The Frost of Springtime (21 page)

His grin grew at her remark. The emerald hue of his eyes transformed as
they darkened with desire. “And I hate to inform you, mademoiselle, but you
aren’t as entirely prudent as you believe yourself to be.”

But she was certainly not too prudent to understand his rakish
intentions. Aleksender was taunting her, she gathered—testing her, she knew,
playing a wicked game with her, she saw.

Sofia’s tongue seemed to take on a life of its own. Feminine pride
overflowed her mind and body. She was utterly startled by her own audacity.

“Maybe so,” she retorted, absently twirling one of her ringlets,
returning his flirtation. She openly challenged him, eyes shimmering with
mischief. “But that was when you knew me as a child.” Sofia took a graceful
step forward, hips swaying in a complimentary rhythm. Her voice was husky and
unmistakably desirous. Aleksender could scarcely recognize it
as her own
. “You’ve yet to know me as a woman.”

Those words sealed their fate.

Aleksender lunged forward with a beastly growl. Their damp bodies
molded and sloshed together as he captured her torso between his arms. He swept
Sofia off her feet—quite literally—his interlocked limbs settled beneath her
bottom. Ignoring her fiery and uncharacteristic protests, he tossed Sofia over
his shoulder with the ease of a ragdoll. Her legs wildly kicked midair as solid
little fists thumped against his back. Swallowing back a chuckle, he heaved a
melodramatic sigh and headed for the carriage house.

Her long curls hung like a curtain and nearly swept the ground. “If you
think I’m through with you, monsieur—well … you are sorely mistaken!”

Aleksender merely swatted her adorable, upturned backside—a gentle,
playful gesture—and chided her with a mock scolding. A grin spread across his
mouth as she audibly pouted, accepting her defeat.

“Surrendered, I see?”

“I shall take great delight in my vengeance,” she warned, attempting to
blow hair from her face with a shallow puff of air. Soaked from the storm, it
remained plastered to her cheek. “Oh, I swear to it.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” he dryly murmured, enjoying the banter with
an immense pleasure.

The splintered door creaked as Aleksender kicked it open with his booted
heel, carefully depositing Sofia onto the ground.

He silently cupped her cheeks, caressing the satiny flesh with his
gloved fingertips. He gazed deeply into her eyes. Aleksender hushed her with an
index finger as her lips parted in speech.

“You’ve nothing to fear, Sofia,” he gently crooned, stroking her skin
in tantalizing and hypnotic motions, “I would never let harm come of you.”
Aleksender glanced away, praying his words were not a lie. “I want you to know,
no matter whatever happens I shall be there for you.
Always.”

She swallowed and silently nodded. There was an ominous edge to his
voice, a foreboding undercurrent, which he didn’t bother to hide. Something
warned Sofia that this would be her last chance to protect her heart from
breaking. But alas—she’d already abandoned herself to Aleksender long, long
ago.

And now they stood as two martyrs of love, their sacrifice within
arm’s
reach.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

Aleksender
collected Sofia’s pale hands and suggestively laid them across his chest. His
heart thundered beneath her palms, strong and unmistakable. The simple gesture
was overwhelmingly beautiful; it was as if he was making a present of his soul.

“Just trust me,” he whispered

Sofia smiled softly into his eyes. “I always have.”

She was troubled. He could see it in her distant stare … could feel it
deep within her skin. Aleksender inclined his head and murmured softly against
her cheek. “What? What is it, chérie?”

An eternity of silence drifted by.
When Sofia finally
spoke, her voice quivered with emotion. “Why is this happening?” She hesitated.
“Why is this happening to us?”

Aleksender swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes.” Both hands descended from her face and fell despairingly to his
sides. They tightened into two clenched fists as he prepared to fight off his
personal demons.
“Very much so.”

Sofia’s gaze drifted over his troubled features. His rigid
posture, haunted stare
. Her face sank forward. She was
disturbed greatly by the sight. All of his inner torment had surfaced. Sofia
knew he had survived terrible, inconceivable tortures during his absence at
war—and perhaps even during his childhood.

And she knew that he was battling his passion—struggling to see her as
the little girl who he’d once cared for.

She wandered forward until the front of her gown skimmed his chest.
Aleksender held his breath and peered down at their two bodies. They were
dangerously close, intimately close. Soft and painfully tempting, the rise of
her breasts was clearly visible through the soaked cotton.

“Alek.”
Sofia craned her
neck and met those bottomless, infinitely lovely eyes. “I’d never let harm come
of you, you know,” she vowed with the faintest touch of a smile. “Just trust
me.” An unwavering, deep sincerity wallowed beneath her playful tone. The
implications, the fortifying strength of her words, paralyzed Aleksender beyond
comprehension.

