Читать книгу Christmas Wishes Part 1 - Линн Грэхем, Elizabeth Rolls - Страница 21

Chapter Two

The Winter Court was in full swing. Lavish drapery in silver and ivory hung from tall windows. Wreaths adorned with red and gold decorated every windowsill, and candles set in red glass spheres of varying sizes hung from the ornate ceiling. Court jesters clad in Christmas colours performed flips and cartwheels among the mingling courtiers dressed in all their finery.

And at the centre of it all, on a ridiculously gaudy throne on a raised platform, was the Empress Anna.

Ekaterina gritted her teeth as she glided through the hall, her golden fan clenched in a death grip and her lips a line of thinly veiled displeasure. This should have been a joyous Yuletide celebration. Oh, there were cakes shaped into Christmas trees and presents wrapped with shiny bows aplenty. And the spiced wine was flowing freely into greedy glasses. But still her aunt’s tastes ran towards the vicious and distasteful.

In one corner of the magnificent hall stood a giant Christmas tree that was completely lit up with candles. But at the foot of that Christmas tree was a small group of nobles, dressed fabulously but walking about barefoot...on a thick carpet of sharp pine cones.

It was a punishment her aunt had thought up the night before, specifically for an aristocratic family that she felt had snubbed one of her current lovers. They grimaced and pretended to smile as the sharp edges of the dried cones pierced the tender soles of their feet, forced to pace as her aunt watched in morbid amusement.

And that was only the least of the macabre displays in the great hall.

Ekaterina bit her tongue and exhaled slowly, desperately trying to tamp down her rage at the indecent and cruel party amusements. It was wrong. It was horrible. It was definitely not behaviour worthy of an empress.

She chastised herself inwardly, gently tapping the tip of her closed fan against her chin. Such thoughts were dangerous. If ever voiced, those words would earn her not just humiliation but a secret and painful execution.

‘My lady Ekaterina. You look absolutely beautiful tonight!’

At the sound of the voice Ekaterina turned suddenly, her satin skirts swishing. An eligible aristocrat stood in front of her, his cheeks flushed with drink. He leered at her. She snapped her fan open, hiding her face. She knew his type. He was her aunt’s favourite type of courtier: dumb, loud, money grubbing and abusive. He was after status and power, and he would do anything to rise in Empress Anna’s favour.

‘I’m sorry, Your Excellency...?’ she said, arching an imperious brow.

‘Please, call me Vladimir. I said you look beautiful,’ he repeated with a grotesque smirk.

‘Do I, Vladimir?’ she asked, her tone superior.

‘Yes, you look radiant,’ he said, his lips smacking together hideously.

‘Well, then,’ Ekaterina said crisply, ‘that’s a shame, as you do not.’

With that she spun on her heel and marched away—only to be stopped a few seconds later by another tipsy social climber. Alternately ignoring and insulting her would-be suitors, Ekaterina slowly made her way to the edge of the room. She paused to press her gloved fingertips to her throbbing temples. She hated these royal functions; the decadence gave her a headache and the false smiles made her cheeks hurt. But most of all she hated, hated the fact that she was being dangled like a prize—a treat to reward the courtier who managed to impress her aunt the most.

Her jaw clenching, Ekaterina hazarded a glance over her shoulder.

Her aunt was doubled over in obscene guffaws of laughter as two miserable women—no doubt suspected of some trivial slight—were subjected to a humiliating face-painting. They were already smeared from head to toe with filth, and scraps of old food clung to their skin.

Ekaterina looked away, troubled and disgusted. Shaking her head, she edged nearer the exit and slipped around the ornate doors into the corridor. She quickly paced down the hall, lifting her skirts as she practically ran away.

Just a few moments, she told herself sternly. I just need a little bit of air.

Sure that her absence would be noted sooner rather than later, she quickly ducked around a corner—only to slam face first into a muscular chest. She looked up, eyes wide in panic.

‘A-Andrey!’ she stammered out in shock. ‘What are you doing here?’

* * *

Andrey stared back at her, his jaw slack in surprise. Here was his mystery woman, his muse. But she no longer wore a simple cotton shift and a rough coat. Here she was, decked out in the most gorgeous finery, her hair up in ringlets and her face subtly painted according to the fashion of the day. She wore a simple yet elegant gown, with a gold satin corset top and full, voluminous skirts.

‘Ekaterina,’ he said, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘I’m...’ She paused, her mind racing. She wasn’t ready for him to find out who she really was. ‘I’ve been forced to attend.’

‘Forced to attend a Christmas ball?’ he asked incredulously.

‘Yes,’ she rushed to say. ‘I’m here for the Empress’s amusement.’

Andrey’s suspicions melted away into concern. Even he knew what type of amusements pleased the Empress. She was cruel to excess, and he despised her every smirk. He did not want to see his sweet Ekaterina fall prey to her sick games. No, he must not let her fall into the Empress’s pudgy hands.

He took her by the hand and began to drag her away.

‘Let’s go,’ he commanded briskly.

‘To where?’ she asked, trying to pull her hand from his. ‘What do you think you are doing?’

‘We have to get away from here,’ he said grimly. ‘You do not want to be at the Empress’s mercy.’

‘What?’

Frustrated by the strange turn of events, Ekaterina jerked backwards and pulled away sharply.

‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded.

Andrey took her by the shoulders and leaned in close, his green eyes darkly serious.

‘You do not want to go to that ball,’ he told her, squeezing her shoulders. ‘When the Empress sees you... Sees how beautiful you are...’ He paused and shuddered with revulsion. ‘I won’t let her use you for her twisted games. I won’t let her hurt you.’

