From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(29)
‘So you plan to leave the army, then?’
Aleksei sat up, shaking his head. ‘I have not thought that far ahead,’ he said dismissively. ‘We’re in danger of running out of sightseeing time. I thought we’d take a trip out on the water.’
‘You’re teasing me. Wouldn’t we need another eighteen oarsmen?’
‘I don’t mean in this lumbering behemoth.’ He got to his feet, pulling her with him. ‘Being out on the water is the best way to see the true beauty of the city—and it is beautiful. When it is asleep, at peace under the stars, there is nowhere more beautiful than St Petersburg. Come, let me show it to you.’
*
Intrigued, she followed him to the far end of the deck, where he set about turning a large wheel which caused the riverside doors of the boathouse to slowly open. A set of steps led down to a small rowing boat, bobbing in the shadow of the barge. He leapt lightly into it, holding out his hand for her, though Allison needed no assistance, gathering the heavy folds of her cloak around her before climbing nimbly aboard.
‘You’ve done that before.’
‘Countless times,’ she said, flashing him a smile. ‘Fishing is a way of life where I come from. I can row too, I’m very proficient.’
‘I don’t doubt it, but you’ll get a better view if you sit there.’ He pointed at the wooden bench in the stern, which was strewn with pillows, a large blanket, neatly folded, placed on top.
She did as she was bid and tucked the blanket snugly around her, thinking that she did indeed have the perfect view as she watched Aleksei place the oars in the rowlocks and untie the boat from its moorings. He was wearing top boots and breeches, a wide-skirted coat, but no greatcoat. His movements were fluid, easy and graceful. Seated facing her on the middle bench, he nudged the craft away from the decking with the blade of an oar, expertly easing the little boat out of the boathouse and on to the river, heading upstream.
The sky above her was indigo blue, peppered with stars dimmed by the brightness of the full moon. On the opposite bank, a party of late-night revellers were singing something that sounded like a sea shanty. And in front of her, his legs braced, oars set, Aleksei smiled.
Allison smiled back. ‘What are you waiting for, oarsman?’ she said, with an imperious wave of her arm. ‘Show me your city.’
He gave a little bow, then began to row with the seemingly effortless strokes of an expert, past two stone supports which were being constructed on either bank. ‘The newest bridge, to be made of iron, and it’s reputed it will be the biggest in St Petersburg,’ he explained. ‘When Peter the Great built the city, there were hardly any bridges. He imagined us as Venetians in the summer, making our way about the city in boats.’
‘And sleds in the winter. I wish I could see that, but it’s not to be unfortunately.’
‘We’re passing under the Red Bridge now. And the next one we come to is officially the Police Bridge, but everyone knows it as the Green Bridge.’
It was a beautiful night. She had forgotten how soothing the sound of oars dipping into water was, the rhythmic tug of the small craft easing forward with each pull. Though it was late, there were lights twinkling in the windows of some of the majestic buildings lining the quays. They passed numerous boathouses, large and small, any number of little jetties, boats nodding at their moorings.
‘It is magical,’ Allison said softly. ‘It feels as if we are the only people in the city, as if it is laid out like this just for us, like some sort of dream world.’
Aleksei pulled the oars in, and let the little boat drift idly, holding out his hand to invite her to sit beside him. ‘When I was a boy, I used to come out here at night to escape. I’d row for hours up river, all the way into the countryside. When you see it from there, the city is like a mystical island rising up from nowhere. It looks—I don’t know, impossible that it could exist. Like a dream world, exactly as you said.’
‘I’d love to see that. It’s a shame we don’t have time.’
‘Another night, perhaps.’
The bench was narrow. His arm was clasped loosely around her waist. The night air was salty, fresh. Aleksei was warm, one leg pressed against hers, the other braced on one of the rowing boat’s ribs. ‘I used to negotiate the many canals with ease. I’d probably get lost now, there has been so much building since I was last here.’
She turned slightly, the better to see his face. ‘Don’t you miss it at all?’
‘I miss this. It feels so familiar, as if I was born with a map of it engraved on my heart. Despite what I said, I don’t for a moment think I’d ever get lost. I expect you think that sounds ridiculously fanciful.’
‘No.’ Allison let her head rest on his shoulder. ‘I feel the same about Strachur, the village where I was raised, and the whole network of drovers’ roads and ferries around that part of Argyll. I could find my way through the forests with my eyes closed, even after seven years away. It is in my blood.’
Aleksei pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head. ‘Don’t you ever think of returning?’
‘There is nothing for me there now that Seanmhair has gone.’
‘Shen-a-vair,’ Aleksei pronounced carefully. ‘Is this Scottish?’
‘Gaelic.’
‘In Russian we say babushka. I never knew any of my grandparents. Your babushka sounds like a very wise woman.’