Having so much to sacrifice, having so much to
lose,
was a terrifying thing.

Aleksender brushed past Sofia and collected his cloak from the ground.
Its wool flapped about with the audacity of a flag as he smoothed the material
across the flooring. Perched on his knees, he turned to Sofia and beckoned her
over with the raw magnetism of his eyes.

Sofia came to him until she stood on the outskirts of the cloak. Her
smile slowly seeped away, replaced with a startling awareness. His stare was
breathlessly hot and powerful—indescribably passionate. She could feel him
looking into her very soul. He could see inside her. And the realization pained
Sofia. She saw his vulnerability and restlessness—and nothing more. She thought
it was quite selfish of Aleksender, denying her access to his soul.

Aleksender coiled his hand around her ankle, enveloping it completely.
His sultry eyes never abandoned Sofia. Savoring every inch, his fingers slid up
her tingling flesh in an antagonizing slow motion. The cool leather of his
glove scorched her skin, branding her with infernal touches. She watched in
breathless awe as his hand disappeared, vanishing beneath her gauzy skirts. His
opposite hand lifted from the ground and ascended to his mouth in a smooth
motion. He nipped at the slick leather and clutched it between his lips,
unsheathing himself as he provocatively removed the glove with white teeth.

Aleksender’s bared hand sank below her skirts. Sofia’s mouth fell open
as she gasped at the intoxicating touch. The simple feeling of his callused
skin moving
against her own
was maddening. With each
caress, she descended into a state of pure euphoria.

His gloved hand withdrew completely. Slowly he raised the material of
her gown. Aleksender’s gaze crept down her body and settled upon the creamy
flesh of her thighs. He murmured some words in a foreign tongue.
Then followed suit in two more languages.
Deaf to their
meanings, Sofia instantly wished she was more cultured. Though, his sultry
accent suggested they were not suited for a lady’s ears. Rather than being
offended, she inwardly blushed—realizing she didn’t oppose to being
scandalized.

“Sofia, you are exquisite.” He eased her skirts up several more inches.
Removing the other glove, his voice husky and trembling with desire, “Nothing
short of divinity.”

Aleksender clasped onto her slender thighs and worshiped the velvet
skin with his fingertips. “I apologize. My dreams have not done you justice.” A
gasp fled her lips as he cupped the curve of her bottom. He murmured a long,
low groan of satisfaction. His groin tightened as he pawed Sofia through the
pantalettes and groped the lush weight of her derriere.

Just when she believed he would ravish her whole, Aleksender’s hands
fell away.

“You are precious to me,” he whispered with an uncontainable ardor,
staring down at the hay flooring, chest rattling with strained breaths. “You have
always been so precious.” With an unfathomable degree of humility, he stared up
into her eyes and breathed the confession, “Before you, I was nothing. I wanted
nothing. I was empty. And now I want everything.”

“Alek—” Clutching her bottom once more, Aleksender tugged Sofia
impossibly close. He was helpless to resist her beauty, craving a sense of
completeness. He quickly freed his last shred of propriety as he reclined on
top of his cloak—taking Sofia down with him. His movements were smooth and elegant,
executed with a panther’s regal grace.

Sofia found herself sprawled across the length of his strong body. She
shivered at the feel of him. From head to toe, he was coarse and as hard as
stone. And his arousal was no exception; it was dangerously prominent,
straining against the fabric of his trousers. Their lips were mere inches
apart, tortuously close. They shared the same breaths of air, inhaling each
other’s exhales. And Aleksender’s mouth was remarkably beautiful. It quivered
for her kisses, withheld dark secrets, and whispered sweet nothings.

“Sofia …”

Those magical hands continued their ascent as Sofia’s eyes fluttered
shut, hooded with intense pleasure. They rode up and over her tender curves—up,
up, up, skimming the tea-gown’s lacy fabric. Aleksender arched his hips and
ground his erection against her soft and pliable body, craving some sense of
relief.

“My desire for you is painful.”

An exotic blend of Persian spices …

Roses and the frost of wintertime …

The two distinct scents entwined as one.

The world seemed to fall away as Aleksender lifted his face and sought
her mouth with determination. She surrendered to the insistent probing of his
tongue. Beguiled by the rhythmically suggestive thrusting, she cooed a melody
of sighs and parted her lips, granting him full entrance. He moaned into her
mouth, consuming everything that was Sofia. Her fingers wound about his neck
and tugged with a desperate urgency, knotting within the glossy strands of
hair. What had begun as a tremulous and almost shy kiss turned entirely breathless.
Aleksender devoured Sofia, feasting upon her mouth like a starved man.

“Give me everything.
Your heart.
Your body.
Your soul.
Give me
yourself completely.”

“I am yours and you are mine.
Only yours, always
yours.”

