Satin Ice

by Iris Johansen

  "Where are you going?" Natalya raised herself on one elbow to gaze at him.

  "Your weeping does not please me," he lied. "It is over. I am leaving." He began to dress. "You're quite accomplished. I might find that useful in the future." He glanced sidewise and smiled as he caught the shudder that ran through her naked body. "Oh, not for myself. I'd find no pleasure in it now that you've been properly schooled. But other men are easier to please. Tell me, Natalya, would you obey me if I told you I wished you to seduce someone?"

  She didn't answer.

  He buttoned his vest and turned to face her. "Would you?"

  She lowered her gaze to the coverlet. "Yes." Her voice was muffled.

  "Anyone? Without question? No matter how distasteful you found him?"

  "Yes."

  Monteith felt a surge of delight so heady he could feel himself swell in stature. "You will do anything I tell you?"

  "Yes."

  "You will come to me on your knees if you ever wish something from me?" he asked softly. "And you will never demand anything from me ever again?"

  "I will never demand anything from you," she repeated numbly.

  He deftly tied his cravat before slipping on his coat. "Very good." He smiled. "And if you continue to please me, I'll give you what you want more than anything in the world."

  "Thank you." She swiftly reached for the sheet and covered herself. The action had a touch of desperation in it and pleasure welled within him again.

  "However, you must be patient. You won't mind letting your sweet daughter-in-law reign for a little longer, will you?"

  "No, I won't mind."

  He picked up his hat and gloves from the table. "I'm glad we've come to this fine understanding. Good afternoon, Natalya. Peskov will transmit any instructions I have for you." He moved toward the door with fluid grace. "Which I'm sure you'll be happy to obey."

  "Monteith."

  He turned to look at her inquiringly.

  She was gazing at him with stark terror on her face. "What did ..." She stopped and waited until she had the courage to continue. "What did you do to me?"

  He smiled. "Why, Natalya, you know what I did to you. The sport of a thousand delights."

  "No." She swallowed. "It was more than that. You ..."

  "Yes?"

  "You made me ..." She shuddered and fell silent.

  "You seem to have trouble expressing yourself. Would you like me to come back to bed and attempt to clarify things for you?"

  "No!" She drew back against the headboard in panic.

  He met her gaze. "It's not necessary, is it?" he asked softly. "Because you know what I did to you." He paused. "And you know what I am. Au revoir, my dear."

  She watched the door close behind him before huddling down beneath the sheets and curling into a tight ball. She did know and she would never forget.

  Because Monteith had made sure she could not forget.

  7

  "If you don't take your hand off my breast I'll put my knife through your palm, Denis," Silver said clearly. "I understand you fancy yourself a fine swordsman. You'll find it's very difficult to wield a weapon with cut tendons."

  Count Denis Stepvan laughed uncertainly. "You don't mean that." Then as he met her gaze he immediately jerked his hand from her bosom. "I meant no offense. I thought when you said you wanted to leave the ballroom and see my greenhouse ..."

  "I wanted to see your cherry trees, not your private parts," she said dryly. "I found the idea of flowers and fruit growing here surrounded by all this ice and snow very interesting." She glanced at the large glass-enclosed garden. "I still find it interesting. The scents are wonderful. What is that flower growing beside the door?"

  "A hyacinth," he answered, his desperate gaze fixed on her face. "Silver, you must feel something for me. You let me ride with you, dance with you, take you sledding ..."

  "You don't offend me like some of the others, and it's the custom for a woman to be escorted by someone other than her husband." She moved down the path between the rows of cherry trees. "This is a very sensible idea your father had to build this structure. Cherries in the winter. Could you send some to Crystal Island? I like cherries."

  "Tomorrow," he promised, following her. "You are cruel. Why do you not admit you want me as much as I want you?"

  She looked at him in surprise. "Because I don't want you and I'd be far more cruel to say that I did. You don't really care for me either. Last summer you were trailing at Natalya Savron's heels and a few months before I heard you had a grand passion for Marina Kovalsky."

  Stepvan's young face flushed. "It's not the thing to throw a man's past indiscretions up to him. Besides, this is different."

