He was amazed at the strength in the slender arms. Dumbfounded, Dmitri did not know how to respond to her.
Moist lips kissed his neck. Again her mouth found his. Gentle and soft, Camille's kiss promised Dmitri delights beyond compare. For the first time, he thought he might hold the whole woman, not a shadow.
Gentle kisses fell like rain upon Dmitri's face. Camille's molded her body to his. She ran her palms down the ridges of scars across his back. How had he survived the pain? And the loss of his eye...that must have been agony.
Somewhere deep within, Camille wondered at her actions and did her best to ignore everything but the man who held her. Camille decided there were few saints in this world, and she had never had an urge to become one. Unrestrained, she allowed her feelings to come to the surface. It was pleasant to be embraced and kissed. Dmitri made her aware of her body.
Not even Frank had affected her this way. Poor Frank! The husband who had never been one. How long was it since she thought of him? Camille realized at that moment; she no longer remembered how Frank kissed. This man, her husband, demanding and vitally alive commanded her attention.
She had a brief vision of a horrified nun, telling the young girls in her charge to beware of men and their unholy desires. Camille dismissed the sister and her words from her thoughts. May they all go to the devil. Tonight, I will enjoy my husband.'
Dmitri's mouth closed on hers. No longer afraid of her feelings, Camille gave herself up to the demands of her body. His lips withdrew from hers. Camille knew she was clinging to Dmitri as if he were the only shelter to in a hurricane. Hurricane! The word reverberated through Camille's mind. Caught in an emotional storm and tired of resisting, Camille surrendered to the tempest.
***
The press of her firm little body against his brought about a physical response almost immediately. But he caught himself wondering what had brought about the change. Soft fingers stroked his back. It seemed she wished to run her hands over the scars, and he did not stop her.
With a sigh, Dmitri took Camille's chin in one hand. Her now dark eyes gave Dmitri no clue to what she might be thinking. Pink, like a ripe peach, her lips drew him toward them like a beacon.
Dmitri unhooked her dress. It slid down between them. After removing her shift, Dmitri lifted Camille into the cradle of his arms. He crossed the room, knelt and placed her in the center of the rug before the fire.
Dmitri leaned back to savor the picture. "Have you any idea how lovely you are, little one?"
Camille only shook her head in denial.
"It is true." Arms on either side of her head, Dmitri bent to kiss her forehead. With a wicked smile, he left a trail of light kisses down her throat, on each firm breast, and then on her rounded stomach.
"Little one," His voice was rough. "You are exquisite."
He bent his head again, and Camille's eyes widened, then, closed. Her searching fingers found his fair hair, then entwined themselves there. Her breath pulsed in the same rhythm as the blood pounding in her temples. Again, he raised his head. Camille's fingers stroked his face.
"Dmitri!" She opened her arms to him. He removed the last of his clothes. With a kiss, Dmitri came to her.
She awoke with a pain low in her abdomen. Camille lay still until the cramp passed. She and Dmitri lay in a tangle in his big bed. She freed her hair from beneath his arm. As Camille did so, Dmitri stirred. It was enough that she must get up. He might as well sleep. As she waited for him to settle down again, one of Dmitri's hands found her arm. His palm slipped down her bare arm before he went back to sleep again.
After stifling an urge to kiss him, Camille moved the blankets aside and got out of bed. She wondered just when they had moved from the rug to the comfort of the bed. As she walked through the dressing room into her bedroom, she tried to be silent.
She lit a lamp, then removed a napkin and a clean undergarment from her chest of drawers. What a horrible time for this to happen! Camille counted back. Her time of the month was a few days early but, not too far off the mark. It would have been nice to spend the balance of the night with Dmitri.
Her nightgown waited at the foot of the bed where Helena had placed it, Camille tugged it on. After sliding into bed, she blew out the lamp. A dreamy smile on her lips, Camille wished she could have allowed Dmitri to wake her. Would he have kissed her awake?
