Secret Fire

by Johanna Lindsey

  Laughter gone, but still smiling, Dimitri met her furious gaze and found himself caught once again by the curious effect she always seemed to have on him. “Do you know this temper of yours excites me?”

  “I can’t say the same of yours—” Katherine began, only to fall abruptly silent as his meaning dawned on her.

  Her heart seemed to flip over. Her breath stopped. She was mesmerized, watching his eyes turn more black than brown. And when his hand gently slipped under the hair on her neck and slowly drew her toward him, she was powerless to prevent what she knew was coming.

  Every single erotic sensation she had felt while under the influence of that exotic drug returned to Katherine the moment his lips touched hers. Her limbs turned to jelly, her mind to mush. His tongue slid unhindered between her teeth to leisurely explore her mouth and heat ignited in her loins. Her hips thrust forward instinctively without any encouragement from him. In fact he still only held her neck. It was she who pressed her body close, needing the contact, needing…

  Dimitri was utterly amazed by her response to him. He had expected arms to flail and legs to kick, not for her body to turn soft and yielding. Instead of trying to coerce her into his bed, as her firm resistance to him indicated was the only way he would get her there, he should have kissed her sooner.

  What a fool he had been. He had not placed her in that well-known category of women who said no when they really meant yes. And yet—and yet there was no coyness about Katherine. There was no pretense to her fiery emotions. She didn’t belong with the artful, deceptive women he was used to, and that left him floundering in confusion even as he delighted in his sudden good fortune.

  Katherine felt bereft when the kiss ended. Dimitri’s hand slid around to the side of her face, and just as she had done that fateful night, she turned her cheek into his palm, unaware that she was doing so. It was hearing his sharply indrawn breath at this tender gesture that brought her back to her senses. Her eyes opened to reality and she groaned miserably, even as she sprang into motion.

  She placed her hands flat on Dimitri’s chest and pushed hard. He didn’t budge, but because he hadn’t been restraining her in any way, she nearly stumbled from her own impetus, falling back into her cabin. The distance between them now was all she needed to regain control, even though her pulses were still racing.

  She glared at him and threw up a hand when he took a step toward her. “Don’t come any closer, Alexandrov.”

  “Why?”

  “Just don’t. And don’t you dare try that again.”

  “Why?”

  “Blast you and your whys. Because I don’t want you to, that’s why!”

  Dimitri went no further than the doorway. There he leaned against the frame, crossing his arms over the wide expanse of his chest as he studied her thoughtfully.

  She was flustered. Good. She was also nervous and perhaps a little frightened too, which gave him a sense of power he had not felt in her presence before. Was it possible she was as surprised as he was by her warm response to his kiss? Was she afraid now that it could happen again?

  Little fool. Why was she so loath to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh? But he had learned something from this encounter that would satisfy him for the time being. She wasn’t indifferent to him after all. There was passion in this woman that needed no aphrodisiac to bring it to the surface. It just needed a gentle touch, and there would be other opportunities—he would see to that.

  “Very well, Katya, you have convinced me of your abhorrence of kissing.” There was laughter in his tone, for they both knew how ridiculous that statement was. “Come along, then, and I will introduce you to my sister.” When she didn’t move, he added, “You aren’t really afraid of me now, are you?”

  She bristled, because he hadn’t moved yet either. “No, but if you want me to come with you, it might help if you led the way.”

  He laughed, but as she followed him down the corridor, she thought she heard him say, “You win this round, little one, but I make no promises to always be so obliging of your wishes.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Her, Mitya? You think I haven’t heard about her? You think I don’t know she is the little whore you picked up off the street that afternoon in London? This is who you give me for a maid?”

  This is how Katherine was greeted by Anastasia Petrovna Alexandrovna after Dimitri had introduced them and explained Katherine’s presence. The younger woman had given her only a single glance before ignoring her and attacking her brother as if he had dealt her the most horrendous insult.

  Katherine was the one insulted, and yet when she recovered from the shock of having her character maligned, she reacted to the Princess’s contempt in a most unusual way. She stepped in front of Dimitri, who was showing every sign of losing his temper in a matter of seconds, and now that Anastasia could no longer ignore her, she smiled.

  “My dear young woman, if I weren’t a lady and of moderate temperament, I might be tempted to slap you silly for your offensive manners, let alone your disparagement of me. But since you have obviously been misinformed about me, I suppose I must be tolerant and forgiving. But let us be clear on one point. I am not a whore, Princess. And I am not being given to you, as you so arrogantly put it. I agreed to help you because apparently you can’t seem to help yourself. But I understand that perfectly. Why, look at me. Without my own maid along on this voyage, I haven’t been able to do a thing with my hair, and dressing is most tedious without a little help. So you see I do understand your dilemma, and since I have nothing better to do…”

  Katherine could have gone on with her subtle sarcasm, but she was too close to laughing at the Princess’s shocked expression, and besides, she had made her point. Whether it would do any good remained to be seen.

  Behind her Dimitri leaned close to whisper, “Tolerant temperament, Katya? When do I get to meet this woman you have described?”

