The Frost of Springtime (20 page)

Sofia paid a quick glance over her shoulder and admired the convent—the
only true home she’d ever known. Her stare returned to Aleksender. Beautiful
and grave, he resembled a dark angel.

This is how Lucifer must have looked just before he fell, Sofia mused
in good faith. She approached him, feet carried by her soul, drawn to Aleksender
in spite of all notions of right and wrong.

A soft smile ignited her gaze. Sofia outstretched an arm and
tentatively reached for his face. “You’re here. You came for me.”

“I had to.” Aleksender dropped his eyes as his manly cheeks
blushed
a deep red. Sofia merely returned his innocence
tenfold, a light tint searing the shaft of her neck. “You are beyond lovely.”

Her head lowered at his praise. “Please. False hope is something I
cannot bear—”

“False is a far cry from what I feel for you.”

Aleksender finally grasped onto her. He marveled at her brittle
delicacy—the way his hands spanned the entire circumference of her waist, the
way her eyes darkened at each little caress.

A moment later she was lifted up and onto Juliet’s back. She stroked
her mane, in awe of the creature’s mystical beauty.

Aleksender mounted in back of Sofia and swung onto Juliet with heroic
style. He leaned forward, the sweltering heat of his breaths scorching her
sensitive skin. The hairs upon her nape stood at full attention. He gathered
the tethered reins and deposited them in the cushion of her lap. She tensed as
his arms claimed her, enveloping her body from behind and wrapping her within
his essence.

Fingertips lingering, Aleksender swept away a swarm of russet curls and
whispered low against her neck—making love to Sofia with the sultry accent of
his voice. “Tonight, I am yours and you are mine.”

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

A violent rain
began to fall by the time Sofia and Aleksender reached the de Lefèvre carriage
house. Inside the small structure, the swollen planks harmoniously gaped and
moaned as they were assaulted by the storm.

Sofia clutched onto Aleksender’s cloak and absently fingered the thick
wool. Heaving a deep sigh, she wandered over to one of the walls. Out-of-doors,
Chateau de Lefèvre stood in full view, appearing proud and impressively
aristocratic. It towered against the bruised sky, a fortress of coarse stone
ascending into blackness. Sofia cringed. On this night, it resembled the
bastard child of a haunted house and medieval castle. A bolt of lightning split
the night into two and set the monument aglow.

Sofia couldn’t help but despair. The brutal weather felt akin to an ill
omen. Thunderstorms were wildly uncommon during the month of May. She trembled
as fat raindrops clubbed at the rooftop, banging with the audacity of defiant fists.

“Most peculiar weather.”

Distracted and tending to Mademoiselle Juliet, Aleksender merely
grunted in reply. Sofia glanced over her shoulder. Amused, she watched as
Aleksender was bombarded with tosses of Juliet’s muzzle, which demanded her
master’s affection. He obliged with another irritated grunt. Sofia couldn’t
suppress her grin. For the life of him, he was unable to resist the charms of a
pretty female.

“Why, Juliet! What a naughty girl, using your feminine wiles on Alek!”

Aleksender couldn’t contain his chuckle.

Sofia turned back to the chateau with a small and triumphant grin;
she’d almost made him laugh.

Familiar warmth played upon her back as Aleksender wrapped Sofia in the
circle of his arms. He laid his cheek across her hair and fondled a loose,
silky curl. The charming barrettes gleamed in the moonlight, clashing against
the darkness of her hair.

Guilt swelled Sofia’s chest as she thought of Elizabeth. “Do you love
her? Elizabeth—do you love her?” Aleksender’s hand froze midair, the curl
slipping between his fingertips.

Silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Realizing her error, she
stiffened against Aleksender and inhaled a long and unsteady breath. Her head
was spinning. She inwardly chided herself. She was cruel to ask such a
question. Aleksender was clearly ripped at the seams—torn between loyalty to
his home and loyalty to himself. Unlike the rest of the world, she would not
force him to choose. In the end, she knew it would break her heart. And it’d be
a sacrifice she’d gladly spare for her Alek.

“Forgive me. I—”

“Tonight, mon amour
,
” came his smooth, hypnotic voice, “there
is
only us.” Jolts of pleasure shot up and down her spine as
Aleksender’s lips ghosted across her nape.

