The Frost of Springtime

by Rachel L. Demeter

  Glancing over the curve of her shoulder, Sofia stuck out her tongue and sprinted across the lawn, giggling at every step. “Slowpoke!”

  Sofia sighed and gradually slowed her pace. She tilted her head back, marveling at the endless, bruised sky that lurked high above. A shaft of light broke through the clouds without warning, illuminating her like a diva’s spotlight. She spun in place, laughing merrily and perfectly happy. Not minding the falling rain, she danced within the ring of light, performing for an audience that only she could see.

  Aleksender remained silent and still, paralyzed by her beauty. He watched her graceful movements in stunned silence. His heart quickened at the breathtaking sight that unraveled before him. She was lost within her element and entirely at peace.

  Sofia had been born to dance.

  And Aleksender saw within her. He searched the crevices of her heart with an astute and pristine awareness. Through his eyes, everything about Sofia radiated. Her flesh was no more than a pretty package that covered an even prettier soul. He yearned to unwrap the precious treasures of her heart. He yearned to make her a part of himself forever.

  Twirling, she lifted both of her slender arms above her head and grasped at the sky. “Oh, look, Alek! God is weeping for us!”

  White cotton was soaked through and through. It clung to Sofia’s flesh, molding over her exquisite form and nearly transparent from the rain. Sopping, dark curls flattened against her cheeks and neck, presenting a stunning contrast to her ivory skin.

  And then a miracle happened as Sofia came to an altogether stop. A smile—a genuine and true smile—tugged at Aleksender’s lips.

  Joy swelled Sofia’s heart. She couldn’t recall a time when he had smiled.

  Really, truly smiled.

  Sincere laughter filled his eyes—boyish, carefree laughter that softened his rugged beauty and reflected the delicacy of his soul.

  Sofia peered at him beneath her lush fringe of eyelashes and drank in his presence with a greedy eagerness. Cherishing his contentment, she absorbed the serene vibes that radiated all around him. His tranquility was palpable. Like a true flesh and blood soul mate, she could feel his shifting emotions, all of his inner doubts and guarded insecurities. And she took an unbridled pleasure in his newly found peace. She observed as his stiff exterior slowly dissolved away, exposing him in his most vulnerable and lovable form.

  And his grin—that roguish, sinfully charismatic grin—could only be described as infectious. She returned his smile without thinking.

  Alas—despite the pouring rain and thundering skies, he was content.

  Despite his disheveled and frightfully unruly appearance, he was content.

  Despite the fact that Comtesse Elizabeth was presently sleeping—oblivious to his betrayal and deceit—he was flushed with pure content.

  And Sofia decided that contentment agreed with Aleksender remarkably well.

  His thick, raven hair was plastered to his flesh like melted drinking chocolate. He’d apparently found a spare moment to remove his coat; the crème dress shirt was entirely in sight. It, too, was plastered to the expanse of his chest—molded against his form with perfection. He was painfully handsome, displaying a fascinating blend of boyish appeal and exquisite masculine beauty. He was a wonderful paradox she could never fully solve—nor intended to. He was an illusion that could never be fully realized. She could not tear her eyes from him.

  Flustered by his unwavering attention, Sofia flexed at her heels, graceful and delicate, and treated her invisible fans with a curtsy. In response, Aleksender’s mouth quirked at each corner and lifted into a crooked grin.

  “Hmm.” Sofia tapped her lips in deep contemplation. Propping an adorably saucy hand on either side of her waist, she hotly spouted, “I hate to inform you, Monsieur le Comte, but you’re not nearly as coarse as you like to believe yourself to be.”

  His grin grew at her remark. The emerald hue of his eyes transformed as they darkened with desire. “And I hate to inform you, mademoiselle, but you aren’t as entirely prudent as you believe yourself to be.”

  But she was certainly not too prudent to understand his rakish intentions. Aleksender was taunting her, she gathered—testing her, she knew, playing a wicked game with her, she saw.

  Sofia’s tongue seemed to take on a life of its own. Feminine pride overflowed her mind and body. She was utterly startled by her own audacity.

