by Risk, Mona
A Russian accent answered. “Cecile, are you okay? It’s Nicolai. Can you open the door?”
A glimpse at herself assured her that she was quite decent with the navy-blue sweater on top of her silk pajamas.
She opened the door and stood there. “Good morning, I mean good afternoon, Nicolai. I just woke up.”
A bright smile highlighted his worried expression. “Good. Our grandmothers’ medication seems to have worked as usual. If you feel up to it, would you like to come for a ride in my car? Someone is waiting for you downstairs.”
“Oh my God, he’s here? Yes, I can make it. Give me fifteen minutes I’ll join you.”
“Dress very warmly in case you want to take a walk. It’s chilly outside.”
She nodded and backed into her room. She donned layers of extra clothing under her mohair sweater and wool pants, wore the high-heeled boots, added a sleeveless leather jacket and topped it all with her coat and chapka.
In less than the time requested, Cecile ran down to the lobby, strode out of the hotel to the little beige car and slid into the backseat and into Sergei’s arms. Nicouvitch took off at high speed, propelling them backward and away from each other. Like misbehaving children, they edged away and held hands.
Nicolai stopped in front of his own building. The two officers jumped out of the car. “Please, stay in the backseat. We’ll attract less attention,” Sergei requested.
“Where are we going?” Cecile asked without real curiosity. As long as she shared his company, the place didn’t matter.
His cheerful voice surprised her. “You’ll see. I have arranged a special afternoon for us.” His last word brought a beaming smile to her face.
Nicolai handed him the Volvo key. “Enjoy yourself, moy drouk.”
Sergei slid into the driver’s seat. “I sold my car six months ago. As a Major General, I’m always chauffeured around. I never thought I would need it so badly.”
He drove on the highway, leaving the bustling city behind and exited to the countryside. They soon crossed a park where brooks crisscrossed the frozen grassland and forests of tall barren trees hid the horizon. The car meandered along an alley of well-trimmed pine trees and circled around an icy surface. “I wish you could see the park in summer or spring. A gorgeous place for family picnics. Now the pond is frozen and no one would brave the cold to come here.”
“Oh how pretty.” Cecile glimpsed a picturesque yellow house through the barrier of trees. Sergei stopped the car in front of a terrace adorned with side columns. He helped her out. “Let’s take a walk then we’ll go inside.”
“Is it open?”
“Usually not at this time of the year but I rented it for the evening. This palace often hosts receptions and weddings in the summer.”
He pulled a bag out of the trunk. “You need to eat something to sustain you ’til supper.”
A smell of baked cake wafted in the cold air. He handed her the rolls of sweet bread and she bit into one with hungry eagerness. “Thanks. I haven’t eaten anything since we arrived in Minsk.” Sergei always thought about her welfare. A warm feeling invaded her heart.
They strolled toward the pond. Sergei pointed to the line of sculptures decorating the edge of the pond. “Our czarina Katarina, as we called Catherine the Great, built this little mansion. You can see her statue here.” Cecile ate her cake and listened to his enthusiastic description of his country’s national heritage. “Over the years, Katarina’s Palace became a vacation hideaway for the czar’s family. Later on, Stalin used it for his summer soviet meetings.”
They sauntered around the pond pausing every so often, here and there, to admire a statue or a fountain.
At four-thirty in the afternoon, the pale daylight rapidly ebbed. The chill stung her face and tickled her lashes. In spite of the amount of clothing she wore and the scarf wrapped around her neck, Cecile felt cold. The twilight abated and soon darkness swallowed them. Walking back toward the mansion, Sergei linked her arm with his, guiding her steps along the bleak ridge lining the pond.
He paused at the bottom of the terrace and gathered her in his arms. She hooked her gloved hands around his neck.
“Are you cold, Cecilya?”
She cuddled against him. “Not anymore. But we’re completely nuts to stay outdoors on such a cold night.”