  She stepped quickly away from him before turning to bestow on him the same false smile as she had given the Princess. “You know, Alexandrov, I don’t believe your sister is as helpless as you implied. She appears quite capable—”

  “Do not be so hasty,” Anastasia cut in, fearing she had gone too far and was now going to lose a supposedly competent maid, which she did desperately need. “I thought I would have to train you, as I would Mitya’s servants, but if you are a lady, as you say, that won’t be necessary. I accept your help. And, Mitya… I thank you for thinking of me.”

  It galled Anastasia to have to say even that much to either of them. She was still furious with her brother for dragging her home and for his threats about a future husband. Having to thank him for anything at this time went against the grain. And the Englishwoman! Anastasia’s blood boiled. Dimitri was no doubt tired of the little whore, and that was why he was foisting her off on her. Lady indeed! But it was possible that she knew more about attending a lady than Dimitri’s other servants, and so she could be useful. Yet Anastasia would not forget the insult she had been dealt by this peasant.

  “I will leave you, then, to become better acquainted,” Dimitri said.

  Anastasia’s smile did not reach her eyes. Katherine’s expression would have been bland except for the tight line of her mouth. Dimitri knew his sister could be difficult to get along with. And Katherine’s temper he had witnessed firsthand. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought these two together, but it was done. If it didn’t work, then there was still the second position for Katherine to fill.

  The look Dimitri gave her just before he left warned Katherine of what he had been thinking. He wanted her to fail. He looked forward to it. The scoundrel! Well, she wouldn’t. If it killed her, she would be pleasant to this spoiled, unpleasant child who was his sister.

  That determination wore thin after listening to the long list of duties Anastasia had in mind for her. She was to attend to the Princess’s bath, her toilet, her clothes, her meals. The girl wanted to monopolize her every waking moment, even—and Katherine was trul
y surprised at this—having her sit for a portrait. It appeared Anastasia considered herself a talented artist, and her painting was the only thing she had to keep herself occupied with on the voyage.

  “I will call it The Daisy,” Anastasia said, speaking of the portrait.

  “You liken me to a daisy?”

  Anastasia delighted at the opening given her, a chance to belittle the creature. “Well, you are certainly no rose. Yes, a rather sun-browned daisy, with that dull hair—but you do have nice eyes,” she conceded, seeing them widen.

  She had beautiful eyes, actually, Anastasia admitted to herself, and a face that might not be pretty in the classical sense, but was certainly interesting. It would, in fact, be a challenge to paint. The more Anastasia looked at her with an artist’s eye instead of with rancor, the more excited she became by the challenge.

  “Do you have a yellow dress?” she asked. “It must be done with a yellow dress, for the daisy effect, you understand.”

  Keep your calm, Katherine. She’s goading you, and she’s not really very good at it. You’ve cut better than her down to size with little effort.

  “No yellow dress, Princess. You’ll have to improvise, I’m afraid, or envision—”

  “No, I must see it…but of course! You will use one of my dresses.”

  She was serious. “No, I will not,” Katherine said stiffly.

  “But you must. You agreed to let me paint you.”

  “I did not agree, Princess. You assumed.”

  “Please.”

  The word surprised them both. Anastasia looked away to hide a telltale blush, amazed not so much that she had pleaded with the woman but that the portrait had become suddenly so important to her. It would be the most challenging thing she had ever done, not like bowls of fruit or meadows strewn with wild flowers, where one scene was so much like another, nor the few portraits she had done of her friends, where the blondness and prettiness was a sameness too. No, here was an original for a subject. She just had to paint her.

  Katherine, seeing the blush, felt like a petty bitch. She was refusing to do the one thing she actually wouldn’t mind doing. What spite. And why? Because the Princess was spoiled and said things she probably didn’t mean? Or because she was Dimitri’s sister, and saying no to her was like saying no to him, a pleasure?

  “Very well, Princess, I will sit for you a few hours each day,” Katherine consented. “But I must insist on a like time to myself.”

  The other duties she would deal with as they arose. There was no point in getting into an argument now (she would not be scrubbing any backs), when she had this opportunity to get to know Anastasia while her claws were sheathed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The first of several storms that the ship would encounter in the weeks ahead arrived that afternoon. It wasn’t a violent storm, just a nuisance to most of those on board, Anastasia in particular. She took well to sea travel, except under these circumstances, as she readily admitted. The increased motion of the ship sent her straight to bed.

  Katherine left the Princess’s cabin, determined to see what she could do about laundering several gowns, including the golden one they had decided would do nicely for the portrait, and then she would have the rest of the afternoon to herself. The trouble was that she didn’t know the first thing about laundering clothes. But Anastasia had insisted that Dimitri’s servants, accustomed only to attending a man, knew nothing about women’s apparel and they would ruin anything they put their hands to.

  “As I will.”

  “My lady?”

  Katherine stopped short, amazed to hear herself addressed so. And by Marusia? The older woman was waiting for her in the doorway of her own cabin. She was grinning from ear to ear and beckoning Katherine to come ahead. She did, quickly, when she realized the corridor was no place to linger, not with Dimitri’s cabin just a few doors away. She didn’t intend to encounter him there again.