Camille plumped up the pillow, turned on her side, and tucked the covers around her. The evening had passed like something out of a poem, perhaps the one titled Love by Coleridge. Her papa used to read to her mother in the evenings.
All her memories had a sweet dream like quality to them. Dmitri had loved her until Camille knew she must die of pleasure. And she did her best to please Dmitri.
One or two things she recalled caused her to flush, but where was the harm? They were man and wife. And, Camille smiled to herself, she loved him so much. That had come as a shock early in the evening, the realization that she cared for him. Anything which made Dmitri happy did not need to be subjected to scrutiny. As she cuddled into a ball beneath the blankets, Camille sank into sleep.
The sound of her maid chattering as she flung open the drapes woke her. The plump little woman went about laying out her clothing for the day. Camille ordered a bath and smiled when asked what she wanted for breakfast.
"I am starved. I would like two poached eggs, rolls, coffee and any fruit we might have."
Helena glanced at her with a slight smile and nodded in acknowledgment. "I will hurry with breakfast, Madame." She went to open the door.
"Do not forget the bath, please," Camille called out as Helena left her.
It was time to check on Dmitri; she pushed the bedding to the side and opened her door to the dressing room. Before closing Dmitri's door, she looked in on him. He lay asleep in the rumpled bed. She blew him a kiss and then pulled the door shut.
I will let him sleep as long as possible. Camille hugged herself. She reveled in the joy which filled her heart when she thought of her love for Dmitri. Camille savored the taste of newfound love.
While she ate, Helena and Karin set up the tub in the dressing room. When her bath was ready, Camille sent both women away, then climbed into the warm water. Her grandmother and mother had both been believers in the benefits of bathing. Camille sighed, as the water closed around her neck. What a luxury a bath was. She soaped herself, then rinsed off the suds.
A haze of and contentment colored her world. As she hummed to herself, Camille left the tub and stood on the bath mat. She took the towel and dried herself. With the melody still pulsing through her, Camille went back into the bedroom. Now, she was ready to face the day.
Later, after the remains of the bath were carried away, she and Helena were busy in the dressing room. Camille stood before the mirror, wearing the sapphire blue brocade dress Helena had basted together. Now, her maid was checking it for fit. Cut low, it had only a tiny ruffle for a sleeve. The waistline was defined by a series of deep darts, which accentuated her bust line.
Camille stared at her reflection. The difference in her appearance was incredible. Her fair skin gleamed in contrast to the sparkling blue gown. Helena was fastening another pin in the hem when Dmitri opened the door to the dressing room.
Cigar in hand, he leaned against the door case and watched the two women. When the maid rose from her task, he smiled at her. "Excuse us for a moment, Helena."
The servant bobbed a small curtsy and went out into the hall, leaving them alone.
Dmitri placed the cigar in the ashtray before walking over to take Camille in his arms. He nuzzled her ear. With a slight sound, almost a groan, he left a trail of kisses down along each shoulder. Camille's arms wound around him; one hand slid beneath his wool shirt. She kneaded the muscles of his back as she returned his kiss. When he lifted his head, Camille snuggled against him with a contented sigh.
"Good morning, Dmitri." Her husky voice and the words she spoke thrilled him.
"Is it morning, sweet child
? It seems you have let me sleep the morning away." Dmitri smiled down into her upturned face.
"You were up so late last night; I thought you could use the rest." Camille lowered her eyes as a faint hint of color rose in her fair cheeks. Dmitri released her reluctantly and picked up his cigar.
"I shall go down to the kitchen to see what Nita can provide in the way of food. Would you care to join me?"
"I would like too, but," She readjusted the gown. "I dare not move too much. Helena has a pin in every inch of cloth. I am fearful of becoming a pin cushion."
"Then I will see you at dinner." He placed an arm about her waist to kiss her again. Her small soft body strained toward him before Camille gave a slight yelp and moved away with a rueful look on her face.
