Falling for the Rebel Falcon

by Lucy Gordon

  She felt herself lifted high, carried away into another room and laid on the bed. She pulled him close so that he lay down beside her, his fingers moving swiftly to open her dress and begin to remove it, while her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt. They opened easily except for one, which stuck. Driven mad by frustration, she yanked at the material so fiercely that the button came off and went flying, landing on the floor with a tinkle.

  She never even heard it. She had no attention now for anything but Leonid, his smooth, muscular chest, his tall body that was lean, powerful and intriguing all at once. His face had a look of fierce intent that might have frightened her, except that she wanted the same as he did, and as much. The only thing she feared was that he might stop.

  But there was no chance of that. Under his swiftly moving hands the last of her clothes vanished without trace. He drew back for a brief moment to view her nakedness, as though trying to believe it was really true. Then he dropped his head to caress her breasts with his lips, and shudders of pleasure went through her.

  The part of her brain that could still think wondered how she’d lived so long without this delight. She was made for this man, made for this feeling of being loved, desired, wanted. And from now on nothing else would do. She must let him know that, and the best way was to claim him as fervently as he was claiming her.

  So she arched against him, running her hands over him with all the skill at her command. When he made her totally his own, she knew he’d received and understood her message.

  When it was over they clung together desperately, as though trying not to admit that it could end. Neither of them spoke. Words would not have been possible. Nor were they needed. Fulfilment, astonishment that what had happened had exceeded every hope. These were the thoughts and feelings that possessed them equally, and which sent them blissfully to sleep in each other’s arms.

  She awoke the next morning to find him sitting beside her on the bed, watching her intensely.

  ‘I’ve wanted you since the very first moment,’ he said.

  ‘So have I, but I didn’t realise it at first.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, it takes a while to realise that the universe has tilted, and you’re not the person you thought you were.’

  ‘Or perhaps there are two of you,’ she suggested. ‘It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with. There’s Erica, my sensible side who does all the right things, and Perdita, the cheeky side who drives people mad. I’ve asked myself which one I really am, but the truth is that I’m both.’

  ‘I’m glad of that,’ he murmured.

  ‘What about you? What’s your other self called?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m not that well acquainted with him. Later, perhaps—when we’ve been properly introduced.’

  ‘You really don’t know him yet?’

  ‘I know a few things about him. He’s more impulsive, more understanding. He tries to see life through other people’s eyes, and he tells me not to be so suspicious of people.’

  ‘And do you listen to him?’

  ‘Sometimes. Often I tell him to shut up and leave me alone. I know I ought to listen more, but it’ll take time because I’m not quite sure of him yet.’

  ‘Perhaps you should dismiss him,’ she said lightly. ‘You might be better off without him bothering you.’

  ‘You could be right,’ he said, matching her tone. He kissed her. ‘Time to get up now. We have a plane to catch this afternoon.’

  He rose and left her, suddenly wanting to be alone. Never in his life had he told another person so much about himself, and his need to confide in her had shaken him. Her teasing suggestion that he might be better off without the intrusion of his second self had shaken him because he’d often told himself the same.

  But in his heart he knew that the ‘other’ Leonid, awkward, intrusive, hard for him to cope with, was his greatest hope.

  Hope. When had his life last offered hope for anything except money? It was like waking up in a new universe.

  He returned to the bed, eager to talk to her.

  She was gone.

  Nightmare. She’d vanished into the mists like a phantom. She had never been there, and he was the victim of a delusion.

  Then he heard singing from the bathroom, and closed his eyes in relief. He must be going crazy to indulge in such thoughts.

  ‘Are you there?’ he called.

  ‘Unless you have a crowd of women in your bathroom in the morning,’ she called back, laughing.

  ‘Better hurry up. We have to eat breakfast and get to the airport.’

  When she emerged a few minutes later she found him examining his shirt with a wry look. She looked around for the button, finally finding it in a corner.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll sew it back on for you.’

