You Belong to Me (15 page)

I
t didn’t take long for them to feel the chill in the room again once their bodies cooled. Vasili was the first to retrieve the blankets that had been kicked aside. Alexandra said nothing when he covered her.

She was in a state of shock over what she’d done, and it got worse when she realized that not once had she thought of Christopher tonight. Not once had she considered that she was being unfaithful to him. Those damn feelings had just taken over, leaving her uncaring of anything except gratifying them.

She’d never known that passions could be so powerful and all-consuming. She wished she’d never found out. She wished also that she could blame Vasili in some way, but she couldn’t. Seducing women was what he did. As far as she could tell, it was his only occupation. She’d known that. And as for his being irresistible, that was God’s gift, not something he’d arranged for personally.

The blame was hers and hers alone. She’d known exactly what he was doing, fought it
as long as she could, then given up and enjoyed it. And the enjoyment—she wasn’t going to think about that. Pleasant feelings had no place beside her present self-loathing. But, oh, God, it had been nice, better than nice, too nice.

For a first experience of such things, Alexandra had to allow she’d had the best, certainly more than she could ever have imagined. But she wished that were otherwise, too. At least she’d be feeling better right now if it hadn’t been so damned wonderful.

Vasili couldn’t stop thinking about it, and no wonder, since he’d never experienced anything like it before. If he hadn’t broken all records on the speed of his first climax, there was no comparison on the second one. But that first time, to come after only one thrust, when had that ever happened to him before? For that matter, when had it ever been that powerful before?

But what he still found unbelievable was that it hadn’t ended there. While he had lain on top of her, trying to recover, trying to figure out what had just happened, it had happened again, without any effort on his part, without warning, merely because he’d still been buried in that tight, hot sheath. No, not merely. That in itself was too ordinary to have anything to do with it. It had to be that virgin barrier that he’d found so stimulating, the one thing in his vast sexual experience that he’d always denied himself.

And that was another thing. How could he
not have known? Virgins were too easy to spot. They had qualities that were uniquely their own. Alexandra was too bold, too frank, too passionate in her emotions, and there was nothing even remotely virginal in the way she kissed. The typical signs hadn’t been there and he felt—deceived, tricked, and about as gullible as a sixteen-year-old.

But at the same time, there was another feeling that was too primitive even to examine, and certainly made no sense. As if it would matter to him that no man had ever been there before him. That
never
mattered to him, only the pleasure mattered.

With such turbulent thoughts on both sides of the bed, the tension in the room was building fast. Vasili felt the need to complain about the gift he’d been given, a gift he would have refused had he been offered a chance to—at least he wanted to think he would have refused it. And Alexandra knew she’d never be able to sleep until she assured Vasili that their making love changed nothing between them—at least she wanted to
think
it didn’t.

For her, the easiest way was to tell him. “What I said once about this sealing your fate—forget I said it.”

He reared up on his elbow so quickly, it was obvious he’d been about to make some provocative statement of his own. She was relieved to know she’d beaten him to it. He wasn’t.

“Am I also supposed to forget you were a virgin?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

An impossibility if he’d ever heard one. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Alex? Whatever you might think of me, I am not in the habit of bedding virgins. In fact, I never have, and I don’t appreciate your happening to be the first.”

That statement came out sounding so indignant, she nearly laughed. As redeeming qualities went, this one she considered minuscule, but wished to hell he didn’t have it at all. He shouldn’t care, dammit.

“Why didn’t I tell you? Why did I have to?” she countered. “What made you assume otherwise when I’ve never been married?”

“You’re Russian,” he said without thinking, but realized his mistake immediately. If that wasn’t an insult to get himself shot over, he didn’t know what was, and he quickly amended his words. “That is to say, I’ve been to your Russian court. I found out firsthand how promiscuous you ladies are, including the unwed ones. If there was a virgin there, she was kept well under wraps.”

“Or hidden from you for obvious reasons,” she replied dryly.

Alexandra wished she could be more offended than she was, but in fact, she’d been to the same court and knew just how jaded and licentious some of the aristocrats were.
His
kind of people. He must have felt right at home.

“But of course,” she continued in the same
dry tone, “I so reminded you of those court ladies you met, what else were you to think?”

Even in the dim light, she could see the color mounting his cheeks, because he’d just realized his mistake, and it was so obvious an idiot could have seen it. She might carry the title, but when had she ever behaved like a lady or, for that matter, even looked like one?

He didn’t apologize, however. She would have been amazed if he had.

“As I recall,” he said, “you had your chance to correct that impression.”

She remembered the time he was referring to, when he’d asked her what one more lover could mean to her, since she’d already had so many. She also recalled why she hadn’t corrected him. Impressions. She’d wanted all of his impressions of her to be bad, and that was just one more to add to the list. But to be called on the carpet for it now? She certainly didn’t want him thinking that if he’d been wrong about one, he might be wrong about others.

So she said, indifferently, “Why would I bother correcting you? It’s not as if I care what you think of me.” And then to be on the safe side, she lied to put the fault back in his corner. “Besides, I didn’t think you
really
believed that nonsense about my having lovers.”

She might as well have said that no one could be that stupid. Which was exactly how he was feeling. He’d labeled her before he’d even met her, then forgot to change that opin
ion once he did meet her. Of course, the label fit now, didn’t it? Thanks to him. And he still didn’t like that fact.

But she wasn’t giving him much chance to express his displeasure, and she went on the attack again. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask, Petroff. What is it you do, besides seduce women?”

The fact that he’d managed to give her such a low opinion of him should have delighted him. So why did he feel like defending himself? He wouldn’t. He would use her own logic, and he told himself that it wasn’t as if he cared what she thought of him.

