Different frissons, as he began to rock against her, inside her, a gentle, slow, pulsing movement that set her pulsing too once more, her muscles clenching around him. She watched her own arousal reflected on his face, in the dilation of his pupils, in the slashes of colour on his cheeks, the way his eyes finally fluttered closed, and the thickening inside her, the deep, guttural moan of his that she had come to know presaged his own climax. She clung, lost to the consequences, digging her fingers into the muscles of his back, her heel on his buttock, she clung as he pulsed, rocked, and with a deep shudder and a cry his release took him, but not before he pulled himself free.
Honourable to the very last, she thought, kissing his chest, twining herself back around him. She kissed him again, burrowing her face in his chest, where it seemed to her she could smell the very essence of him.
Chapter Thirteen
It was very late. Aleksei stared out of his bedchamber window at the dark garden. Tonight, they had made love again in the State Bedchamber they had claimed for their own, as they had for the last three nights. Their passion had an increasingly desperate edge to it, an intensity that left him feeling stripped bare, raw, and strangely complete. He had never before surrendered himself so absolutely in this way, never lost himself so utterly. He’d never felt like this before and never imagined that he could feel like this. It was as if their lovemaking merged more than their bodies.
Though they never spoke of it. There was no need to, he’d thought. Until three nights ago. Day one of the countdown to her departure. It had been different that night. Allison had been different. Not only what she’d done—by all the stars, what she had done!—but—he couldn’t explain it.
Aleksei frowned out at the darkness. It wasn’t only the intensity, it was the intimacy. He’d never felt so close to anyone, while making love and in the aftermath. He wanted to hold her, so close there was no space between them, so close that their skin stuck like glue, but Allison—afterwards, it was as if she withdrew from him. Though he liked to believe he could read her every thought, there were obviously some she kept from him.
He leant his forehead against the cold window frame. Dammit, wasn’t it simple enough? They had agreed, hadn’t they, that they were already in too deep! It was why she was leaving sooner rather than later. Their affaire had always been just that, an affaire. He would miss her like the devil, wouldn’t he? So it was safe to assume she would miss him. He knew that, of course he did, though he couldn’t bear the thought of causing her pain. He’d do anything to spare her hurt, no matter the cost to himself. It was why he was letting her go, when what he wanted...
Aleksei cursed furiously and fluently in Russian. What he wanted was entirely irrelevant. Duty, that was what had always driven him, though fortunately for him, it had coincided with his love of the army. Now his duty lay here, with his wards. It was what his brother had wanted, and since he’d done with the army, and unlike Allison, had no other future mapped out, then his duty was what he would do. Even though it meant giving up...
Once again, he swore long and viciously. No point in thinking such things. No point in imagining a place where his and Allison’s worlds could collide because such a place did not exist. If it did, though, if there was, what a glorious place it would be. And oh, how he ached with the wanting of it.
Cursing again, unable to imagine sleeping, Aleksei quit his chamber, heading as he had done so many times in the past, for the boathouse, and the rowing boat, and the peaceful solitude of St Petersburg at night. His St Petersburg. The rhythmic splash of his oars working hard against the flow calmed him. It was a cold, crisp autumn night, presaging the arrival of winter, earlier than usual. Above him the sky was a canopy of stars. He’d never have an opportunity now, to row Allison all the way up river, to show her the magical view of St Petersburg, like an island rising out of the mist. They would never race through the snow in his troika. They would never glide along the frozen canals on skates. He loved her so much. So very, very much.
Overwhelmed, Aleksei pulled the oars in, throwing his head back to stare up at the stars. His heart felt too big for his chest. He felt sick and elated and defeated and at the same time oddly free. He loved her. ‘Zvezda moya, Allison. Lyubov moya.’
My star. My love. From the first moment she’d walked into the room, he had felt it, that tether pulling them together, unlike anything he’d ever known before. Unlike anything he’d ever know again.
He loved her. Every muscle ached with the urge to run to her, to sweep her into his arms and to kiss her, and to say the words over and over and over. And that’s when he finally understood. The way she seemed to retreat from him after their lovemaking. The way she had refused, when he’d asked her, to stay with him, to spend the night in his arms. If they made love right now, he’d tell her. If he woke with her in his arms, he’d tell her. He wouldn’t be able to resist. But she had. Because she loved him. Because she didn’t want to burden him with her love. Because she would do anything to spare him pain. As he would her.
The rowing boat was drifting back downstream with the tide, but Aleksei dropped his head into his hands, heedless of the movement. He loved her, and she loved him, and it was impossible. One more day, one more night, and she would leave. She would leave Catiche and Elena and Nikki. She would leave the Derevenko Palace and the dispensary she had created. She would leave St Petersburg. And she would leave him behind. For ever.
The children were distraught, and making no attempt to hide it. They had come to him yesterday, a little delegation led by Nikki, with a list they had drawn up of all the reasons why Allison should stay. How different they were, all three of them, despite their sorrow, glowing with health and confidence and wearing their hearts on their sleeves. Gone were the formal manners, that disconcerting way they’d had of looking at him, displaying not quite fear, but something approximating it in the early days. He saw that now. And he saw too that it had been his fault. With no idea how to behave, he had treated them exactly as they’d treated them—with awe, a touch of fear, as if they were alien beings, not simply grieving children.