  ‘How are you going to manage that?’ he asked, holding up the shirt, revealing a gaping tear.

  ‘Oh, goodness!’ she gasped. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ he said softly. ‘It’s nice to be appreciated.’

  She took the shirt from him. ‘I’ll keep this as a souvenir.’

  He nodded. ‘Good idea.’

  Even as he spoke, he wondered at himself. Had he really made those jokey remarks? Or was it another man with his face?

  Then he pulled himself together and everything was forgotten but the need to get ready.

  He prepared breakfast himself under her fascinated eyes, and served her with a feeling of triumph. He’d taken her by surprise, and that felt very good.

  As they ate she glanced around the apartment, taking in details for the first time. It was the home of a rich man, but there was a touch of austerity even in the expensive furniture and décor.

  Suddenly she noticed a photograph on a side table. It showed an attractive young woman with large eyes, long hair falling over her shoulders and a cheeky smile.

  ‘That’s my mother,’ Leonid said.

  ‘She’s lovely. But she looks very young there.’

  ‘She was. That picture was taken when she was twenty-two, and just about to get married.’

  She thought of what Leonid had told her about his mother’s condition these days, how she lived in a dream world because reality was unbearable. In contrast, the woman in the picture looked strong, clever, ready for anything life could throw at her.

  ‘Of course, I didn’t know her in those days,’ Leonid said. ‘But people who did say she was incredible; not just beautiful but vibrant, brave, up for any challenge.’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking,’ she said. ‘And then fate struck her down. But she was lucky in you. Not many sons are as generous.’

  ‘What else could I do? I owe her everything.’

  ‘I’m longing to meet her.’

  ‘And I’m longing for it too. Let’s go.’

  *

  The flight from Moscow to Rostov took an hour and a half. When they were nearly there she said, ‘How much does your mother know about me?’

  ‘I’ve told her that we met at Marcel’s wedding, that you fell down the stairs and landed at my feet. And she knows you met Amos.’

  ‘Fine. As long as I don’t put my foot in it.’

  As the descent began they clasped hands, each knowing how much this meant to the other.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, looking out of the window as the Don River came into view.

  ‘Yes, it’s a lovely place. The house is on the edge of Rostov, close to the countryside and the river, but the town is there if we need it.’

  A car was waiting to take them the few miles to his home. Perdita watched eagerly until he pointed and said, ‘There.’

  Looking up, she saw a gently sloping hill, with a house at the top, with a woman standing outside it.

  ‘Is that—?’

  ‘Yes, that’s Mamma. She’s waiting for us. Look, she’s seen us.’

  The woman was waving with both arms, bouncing in her excitement. Leonid leaned out and waved back at her.r />
  ‘She’s happy,’ he said as he drew back.

  And her happiness meant all was well, Perdita thought, loving him for his sensitive care. She thought of Hortense telling her about him in Paris, saying, ‘People who know him say he’s hard as nails. You cross him at your peril.’

  They don’t know him, she thought. If only other people saw the side of him that I see.

  But he would hate that, she knew. His sensitivity was something he feared to reveal, even perhaps to herself.

  As the car drew up his mother was there, beaming, crying out her joy, seizing Leonid as he left the car and throwing her arms around him. He returned her embrace, squeezing her tightly against him, then giving her a warm smile.

  ‘You came—you came—’ she cried.

  ‘Of course I’ve come,’ he said fondly. ‘I promised, didn’t I? And I promised something else, someone I’d bring to meet you. Look, here she is.’

  He indicated Perdita, who was getting out of the car.

  ‘This is Erica, Mamma, the girl I’ve told you about.’

  ‘Oh yes, yes, you have. In fact I feel I know her already.’

  Varushka opened her arms wide in a gesture of eager invitation. Perdita had wondered how she might be greeted, but she hadn’t dared hope for this warm welcome. Her heart leapt to respond, and the next moment she was engulfed in Varushka’s embrace, happily returning it.