  "Until next month," Silver said with a faint smile. "Or next season. Why do you think I chose you? I will last in your affections about as long as the cherries on these boughs."

  "It's not true. Just because your husband's passion didn't last doesn't mean that mine wouldn't."

  The unexpectedness of the words caught Silver off guard and pain iced through her. She averted her face and quickly shuttered her expression. "I don't wish to speak of Nicholas."

  "He doesn't love you." Stepvan took a step closer and grasped her bare shoulders in his hands. "He couldn't love you and ignore you the way he does."

  "He doesn't ignore me. He escorts me to every ball."

  "And then leaves you and dances with other women or plays cards or—"

  "It means nothing."

  "I would never leave you," Stepvan said with soft urgency. "I would have to be near you to hear you laugh or watch you move. We could be so happy. Come back to the house with me. We can go in the study entrance and slip upstairs to my bedchamber. I know I can please you, Silver. Let me try—"

  "Why not here?" Nicholas's words cut through Stepvan's plea like a slashing saber.

  Silver's gaze flew past Stepvan to Nicholas, who was standing in the path behind them, her sable cloak draped over his arm. She saw dark emotions on Nicholas's face. Rage. Death. She instinctively stepped back from Stepvan.

  Nicholas took a step forward with the sleek stalking grace of a puma. "Why bother to go to the house?" he asked softly. "I thought the greenhouse might be cold, so I brought Silver her cloak, but it's actually quite warm here. I'm sure Silver would enjoy the earthiness of making love beneath your flowering cherry trees."

  "You're mistaken," Silver said quietly. "We didn't come here to fornicate."

  "No?" Nicholas's tone was silky. "That wasn't the impression I received when I walked in the door. I believe I was about to have horns firmly planted on my head. That doesn't please me, Silver."

  Nicholas at that moment was fire beneath ice, a stiletto sheathed in satin. Silver moistened her lips with her tongue. "He's only a boy."

  Stepvan bristled indignantly. "I'm two years older than you, Silver." He stepped forward to confront Nicholas. "You wish to meet?"

  "No," Silver said sharply, and hurriedly stepped between them. "This is foolishness. Nothing happened, Nicholas." She smiled bitterly. "Your honor is quite safe."

  "Tonight, perhaps."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake," she said in exasperation. "Do you wish my word? I told you I would not dishonor your name and I have not."

  His gaze searched her face, and a little of the tension ebbed from his taut muscles. "How wise of you." He jerked his head toward the door. "Leave us, Stepvan."

  Stepvan cast an anxious glance toward Silver. "I'll stay. Silver needs—"

  "Silver's needs are only my concern," Nicholas said. "Though I'd really prefer you to stay. It would give me a reason to kill you." His glance shifted to Stepvan's face and the count's eyes widened at what he saw there. "I'm in a mood for killing someone at the moment."

  "Go, Denis," Silver said quickly. "This isn't your business. I don't want you here."

  The relief on the young count's face was obvious. "Well, if you're sure." He moved quickly toward the door, carefully skirting Nicholas. "But if you need me .
.." The door closed hurriedly behind him before the sentence was completed.

  Nicholas's lips twisted. "You must remember to pick a lover with more backbone next time."

  "I told you that he's only a boy." Silver frowned. "And he's not my lover. It's only a game to him. They all play the same game at court."

  "No one knows that better than I. But some play it in more depth than others."

  "Well, I have not."

  "I wasn't sure." He took a step closer. "Just how involved have you become in the game, Silver? You've gotten what you set out to get. You're La Belle Sauvage, the tsar's favorite. I wonder what price you've been paying for all this when I haven't been at your side."

  "Not my body. I'm no whore, Nicholas."

  "No, but you do like a man's hands on you." His dark eyes were fixed intently on her face. "And you love it when he comes into you and—" He broke off and drew a deep breath. "I know how much you love that, Silver."

  But not with any man, she thought. Only with Nicholas. Her knees felt suddenly weak as she remembered the wild fullness, the rhythm ... She swallowed. "I think I'll go back to the ballroom."

