's fingers had stroked the red hair spread out across his shoulders. He had smiled and pressed his mouth into the hollow of her throat.
"Will you stay here with me?"
"Yes."
"Unwed?"
He had caught a glimpse of the hurt expression in her eyes before she quickly looked away.
"If it is the only way you will have me - yes. I will belong to you for as long as you wish and if you grow tired of me, I will go back to Bratz."
"Now I know you love me."
Dmitri had lain back as if exhausted, and Alexandreya looked at him in surprise.
"Do you doubt me?"
"No, little one, I was doubting myself, but that is over now." He had turned her face up to his and there had been a tenderness in his eyes she had never seen before. "I love you, mala koska. God knows how I love you. Stay with me - as my wife."
Several days later, Catherine paid them an unexpected visit. When she entered the lodge, Dmitri was lying on the couch; he had refused to stay in bed any longer, and
Alexandreya was arranging flowers by the window, wearing a blouse and skirt belonging to Irina. Such a scene of domesticity brought a smile to Catherine's lips.
"So you are still alive?"
Her low, amused laugh almost caused Alexandreya to drop the vase she was holding.
"Your Imperial Majesty -I did not hear you ride up."
She curtsied and quickly pulled up a chair for Catherine to sit down.
"No - no, I do not intend to stay. Gregory and I are merely passing on our way to St. Petersburg."
From the direction of the couch Dmitri gave a crooked smile.
"You will understand if I do not rise, Highness," he murmured.
Catherine nodded in amusement. He looked infinitely better. She said so and saw his eyes go directly to where Alexandreya stood.
"It is settled then?" she said.
"Yes, Alexandreya is to be my wife. Another Week and I shall be able to join you at Peterhof."
"Nonsense, my foolish friend. How can you think of leaving such an attractive nurse?" Gregory Orloff s smiling face appeared in the doorway.
"The Countess will accompany you, of course," Catherine said. "The wedding will be held in the Winter Palace, and then you can convalesce at Bratz for a month or two." Alexandreya moved to Dmitri's side and Catherine watched as his hand reached up and grasped hers. She had never imagined it possible for him to be so involved with a single woman. "I shall keep my word and visit you in the spring, Countess Romanova, and I shall expect you to have a fine son to show me."
Alexandreya's eyes glowed and she felt Dmitri's grasp tighten. A son - proof of their great love. What a wonderful moment it would be when she carried his child in her!
He had not taken her as his mistress that afternoon when he had asked her to marry him. He would not presume upon the pleasure of their wedding night, he told her with a smile as he put her gently from him.
Catherine felt a sudden rush of nostalgia as she watched the young lovers, and blinked rapidly several times. Such thoughts were not for her. Abruptly she spun around and linked her arm through that of Gregory Orloff.
"Come, dushka, we must make haste to the palace. I intend this to be a wedding neither St. Petersburg or these two young people will ever forget."