  “Maybe so,” she retorted, absently twirling one of her ringlets, returning his flirtation. She openly challenged him, eyes shimmering with mischief. “But that was when you knew me as a child.” Sofia took a graceful step forward, hips swaying in a complimentary rhythm. Her voice was husky and unmistakably desirous. Aleksender could scarcely recognize it as her own. “You’ve yet to know me as a woman.”

  Those words sealed their fate.

  Aleksender lunged forward with a beastly growl. Their damp bodies molded and sloshed together as he captured her torso between his arms. He swept Sofia off her feet—quite literally—his interlocked limbs settled beneath her bottom. Ignoring her fiery and uncharacteristic protests, he tossed Sofia over his shoulder with the ease of a ragdoll. Her legs wildly kicked midair as solid little fists thumped against his back. Swallowing back a chuckle, he heaved a melodramatic sigh and headed for the carriage house.

  Her long curls hung like a curtain and nearly swept the ground. “If you think I’m through with you, monsieur—well … you are sorely mistaken!”

  Aleksender merely swatted her adorable, upturned backside—a gentle, playful gesture—and chided her with a mock scolding. A grin spread across his mouth as she audibly pouted, accepting her defeat.

  “Surrendered, I see?”

  “I shall take great delight in my vengeance,” she warned, attempting to blow hair from her face with a shallow puff of air. Soaked from the storm, it remained plastered to her cheek. “Oh, I swear to it.”

  “Sounds like a challenge,” he dryly murmured, enjoying the banter with an immense pleasure.

  The splintered door creaked as Aleksender kicked it open with his booted heel, carefully depositing Sofia onto the ground.

  He silently cupped her cheeks, caressing the satiny flesh with his gloved fingertips. He gazed deeply into her eyes. Aleksender hushed her with an index finger as her lips parted in speech.

  “You’ve nothing to fear, Sofia,” he gently crooned, stroking her skin in tantalizing and hypnotic motions, “I would never let harm come of you.” Aleksender glanced away, praying his words were not a lie. “I want you to know, no matter whatever happens I shall be there for you. Always.”

  She swallowed and silently nodded. There was an ominous edge to his voice, a foreboding undercurrent, which he didn’t bother to hide. Something warned Sofia that this would be her last chance to protect her heart from breaking. But alas—she’d already abandoned herself to Aleksender long, long ago.

  And now they stood as two martyrs of love, their sacrifice within arm’s reach.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Aleksender collected Sofia’s pale hands and suggestively laid them across his chest. His heart thundered beneath her palms, strong and unmistakable. The simple gesture was overwhelmingly beautiful; it was as if he was making a present of his soul.

  “Just trust me,” he whispered

  Sofia smiled softly into his eyes. “I always have.”

  She was troubled. He could see it in her distant stare … could feel it deep within her skin. Aleksender inclined his head and murmured softly against her cheek. “What? What is it, chérie?”

  An eternity of silence drifted by. When Sofia finally spoke, her voice quivered with emotion. “Why is this happening?” She hesitated. “Why is this happening to us?”

  Aleksender swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Yes.” Both hands descended from her face and fell despairingly to his sides. They tightened into two clenched fists as he prepared to fight off
his personal demons. “Very much so.”

  Sofia’s gaze drifted over his troubled features. His rigid posture, haunted stare. Her face sank forward. She was disturbed greatly by the sight. All of his inner torment had surfaced. Sofia knew he had survived terrible, inconceivable tortures during his absence at war—and perhaps even during his childhood.

  And she knew that he was battling his passion—struggling to see her as the little girl who he’d once cared for.

  She wandered forward until the front of her gown skimmed his chest. Aleksender held his breath and peered down at their two bodies. They were dangerously close, intimately close. Soft and painfully tempting, the rise of her breasts was clearly visible through the soaked cotton.

  “Alek.” Sofia craned her neck and met those bottomless, infinitely lovely eyes. “I’d never let harm come of you, you know,” she vowed with the faintest touch of a smile. “Just trust me.” An unwavering, deep sincerity wallowed beneath her playful tone. The implications, the fortifying strength of her words, paralyzed Aleksender beyond comprehension.