  “What did you call me?” Katherine asked before stepping into her room.

  Marusia ignored the sharpness of her tone. “We know who you are, my lady. It is only the Prince and my husband who doubt you.”

  It was such a relief to have someone believe her, anyone, and yet nothing was changed as long as Dimitri was still doubtful. “Why doesn’t he believe me, Marusia? Clothes and circumstances don’t change who a person is.”

  “Russians can be intractable. They stubbornly adhere to first impressions. For Vladimir, there is even more reason, because in Russia, death would be his reward for abducting an aristo. So you see why he does not dare admit you are more than he first supposed.”

  “We are not in Russia, and I am an Englishwoman,” Katherine reminded her.

  “But the ways of Russia are not ignored simply because we are out of the country for a time. The Prince, now”—Marusia shrugged—“who can say why he does not accept what is obvious? Possibly he chooses not to consider it because he doesn’t want it to be true. It is also possible that the temptation you represent to him clouds his judgment.”

  “In other words, he’s so busy figuring out ways to seduce me that he has no time to think of anything else?”

  The resentful tone surprised Marusia, but after a moment she couldn’t help laughing. She knew by now not to think of Little English in terms of other women, yet she still found it incredible that Dimitri had finally met a woman who wasn’t instantly enamored of him. Even the Princess Tatiana was madly in love with him, as everyone knew except Dimitri. According to Tatiana Ivanova’s servants, she had decided to pretend indifference to him so that he would better appreciate her once he had won her.

  Marusia sobered, seeing that Katherine didn’t appreciate her humor. “I’m sorry, my lady. It is just that…do you truly feel nothing for the Prince?”

  “On the contrary,” Katherine replied without hesitation. “I loathe him.”

  “But do you mean that, angliiskii, or is it only your anger that prompts you—”

  “Again my integrity is questioned?”

  “No, no, I only thought…never mind. But it is too bad that you feel this way, because he is much taken with you. But of course you already know this.”

  “If you are referring to his effort to entice me into his bed, I assure you, Marusia, I’m not stupid. A man can desire a woman he doesn’t respect, doesn’t know, and doesn’t even like. If that were not so, the word whore would never have come into being. And don’t you dare pretend to be shocked at my bluntness, because I won’t believe it!”

  “It’s not that, my lady,” Marusia hastened to assure her. “It’s this conclusion you have mistakenly come to. Certainly the Prince is as lusty as any young man his age, and most often his liaisons do mean little or nothing to him. With you it has been different since he first saw you. Do you think it usual for him to pick a stranger from the street to share his bed? He has never done this before. He likes you, my lady. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t still want you. If he didn’t, his emotions would not be so close to the surface where you are concerned. Have you not noticed the difference since you agreed to his demands? It is why I am here, to thank you on behalf of all of us for whatever sacrifice you had to make.”

  Katherine could hear the difference—voices no longer whispering, shouts and laughter coming from above, even in the midst of a storm—and she couldn’t deny it felt good to think she was responsible for this return to normalcy. Nor could she deny the little thrill that had gone through her on hearing Marusia’s claim that Dimitri liked her. But that was neither here nor there, nor to be admitted to anyone but herself. As for her sacrifice, Anastasia wasn’t so difficult to get along with—as long as her brother wasn’t around. The other hints, well, these people needed to understand that her position hadn’t changed simply because she was no longer a virgin. She would not tolerate a campaign of matchmaking, as she had their efforts to get her out of her cabin.

  “I don’t know how things go in Russia,” Katherine said, “but in England, a lady does not expect to be p
ropositioned for anything except marriage. Your prince insults me each time he…when he—”

  Marusia was amused. “Has no man ever asked to be your lover before, my lady?”

  “Certainly not!”

  “A shame. The more you are asked, the less it seems like an insult.”

  “That will do, Marusia.”

  A loud sigh, then a half-smile told Katherine that Marusia was not one to give up so easily. But she retreated for the moment.

  “Did the Princess give you those?” She indicated the dresses draped over Katherine’s arm.

  “I’m to clean and press them.”

  Marusia almost laughed at the look of disgust mingled with determination that crossed Katherine’s features. “That is one thing you need not concern yourself with, my lady. I will give them to Maksim, Dimitri’s valet, and he will return them to you here. Anastasia need never know.”

  “I’m sure he has enough to do already.”

  “Not at all. He will also see to your own clothing, and you will let him, yes, because he is the one who had to attend the Prince these last four days, and he is the one who is most grateful to you for making peace with him. It will be his pleasure to help you in any way he can.”

  Katherine grappled with her pride for about two seconds before handing over the dresses. “That yellow one is to be trimmed down to my measurements.”

  “Oh?”

  “The Princess wants to paint me in it.”

  Marusia grinned to hide her surprise. Anastasia was presently mad at the world and taking it out on everyone. Marusia would have wagered she would have been particularly unpleasant to Little English and wagered too that a battle royal would have been the result.

  “She must have taken to you,” Marusia commented, still grinning. “And her painting is really very good. It is her passion, second only to men.”

  “So I understand.”