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  Now Marusia laughed. “So she told you about her numerous lovers?”

  “No, just the one who got her banished from England, and the unfairness of it all.”

  “She is young. To her, everything she disagrees with is unfair, especially her brother. All her life she has done as she pleases. Now suddenly her reins are pulled, and naturally she objects.”

  “It should have been done sooner. Such promiscuity is unheard of in England.”

  Marusia shrugged. “Russians look at such things differently. You have a queen who would frown on such things. We had a tzarina who set the mode by flaunting her lovers before the entire world. So did her grandson Alexander. And Tzar Nicholas was raised in the same court. Little wonder then that our ladies are not as innocent as yours.”

  Katherine held her tongue, reminding herself that Russia was a different country, a different culture, and she had no right to judge. But good Lord, she felt like a babe being thrust into Babylon.

  She had been shocked into speechlessness when she had listened to Anastasia’s complaints about being in disfavor with her grandmother over her little affair, as she called it, so much so that the Duchess had sent for Dimitri to take her home. It was then that Katherine had realized just who Anastasia was: the Russian princess who had been on every gossipmonger’s tongue earlier in the year. She had heard the story herself. She just hadn’t made the connection when Dimitri had mentioned the Duke of Albemarle to her.

  The Duke was their uncle on their mother’s side. They were half English. Katherine should have felt better for knowing that. She didn’t. Blood counted for nothing when you were raised to barbarity.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Katya?”

  Katherine’s heart skipped a beat. She should have known better than to try sneaking past Dimitri’s open door. Blast him for leaving the door open.

  Katherine smoothed the grimace off her face and glanced inside. He was seated at his desk, a stack of papers before him, a glass of vodka at his elbow. He had removed his coat, and the white shirt he wore lay open at his neck. He had lit the lamp on his desk because of the gloominess of the day, and the light cast his face in sharp relief, making the gold of his hair seem almost white. She made a point of looking away after that quick glance.

  Katherine’s voice was impatient, clearly indicating that she didn’t appreciate being delayed by him. “I was going up on deck.”

  “In the rain?”

  “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

  “On land, perhaps. On a ship, the decks will be slippery and—”

  Her eyes flew to his. “Look, Alexandrov, either I have the freedom of this ship, as you promised me, or I might as well remain locked in my cabin. Which is it to be?”

  Hands on hips, chin thrust out, she was prepared for battle, perhaps even hoping for one. Dimitri grinned, not about to oblige her.

  “By all means go and get wet. But when you return, I would like to speak with you.”

  “What about?”

  “When you return, Katya.”

  His gaze returned to his papers. She was dismissed summarily, subject closed. Katherine gritted her teeth and stalked away.

  “‘When you return, Katya,’” she mimicked in a furious undertone as she stomped up the stairs. “You don’t need to know ahead of time, Katya. No, then you might be able to prepare yourself, and that wouldn’t do, would it? Worry about it instead. What the devil is he up to now?”

  The rain hitting her in the face captured her full attention the moment she stepped on deck, and Dimitri’s arrogance was temporarily forgotten. Katherine moved to the railing, gripped it, and stared out at the turbulence of sea and sky, nature at its primal best. And she had almost missed it. Even now she could see the sun peeking through the clouds in the far-off distance as it descended toward the horizon. The ship would soon leave the storm behind.

  But for now she could enjoy what she would never dream of indulging in at home: being wind-tossed and soaked without running for cover, without worrying about a ruined bonnet or dress or who might see her. It was a childish pleasure but so exhilarating that she felt like laughing, and did when she tried to catch rain in her cupped palms to drink and succeeded, and when the wind played lecher with her skirts.

  Her spirits were still high when the cooler winds of approaching evening finally forced her to go below. And she was undisturbed when she neared Dimitri’s door, still open, and recalled that he wanted to see her. She had kept him waiting for nearly two hours. If doing so had managed to annoy him, the advantage would now be hers.

