“You don’t understand anything. You think I am unworthy.”
She was still, her face showing she was clearly taken by surprise.
“No that’s not what I think about you,” she said. Her hand reached out to him once more.
Ilya stepped out of reach and pointed at her. “Alright, say I trust you in that assessment then tell me what I am if I am not a rake?”
Her face was blank, eyes searching, each second breaking his heart. “Well from what I’ve read, you are mostly occupied with managing your family’s holdings and estates. Your views on supporting those less fortunate are quite forward thinking and reformist, and you play a mean game of chess.”
He looked at her, his face scrunching together. “Does that sound like me?”
“That was in the article in The English Woman’s Journal on you and your brother.”
“I know what was in the article about the Russian Princes but is that me?” Breadcrumbs, breadcrumbs, for his little bird and yet her face was blank.
Ilya stalked across the room to gaze out the window. The singing had stopped, and the boys were spilling out on the lawn. They intended running with the forest gods tonight. Running through the forest with torches. He had thought to give it a miss, stay with Seraphina but now he needed to run off the anger, the frustration.
Ilya grabbed his fur coat, slipped on boots, and walked to the door. Looked back at her, face dark and stormy, eyes intense. She didn’t know him at all. And…he thought she had seen him, the Ilya behind all the games and glamour.
“I am going for a run.”
“It’s dark. There is snow out and it’s too cold.”
He waved his hand impatiently. “The moon’s out. And you English have no idea what winter feels like. I’m running with the boys.”
Chapter 14
Seph stood at the window. Torches wove through the forest below blazing a trail of amber lights, the flames leaving a stream of mist in the air behind them. Naked shoulders, backs and chests caught in the light. Black leather pants and boots suddenly looked ancient, something from another world, another time. Ilya ran amongst them. It was too far to see faces but his shape, the very essence of him was clear to see. The night filled with their deep howls as the men ran the estate making the hounds in their kennels wail along with them.
As the lights faded into the forest Seph climbed into bed. She’d upset him. And she was annoyed with herself. She’d taken the coward’s way out. Had said what she thought he wanted her to say, not what was really in her heart and invariably she’d made a hash of it.
They were a rowdy bunch when they returned, drawing her out of a light sleep. The singing started up again accompanied by deep male laughter. She dozed off again then woke as the mattress dipped and Ilya slipped in behind her.
His hand slid over her hip, over her belly and hooked under her; pulled her back to curl against his chest.
“You smell like smoke,” she murmured. “Like clean sweat and smoke.”
“I smell like a man.” His face pressed into her hair at the back of her head.
He kissed her skull. Nuzzled into her hair as his hands explored the front of her body. Pinched her breasts, traveled over her belly, her hip, down to the apex of her thighs, across her mons. They twisted into the hair on her sex.
“On your belly.” His gravel voice sent shards of need pulsing through her. She rolled to face the mattress and he rolled with her so he covered her back with his chest and his weight pressed her down into the mattress. His hand slipped lower pressing into her sex.
This man awoke deep primitive longings in her. Things she had only read about. The need to feel his strength and power, to have that part of her awaken that wanted him dominating her, pleasuring her. Taking what he needed.
He tugged up his shirt, the one she’d worn earlier. The leather of his pants pressed the inside of her thighs wider and just like that her body responded, throbbed with aching need for him. He reached down and released himself. Rubbed the head of himself at her opening and pressed home. Pressed wide and deep as she pulled her thighs wider and he started to move in her. All the while his deliciously crafty fingers worked her sex, massaged, and squeezed her nub until she was racing to completion.
This was not the courtly, charming, libertine. This was the man. Raw, driven, claiming.
He pulled her onto her knees. Pressed her shoulders and face down to the mattress, hand on her back and rode her until she crooned, crooned until he rushed them over the edge with a shout.
Seph woke to Ilya tending the fire.
She slipped out of bed and put on a robe. He put the iron back in its stand next to the fire then drew her to the small sofa and sat her beside him. Seph curled her legs under her as she leaned against him and they stared at the flames.
“Are you alright?” she murmured. He put an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer.
“I was upset before I left. I’m sorry.” He kissed her head.
“I’m sorry. What I told you wasn’t what I really wanted to say. I thought it was what you wanted to hear, and I felt too foolish to say what I really wanted to.”
His fingers played patterns on her arms. “Tell me.”
Her heart pounded. Living real. Living in the moment with authenticity was harder than it sounded when you read about it. In reality, all the fear of looking stupid and all the pride, the feelings coursed through you like an emotional headwind pushing you to take an easier path.
“I guess I was confused. You are not who I thought you were, and this isn’t how I thought I’d feel or what I believed it would be like. But I don’t know if how I feel is just part of the game, the skill of a rake or if it’s real.
“You asked me what I knew of you. If I forget that confusing periodical, I’d say you have a great passion for the motor vehicle industry and you’re quite possibly a futurist. That despite having knowledge and passion you seem to be waiting for something. Like you’re held back from following and exploring that passion in earnest. You have resources, you are privileged, and yet you are hesitant.”
Her heart still hammered, and his fingers had stopped tracing her skin.
“Continue…” His voice was soft, encouraging. “I want to know what you really think. What you really see.”
Seph, pressed closer to him, lifted her head close to his ear and spoke softer, as if it were a secret.
“The flirting and pandering that makes up your status, all the things that builds your reputation as a rake. It’s as if those actions are laced with impatience and maybe even scorn. I wonder if you are not simply in the habit of playing the social rake, rather than the man you show me, the one who has an eye toward a future that you want to be part of.
“That’s who I see. That’s what I really wanted to say.”
He said nothing just lifted her and carried her to bed. Made love to her, tender and deep. Whispered words of love, of gratitude until their bodies needed more. Then he rode them until they fell over the edge, until their bodies exploded into a bliss that felt like it fused their very souls together.
Afterward, he held her, and they talked. The light jokes gone. It was one heart to another, no space between them.
“I am not sure I will stay in Russia.” He said softly as she lay with him curled behind her. “There is unrest. Whispers of revolt and revolution. Many of the nobility have sold their land or mortgaged it to the bank. Many estates in Russia are poorly run, with the abolition of serfs who worked for sustenance not wages, the underlying poor management has become evident and many of the estates are no longer viable. The land is being parceled off and sold to the very serfs who used to work on the estate.