From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(20)

She swept him a curtsy that inadvertently gave him a delightful view of her cleavage. She took a deep breath that made her very distracting cleavage quiver, exhaling in a fit of the giggles. Then she clasped her hands, and assumed the mournful, yearning look that all singers of folk songs seem to think de rigueur, and began the lament.

And it was truly lamentable. Though the Gaelic language was likely suited to a breathless wavering voice, Allison’s sounded more like the wind whistling through the sails of a ship in a tempest, or the howl of a wolf across the steppes. Every time he met her eyes, he was almost overset, struggling between appalled disbelief and laughter, but she made it through to the widow’s final shrill wail to her seal husband, before collapsing in a heap beside him on the chaise longue. ‘Oh, dear heavens, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much.’

‘And I can’t remember the last time I heard such a bloody awful racket,’ Aleksei said with feeling.

‘I did warn you.’

‘You did indeed.’ He handed her a glass of lemonade. ‘I think you have earned that.’

She took a deep draught. ‘What I’ve earned is a traditional Russian folk song in response. Don’t be shy now, you can’t possibly be as useless as me.’

‘Give me a moment to think of something suitable.’ He cleared his throat. Emulating her performance, he got to his feet and made a bow. ‘Madame Galbraith, I give you that tragic Cossack ditty: “I lost my leg, my own true love”.’

I lost my leg, my own true love, in a battle far away.

I lost my leg, my own true love, a price I was glad to pay.

When I return, my own true love, you’ll kiss the pain away.

And now you’re back, my own true love, and what am I to say?

I cannot bear to see your pain, to see you maimed this way.

So I’m afraid, my own true love, that you must hop away!

‘You made that up!’ Allison shrieked, in fits of laughter.

‘Believe me, some of the real ones are worse.’

Aleksei sat down beside her, taking her hands in his. She had long abandoned her evening gloves. The fire and the wine had put a soft glow in her cheeks. The songs and their shared laughter, and the flickering candles wrapped them in an intimacy that made a mockery of the very short time they had known each other. Tomorrow he would leave her to begin his search for the missing governess, and who knew how long before he would see her again? Who knew how long after that it would be, before she returned to England? So little time. And he could not recall wanting anything so much as this. This woman in his arms by the firelight. And her kiss.

‘Allison,’ he said, a question and a caress.

‘Aleksei,’ she said, in a manner that left him in no doubt.

He slid his arm around her waist, but she needed no urging, leaning into him, her own arm around his neck. It started as the most fragile of kisses. Their lips met. Touched. Hesitated. Then their eyes drifted closed, their mouths softened into each other, opening to each other, and the kiss transformed into a very adult kiss. There was no awkwardness, no clashing or jarring, only a sweet melting sensation, the lightest of friction.

His tongue traced the length of her bottom lip. She sighed, parting her lips in wordless encouragement. He took it, his mouth covering hers, the kiss deepening, kindling a fire low in his belly. His tongue touched hers and he groaned, sliding his hand from her waist to cup her bottom through her skirts, and the smoking coil of desire inside him began to burn more brightly and he closed his eyes and surrendered to the dangerous, delightful taste of her.

Kisses. He had forgotten what it was like, to lose himself in kisses. Or perhaps he had not been so lost before. He trailed kisses down her neck, over the soft swell of her breasts, into the tantalising valley between them. And then he kissed her mouth again, and their tongues tangled, and he felt such a jolt of desire as the blood rushed to his groin, that it shocked him. Forcing himself to slow down, to ease himself free, he saw his shock and his desire reflected in her face, in the lambent light in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks.

‘I have wanted to do that from the moment you walked into the palace,’ Aleksei said, his voice rough with passion.

‘I have wondered what it would be like,’ Allison replied, her voice as husky as his. ‘And now I know.’

‘I can say it won’t happen again, but I don’t want to.’

‘Then don’t say it. And please,’ she said, catching his hand, ‘don’t warn me that it can mean nothing, for I am perfectly well aware—our paths have crossed only very temporarily.’ Her face fell. ‘And for a very specific reason. I did not expect to be—Aleksei, you know that I would never be so foolish as to compromise what it is you brought me here to do. This...’

‘Is an unexpected bonus, as far as I am concerned.’ He kissed her hand. ‘I have been counting the days till your arrival. Nothing is more important to me than uncovering the truth, whatever the hell it is.’

‘Then we should get some rest. It is very late, and we both have a long day ahead of us.’

‘You are right.’ He got to his feet, helping her up. ‘I wish it were otherwise, but you are correct. Tomorrow, Miss Galbraith, Count Derevenko will meet you after breakfast for a formal tour of the house and gardens, after which I will introduce you to your charges. But tonight...’