  “Did you still wish to speak to me, Alexandrov?” Katherine inquired pleasantly.

  Dimitri was still seated behind his desk. At the sound of her voice, he tossed a quill down and leaned back in his chair to glance at her. That she looked like something a cat might drag home didn’t seem to surprise him. Hair wet and stringy, a few strands stuck to her brow and cheek, her dress transparent and clinging—watered-silk took on a more exact meaning—with a puddle forming at her feet.

  If his expression didn’t show his annoyance, his voice did, though not for the reason Katherine was expecting. “Must you still be so impersonal when you address me? My friends and family call me Mitya.”

  “That’s nice.”

  She could hear his sigh clear across the room. “Come in, Katya.”

  “No, I don’t think I ought to,” she continued with the same irritating nonchalance. “I wouldn’t want to drip all over your floor.”

  A sneeze ruined the effect she was striving for, and if she had bothered to make eye contact, she would have seen Dimitri’s returning humor. “So a little rain doesn’t hurt? Go and change your clothes, Katya.”

  “I will, just as soon as you tell me—”

  “Change first.”

  She started to insist he get his talk over, but clamped her mouth shut instead. What was the use? She had played this scene already. And as he had earlier, he again had managed to prod her into exasperation. But this time—this time she slammed his door shut before marching away. She wanted to have the pleasure of pounding on it when she returned. Blasted door. What the devil was he doing leaving it open anyway?

  “So that he could stop you, Katherine, which he did. What kind of freedom is it if you can’t go on deck, can’t even go to the dining salon, without his knowing about it?”

  Good Lord, now she had his every motive revolving around her, when it was more than likely that he was just hot and trying to catch some of the cooling breeze that wafted down the corridor. After all, he was from Russia, the land of eternal winter. What was cool to her would be warm to him.

  “Deluded, that’s what you are, Katherine, when you know very well you’re not that important to him. He probably doesn’t give you a thought once you’re not around. Why should he? And his door won’t be open every time. And even if it is, he wouldn’t stop you every time.”

  As reasonable as that sounded, it didn’t relieve even half her exasperation in being treated like a child; and that’s what he had done, dismissing her summarily as though she were a child or a servant, ordering her to change, as if she didn’t have the sense to do so without his telling her to.

  Katherine slammed her own door shut and immediately attacked the buttons on her bodice, the task made difficult because of the wet material. She would have given her eyeteeth to have Lucy present for just one minute, and the fact that she didn’t made her all the madder.

  She kicked her dress away once it fell to the floor, then followed and kicked it again just for good measure. Shoes, petticoats, and the rest of her underclothes dropped into the same pile before she realized that it was too dark in the room now to find new clothes in her trunk. She stubbed her foot trying to reach the washstand to grab a towel. More fuel for the fire.

  “Your talk had just better be essential, my high and mighty prince, that’s all I have to say.” Her voice was a comfort in the gloom and a hot spur once she got a candle lit. “Keeping me in s
uspense might be your idea of—”

  “Do you always talk to yourself, Katya?”

  Katherine froze. Her eyes closed, her fingers tightened on the towel she held around her, and her mind balked. He’s not there. He’s not. He wouldn’t dare. She wouldn’t turn around to look, even when she heard his footsteps moving up behind her. Grant me just one favor, Lord, please. Put some clothes on me. One small miracle.

  “Katya?”

  “You can’t come in here.”

  “I am in here.”

  “Then leave now, before I—”

  “You talk too much, little one. You even talk to yourself. Must you always be defensive and on guard? What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid,” she insisted weakly. “There are proper ways of doing things, and your coming in here uninvited is not one of them.”

  “Would you have invited me in?”

  “No.”

  “Then you see why I didn’t knock.”

  He was toying with her, taking advantage of her dilemma, and she didn’t know what to do about it. There was no dignity in standing in nothing but a towel. Some brave front she was presenting. How could she rail at him when she couldn’t even turn around and face him down?