Allison had seen that from the start. With nothing but her instincts to guide her, she’d seen that what they needed was affection, and though they hadn’t made it easy for her, she had persisted. And won them over. Elena and Nikki were forever seeking cuddles from her, and even Catiche, he’d noticed, though she would not make the first move, clung to her governess when a comforting hug was offered. In the last few days, since he had announced the date of Allison’s departure, they’d been clinging a great deal more. He’d better make damned sure the Orlova woman overcame her natural reserve and gave them the affection they needed and deserved.
The servants would miss her too, despite the fact they’d been reassured that the dispensary would close only temporarily. Like the children, they had petitioned him to allow Allison to remain. As if it was his decision that she was leaving. As if she did not have a life of her own, thousands of miles away, waiting on her to claim it.
She said she was looking forward to it, and he believed her. She talked so enthusiastically of her plans, he did not doubt her. But he wondered now, were her feelings mixed? Could she want the impossible, as he did, to embrace both her vocation and their love? Because she did love him. He knew it, was as certain of it as he was now of his love for her.
Aleksei groaned aloud. It was so unfair! So damned unfair! Why must love be the price they paid, she for her vocation, he to do his duty? Though while he was confessing to the stars, why not admit that he no longer saw the children as a burden? Why not admit that he had come to care for them—yes, even to love them! Why not admit that this made it even more impossible, because if he were to stay here as their guardian, to raise them as Michael would have wanted, how much of himself would he be sacrificing, in addition to his heart?
If he gave up everything for the children, sculpting himself to fit the St Petersburg traditio
ns so revered by Michael, he would be miserable, and he would, though it pained him to admit it, come to resent his charges. He would be happy with Allison, of that there was no doubt. He could sacrifice the children instead of himself, leave St Petersburg to live her life with her, in whatever city she chose to settle. But how long before guilt ate away at his happiness? How long before their perfect love became tainted by that guilt? His heart told him it could be done, but his conscience told him the price would be paid not only by himself, but by Allison too.
Though if she felt as he did, if she loved as he did, wouldn’t she be paying a bigger price in leaving him? His heart began to race. If she loved him as he did her, wasn’t there a part of her that would also be deeply unhappy? Like him, she had always been wed to her vocation. But if she was like him, if they really were cut from the same cloth, could she find room in her life for both?
Like the rowing boat, his mind was slowly turning in circles. Aleksei picked up the oars. There was one thing, one shining truth in all of this, and that was his love for her. If her love for him was the same, then they would find a way. He had no idea how, but they had to find a way to make a life together. They simply had to.
* * *
His Illustrious Highness, Natalya informed Allison as she delivered her morning coffee, requested her presence in the Square Room as soon as possible. It was her last day at the palace. The children were planning some event to commemorate it, Allison knew. She only hoped she could keep her composure. Anna Orlova would arrive today to replace her. Later this morning, Allison would hold her last dispensary. She had prepared a list for herself, of patients she must discuss ongoing treatment with and of the stock of everyday remedies she would leave behind. Not that she needed such a list, but it had been something to occupy her in the sleepless nights.
Aleksei probably wanted to put a formal end to their contract. That would be why he’d chosen the Square Room. There was the question of her fee, and perhaps he’d want her to deliver a letter to The Procurer. So that tonight, when they met in the State Bedchamber for the last time, all their business would have been concluded. They would make love for the last time. And then first thing tomorrow...
Tears seeped from her eyes. She tried to wipe them away before Natalya spied them, but it was too late. The maid handed her a white kerchief, her own eyes suspiciously damp. ‘I’ve become—I will miss the children,’ Allison sniffed, ‘that is all.’
‘Of course,’ Natalya agreed, ‘that must be it.’
By the time she reached the door she was, she persuaded herself, quite composed, and by the time she entered the Square Chamber, she was determined to remain so.
* * *
Unlike Aleksei, who looked as if he had not slept, and whose hand shook as he handed her a cup of tea. ‘What is wrong?’
For a moment he simply stared at her, shaking his head. Then he laughed, a harsh, painful sound. ‘Everything.’
She set her cup down. ‘Aleksei?’
‘No.’ He squeezed her fingers, but then gently pushed her away. ‘Sit down. I need to—I can’t speak when you—please, sit down. I need to talk to you.’
She felt sick with a sense of foreboding. He was leaving today, she thought. He was leaving her to say her goodbyes without him. They did not have one more night. Last night had been their last. Every fibre of her being protested. She opened her mouth to speak, to beg, then closed it again. If this was what he wanted, if this was the easiest way for him, then she would find a way to cope. Allison sat down on a sofa, reaching for her teacup.
‘I can’t let you go.’
Her dainty Sèvres china smashed to the floor. ‘What?’