“Us,” Sofia echoed the magical word with breathless wonderment.

She rotated in his arms and gazed deeply into the depths of his eyes;
she felt as though she was seeing him for the very first time. In a painfully
tender movement, she swept fallen hairs away from his eyes and unveiled the
windows to his soul.

“You miss your father terribly.”

Saying nothing, Aleksender peered through the panels and gazed at his
chateau. Sofia perched onto her tiptoes and soundly kissed his cheek. Aleksender
inhaled a sharp intake of breath as her lips lingered.

Slender arms encircled Aleksender as Sofia pulled him against her
chest. She warmed his skin with her bittersweet words, “You are like ice.”

The simple comfort she offered, her genuine compassion for his loss,
affected Aleksender far more than he dared admit. Since his return, no one had
expressed any form of sincere condolences—not Elizabeth, not even Richard.
Cradled in Sofia’s embrace,
a vulnerability
overcame
Aleksender that he hadn’t known he still possessed. The superficialities of his
noble lifestyle vanished away, leaving his true identity and spirit in its
wake.

“I can only imagine your pain. I could never endure losing you.”

Aleksender stepped back and out of her reach, his entire demeanor
darkening. “I am not your father, Sofia,” he fiercely snapped.

“No. No, you are not. You are my teacher … my guardian … and my best
friend.” Sofia continued after a slight hesitation, a blush brightening her
cheeks. “You …” Her elegant fan of lashes lowered, casting decadent shadows
upon her pale skin. “You are my love.” Her gaze rose—brazenly consummating with
the heat of Aleksender’s stare.
“My lover.”

Aleksender’s final defense broke. He would no longer deny himself.
Sofia collided into the wooden panels as she was thrust backward in a jarring
motion.

He was upon her. Each of his arms were fully extended and propped on
either side of her face, encasing her between sinewy muscles.

Those wondrous, green eyes haunted her every dream—glittered in the
darkness. They burned with passion and pent-up desire that equaled her own. The
heat of his stare impaled her soul as Aleksender’s mouth descended, almost in
slow motion, tasting the tingling flesh of her neck at a leisurely pace. He
took his sweet time indeed. He would savor every moment to its absolute
fullest.

Sofia’s thoughts trailed as she fantasized about a rather scandalous
story she’d once managed to get her hands on—Polidori’s
Vampyre
, the notorious
tale of a Lord who delighted in seducing maidens, drinking their lifeblood from
their very necks.

She gasped aloud, weak at the knees, shamelessly leaning against the
wall for bodily support. Aleksender’s lips crawled up her neck, pausing only to
tease at her throbbing pulse. She squirmed against him, hissing between her
teeth and near to bucking.

“No,” she yelped, “s-stop that!”

She felt it. Aleksender was grinning against her skin. “Forgive me. I’d
forgotten your neck was ticklish.”

“Lying is a mortal sin, monsieur.”

He kissed one of her cheeks then the other—stopping mere inches from
the dewy heat of her mouth. Their humorous exchange transformed into one of
deep emotion.

Sofia broke the spell and raised her defiant chin in an aggravating
gesture. She moved her lips out of his reach, smiling from ear to ear. A primal
sound rumbled inside of Aleksender’s throat as his teeth gritted in
frustration.

“Sofia, please.”

“I’ve waited three years, Monsieur le Comte. I daresay you can wait a
moment or two.”

Three years?

Mild panic rose inside of his chest. She had desired him since she was
sixteen? This was wrong—terribly wrong. And yet, as she playfully shifted from
the wall and moved away in a sly motion, he pursued her.

Aleksender matched each of her footsteps with two of his own,
mesmerized and seduced. Body and soul, he was drawn to her like a moth to a
flame. This seductive and teasing side of Sofia had been quite foreign to him.
And now he found it be quite intriguing.

“Don’t you know that patience is a virtue?” The door emitted a hollow
creak as the curve of her bottom pushed against the aged wood, propping it wide
open. “Indeed. Patience is passion tamed.”

“And you, ma chérie, are a walking proverb.”

Sofia discarded Aleksender’s cloak in a swift motion. She flung it over
his head as if he were nothing more than a coat rack. Tangled and trapped
inside, he battled the thick material in vain. Swallowed up by the wool, his
muffled curses barely reached Sofia’s ears. She clutched onto her tummy, shamelessly
enjoying the spectacle and unable to suppress a fit of giggles.