Aleksender made a sound of deep satisfaction. Both of his hands inched
up her swan-neck and tangled within the flurry of damp curls. He captured them
between webbed fingertips, reverently sifting the damp silk. Aleksender closed
his eyes as the heavy locks fanned through his parted touch. Somewhere, lodged
inside of the back of his mind, he was aware that their intimacy was forbidden.
Yet, as he inhaled Sofia’s intoxicating femininity, he succumbed to the man
within.

Never breaking their kiss, Aleksender bellowed a beastly groan and
rolled Sofia onto her back. He forced himself away and tore their mouths apart,
gazing at her flushed features from beneath his lashes. He savored the decadent
sight of her slender figure wedged beneath his own. Her soft curves molded him
to perfection, fitting his body like a glove. She appeared so delicate and
impossibly fragile—an ideal counterpoint to his rugged masculinity. The
paradoxical contrast and alikeness, which was shared between their two forms,
seemed worthy of Shakespeare’s prose.

A thick mane of chestnut curls swirled about her face and cushioned her
head. Her sapphire eyes sparkled liked a pair of twin diamonds, staring up.
Aleksender propped his weight onto an elbow and worshiped her with tentative
touches. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, knuckles gliding
across the lush and rosy flesh at a maddening pace.

The enchanting blue of her eyes blinked shut at his attention. His
fingertips stroked the delicate curve of her chin, swept her hair aside,
brushed over her fluttering eyelids and traced her parted lips. In response,
her lashes twitched, tickling the pads of his fingers. He studied the pert
bridge of her nose with an unblinking attentiveness, counting the adorable
cluster of freckles, acquainting himself with each and every one.

Almost shyly, his hands rested atop the front of her gown. A fierce
shudder shot through his body as he nuzzled her hair and pressed a kiss upon
her forehead. Aleksender’s fingertips teased the gown’s modest neckline, hot
breaths fanning at her neck.

“Please,” she softy implored, “I need you.”

With her blessing, the clasps of her gown were slowly released. Each
snap resonated within the darkened carriage house, unnaturally loud, as if
competing with the rainstorm. After what seemed an eternity, the pearl clasps
were fully undone. Sofia shivered as Aleksender’s cool fingertips dipped
beneath the lace and provocatively parted the material, prying it open to the
elements. No bodice, no corset. Instead, his smoldering gaze was aroused by the
sight of Sofia’s cotton chemise. And that flimsy undergarment stood as the
final barrier to her flesh.

Aleksender fought back the excruciating need to tear the wretched thing
from her body. After he regained a sliver of composure, his fingers triumphed,
nimbly skirting across the heaving swell, exploring the trembling valley
between her breasts, tracing the circumference of her rosy nipples in slow,
lazy circles.

More, more, more, she yearned to scream. The tremulous nature of his
affection drew an impatient groan from inside her throat. She didn’t want
gentleness. She wanted to be ravished.

Sweet, soft moans escaped her lips—wordless pleas for his unbridled
touch. She descended further into euphoria as he peeled away his dress shirt,
exposing the breathtaking sight of his bronzed chest. His body was chiseled and
artistically formed, a flesh and blood testament of his time on the battlefield.

“Oh, Alek.
You are
beautiful.” Sofia raised a trembling hand to his nipple and plucked the hard
tip between two fingers.

Sofia’s hands slid down the column of his neck, venturing to his back,
up and over his scars.

Aleksender rasped a soul-deep moan and gathered the material of her
gown, slipping it over her curves.

The carriage house was snug and cozy, though the night air held a
biting sting. He prayed that Sofia would not catch a chill … then nearly
laughed off his concern—noting the delicious heat that steadily wallowed
between their bodies.

Disposed of her garment, Sofia lay beneath Aleksender, donning nothing
but her damp chemise and charming blushes. His manhood immediately jerked in
appreciation, beguiled by the heavenly vision. He was bursting—throbbing—to the
point of pain. Never had he been so aroused.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, tracing the curve of her cheek, the curve of
her breast.

He hovered high above her like a magnificent bird of prey, body propped
onto each elbow, eyes glazed with desire. Thick strands of hair hung over his
jade eyes in a black veil. Rainwater mixed with perspiration as sweat rolled
down the slopes of Aleksender’s quivering muscles.

Sofia tensed as Aleksender swiped away her mass of curls, exposing the
pale arch of her right shoulder. His green eyes darkened and narrowed into blinding
slits. He glared down at the countless cigar burns that marred her body.
Familiar anger infused Aleksender; it pumped through his veins, pulsating with
the beat of his heart.

His lips descended, ghosting across the warped flesh in feather- light
kisses, tentative and determined. “She was not your mother,” Aleksender growled
against her skin.