“Why thank you again, Ursula,” Aleksi said,glancing over at Sahar, who studiously ignored him.“There arethose who would disagree with you.”
“Oh, but certainly not Mistress Anya,Aleksandr.She near dotes on you as much as she does her ownson.”
“Anya is happy to have someone from herhomeland to talk to.”
“I have worked under cook for five years now,and I never heard her speak of anyone but her own or the king’s andqueen’s family with such praise.”
“That is kind of you,” he said, outwardlypassing off the servant’s words of Anya’s praise asinconsequential, when in truth they filled a tiny corner of thehole his own father’s abandonment had ruptured in his soul with ahealing warmth.He eyed the friendly Ursula until her cheeks wereas round and pink as grapefruits.“I detect a bit of my homeland inyour accent and fair looks as well,” he said.“Where are youfrom?”
“From a village even farther north along theMother River than your city.Mydedushka i babushka, mygrandparents, moved here with me after my parents were killed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was many years ago,” she said.“I was nomore than three or four years of age.This is the only home Iremember.”
“And your grandparents?”
“They are both gone now, but they passedcontented with our life here, and were pleased that I have suchgood work here in the palace kitchens.”
“I am sure they were proud of you,” Aleksisaid.
She dipped a knee, and Aleksi watched thesway of her wide hips as she moved on to another table.Strong ofbody and easy tempered, she would make a man a fine wife and bearhim many sons.So why did he glance over at Sahar, who sat glaringback at him, rather than go after Ursula and ask her to walk withhim when she was done with her work for the evening?
Supper over and his appetite sated, Aleksileft the salon through the kitchens, where Anya gave him a smallsack of choice bits of meat and cheese for Kiska, and escaped outthe door with no more than a quick nod at Ursula, whose openexpression and flirty smile told him she would have packed up andfollowed him back to their home country to tend his house and bearhis sons without complaint.All he had to do was ask.He toldhimself he would keep her in mind, and that he need not be hasty.There were more women in this city to choose from than those in thepalace.Besides, his one hasty proposal had gotten him nothing butgreen eyes blazing fire and a blade in his groin.
Since, there were the constant arguments anda few rare smiles, which had warmed Aleksi with the heat of thesun.And those two kisses.Three, if he counted the quick kiss atthe river crossing, which he did.
Aleksi rubbed his chest where Sahar’s fingershad played, her touch shooting a bolt of desire directly to hiscock.She had been soft and passionate in his arms, until hisbody’s response had scared her, and then his words had angered her,something Aleksi seemed unusually adept at when it came to her.
She had practically run away from him, andshe had stayed away the past four days, barely acknowledging him asthey passed in the stables or out in the training kraal.He felther absence.Her smell, her kisses, her lithe body pressed againsthis.Whenever he considered going down into the city to find thekind of female companionship that would help sate his hunger, theidea tasted as sour to him as Kiska’s day-old goat milk.
Maybe he would settle for getting soddingdrunk.
“What is the matter with you?”he said as hestopped at the gate to Zolotoy’s stall.The stallion was pressedclose to the wall farthest from the door to Aleksi’s antechamber,pawing at the ground and snorting at the closed door.A mound ofstraw in a back corner rustled and moved and Kiska poked her headout, ears twitching and meowing at Aleksi.“Why are you out here,Kiska?”he whispered as the kitten burrowed back under thestraw.
Slowly opening the gate, Aleksi pulled hiswaist blade and crept up to the door.He flung it open, bladepoised to strike, and stood dumbfounded at the unmistakable figureof a woman sprawled out on his cot.
“Who are you?”Aleksi demanded.“And what areyou doing in my bed?”
The woman rose up onto one elbow and ran aseductive hand over the rounded swell of her hip.
“I am Roxanna.”
She swung her legs over the side of the cotand stood in one sensuous movement, her gown of sheer worm weaveshimmering in the candlelight and clinging to her every curve.Shewas dark haired, dark eyed, and voluptuous.Her smile was knowingand inviting, her bee-stung lips stained a deep red.
She did not say what she was doing there.Shedid not need to.
“How did you come to be here?”Aleksi asked.“I did not send for you.”
“A friend of yours did.”
“Is this friend how you got past theguards?”
“Yes.”
“Who is this friend of mine?”he said,stepping the rest of the way into the small antechamber.He stoodno more than two feet from her, and could smell the heavy, cloyingscent of her perfume.
Roxanna smiled seductively.“I do not knowhis name, or the name of his servant who sought me out and broughtme here.”