“My poor, poor Alek!”

After some moments, he managed to unwind himself from the cloak’s
confines. He tossed it to the hay flooring and exhaled an exasperated pant. His
eyes were steadily fixed ahead, glaring down the amused female.

Sofia gasped, alarmed and enticed by the gleam in his stare. She hiked
up her skirts and bolted out the door. The fine material flowed behind her as
she fled the carriage house, a wide, nostalgic grin stretching her lips. In her
younger years, she and Aleksender had occasionally frolicked in this way. Those
moments were some of her most treasured memories. But now, she found that their
game was exceedingly far from innocent.

Glancing over the curve of her shoulder, Sofia stuck out her tongue and
sprinted across the lawn, giggling at every step.
“Slowpoke!”

Sofia sighed and gradually slowed her pace. She tilted her head back,
marveling at the endless, bruised sky that lurked high above. A shaft of light
broke through the clouds without warning, illuminating her like a diva’s
spotlight. She spun in place, laughing merrily and perfectly happy. Not minding
the falling rain, she danced within the ring of light, performing for an
audience that only she could see.

Aleksender remained silent and still, paralyzed by her beauty. He
watched her graceful movements in stunned silence. His heart quickened at the
breathtaking sight that unraveled before him. She was lost within her element
and entirely at peace.

Sofia had been born to dance.

And Aleksender saw within her. He searched the crevices of her heart
with an astute and pristine awareness. Through his eyes, everything about Sofia
radiated. Her flesh was no more than a pretty package that covered an even
prettier soul. He yearned to
unwrap
the precious
treasures of her heart. He yearned to make her a part of himself forever.

Twirling, she lifted both of her slender arms above her head and
grasped at the sky. “Oh, look, Alek! God is weeping for us!”

White cotton was soaked through and through. It clung to Sofia’s flesh,
molding over her exquisite form and nearly transparent from the rain. Sopping,
dark curls flattened against her cheeks and neck, presenting a stunning
contrast to her ivory skin.

And then a miracle happened as Sofia came to an altogether stop. A
smile—a genuine and true smile—tugged at Aleksender’s lips.

Joy swelled Sofia’s heart. She couldn’t recall a time when he had smiled.

Really, truly smiled.

Sincere laughter filled his eyes—boyish, carefree laughter that
softened his rugged beauty and reflected the delicacy of his soul.

Sofia peered at him beneath her lush fringe of eyelashes and drank in
his presence with a greedy eagerness. Cherishing his contentment, she absorbed
the serene vibes that radiated all around him. His tranquility was palpable.
Like a true flesh and blood soul mate, she could feel his shifting emotions,
all of his inner doubts and guarded insecurities. And she took an unbridled
pleasure in his newly found peace. She observed as his stiff exterior slowly
dissolved away, exposing him in his most vulnerable and lovable form.

And his grin—that roguish, sinfully charismatic grin—could only be
described as infectious. She returned his smile without thinking.

Alas—despite the pouring rain and thundering skies, he was content.

Despite his disheveled and frightfully unruly appearance, he was
content.

Despite the fact that Comtesse Elizabeth was presently
sleeping—oblivious to his betrayal and deceit—he was flushed with pure content.

And Sofia decided that contentment agreed with Aleksender remarkably
well.

His thick, raven hair was plastered to his flesh like melted drinking
chocolate. He’d apparently found a spare moment to remove his coat; the crème
dress shirt was entirely in sight. It, too, was plastered to the expanse of his
chest—molded against his form with perfection. He was painfully handsome,
displaying a fascinating blend of boyish appeal and exquisite masculine beauty.
He was a wonderful paradox she could never fully solve—nor intended to. He was
an illusion that could never be fully realized. She could not tear her eyes
from him.

Flustered by his unwavering attention, Sofia flexed at her heels,
graceful and delicate, and treated her invisible fans with a curtsy. In
response, Aleksender’s mouth quirked at each corner and lifted into a crooked grin.

“Hmm.”
Sofia tapped her
lips in deep contemplation. Propping an adorably saucy hand on either side of
her waist, she hotly spouted, “I hate to inform you, Monsieur le Comte, but you’re
not nearly as coarse as you like to believe yourself to be.”