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ Varushka said, taking her hand.

  The emotion of the first few moments had completely absorbed her. Only now did Perdita have a chance to study Varushka and compare her with the young woman she’d seen in the photograph.

  She was older, with grey hair, but she still had the slim figure of her youth. Perhaps she was now a little too thin, but her eyes were bright and full of life. Perdita had half expected an invalid but, whatever her mental and emotional problems, she still managed to be full of life.

  As they took the path towards the house she managed a quick glance at the large garden and the building before them. She recalled Leonid saying that this was where Varushka had lived with her parents, and had returned after the split from her husband. In one sense it was still a traditional country house, but it was clear that much work had been done to improve it. In this way he could try to contribute to her comfort.

  Inside the house, Varushka introduced her to a plump elderly woman.

  ‘This is Nina, who looks after the house and does most of the cooking.’ She gave Perdita a look full of sly fun. ‘Except when we have special guests and I do the cooking myself.’

  ‘Mamma is a wonderful cook,’ Leonid said. ‘Whenever I come here my mouth is watering the whole journey.’

  ‘Nina will show you to your room,’ Varushka said, taking Leonid’s arm to lead him away.

  Her room had every comfort, with a large bed, spacious wardrobe and a TV that Nina showed her how to work.

  ‘I am so glad you’re here,’ she said as she helped Perdita unpack. ‘She has been looking forward to it so much.’

  ‘She seems a lovely person,’ Perdita observed.

  ‘She is. There is so much love in her, but she has been treated so cruelly that it is more than she can bear.’

  ‘Have you been with her long?’

  ‘I came to work for her when she married. I have seen all her suffering at the hands of that terrible man.’

  ‘You mean Amos Falcon?’

  ‘Yes, but—oh please, you will not tell Leonid that I said that.’

  ‘No, I promise.’

  As they finished unpacking Leonid arrived. Nina slipped away.

  At once he took her in his arms for an eager hug.

  ‘It’s going wonderfully,’ he said. ‘She liked you from the first moment.’

  ‘And I like her. The way she welcomed me was so wonderful.’

  ‘She’ll like you even more if you praise her cooking.’

  ‘Of course I will. I thought she’d be frail and shaky. It’s nice to find her strong and confident.’

  ‘Actually—’ he paused uneasily ‘—the cooking is another of her fantasies. It’s really Nina who cooks. Mamma shakes a little seasoning over it and we all pretend that…well…’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘It keeps her happy,’ he said.

  ‘And that’s the only thing that matters to you, isn’t it?’ she said tenderly.

  He stroked her face. ‘Almost the only thing.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say, Almost? and prolong the magic moment. But from down below came Varushka’s voice, calling, ‘Supper’s ready.’

  ‘Time to go,’ he said.

  She lifted her bag, checking to make sure that it contained something she was anxious to take with her.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ he asked.

  ‘No problem at all. You just wait and see.’

  He offered his arm. ‘Let’s go.’

  During the meal Varushka took great care of her, explaining every aspect of the elegant Russian meal, offering her a choice of wines, filling her glass.

  ‘This is borscht,’ she said as the soup was laid out. ‘We make it with beet and meat.’

  It was followed by beef Stroganoff, prepared with cream sauce, and pancakes. Perdita relished it all, declaring truthfully that it was wonderful. Varushka beamed.

  Afterwards she showed Perdita into the living room next door. It was elegantly furnished, with a magnificent view down the hill to the river.

  ‘It’s so beautiful here,’ Perdita murmured.

  ‘Yes, I’m very lucky,’ Varushka agreed.

  ‘You’ve been so good to me. I’m glad I have something to give you.’

  From her bag she took out three books and handed them to her hostess.

  ‘You speak English so well that I know you’ll understand these,’ she said.

  ‘Hanson!’ Varushka exclaimed, looking at the covers. ‘You wrote these?’

  ‘No, my father wrote two of them and a cousin wrote the other.’