  She was afraid. He was directly behind her. She could feel his breath on her head. His scent surrounded her. To look at him would be her undoing.

  “I want you to leave, Alexandrov.” She was amazed that she sounded so calm, when her whole nervous system was racing toward panic. “I will join you in a few minutes, after I—”

  “I want to stay.”

  He said the words so simply, yet they said it all. She couldn’t make him leave if he wouldn’t, and they both knew it. Her nervousness exploded in unreasonable rancor as she finally turned to face him.

  “Why?”

  “A foolish question, Katya.”

  “The devil it is! Why me? And why now? I’ve just been drenched in the rain. I look like a drowned rat. How can you possibly…why would you—”

  Dimitri chuckled at her difficulty. “Always you pick everything apart with your hows and whys. You want the truth, little one? I sat at my desk and I imagined you removing those wet clothes, and it was as if you did it in front of me, the image was so clear. You see, my memory of you is as tantalizing as the real thing. I can close my eyes and see you again framed in green satin—”

  “Stop it!”

  “But you wanted to know why I could want you now, didn’t you?”

  The touch of his hands just then kept Katherine from replying. In fact her thoughts became so thoroughly jumbled that she gave them up. His touch was whisper-soft, moving slowly over the bare skin of her shoulders until finally his hands circled the slender column of her neck.

  With his fingers at her nape, his thumbs stretched up under her chin to tilt her head up to him. “I shouldn’t have undressed you in my mind.” His lips brushed her temple, then her cheek. “But I couldn’t help it. And now I need you, Katya. I need you,” he whispered passionately, just before his mouth captured hers.

  Katherine’s fears were realized, but she did not, could not resist his kiss. Like honey, sweet, sweet wine, he tasted so good, made her feel so deliciously wicked.… But the consequences, Katherine. You have to resist. Use your imagination, as he did. Pretend it’s Lord Seldon holding you in his arms.

  She tried, but her body knew the difference and begged her to reconsider. Why must she resist? Why? At that moment, she couldn’t remember the reason, didn’t really want to.

  Just a few minutes to savor him, Katherine. What harm can a few minutes do?

  The moment she fitted her slim body to his, Dimitri gave his passion free rein. Triumph soared in his blood, heightened his senses as never before, because success had never seemed so important before.

  He had been right. Katherine was susceptible only to a direct assault on her senses. But he wasn’t forgetting what had happened that morning. He didn’t dare pause even for breath, didn’t dare give her a moment’s respite, or she would throw up her shield of indifference again, and this golden opportunity would be lost.

  But what she was doing to him… Sweet Christ, he was not going to be able to proceed slowly. It was all he could do not to crush her with the power of his desire. Her small hands moved frantically over his back, into his hair, gripping, urging. Her tongue was dueling with his, not hesitantly, but with bold aggression. He could not be mistaken. She was as eager as he. But he still wasn’t taking any risks.

  Without breaking the kiss, Dimitri opened his eyes to find the direction of her bed. He should have taken note of it when he first came in, but he had been too enraptured by the sight of her in nothing but a loosely draped towel to notice anything else. But now, as he looked about her room and found no bed, his eyes flew back to what he had disdained to accept at first glance. A hammock!

  It was like a splash of cold water. Doomed for lack of a bed? Inconceivable. There was the rug. It was thick and—no! He couldn’t take her on the floor. Not this time. This time had to be perfect to give him ammunition to use for persuasion the next time.

  Katherine was so attuned to Dimitri’s passion that his momentary distraction was like an alarm bell going off in her head. She didn’t know what caused it. That didn’t matter. But she was abruptly jolted back to an awareness of what she was doing—and what he was doing. He was lifting her in his arms. He started toward the door, slowly, not once severing the contact of their lips. But there was a difference in his kiss, a bruising increase of ardor, as if—as if… He’s figured you out, Katherine. He knows what it takes to turn you into a mindless shell.

  But it was too late. Her senses had returned whether she wished it or not.