“Lovers are always a little crazy.” He cradled her face between his hands, pushing the scarf away and gave her a heartbreaking kiss. Strolling with Sergei in the night, even in such chilly weather, would be added to her album of beautiful memories.
“Let’s go inside.” He marched toward the mansion entrance and pulled her in a fast crisp walk that warmed her in spite of the cold.
He opened the door and let her in. Cecile halted in the doorway stunned by the incredible luxury of the furnishings. “It’s so beautiful,” she said as she scanned the antique chest, needlepoint-covered chairs and gilded clock.
“This way.” Sergei preceded her to a drawing room on the right side. A fire burned in the marble ceiling-high fireplace. The opulent room felt cozy and warm. A room fit for a czar, indeed, with plush sofas, French furniture and oil paintings of kings or queens.
Next to the fireplace, she noticed a round table set for two. She arched her eyebrows. Sergei smiled. “We’ll have dinner, now. It’s ready. I’ll get it from the kitchen.”
Flabbergasted, she opened her mouth and shut it, not knowing what to say. He went to so much trouble for her. She thought of the expenditure and wondered if he’d accept her contribution. She’d hate to hurt his pride.
He yanked off his sweater. Her gaze followed the dark curls at the base of his throat and the muscles that stretched the knitted long sleeve shirt. A magnificent specimen of hard sturdy masculinity tamed into the kindest, most gallant gentleman. For the moment, he was all hers.
Sergei came back pushing a glass cart. She watched in awe as he set two dishes filled with chicken, potato sauté and mushrooms. He eyed her with a dubious expression. “Are you still cold?”
“No, no. I was admiring this sumptuous room.” Cecile laughed and got rid of her winter paraphernalia, gloves, coat, hat, scarf, even her sweater, keeping only her turtleneck.
“Please have a seat.” He held a chair for her and then poured wine in the glasses. “To us.” Sergei raised his wineglass and she clanked her glass against his, a sheen of moisture wetting her eyes. For the second time in the evening, he’d referred to them as a couple.
Cecile tasted the food. “Delicious. I can’t thank you enough. I never imagined I would eat dinner in the czar’s palace.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I heard the medication of Nicolai’s grandmother did wonders for you.”
“Amazing! Cured by the vodka. Soon I’ll be writing an essay on the benefits of potato fermentation.”
Sergei burst out laughing. “You’re getting used to our national drink.”
“Can you believe I slept almost twenty hours in a row?” A feeling of guilt nagged at her. She bit her lips and threw him a lopsided glance. He had waited for her while she recuperated in complete oblivion. “I’m sorry. I missed our date.”
“Well you had to make up for the time you spent awake while traveling.” He smiled with understanding.
Cecile elaborated about her time in Boston and the difficult trip back to Belarus. “The equipment is at the airport waiting to be retrieved. I’ll arrange its transfer to the Belchem Lab with Nicolai and Alexander.”
“Please, no more business talk. I want you to relax.”
When they finished their dinner, she tried to clear the table but he stopped her. “Don’t move. I’ll bring the cake. We don’t need to clean the dishes. It’s part of the service.”
“Talking about the service and you renting this place, can I—”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“No need. We’ll enjoy it together.” He bent and feathered a light kiss on her lips be
fore exiting the room.
* * * * *
Sergei went to the kitchen and brought back two small plates with chocolate cake. Mesmerized, he paused with the plates in his hands.
Sitting on the Oriental rug, with her feet tucked underneath her, Cecile resembled a porcelain doll, delicate and deceptively frail. She had followed his advice and assumed a relaxed position.
“Dessert time.” He handed her part.
She finished her cake and licked her lips. “I love the local delicacies.”
“Good.” Sitting beside her, Sergei gazed at her, fire burning in the depths of his blue eyes.
Her hair, a tumble of shiny gold enhanced by the fiery glow, framed her lovely features. Her eyes sparkled like emerald stones freckled with gold. Sergei forgot the cake, a different hunger building in his groin.