  "Not yet." He took a step closer. "I'm beginning to like it here. The smell of earth and flowers reminds me of something. Oh, yes, that night on the bank of the Mississippi. Do you remember that night, Silver?"

  She didn't want to remember, but the pictures came flooding back to her. Soft moss beneath her naked back, the smell of the river, Nicholas's face in the firelight as he plunged and twisted, lifting her with every stroke. Her breasts swelled suddenly against the satin of her bodice, the nipples hard and pointed as they pressed against her silk camisole. "I remember."

  His gaze flicked over the upper slopes of her breasts bared by her gown. "You're not exactly dressed modestly now, but you wore even less then." His lips curved in a smile that was infinitely sensual. "And later you wore nothing at all. It's been a long time since I saw you like that. I want to see you like that."

  She felt the muscles in her stomach clench and an ache begin to throb between her thighs. Her hands formed slowly into fists at her sides. "No."

  He lifted a brow. "Why not? You've often told me there's no shame in nudity, and it would give me pleasure. Haven't you heard that it's a wife's duty to give her husband pleasure?" He turned and spread the sable cloak on the earth beneath the cherry tree nearest the path. "The fur will be softer than the moss on the riverbank." He took off his black dinner

  coat and threw it beside the cloak. "And we won't have to worry about dispensing with your virginity this time. It should be much more pleasurable for you all around."

  "I don't want—" She stopped as she met his knowing eyes. "I won't do this."

  "I think you will." He smiled crookedly. "You want me. You're as hungry for me as I am for you. It will be good for you, I promise."

  "No, you're angry."

  "Yes, I am." Something wild and hot flickered in his eyes. "I've been angry for many weeks, and it's been growing worse every day, every night. I'm angry and raw and frustrated, but I won't hurt you. It might even make it better for you. You can't deny you like it wild."

  No, she couldn't deny it, Silver realized helplessly. She wanted to be touched by him in any way he chose to touch her. Wild or gentle. Soft or hard.

  He read the conflict in her face and acted quickly to overcome it. He took her hand and pulled her toward the bed of fur he'd fashioned for them. "Come," he whispered. "You want it. I'll stop if you don't like it, I promise." He pulled her down to her knees on the cloak. "I keep my promises, Silver."

  "I know." His hands were on the hooks at the back of her gown, swiftly loosening them. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body, and his warmth was melting her, turning her bones to liquid. She was trembling, she realized dazedly.

  She felt a sudden coolness as the material parted and then heard his exclamation of disgust. "My Lord, a corset."

  She laughed breathlessly. "Valentin and I made a bargain, remember? A corset for no bustle."

  "Blast Valentin. You're the only sensible woman of my acquaintance, and he has to try to spoil you." Nicholas drew back. "My hands are shaking so badly it will take forever to unlace the damn thing." He drew the gown down from her shoulders to her waist before touching the boned satin corset that cinched her waist and ended just below her breasts, lifting them and throwing them into voluptuous prominence against the silk of the low-cut camisole. "But maybe we can find a way ..." He slipped the camisole from her shoulders and then slowly pushed it down. Her full breasts jounced saucily, framed and lifted by the corset. She could feel herself swell beneath his gaze, her nipples becoming so sensitive that she experienced a tingling sensation with every breath she drew.

  His eyes darkened as he looked at her. "Yes, I'm sure we can find a way," he said thickly. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. His hands grasped her corseted waist and tightened slowly. The warmth of his hands through the satin binding her came as an odd sensual shock, and she inhaled sharply. His gaze moved from her breasts to her face. "I didn't hurt you?"

  "No." Her answer was scarcely audible. She felt as if her breath were as constricted as the flesh beneath his hands. "I just feel ... bound."

  "So do I." His gaze fell to the hard column pressing against the tight material of his trousers. "But it's not unpleasant ... is it?"

  She shook her head.

  "And your breasts are free." He took her swollen breasts in his palms and shook them gently. She gasped as desire tensed every muscle in her body.

  "You like that?" He shook her again, watching her lips part and the color steal into her face. He twisted her nipples teasingly. "And that?"