* * *

Andrey grabbed at her wrist, but Ekaterina kept her distance. Her eyes narrowed in thought. How did Andrey know of her aunt’s demented behaviour?

‘I thought you worked in the workshop,’ she said slowly, her tone accusatory.

‘I do,’ he replied flatly as he took her hands in his. ‘Now let’s go.’

‘No!’ Ekaterina snapped angrily. ‘Who are—?’

He stopped her with a kiss—and what a kiss it was!

He cupped her cheeks with his callused palms and pulled her close. His mouth covered hers, and his tongue and lips worked fiercely. Despite her misgivings, Ekaterina responded immediately, her angry words melting into a lusty sigh as Andrey plundered her mouth. She simply could not deny the hot wave of desire that flooded her senses when he touched her. She pressed in closer and tilted her head back farther, her lovely lashes fluttering.

* * *

Andrey dropped his hands to her waist and his lips to her smooth neck. He suckled at her earlobe and drew trails up the column of her neck with his tongue. She gasped and moaned as he lavished her with kisses, his hands searching her body.

And then he noticed it.

Her dainty hands were also exploring his body. Her fingers tentatively smoothed over his arms, down to his hands. Then they wandered over his chest and down his back. Slowly. Carefully. Shyly.

Andrey slowed his kisses to match her unhurried pace.

He just could not understand this woman, nor the hold she had over him. Why should he care about a peasant girl about to be devoured by the Empress’s schemes? Why would he risk his own career for just one taste of her sweet sensuality?

Then she took his lower lip between her teeth, and he decided he couldn’t care less.

* * *

Ekaterina revelled in Andrey’s sweet caresses, her heart beating madly and her blood racing. Her suspicions grew dim in comparison to the heat rising in her stomach. As her mind grew foggy in the daze of pleasure, her instincts grew sharp. Despite her inexperience, she could not still her trembling fingers. Her hands roved over his body shamelessly, curiosity fuelling her exploration. Her hands dipped down past his hips, her fingers fanning over his taut thighs. Her thumb caught on one of the buttons at his crotch and Andrey let out a slow hiss.

Her interest piqued, she slowly brushed her thumb over the growing ridge in his trousers. His breathing hitched. Her lips curving over his, she pressed her open palm over the swelling there. It was hard and warm. She began to rub experimentally, and it quivered under her touch.

And when she squeezed, his thin ribbon of control broke.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back, his nose to her throat and his teeth scraping her skin.

Ekaterina stilled.

‘Am I doing it wrong?’ she asked uncertainly.

‘No.’ He grunted. ‘No.’

‘Then...?’

He pulled her face to his and kissed her hard.

‘You’re driving me mad,’ he groaned as he feathered kisses over her cheekbones.

‘How?’

‘You make me want to do things I can’t do.’

Ekaterina pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. The sensual tension between them pulled taut.

‘Like what?’ she asked breathlessly.

He pushed her hand back over his throbbing, hungry member, his larger hand covering hers. He leaned in close, his lips moving over her ear.

‘I want to lift your skirts right here,’ he told her in a harsh whisper. ‘I want to rip away these beautiful clothes from your beautiful body. And I want to put this inside you.’

A shudder ran down Ekaterina’s spine and her cheeks flushed scarlet. No noble would dare speak to her in such a way; none would not know her identity. Polished courtier he was not, and her doubts evaporated. She wanted to be with him; she wanted to know more about him. But she didn’t want him to hate her for leading him on, for making him think she was no one important.

She frowned. If he found out she was more than a simple palace girl...if he found out she was the niece of the Empress...then he would think she was like all the other aristocrats—using and abusing those lower than themselves.

‘Hey!’

Ekaterina stilled at the childish voice. She turned to see one of the friendlier servant girls calling to her from around a corner. The girl looked desperate and ready to run off at any second.

‘She’s looking for you!’

Ekaterina didn’t need to be told who she was. She jumped away suddenly.

Gathering her skirts, she met Andrey’s eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she explained. ‘I’ve got to go. I’m so sorry.’

Andrey held out a hand but Ekaterina had already taken off, running. She had to make it back to the ballroom before her aunt got too impatient—or all her hard work being invisible would be for naught. She dashed into the great hall. Pushing past the drunken nobles, she skipped to a halt in front of her aunt’s dais.

‘Oh!’ her aunt called excitedly. ‘There you are, Ekaterina!’

‘Yes, Empress,’ she said with a deep curtsy.

‘Come,’ she said, beckoning with her pudgy fingers. ‘Come meet my new friends.’

Friends? Ekaterina shivered involuntarily. She knew that her aunt had no real friends, only supporters and victims. The question was: which type were these?

‘I found the most lovely man while I was in Italy,’ Empress Anna said, giggling like a schoolgirl. ‘An architect. I’ve commissioned him to complete the Hall of Light.’

She pulled a skinny man to the fore. He was elaborately dressed, his eyes darting about nervously.

‘This,’ she said proudly, ‘is Bartolomeo Rastrelli.’

Ekaterina dipped her head in greeting.

‘And he has the most brilliant apprentice,’ Empress Anna continued. ‘Where is he?’ She looked around, mumbling his praises. ‘Ah!’ she called. ‘There he is.’

A man stepped through the crowd, and Ekaterina’s heart stopped.

‘This is my niece, the Lady Ekaterina Romanova,’ Empress Anna announced to the men.

Her aunt’s nasal voice faded as Ekaterina met the eyes of the architect’s apprentice. She already knew this man—but evidently not as well as she had thought.

‘Ekaterina,’ the Empress said, ‘this is Andrey Kvasov.’