'I thought so, too. She reminded me of her mother in her youth. The Kuzans were always… unconventional.'
Militza's delayed emphasis on the last word sent a rush of sensation through Stefan's body as though he could see Lisaveta again in all her glorious unconventionality. He needed her already, had recalled a dozen times that afternoon how she felt in his arms and how she felt as he slid into her heated interior, how she matched his passion or exceeded it at times so he had to calm her and slow her and bring her whimpering and impetuous to climax.
'Do you think so?' His aunt's words, obviously repeated, roused him finally and he looked at her, perplexed. 'Do you think she bears any resemblance to Nikki?' Militza asked, a satisfied look in her eyes. Another nail in the coffin, she jubilantly decided.
'Her eyes, of course. The Kuzan eyes are notorious.' And he thought of her golden eyes, flagrantly exotic, unvirtuous, torrid, like her lovemaking.
'She's tall, too,' Militza said. 'The Kuzans are known for their height.'
A moment passed before he responded, preoccupied as he was with memories of the beautiful, heated Countess Lazaroff. 'Yes,' he said finally in a voice more subdued than he intended, 'she is.'
'Will you be seeing her again?'
Stefan's 'No!' was so swift and harsh that Militza raised her brows in mild astonishment.
'Did you have a spat?' she asked.
'No, we didn't, and if you don't mind,' Stefan said in a tone that made it clear he didn't care whether she minded or not, 'I'd like to discontinue the discussion of the Countess Lazaroff.'
'Of course, darling,' Militza replied pleasantly, pleased with his agitation. 'I was curious only. Now what do you see as the first campaign move against the Turks? Haci tells me some larger calibre artillery is scheduled to be brought to Kars.'
The remainder of their evening visit was devoted to topics pertaining to the war.
He didn't inquire once about his fiancee or the letter she'd left for him, but Militza was careful to bring it to his attention before she left. 'You should read it, Stefan,' she admonished, indicating the pastel envelope lying on the lamp table, 'in the event it requires an answer.'
'My secretary can answer it,' he replied, but relenting at his aunt's judgmental glance, added, 'oh, very well, I'll read the bloody thing. Satisfied?'
Her contented smile was answer enough.
'Do be careful now, Stefan,' she went on to say as she stood to leave, adjusting her shawl against the cool evening air.
'One can't be careful, Masha, and win a war.' But his smile was warm; he understood her platitude.
'Well, send me a message occasionally, so I know you're safe.' Her words were a ritual of goodbye because both knew he conscientiously sent her letters every other day. Reaching up to touch his cheek tenderly, she softly whispered, 'Go with God.'
The letter forgotten on the table, he left the next morning before dawn, Haci beside him and his troop following in faultless formation. They were equipped for a fall campaign, fully aware progress had to be made before the winter set in. They pressed their mounts because news had it the Grand Duke was meddling. If he had his way, a full-scale attack might occur in the next fortnight, whether they were prepared or not.
Chapter Ten
When Lisaveta had arrived at Vladikavkaz, she'd been met by the Tsar's envoy and one of the Tsar's railway coaches. With politeness and protocol she'd been escorted into her private car, told by an obsequious aide that her wish was their command and invited to enjoy her journey north.
Astonished at first by her preferential treatment, she inquired whether they had the right person. She was assured they did. The young officer smiled winningly and said, 'Please,
The next morning over breakfast she asked the Tsar's equerry whether all the guests to the ceremony commemorating her father's work were treated so royally. He hesitated only the minutest moment before replying, 'My orders were to escort you, Countess, and beyond that I don't know. I never,' he added politely, evading her question nicely, 'question the Tsar.' He knew of course that a telegram from Prince Bariatinsky had set the Tsar's orders in train; he also knew scholars, even scholars honored by the Tsar, were rarely treated with such pomp. And while not privy to the details of the Prince's telegram, he'd already come to his own conclusions apropos of the Countess Lazaroff's relationship to the Prince. As a man of the world, he understood Bariatinsky's request and, perhaps upon seeing the lady, understood also his possible reasons for ensuring she had private accommodations.
Perhaps the Prince was protecting his paramour from prying eyes or other men's advances; maybe he merely wished her journey to be as luxurious as possible. Certainly, whatever his reasons, the lady was worth the effort. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her fresh blooming youth not only dazzling the eye but stirring the imagination. In her peach-colored summer frock adorned with cream lace flounces at neckline and cuffs, she seemed both lushly opulent and heatedly alive.
At the Countess's request, a message was sent from Moscow to her cousin Prince Nikki Kuzan, informing him of her arrival time. When they detrained at the Station Sud, Nikki and his wife, Alisa, were at the platform to meet them. Amid hugs and kisses, introductions were made, since Nikki had married rather precipitously since her father's funeral and neither woman had met. While Nikki dwarfed the pretty redhead at his side, he deferred to her, his smiles those of a besotted man, and as the two women chatted with the familiarity of old friends, he listened with amusement and courtesy.
'Do you think,' he said at last, breaking in during a short pause for breath on his wife's part, 'we could rediscover the merits of royal rail travel and the Russian landscape in the comfort of our home?' His grin was appealing. 'And let all these vastly bored officers and railway officials leave?'
'Oh, dear,' Alisa said, glancing at the ranks of officialdom standing at attention.
Lisaveta flushed in embarrassment at her discourtesy. Unused to royal entourage, she'd simply forgotten they were present, having in the past always traveled in the utmost simplicity. 'By all means,' she said, and with a directness that Nikki watched with interest and the entourage found delightful, Lisaveta shook hands with and thanked each man.
When they arrived at Nikki's palace on the Neva Quay, Katelina, Alisa's daughter from a previous marriage, two-year-old Alex and the new baby were all waiting with their nannies and descended on their parents with squeals of excitement. Katelina was eight now and poised in an engaging way that would shatter abruptly when Nikki teased her. Alex was a chubby toddler, testing his curiosity and independence with tugs on Lisaveta's skirt and questions of his own. He pronounced his baby brother's name in a charming two-year-old lisp, and Lisaveta thought how warm and loving the small family appeared. The children were allowed at the table for dinner, served unfashionably early to accommodate their bedtimes, and when the last child was tucked into bed, the three adults settled in the drawing room for tea and sherry.
The intervening years since they'd last met were discussed, Nikki and Lisaveta exchanging pertinent details of their lives. Nikki's new family, of course, was a more staggering alteration than Lisaveta's continuing research, and Lisaveta listened with interest to the story of Nikki and Alisa's courtship and marriage. She could see they were happy, and she found herself wishing her relationship with Stefan might have had the same fantasy ending. Stefan was apparently more immune to Cupid's arrows… an unfortunate circumstance when she had found herself so vulnerable.
Eventually, the reason for Lisaveta's visit to Saint Petersburg was spoken of.
'Uncle Felix is much revered by the Tsar,' Nikki said, warming the glass of brandy he preferred drinking in his cupped hands. 'This ceremony is more than the usual diplomatic dispersal of medals in a palace stateroom. A dinner is planned and a ball with a very select guest list.'
Unaware of the reason for Alexander's unusual favors, Lisaveta said, 'Papa did have a very special relationship with the Tsar. They corresponded for years, although their letters were mostly analyses of obscure translations or