  His head bent slowly and his lips closed on one taut nipple. He sucked delicately and then more strongly. His words were muffled against her breast. "And this?"

  "Yes." She closed her eyes, her breasts rising and falling with every breath. "I feel so ... full."

  "You are full, beautifully full." The planes of his cheeks tautened with hunger as his mouth pulled at her. "You're even more beautiful than you were before. Fuller. More ripe.1'

  Because of the baby. The thought came like a sudden frost, freezing her. Her body had changed because of her little girl and her little girl was gone.

  She stiffened and his gaze moved to her face with sudden alertness. "What's wrong? What did I say?"

  "My baby." She pushed him away with all her strength. "My baby."

  He understood instantly. "You can't stop living because you lost the child, Silver. You've got to put the experience behind you."

  Mikhail had said something like that, she remembered. But she couldn't put it behind when she didn't know who had killed her baby. She had learned nothing yet. She didn't even know if Nicholas had ... The thought was too painful to bear, and she blocked it quickly. "I can't do this, Nicholas."

  "The hell you can't. You can't stop—" He broke off and was silent a minute, struggling against pain and frustration. "Listen, Silver, why are you punishing yourself like this? Why are you punishing me?"

  She was quickly putting her clothes in order and didn't look at him. "I'm not trying to punish you. I just can't let you ..." She stood up in a flurry of silken skirts. "Not with you."

  He slowly rose to his feet. "Why not with me?"

  She turned and almost ran toward the door.

  "Silver!"

  She turned and looked back at him, her eyes glistening with tears. "I can't trust you. Don't you understand? I can't trust you."

  He looked as if she had struck him. Then his lips twisted in a mirthless smile. "So much for time and patience." His eyes were as hard as ebony jet as he gazed at her across the greenhouse. "All right. I'll let you run away this time. But I warn you, Silver, if not with me, then with no one else. I won't have any other man so much as put a hand on you as Stepvan did. You'll be the most circumspect of wives. No more rides alone with any man, and if you're in another man's company more than two minutes, you'd better be mo
re closely chaperoned than the tsar's oldest daughter."

  A flare of anger banished her tears. "And if I'm not?"

  "You won't like it," he said softly. "There are more brutal ways than I've chosen to use to tame my firebird."

  "Threats?" Her eyes blazed at him. "I haven't noticed you being circumspect with your Gypsies and those fawning countesses and ..." She trailed off with a sputter. "And I'm not your damn firebird. I'm Silver Dove Delaney."

  "You're Silver Savron," he said coldly. "And you'll damn well remember it."

  "The hell I will!" The door slammed behind her with a violence that threatened to shatter the glass panes of the greenhouse.

  Nicholas drew a deep breath and snatched up his shirt and thrust his arms into the sleeves with scarcely leashed violence. Damn her. And damn the lust that was twisting his guts and the pain her words had sent needling through him that was even worse than the hunger for her body. Why couldn't she trust him? Was she afraid he would give her another child that would die and she would be hurled back into that deep well of despair?

  The thought brought an aching wave of sympathy that served to cool the fury and jealousy exploding inside him.

  Patience, he told himself. He'd try to give her more time to find her way through the maze of distrust and suspicion she felt for him.

  He pulled on his coat with a jerky motion. But, by God, she'd better find it soon or he'd damn well find it for her.

  "You should not be here," Mikhail chided as he set the cup of hot tea down in front of her on the crude wooden table before taking his place opposite her. The chair squeaked protestingly under his bulk. "If you wanted to go sledding, you should have tried one of the slides on the estate of a nobleman. This one is for the common folk."

  "And who's more common than a half-breed?" Silver asked flippantly. "I like this one better. These people aren't afraid to show how much they're enjoying themselves. Besides, I'm not sledding today. I've brought Etaine." She gazed at the platform at the top of the forty-foot wooden slide across the street from the tea shop and waved to Etaine, who was settling herself on a sled preparing to make the wild icy descent. Etaine smiled and waved back before gripping the handles at the front of the sled. "Do you think the lords and ladies of the court would welcome the daughter of the owner of a circus? They accept me only because I'm an oddity who amuses them. I won't have Etaine hurt by them."