  Having so much to sacrifice, having so much to lose, was a terrifying thing.

  Aleksender brushed past Sofia and collected his cloak from the ground. Its wool flapped about with the audacity of a flag as he smoothed the material across the flooring. Perched on his knees, he turned to Sofia and beckoned her over with the raw magnetism of his eyes.

  Sofia came to him until she stood on the outskirts of the cloak. Her smile slowly seeped away, replaced with a startling awareness. His stare was breathlessly hot and powerful—indescribably passionate. She could feel him looking into her very soul. He could see inside her. And the realization pained Sofia. She saw his vulnerability and restlessness—and nothing more. She thought it was quite selfish of Aleksender, denying her access to his soul.

  Aleksender coiled his hand around her ankle, enveloping it completely. His sultry eyes never abandoned Sofia. Savoring every inch, his fingers slid up her tingling flesh in an antagonizing slow motion. The cool leather of his glove scorched her skin, branding her with infernal touches. She watched in breathless awe as his hand disappeared, vanishing beneath her gauzy skirts. His opposite hand lifted from the ground and ascended to his mouth in a smooth motion. He nipped at the slick leather and clutched it between his lips, unsheathing himself as he provocatively removed the glove with white teeth.

  Aleksender’s bared hand sank below her skirts. Sofia’s mouth fell open as she gasped at the intoxicating touch. The simple feeling of his callused skin moving against her own was maddening. With each caress, she descended into a state of pure euphoria.

  His gloved hand withdrew completely. Slowly he raised the material of her gown. Aleksender’s gaze crept down her body and settled upon the creamy flesh of her thighs. He murmured some words in a foreign tongue. Then followed suit in two more languages. Deaf to their meanings, Sofia instantly wished she was more cultured. Though, his sultry accent suggested they were not suited for a lady’s ears. Rather than being offended, she inwardly blushed—realizing she didn’t oppose to being scandalized.

  “Sofia, you are exquisite.” He eased her skirts up several more inches. Removing the other glove, his voice husky and trembling with desire, “Nothing short of divinity.”

  Aleksender clasped onto her slender thighs and worshiped the velvet skin with his fingertips. “I apologize. My dreams have not done you justice.” A gasp fled her lips as he cupped the curve of her bottom. He murmured a long, low groan of satisfaction. His groin tightened as he pawed Sofia through the pantalettes and groped the lush weight of her derriere.

  Just when she believed he would ravish her whole, Aleksender’s hands fell away.

  “You are precious to me,” he whispered with an uncontainable ardor, staring down at the hay flooring, chest rattling with strained breaths. “You have always been so precious.” With an unfathomable degree of humility, he stared up into her eyes and breathed the confession, “Before you, I was nothing. I wanted nothing. I was empty. And now I want everything.”

  “Alek—” Clutching her bottom once more, Aleksender tugged Sofia impossibly close. He was helpless to resist her beauty, craving a sense of completeness. He quickly freed his last shred of propriety as he reclined on top of his cloak—taking Sofia down with him. His movements were smooth and elegant, executed with a panther’s regal grace.

  Sofia found herself sprawled across the length of his strong body. She shivered at the feel of him. From head to toe, he was coarse and as hard as stone. And his arousal was no exception; it was dangerously prominent, straining against the fabric of his trousers. Their lips were mere inches apart, tortuously close. They shared the same breaths of air, inhaling each other’s exhales. And Aleksender’s mouth was remarkably beautiful. It quivered for her kisses, withheld dark secrets, and whispered sweet nothings.

  “Sofia …”

  Those magical hands continued their ascent as Sofia’s eyes fluttered shut, hooded with intense pleasure. They rode up and over her tender curves—up, up, up, skimming the tea-gown’s lacy fabric. Aleksender arched his hips and ground his erection against her soft and pliable body, craving some sense of relief.

  “My desire for you is painful.”

  An exotic blend of Persian spices …

  Roses and the frost of wintertime …

  The two distinct scents entwined as one.