  ‘And you give them to me? That is so generous of you.’

  For the next hour Perdita went through the books with her. Leonid, watching, gave both women his warmest look. It was one of the happiest evenings Perdita could ever remember.

  ‘You sound incredibly learned,’ Leonid observed once. ‘Erica riding high.’

  ‘But my son,’ Varushka said, ‘why do you sometimes call her Erica, and sometimes Perdita?’

  ‘I was born Erica,’ she explained, ‘but my nickname was Perdita because when my father knew my mother was pregnant with me he was so cross he said he’d go to perdition.’

  ‘Perdition?’ Varushka queried. ‘I do not know all English words. What is that one, please?’

  Grinning, Leonid told her, ‘It means damnation. Perdita, the child of perdition, is a wicked girl, born of a wicked world.’

  Varushka was shocked. ‘What a nasty thing to say about such a lovely person. My dear, are you not very offended?’

  ‘No, it can be quite useful,’ she chuckled. ‘Erica is staid and serious, and rather boring. When I want to indulge my naughty side I become Perdita.’

  ‘So you are two people,’ Varushka exclaimed. ‘What fun! Do you change from one to the other very often?’

  ‘Mmm, I have to be careful,’ she said, giving Leonid a cheeky look.

  ‘And my son calls you by both names.’

  ‘That’s because she confuses me,’ Leonid said.

  ‘But which one does he prefer?’

  ‘I’m not really sure,’ Perdita said, assuming a comically conspiratorial manner. ‘I doubt if even he could tell you. But I think he’s a little afraid of Perdita.’

  ‘Good!’ Varushka declared triumphantly. ‘Keep it that way.’

  ‘When you two ladies have finished shredding me,’ Leonid said.

  But, although his voice sounded mildly harassed, he was regarding the two of them with delight. Nothing could have pleased him more than to see them get on so well, even if it meant they m
ade fun of him.

  Perdita was about to say something when she noticed that Varushka’s eyes were closing and her head drooping.

  ‘Time for bed, Mamma,’ Leonid said.

  ‘Oh no, I don’t want to go to bed yet.’ But even as she protested she was nodding off.

  ‘You know the doctor said you must get plenty of rest,’ he said. ‘Come along. We can have lots of fun tomorrow.’

  She gave a vague sleepy smile, and he offered her his arm. She leant on it and they made their way across the hall as Nina appeared and followed them upstairs. Perdita followed too, and received a sleepy wave from Varushka.

  ‘Goodnight, my dear.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she called. ‘Sleep well.’

  She watched as Leonid led his mother into her room, followed by Nina. Then she went to her own room and waited, wondering when she would see him. Or even if she would see him.

  He came to her a few minutes later.

  ‘Is your mother all right?’

  ‘Yes, Nina’s putting her to bed. This often happens. For much of the time she’s full of life, then she just nods off. It’s also why we’ll only stay a couple of days. Anything longer would be too tiring for her.’

  ‘As long as she’s happy.’

  He touched her face gently. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You’ve been wonderful.’

  ‘I think she’s the wonderful one.’

  ‘Giving her those books was brilliant. Mind you—’ he cocked his head and regarded her satirically ‘—now you two get on so well, perhaps I should beware. You might gang up on me.’

  ‘There’s no “might” about it.’

  ‘I guessed as much. So perhaps I’d better get my revenge in first.’

  ‘You can try. See how far you get.’

  ‘That’s just what I intend to do. Unless you object.’

  ‘No,’ she said, putting her arms around him. ‘I don’t object.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  IN LATER YEARS, when Perdita looked back over this time she could remember only happiness. Varushka had opened her arms and that was typical of everything else she said or did. The warmth of that moment set the mood for the whole visit. It seemed as if some inner sense told her how close Leonid and Perdita were becoming, and she was welcoming a daughter.

  Perdita couldn’t help thinking of her own mother, whose affection had always been slightly distant, and whose arms did not open to her with anything like Varushka’s eager emotion.