So he retaliated instead. “I get invited to share their beds without asking for the favor. Care to explain why
you
made that offer?”

“Not for the reason you’re thinking, you conceited popinjay,” she retorted.

He took it as a good sign that she was resorting to name-calling—though he resented “popinjay” as much as he had resented Tanya’s calling him a peacock. But if she had no answer—that she was willing to own up to—then he had
his
answer, and he wasn’t going to let her avoid it.

“Well?” he prompted.

“You know exactly why. So stop looking for ulterior motives. There were none.”

“Weren’t there?”

She glared at him now, but just as quickly she shrugged, then sighed. “I was trying to spare you, but if you want it spelled out, by all means you can have it. This kind of cold is
nothing to take lightly. People have been known to die from exposure to temperatures like these, and I’m sorry, but you don’t strike me as a hardy individual. Your body seems strong enough, but you court dandies are too used to being pampered by your servants and your luxuries. And dying isn’t how I want to get rid of you.”

That was
not
what he was expecting to hear, and it infuriated him that she had a legitimate excuse that sounded too true to be anything but the truth. A pampered court dandy? She’d said it once too often.

“I should have let them have you,” he growled as he got up and stalked to the oven, where his clothes were drying. “I can’t imagine why I didn’t.”

Alexandra sat up to watch him yank his pants on. The sight of those long legs and firm buttocks before they were covered held her breathless for a moment. And for her to be caught like that again, after what had happened, was galling in the extreme.

So the disgust in her voice was very real, if just for herself, when she said, “Don’t worry, Petroff. It will take more than your blundering into a bunch of bandits and getting caught yourself for me to see you in a heroic light. You’re still a despicable lecher as far as I’m concerned.”

He turned to give her a mock bow. “How good of you to say so.”

She sat there bristling, unable to think of a rejoinder that would be insulting enough for
him. But by the time he had his coat on and was reaching for his boots, she felt a smidgen of unwanted concern. If he was still thinking about sleeping on the floor…

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Petroff? Those clothes can’t be completely dry yet.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, stomping his foot into one of the boots, “since I’m leaving.”

Her brows angled upward. “Oh? You know how to walk through walls, do you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Fully dressed now, he stalked to the door and, without breaking stride, slammed his shoulder into it. Nothing happened, of course. He must have been rather deflated. Alexandra grinned smugly to herself.

She was about to make some taunting remark when his shoulder hit the door again. To her disgust, the nailed plank gave way this time and the door wobbled open. Old wood, obviously.

“You couldn’t have thought of that sooner?” she said scathingly.

“Sorry, but I wasn’t angry enough then.”

He gritted his teeth against the blast of cold and stepped outside to have a look around. Latzko’s main hall was lit up, but none of the other buildings were. Apparently everyone was still celebrating.

Vasili came back to stand in the open doorway. “Are you coming?”

“I’m certainly not staying here with a broken door,” she said and started to throw off
the blanket before she caught his eyes on her. “Do you mind?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” And he crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe, and grinned. “Call it recompense for my getting you out of here—so
unheroically
.”

So that dig had struck home? Well, what did she care if he watched? He’d already done much worse.

“Have it your way,” she said with blatant unconcern and headed for her clothes, not even bringing a blanket along for partial modesty.

Before she got her drawers on, Vasili had turned away. He was going to add “No shame whatsoever” to his list of her bad points. She was forced to add one more redeeming quality to hers, but hoped that would be the last one.

Before long, they were tromping through the snow again. The stable was easy to locate, but it was an old building, with crumbling walls that did nothing to keep out the cold. Vasili’s roan was there. So was the horse Alexandra had borrowed, and most of the villagers’ mountain ponies. But not one of the white herd.

“Where would they have taken them?” she asked.

Vasili was still smarting over how easily his manhood had come to life again at the sight of her naked body, which was why he replied curtly, “I could not care less.”

“I’m not leaving here without my horses, Petroff,” she warned.

“Suit yourself.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” she snapped and led her mount out of the stable.

Vasili gritted his teeth and followed. “Dammit, that celebration could break up at any minute. We don’t have time to go searching.”

“Nobody’s asking you to help.”

He felt like shaking her, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. And it would take less time to find her horses than it would to argue with her, she was so damn stubborn.

“All right,” he conceded. “There will be a new stable around here somewhere. It’s doubtful that the old one is even used anymore, except for emergencies like this. Look to the outskirts—”

She’d already spotted it. “Over there, on the edge of the village farthest from the direction we entered.”

“It would be,” he grumbled, looking in the same direction. “Well, let’s at least be quick about this.”

He needn’t have bothered with the suggestion. She was already heading that way, leaving him to follow again.

The new stable was closed up tight, and a yank on the doors proved it was also barred from the inside, which meant the animals were being guarded. So much for leaving without notice. But this time Vasili didn’t bother to point out to the stubborn woman at his side that he’d have to do some bodily
harm to someone in order to get her horses back. He knew by now that she’d just tell him to get on with it.

So he pounded on the door and called out in a tone that wouldn’t carry beyond the immediate area, “Open up.”

It took a moment before a voice came from the other side. “Who is that?”

Vasili made a guess at a common name for the area and supplied it. Apparently it worked, but it did not yield the results they wanted.

“Ain’t you heard?” the guard shouted back. “Pavel, he said I don’t open to no one but him, and you ain’t him. You’ll have to wait until morning to get a look at these beauties, just like everyone else.”

“He thinks you’re one of the villagers,” Alexandra whispered. “Play on that.”

Vasili considered it a waste of time, but made one more effort. “You’re missing the celebration,” he called out. “I’ve come to relieve you.”

There was a chuckle. “Nice try, but I’ve got my own jug of ale and my orders.”