From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(36)

‘No option, in one of those, but if you come over here—here is a troika. Now this,’ Aleksei said, running his hand over the sleek little sled, ‘is built for speed. Three horses, harnessed abreast, so it can only be used on the widest of the rivers or in the open country. The middle horse wears this larger collar, see. The trick when driving, is to keep him at a slower pace than the two outsiders.’

‘That sounds challenging,’ Allison said, eyeing the narrow seat doubtfully. ‘And extremely dangerous.’

‘This is a racing sled. This one,’ Aleksei said, taking her a few paces on, ‘is the Duke’s official troika. Still tricky to drive mind you, but as you can see, designed for show rather than pace.’

‘Good grief! It looks like a throne balanced inside a crown.’ The troika was curlicued and gilded, the velvet-lined seat seemingly held aloft by four burnished angels, an elaborate construction of mystical creatures rising to a peak at the front of it, topped with the birds which adorned the portico of the palace.

‘Magnificently monstrous, isn’t that how you described the barge? Wait until you see the pièce de résistance.’

Aleksei led her through a maze of smaller sleds designed to seat one or two. Some were stacked with wicker baskets, some bore the ducal crown and the bird symbol. Some had no covers, some had leather hoods.

‘Miss Galbraith, I present to you, the ducal sleigh.’

She burst out laughing. The so-called sleigh was actually a full-size carriage on runners, painted, predictably, in crimson and gold, the Derevenko coat of arms emblazoned on the central panel, which also served as the door. There were four windows on each side. ‘It looks big enough to hold—what six people?’

‘Eight, at a push.’ Aleksei opened the door and pulled down the step. Inside there was a throne-like seat at each end, and wide benches lining each side, all upholstered in velvet. ‘Like the barge, it’s ridiculously heavy and is rarely used. Six horses struggle to get it moving. I’ve only been in it once. I can’t remember the occasion, it was at the Winter Palace, I think. I was very young, and forced into wearing some ridiculous robe.’

‘I can’t imagine what the Imperial carriage must be like, if this is for a mere duke. The ice on the river must be very thick, to support such a contraption.’ Allison sat down on one of the benches. The ceiling of the sleigh coach depicted the heavens, complete with puffy clouds, putti and winged horses. ‘This reminds me of the Winter Palace.’

Aleksei sat down beside her. ‘Most likely by the same artist.’

His leg brushed her gown, and excitement flickered low in her belly. It had been possible, while engrossed in this display of sleds, to forget the purpose of this tryst. No, that was not true, but she had pretended to forget.

‘Allison.’

She jumped as Aleksei took her hand. Butterflies fluttered wildly in her belly. His thumb stroked circles on her palm. He smiled at her quizzically. ‘If you have changed your mind I will understand perfectly.’

Her heart was racing. Though she was flustered, terrified of making a fool of herself, and feeling irrationally gauche, she was also... ‘No. I mean, no, I have not changed my mind.’ And she was blushing furiously. ‘It was different, in the heat of the moment. If you would just kiss me or—or something, then I would be able to stop thinking and...’

‘I want nothing more, but I can’t, not while you are uncertain.’

‘I’m not!’ She grimaced. ‘I know, it sounds as if I am but I’m not. I’m nervous. What if you are disappointed?’

‘That is simply not possible.’ Aleksei turned her hand over, pressing a kiss to her palm. ‘I have wanted you so much from the moment I met you.’

‘Have you?’ Her voice no longer sounded strident, but breathy. Her pulses were still fluttering, but in a very different manner.

‘You know I have.’ He touched her hair lightly. ‘I want to see your hair tumbling down over your back. I want to find out if your skin is the colour of cream, as I imagine it to be. I want to kiss you, not just on the mouth,’ he said, pushing back an escaped curl to kiss her cheek, then the sensitive spot behind her ear. ‘I want to kiss every inch of you. Here,’ he said, cupping the swell of her breast through her gown. ‘And here,’ he said, sweeping down the dip in her waist to the curve of her bottom.

‘Aleksei. Yes.’

*

The taste of her sent his senses spinning. He eased himself on top of her, kissing her all the while. She returned his kisses eagerly, and he lost himself in the sweet, drugging taste of her, in his own aching response as he cupped her breasts, as she ran her hands over his back.

Why were there still so many layers of clothes between them? He shrugged himself out of his coat. He had not allowed himself to believe this could happen, though he had imagined it many times. The reality was so different, nothing like anything he had felt before, infinitely superior. Her kisses. Her mouth. Her tongue touching his, her hands on him, her hot, sweet breath. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to lose himself in her. Blood surged to his groin, making his shaft pulse. Aleksei groaned. If he was not careful, he’d lose himself far too quickly.

Her hair was spread over the velvet of the carriage upholstery, the copper and auburn putting the crimson cushions to shame. Her lids were heavy with desire, her cheeks flushed. Breathing raggedly, he dragged his mouth from hers to concentrate on loosening the fastenings of her gown. Her hands fumbled with his waistcoat buttons. He tore himself free of it, and his shirt at the same time.