  She turned her head aside to break his power. “Where are you taking me?”

  He didn’t stop. “To my room.”

  “No…you can’t take me out of here like this.”

  “No one will see you.”

  Her voice had been unsteady. It now cracked like a whip. “Put me down, Dimitri.”

  He stopped, but he didn’t set her down. His arms tightened painfully, and she guessed that he was not going to relinquish his advantage so easily this time.

  “I helped you in your hour of need,” he reminded her. “Do you deny it?”

  “No.”

  “Then you can do no less for me.”

  “No.”

  His body stiffened, his tone was sharp. “Fair is fair, Katya. I need you now, at this moment. This is no time to recall your absurd virtue.”

  That made her angry. “Absurd virtue? Don’t compare me with your Russian women, who apparently have no virtue at all. I’m English! My absurd virtue is quite normal, thank you, and it won’t change by association. Now put me down, Dimitri, right now.”

  He had the urge simply to drop her, he was so furious with her. How could she switch from one extreme to another with such ease? And why was he even talking to her? He already knew that words couldn’t pierce her defenses.

  Dimitri let Katherine’s legs slide to the floor, but his other arm around her back dropped lower to bend her into the curve of his hard body. The friction loosened the towel tucked in at her breasts, and only the tight fit of their bodies kept it from falling.

  “I’m beginning to think you don’t know what you want, Katya.”

  Katherine groaned as his other hand gripped her chin in preparation of a new assault. She wouldn’t be able to withstand it, not again, not now. She had yet to recover from the first. But he was wrong, so wrong. She knew exactly what she wanted.

  “Would you force me, Dimitri?”

  He let her go so suddenly that she stumbled several feet back. “Never!” he fairly snarled.

  She had unwittingly insulted him. She hadn’t meant to. She had only made a last desperate effort to retain a measure of herself, for she was afraid that once she gave herself to him, he would so dominate her, mind and body, there would be nothing left of Katherine St. John.

  T
here was no mistaking his utter frustration. When she glanced at him after a frantic bid to secure her towel, he was raking his hands through his hair as if he meant to pull out every golden strand. And then he paused, impaling her with a look that was confused and enraged at the same time.

  “Sweet Christ, you are two different women! Where does the wanton go when the prude returns?”

  Was he blind? Couldn’t he see that she was still trembling with desire, her body screaming for his? Blast you, Dimitri, don’t be such a gentleman. Listen to my body, not my words. Take me.

  He didn’t hear the unspoken plea. He saw only the lost opportunity, felt only the agony of passion unfulfilled.

  After a last heated look, Dimitri left, slamming the door in his anger. But once outside, he regretted his deliberate taunt and the stricken look that had flashed over Katherine’s features because of it. No woman who kissed as she did could be termed a prude. She wanted him. And if it was the last thing he did, he would make her admit it.

  He had lost his chance this time by disdaining a rug. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t made love in unlikely places before. Once, on a dare from Vasili, he had made love in his theater box, during intermission, no less, when he was most likely to have been discovered. Damn, he wished Vasili were here now to talk to. He had a knack of breaking down problems so they seemed simple.

  Seduction had failed, every direct approach had failed, including an appeal to Katherine’s sense of fairness. She had none. So it was time to change tactics, perhaps take a leaf from her own book of supposed indifference. Women loved to say no, but they didn’t like to be ignored. That might work. Of course it would require patience, which he sorely lacked.

  He sighed heavily as he walked away. At least she had called him Dimitri. Small compensation.

  Early the next morning, a bed was delivered to Katherine’s room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What are your plans when we reach St. Petersburg, Katherine?”

  Katherine deserted her pose to look sharply at Anastasia, but the younger girl had asked this question, like so many others, without glancing up from the canvas on which she was working. Katherine noticed that Zora, in the corner, had stopped sewing to await her answer. The middle-aged maid wasn’t completely recovered from her seasickness, but she did have spells of feeling well enough to resume some of her duties.