“You’re beautiful.” He reached and caressed her cheek. “How I missed you, my darling. First the long weeks away and then last night. Will you ever forgive me for not coming to see you while you were sick?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” She pulled away and waggled a finger at him. “Sergei, don’t ever think about such a crazy act. Coming to the hotel would ruin your career. I have never, for a second, resented you for not visiting. And I loved your flowers,” she added with a smile that beamed and beckoned.
He claimed her lips and explored the sweetness of her mouth. Cecile wrapped her arms around his neck. Her soft body, cradled against his, kindled his blood with a heat more smoldering than the fire.
Sergei lowered her on the rug and followed, half lying on top of her. He kept himself in check, waiting for her to encourage him.
Their gazes locked. In the green flames of her eyes, he read the same longing. How he wished he could keep her in his arms forever. One more time, he cursed the constraint of his position, the high and mighty position that forced them to steal minutes of happiness like guilty youths. Still, he didn’t want to rush her. He had promised himself he would offer her a perfect evening.
Soft fingers played with the hair at his nape, tickling and enticing. With the tip of his tongue, he contoured her lips, tasting and teasing. Her body arched against him, jolting a spark in his loins. He crushed her mouth, deepening his kiss and she responded with urgency.
His passion overrode common sense and logic. He hadn’t planned to love her on a rug but he wanted her and she’d shown the same desperate hunger. His hands eased under the layers of clothing until they touched bare flesh. He felt her relax in his embrace. His fingers roamed freely across her back, then over her breasts and he fondled them with care and love. Fire spread and raged within his body.
He heard a soft ragged breathing. Cecile snatched her mouth and buried her head against his shoulder. “Oh Sergei, I love you.”
Tenderness flooded his heart. “Cecilya.” He trailed hot blazing kisses over her cheeks, eyelids and lips. “My Cecilya, I love you too. I will love you forever.”
She smiled. Her fingers curled around his neck. She pulled his head down and pressed her lips on his.
As they remained entwined, the words of love spoken in the heat of the moment sank into his dazed mind. He released her mouth and stared at her lovely face flushed with passion. His lust forgotten, he only thought of his impossible dream.
Straightening to a sitting position, Sergei pulled her up with him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her back welded to his chest and rested his chin against her head. He wanted more than a few nights of passion. Wondering how to broach the paramount question, he stared at the fire and sighed.
Cecile twisted her head toward him. He noticed her puzzled expression and curled a strand of her hair around his finger. Would he dive straight into the subject or tiptoe around it?
“Cecilya, you’ve gotten used to our vodka. How about the cold, does it still bother you? During your last trip, you shivered every other minute.”
Cecile snuggled against him and shook her head. “No more, with the central heating back in the hotel and the little heater in my room, the temperature is just correct. And outside, I’ve learned to wear layers and layers of clothes.”
“Hmm. I noticed.” He chuckled. “It’s a pain but I can manage.” In spite of the dimness, he noticed a flush of embarrassment on her face. “If you get cold let me know.” He pointed to the bottles of wine and vodka sitting on the table.
“Not yet. Not with you,” she assured him.
He squeezed her against him. His body was so hot, it could melt the ice on the ground but his brain felt numb, unable to formulate what his heart was screaming.
* * * * *
Cecile squirmed against Sergei, noting the stillness of his shoulders, the silence that had subtly descended between them. Was he having second thoughts about telling her he loved her?
She raised her head and stared at him. “You’re very quiet, Sergei.”
“Hmm…Tell me, Cecilya. What do you think about my flat?” he quipped all of a sudden. “Of course, it is much smaller than your luxurious condo.”
Was there challenge in his voice? Some bitterness? “Sergei, I love your flat. It’s bright and cozy,” she said, hoping to reassure him.
“If you wanted to change anything, what would it be?” he asked in earnest.
Bemused by his line of questioning, she wondered what he was getting at. “You mean, if I wanted to redecorate it?”
“Yes, precisely. How would you, let’s say, modernize it?”