"I take it a pin found you." Dmitri cupped one hand around the back of her head to hold Camille steady, as he kissed her cheek. He found it difficult to leave her. With a slight chuckle at their plight, he turned to go back into his room.
Dmitri lingered over his coffee. The girl upstairs continued to bewilder him. In the beginning, he thought her a nervous, high-strung child. As time went on, he saw other facets of her personality. Camille was shy. She was also a composed, intelligent and sensitive individual.
Last night, he found himself taken by surprise, yet again. She held nothing back. An eager participant, Camille brought to the surface feelings long cold.
Dmitri drank the last of the coffee. He leaned back in the dining room chair. Their lovemaking had been better than he could have ever expected. For all her inexperience, there was a deep, sensual side to her nature. He never suspected she could have abandoned her fears and chaste upbringing as she had and was not in the least unhappy that Camille had done so.
He wondered where their relationship was heading. Camille drew emotional responses from him, which left him wanting more. In fact, her presence had him on an emotional tidal wave he didn’t think possible at his age. The acute sense of boredom that plagued him for the past few months was gone. He felt alive once more, alive and somewhat wary of his child bride.
Dmitri left the table, went to his room to get the rifle and decided a walk to the mill might clear his mind. He had business to attend to there, yet he did not want to leave the house. If he were honest with himself, he did not want to leave Camille.
There was a burst of giggling and laughter from Camille’s room. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to chase Helena away and bed his wife. But that would send Camille into a faint or God only knew what else. They had made a start, and he needed to curb his needs.
As he left the front porch and started down the path, the tall man glanced over his shoulder at his home. He bit down on the cigar with a sharp curse. He was too old to be behaving like a new bridegroom. Jaw set, the Count quickened his stride down the trail.
The mill hands realized it was a good day to stay out of the boss’s way. Even Alexis did his best to escape Dmitri's notice. The man snapped at whoever was foolish enough to get within range.
After a while, Alexis knew he must brave Dmitri's anger. The workers were becoming morose, which increased the risk of accidents, something they did not need. Alexis laughed to himself; Russians enjoyed melancholy enough as it was. They needed no help.
Alexis entered the office and took a seat on one of the high stools. Dmitri looked up before removing the shredded cigar from his mouth.
"What do you want?" He snarled, somewhat like an ancient grizzly bear that had just left hibernation.
With a smile, Alexis clasped his hands together before him. "I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help you." He looked at the pile of paperwork, which lay scattered around Dmitri. The shorter man leaned forward and flipped over one sheet of paper. "It does not appear things are going your way today."
Dmitri looked around him, then back at the smiling Alexis. "I find it impossible to concentrate!" In exasperation, he threw the pen down. Ink splattered some of the papers jumbled around him.
Alexis stared at him in amusement. "Let me guess, your sweet young wife has somehow caused this havoc. Calm yourself, Dmitri." Alexis' tone became stern. "Do you realize your fit of anger or whatever this may be, is affecting the workers?"
Dmitri's clear gray eye fastened on Alexis' face. "Is it as bad as that?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Alexis shook his head. "Perhaps you should go home and have it out with the lady."
"There is nothing to discuss." Dmitri relit the cigar. "We have not quarreled."
"Then whatever is this about?" Alexis asked in astonishment.
Dmitri moved away from the desk. He paced around the room for a moment. "I am just nervous. I should get away from here. Perhaps I will take a walk down to the beach."
Dmitri grabbed his jacket and the rifle, then left the office.
With a shake of his head, Alexis watched his friend leave. This was odd behavior for the man Alexis had known all his life. Something had gotten under Dmitri's skin. Whatever the something might be, it was begging to be scratched. It had to be the girl. Camille had been the only significant change in Dmitri's life for a long time.
