She tore her mouth away, breathless, panicky now. “Dimitri—”
“Katya, you want me.” His voice was so husky it seemed to reverberate through her. “Why do you deny us?”
“Because—because… No, I don’t want you. I don’t.”
His look was so skeptical, he was calling her a liar without words. She wasn’t fooling him, or herself. Oh, why couldn’t he understand her position? Why did he have to assume that just because they had made love once, she would be willing to again? Of course she wanted him—how could she not? But to give in to that desire was unthinkable. One of them had to be sensible, to consider the consequences. He obviously wasn’t going to or just didn’t care.
“Dimitri, how can I make you understand? Your kiss was pleasant, but for me it ends there. For you it ends in bed.”
“And what is wrong with that?” he said defensively.
“I’m not a whore. I was a virgin until I met you. And no matter how much you kiss me, no matter how much I might…like it, I can’t let it go beyond that. For me it has to end there. So—”
“End there!” he cut in sharply. “A kiss on the hand ends there. A kiss on the cheek ends there. But when you press your body to mine, by God, that is an invitation to make love!”
Heat stained Katherine’s cheeks with the realization she had done just that. “If you would have let me finish, I was going to suggest that it would be prudent of you to refrain from kissing me again, so that we might avoid these unpleasant arguments.”
“Iwantto kiss you!”
“You want more than that, Dimitri.”
“Yes! Unlike you, I have never denied it. I want you, Katya. I want to make love to you. For you to suggest I not even try is absurd.”
She looked away from him. His anger was just another form of his passion and it was too potent while she was herself emotionally charged.
“That you feel so strongly about it is what I don’t understand, Dimitri. Do you realize we have never talked, just talked, to learn about each other, about our likes and dislikes? Everything I know about you I have learned from your servants or your sister. And you know much, much less about me. Why can’t we talk for once, without these tensions getting in the way?”
“Don’t be naive, Katya,” he said bitterly. “Talk? I can’t think when you’re near me. You want to talk? Write me a goddamn letter.”
When she looked up, he was gone, and the room, as large as it was, suddenly seemed small. Was she wrong? Could there be any future for her with such a man? If she gave in, wouldn’t his interest wane? His sister had predicted as much. So why should she open herself to an emotional involvement that couldn’t possibly last?
Who are you kidding, Katherine? You’re already emotionally entangled up to your ears. You want the man. He makes you feel things you never thought you could feel, believe in things you always scoffed at. What are you holding out for?
She wasn’t really sure anymore. And each time she had one of these encounters with Dimitri, she was even less sure.
Chapter Twenty-four
It was an agonizingly long day for Katherine, that first day at Novii Domik. Depression settled in after Dimitri had left her, and she couldn’t shake it. She could have explored the house for distraction. No one told her she couldn’t. Dimitri’s shouted order to Vladimir when they arrived—“The White Room, and see that she stays there!”—was certainly no deterrent. But she was still embarrassed over their arrival and wasn’t up to putting on a brave pretense when she simply felt like hiding. And she didn’t dare chance running into Dimitri again when she was so close to abandoning her resolve.
Good Lord, would there never be an improvement to this situation? Was it just going to get harder and harder, the temptation ever more enticing?
When she stood back and looked at the overall picture, she thought she must be crazy. Here she was tucked away in the country, ensconced in a room that was so opulently luxurious it defied description, and desired by the most handsome man alive. This was the stuff that dreams were made of. What woman in her right mind would bemoan the fate that provided a real-life fantasy?
But Katherine did. And she needed to blame someone for her predicament, tired of blaming herself. Not surprisingly, she found ample scape-goats. Her sister, for being so secretive and forcing Katherine to follow her that day. Lord Seymour, for that matter, for losing his inheritance and becoming an unsuitable match. Even her father could be blamed. He could have accepted Lord Seymour and helped him to recoup his losses. Then there was Anastasia, for creating the scandal that brought Dimitri to England. The Dowager Duchess of Albemarle was also at fault for sending for Dimitri instead of handling Anastasia’s problem herself. And of course Vladimir took top honors for his rash decision to resort to kidnapping. Every one of them could have acted differently and prevented this intolerable situation from ever coming about.
And it was more intolerable than ever. Katherine was wavering. She was getting too close to sacrificing her principles, to succumbing to what amounted to the most primitive motivation. And she knew giving in was only a matter of time now. There lay the cause of her depression. She didn’t want to be just another of Dimitri’s conquests. She didn’t want just a few weeks of devotion. She wanted more than that. Her pride demanded more.
Katherine knew she was in a sorry state when she noticed her dinner tray that evening but couldn’t remember it being brought in. She rallied, annoyed with herself for wallowing in self-pity for half the day. She hadn’t even unpacked, but then she had lived out of a trunk for so long that it didn’t really matter. But she could have been doing something constructive. Dimitri had mentioned his accounts. Vladimir could have fetched them. She hadn’t even examined her new quarters.
She did that after dinner while her bath was being readied. That several servants were waiting on her was noted and wondered about, but then there were probably so many here at Novii Domik that a few could be spared even to attend her.
They were strangers to her and uncommunicative, seemed in fact resentful in their attitude, but maybe that was their normal disposition. Katherine couldn’t blame them. Servants in England could leave if they found their employment too tedious. These people could not.
The room was magnificent in its appointments, pristine in its whiteness. The name was certainly appropriate. White carpeting, drapes, and wallpaper, though the paper did have a very light gold pattern, barely discernible, but enough to offset the heavy brocade drapes. All the furniture was painted white with gold filigree: the tables, the bedstead, the wardrobe and vanity; even the mantel was white marble. The sofa and chairs were a soothing contrast in gold and powder blue, the thick bedcovering as well.
It was a woman’s room in color and simplicity. The vanity, the delicate lacy knickknacks placed throughout, the pictures on the walls, oils and perfumes in the separate small bathchamber, all confirmed it. It was an extremely comfortable room. Katherine was almost glad Dimitri had insisted she have it until she opened another door, a connecting door, and saw that it led straight into the master’s chamber, the master being Dimitri.
Katherine slammed the door shut as soon as she saw Maksim laying out Dimitri’s clothes. Her face flamed and then grew even hotter as the two maids turning down the bedcovers glanced at her smugly. Good Lord, and the whole household knew that he had put her here, next to him, in the room that was obviously designed for the master’s wife, or in her case, the mistress! Even his aunt knew. What must that poor woman think? What else could she think?