Cecile tilted her head and fantasized out loud. “I would improve on the kitchen. I’d keep the marble countertop but I’d add more cabinets. I like the living room as is. On second thought, I’d change the dark blue sofa for a lighter beige one.” Caught at her own game of redecoration, she described her taste for brighter furniture but in general she thought the apartment was comfortable enough.
He suddenly grabbed her hands. “And then, once it’s arranged to your taste, would you get used to it?”
She was afraid to guess. Did he want her to move to his flat?
Silence enveloped them as she pondered the question.
Sergei pulled her into his arms and groaned against her hair, “Cecilya, my love, marry me.”
Her breath caught in her chest. Her eyes rounded. Had she heard him right? Her hand flew to her throat.
“Cecilya, we’ve been fools, arrogant fools. We thought we could control our feelings, deny our love. My darling, I can’t keep it hidden any longer. I love you. I love you so much.” He trailed his lips on her forehead and her cheeks and captured her mouth in a long bone-melting kiss.
The world spun around her but her heart sang. He truly loves me. Loves me enough to put me ahead of his dreams.
He eased her away. “Well, tell me that you’ll marry me.”
Her throat constricted and her eyes welled with tears. He pressed his lips against her eyelids. “Why are you crying?”
“Oh Sergei, how I’ve dreamed of hearing these words. So many times, I said them loud to myself, just to hear them, ‘I love you, my General. I love you, my hero’.”
“Well, say it again. Tell me that you want to marry me.” He squeezed her so hard she couldn’t breathe.
Cecile squirmed against him. “I love you. I love you. I can say it all night.” She sealed her lips on his and he deepened the kiss. An eternity later, she pulled her mouth away and fixed a long gaze on him. Her shoulders slumped. “But I can’t marry you.”
“What are you saying?” He lurched forward and clutched her arms.
“No, Sergei. There’s no future together for the Major General of Belarus and the American Program Manager. We knew it from day one and we gambled. And now we’re burned at our own game. I’ll go away and you’ll forget me.” Needles of regret pierced her heart as she heard herself rejecting his proposal, his love, his promise of happiness at his side, in his arms.
“Can’t you give up your pampered life and live with me?” Bitterness creaked through his voice.
“I’d gladly give up m
y miserable luxury, Sergei. It doesn’t bring love and happiness. Only you do,” she cried out, desperate that he would misinterpret her unselfish refusal. “But what if you lose your position? What if your officers think you betrayed them? What about your country, your dear Belarus, Sergei? Won’t you resent me for stealing away your utmost love, the goal of your life?”
He stared at her blankly. She’d hit the right chord. He didn’t protest. She raised her hands and cupped his face. “You’re right I was an arrogant fool, assertive and forceful at work but so vulnerable in my heart. And yes, I can’t give up my work, although I hate it right now.”
She felt the blazing heat of his gaze and heard the thudding of his heart, his heavy breathing stomping in the silence of the room. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned her head and stood up. He straightened up and gathered her against him.
“Don’t go away, Cecilya. Life is already hard as it is. I’ve offered all I could.”
“I know, my love. And I’ll treasure your offer.” She looked at him with sadness and desperation. There was nothing more to say. She put on her coat and her hat and wrapped the scarf around her neck. He yanked on his coat and chapka and opened the door. Holding her hand, he walked her to the car.
Sergei drove away. He didn’t talk and she couldn’t utter a word. She felt numb, bruised and hurt. For a crazy second, she almost cried, “I love you. I’ll marry you.” But she knew it would destroy them both.
Sergei parked the car far away from the hotel, next to the sidewalk lining the river. He helped her out and enfolded her in his arms. She breathed deeply inhaling his warm breath and the chilly wind. Fire and ice, that’s what my life is about.
They walked hand in hand through the night until they saw the hotel’s lights. She stopped next to a tree. “Please, let me go in alone. I’ll be fine.”
He held her one more time in his arms. “Tonight, we almost made love in a palace. It was heaven.”