There was a tension in the air like that before a storm that caused Alexis’ skin to prickle. Something was brewing. Life on the island had lost its placid ambience. Camille brought change with her, and Alexis felt it taking shape.
Camille and Helena sat side by side on the chaise, the brocade dress between them. It would soon be finished. Camille was looking forward to seeing what the ingenious woman had planned for the other dresses. The cut of the blue dress and lack of a corset had her feeling somewhat wicked when she looked in the mirror. It was almost as if she were walking outside in her shift. Then again, something else within her enjoyed the expression on Dmitri's face, when he looked at her wearing the gown.
Her fingers became clumsy, and the needle fell to her lap. Camille retrieved it, then thrust it into the cloth. She sat staring out the window as the enormity of her situation left her unsettled once again. The person she believed herself to be was changing, or all her suppositions regarding her inner self were wrong. However, she was no longer sure of her perceptions, or how she would react to events.
Something was stirring within her, Camille didn't know existed. Last night, it came alive within her like a cat rising from sleep. Her desire made itself known with a will that surprised her. Camille realized she wanted Dmitri. On reflection, Camille decided she did not want to subdue her desire. Further, why should she need to?
There was a faint tremor to her fingers when Camille again picked up the needle and thread. It was the only outward sign of nervousness. It was difficult to remain detached, but she tried to keep their conversation centered on sewing, even as odd thoughts swept through her mind.
Everything was moving much too fast. Perhaps it was a good thing her monthly had come now. It would give her a few days in which to straighten out her thoughts. Physical contact with Dmitri drove all reason from her mind and she no longer controlled her emotions.
Again her hands trembled as she recalled what reactions his strong fingers on her body produced. Was it possible to love someone in so short a time? Was love what she felt for him? It was a question she returned to again and again as her fingers went about their task. It must be possible, for she had decided early this morning she loved the man.
I love you. Camille smiled at the beauty of the phrase as she repeated it several times in her mind. Such a sweet secret. The only dark corner of her world was the place within her that waited for something from Dmitri. He cared, he must. Camille tried to concentrate on her sewing.
His feelings toward her, or lack of them, were a question she did not wish to dwell on. For it would bring to mind the other issue. Why had he married her?
Camille put that question away from her. What did it matter now? Their marriage was a fact. And she discovered it was possible to love her husband, regardless of his quick temper and mercurial temperament.
His reasons for marr
ying her must have been good ones. Perhaps, in time, Dmitri would tell her about it all. Camille attempted to shift her mood back to the joyful one she was in earlier. A hint of despondency settled like dust on her afternoon.
***
Anya sat in her room, looking through some of her father's old newspapers. She asked herself if she would ever get off the island or was she trapped here. As she read the news of the outside world, the child wondered at the marvels the articles spoke of. There was so much going on out there. She had never seen a train or building which towered ten stories into the air. Anya knew what a city was, and she longed to see one. She wanted to walk along the streets, to mingle with the people.
Excitement raced through her as she thought about the outside world that waited for her. She must see it! But not as a schoolgirl, someone subject to the whims of whoever was in control of her at the time. Anya wanted the freedom to experience everything the world could give her.
San Francisco, Paris, and Rome stretched glittering fingers toward her. When would she be able to see it all? With a wistful sigh, Anya continued to read the articles. Someday, as an adult, she would travel. Neither her father nor Ooskada would have anything to say about it.
Her father had been to Europe, and he had traveled all over the United States. She doubted there was any place he had not been to if only for a few days. He had an unending fund of tales, Anya tapped as often as possible.
However, he always seemed satisfied to return home. Anya often puzzled over his enjoyment of this island. Did he truly miss their home so much while away?
With one hand she cupped her small pointed chin. Adults were a mystery to her. Both her father and Ooskada seemed to think the island was the only place in the world to be. Both men were very much alike in their opinions. They were traditionalists, each man sure his way was best. It was too bad they could not see each other as she did.
Behind the Raven Mask Page 16