  The world seemed to fall away as Aleksender lifted his face and sought her mouth with determination. She surrendered to the insistent probing of his tongue. Beguiled by the rhythmically suggestive thrusting, she cooed a melody of sighs and parted her lips, granting him full entrance. He moaned into her mouth, consuming everything that was Sofia. Her fingers wound about his neck and tugged with a desperate urgency, knotting within the glossy strands of hair. What had begun as a tremulous and almost shy kiss turned entirely breathless. Aleksender devoured Sofia, feasting upon her mouth like a starved man.

  “Give me everything. Your heart. Your body. Your soul. Give me yourself completely.”

  “I am yours and you are mine. Only yours, always yours.”

  Aleksender made a sound of deep satisfaction. Both of his hands inched up her swan-neck and tangled within the flurry of damp curls. He captured them between webbed fingertips, reverently sifting the damp silk. Aleksender closed his eyes as the heavy locks fanned through his parted touch. Somewhere, lodged inside of the back of his mind, he was aware that their intimacy was forbidden. Yet, as he inhaled Sofia’s intoxicating femininity, he succumbed to the man within.

  Never breaking their kiss, Aleksender bellowed a beastly groan and rolled Sofia onto her back. He forced himself away and tore their mouths apart, gazing at her flushed features from beneath his lashes. He savored the decadent sight of her slender figure wedged beneath his own. Her soft curves molded him to perfection, fitting his body like a glove. She appeared so delicate and impossibly fragile—an ideal counterpoint to his rugged masculinity. The paradoxical contrast and alikeness, which was shared between their two forms, seemed worthy of Shakespeare’s prose.

  A thick mane of chestnut curls swirled about her face and cushioned her head. Her sapphire eyes sparkled liked a pair of twin diamonds, staring up. Aleksender propped his weight onto an elbow and worshiped her with tentative touches. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, knuckles gliding across the lush and rosy flesh at a maddening pace.

  The enchanting blue of her eyes blinked shut at his attention. His fingertips stroked the delicate curve of her chin, swept her hair aside, brushed over her fluttering eyelids and traced her parted lips. In response, her lashes twitched, tickling the pads of his fingers. He studied the pert bridge of her nose with an unblinking attentiveness, counting the adorable cluster of freckles, acquainting himself with each and every one.

  Almost shyly, his hands rested atop the front of her gown. A fierce shudder shot through his body as he nuzzled her hair and pressed a kiss upon her forehead. Aleksender’s fingertips teased the gown’s m
odest neckline, hot breaths fanning at her neck.

  “Please,” she softy implored, “I need you.”

  With her blessing, the clasps of her gown were slowly released. Each snap resonated within the darkened carriage house, unnaturally loud, as if competing with the rainstorm. After what seemed an eternity, the pearl clasps were fully undone. Sofia shivered as Aleksender’s cool fingertips dipped beneath the lace and provocatively parted the material, prying it open to the elements. No bodice, no corset. Instead, his smoldering gaze was aroused by the sight of Sofia’s cotton chemise. And that flimsy undergarment stood as the final barrier to her flesh.

  Aleksender fought back the excruciating need to tear the wretched thing from her body. After he regained a sliver of composure, his fingers triumphed, nimbly skirting across the heaving swell, exploring the trembling valley between her breasts, tracing the circumference of her rosy nipples in slow, lazy circles.

  More, more, more, she yearned to scream. The tremulous nature of his affection drew an impatient groan from inside her throat. She didn’t want gentleness. She wanted to be ravished.

  Sweet, soft moans escaped her lips—wordless pleas for his unbridled touch. She descended further into euphoria as he peeled away his dress shirt, exposing the breathtaking sight of his bronzed chest. His body was chiseled and artistically formed, a flesh and blood testament of his time on the battlefield.

  “Oh, Alek. You are beautiful.” Sofia raised a trembling hand to his nipple and plucked the hard tip between two fingers.

  Sofia’s hands slid down the column of his neck, venturing to his back, up and over his scars.

  Aleksender rasped a soul-deep moan and gathered the material of her gown, slipping it over her curves.