Aleksei stood as if rooted to the spot. ‘Not without telling you. I can’t let you go without telling you.’
‘What?’ Her sick stomach was joined by a racing heart. ‘Telling me what, Aleksei?’
His fists clenched an unclenched. ‘No, that’s the wrong way around. I thought I had it straight.’
Shaking his head when she made to speak, he headed automatically for the samovar, though he made no attempt to make himself tea and indeed, Allison noticed, there were already two full cups set down on the side table. With extreme difficulty, she restrained the urge to jump to her feet and to demand once more that he explain himself. He needed time to order his thoughts. So she took one of the untouched cups of tea and sipped it, noticing abstractedly how much she had come to enjoy the drink, even Aleksei’s sugarless version of it, and she pretended to study the carpet, watching through her lashes as he paced from the samovar to the back of the Square Room and back again. Twice. Three times. Then he came to a halt and squared his shoulders, and Allison braced herself.
‘Last night,’ Aleksei said, sitting carefully down opposite her, ‘it was last night I finally realised. I should have known, I suppose it was perfectly obvious if I’d asked myself, but I didn’t, not until last night. I went out on the river,’ he added, as if that explained it all. ‘After we—after you retired to bed. I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Nor I.’
‘No.’ He touched her knee. ‘I thought not.’
‘There is so little time left,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘Exactly.’ A fleeting smile. ‘That’s one of the things that made me see sense. Not the time, or lack of it, I mean that we think the same. I don’t have to explain myself.’
‘Not normally. But at the moment I’m failing dismally in understanding you.’
He laughed. ‘Bear with me. It is all—you see, I don’t have answers.’
‘Then tell me the questions, Aleksei.’
‘Yes, that is a good way to start.’ He sighed. ‘Some are obvious enough. Should I honour Michael’s wishes and remain the children’s guardian?’
‘I think we know the answer to that,’ Allison said softly.
‘Yes. I think you knew before I did that it was what I would choose in the end. Even Grigory realised that.’
‘It is a choice then? It is not simply your sense of duty which compels you?’
‘You are thinking of your mother. I thought of her too. It is duty, it would be a lie to say otherwise, but it is also a choice. It is what I want.’
‘Because you are an honourable man,’ Allison said sadly. Hadn’t she known that from the first? Though her heart ached for him, and what his honour would cost him. ‘Aleksei, are you sure? It will mean living the life here in St Petersburg which you have never chosen to do. More than that, you have always rejected the city completely.’
‘I know. Which brings me to the next question. Must it be so? Don’t look so surprised, you are the one who has always questioned...’
‘But you never have. You have always said that Michael would expect...’
‘Michael is dead.’ Aleksei drank down the remaining, cold cup of tea. ‘The only thing I know from his will is that he wanted me to take care of his children. What I know from you, and from the children, is that he loved them. And what I know from Catiche—because I have asked her. After the ball, I spoke to her, Allison. What I know is that they know no other life. It is a cossetted and privileged life. It is one which is the envy of most. But they have no concept of any other life. You saw them at the food market. They won’t choose any other life because they have nothing to compare it with.’ He laughed. ‘I can see from your face that I have astonished you.’
‘In a good way, I promise. In a very good way. What are you proposing, then?’
‘I have no idea. That is one of the many things which I hope we can—but it’s not the most important, Allison.’
We? Had she misheard. She must not hope. To hope would be folly. Besides, it was not only the children who...
‘It’s not only the children,’ Aleksei said, joining her on the sofa and taking her hands in his. ‘It is you, and what you are destined to be, what you must do, or you will be miserable.’
‘And admired you for it. And known I would never seek to dissuade you.’
‘No. Any more than I would change you, and your sense of honour.’ So this really was goodbye, after all.
‘I would not change you, but I wonder if there is a way for you to fulfil your destiny here, rather than elsewhere?’
‘I—you want me to stay? Here, in St Petersburg? You want me to—to keep the dispensary at the palace open? Is that it?’
There was a light in his eyes she didn’t recognise. His hands tightened on hers. ‘That wouldn’t be enough for you.’
‘No, not in the long run, but...’
‘I can’t ask you to give up your dream, Allison, but I am asking you if you might find a way to make your dream come true here?’ He broke off once more, cursing under his breath. ‘You know, I think after all that I did start this conversation with the most important thing, only I put it the wrong way. It is not that I can’t let you go, lyubov moya, because I will, if it is what you want. But I don’t want to let you go. Because I love you.’
Her heart leapt. No, she must have misheard. ‘What did you call me?’
‘Lyubov moya. My love.’
‘You love me.’ She closed her eyes. This was a dream. She opened them again. There was no such thing as love light shining. That could not be what she was seeing.
‘I love you with all my heart. And unlike you, I knew from the moment I admitted it to myself that I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.’
‘You love me.’ She was feeling dazed. Dazzled. Were her eyes shining like his? ‘What do you mean, keep it a secret? How did you guess? When did you guess?’
‘Am I right?’
‘Of course you’re right. When did you...?’
From Governess to Countess Page 21