Scandalous Deception (Russian Connection 1)

Not at all certain that she was prepared to face him, she waited until she heard the door to his chambers close before slipping on a heavy, ermine-lined cloak that Edmond had insisted she purchase prior to leaving England along with a heavy muff. With the hood raised, her face remained in deep shadows, and leaving behind the veil, she left her rooms and made her way to the small garden below.

Even prepared for the cold, Brianna’s breath was wrenched from her lungs as the frigid air clawed at her. For a moment, she debated the wisdom of scurrying back to the warmth of her rooms. As refreshing as the cold might be, it was edged with a brutal chill that threatened to freeze her to the bone.

Then her gaze caught sight of the nearby Neva River and all thoughts of returning inside were cast aside.

Bewitched by the near fairytale sight of ice skaters, sleighs, vendors and pedestrians moving along the frozen river, Brianna walked to the edge of the empty garden. Despite the cold, there were hundreds of people mingling together, the echo of laughter reaching the garden and bringing a smile to her face.

From behind her, she heard the sound of the terrace door opening, and the crunch of footsteps crossing the ice-crusted snow.

She did not bother to turn around.

“Brianna?”

Still she did not turn. “Hmm?”

“What are you doing out here?”

In truth, she was not certain. It had not entirely been due to a need to avoid Edmond. She had known the moment she had left her rooms that he would come in search of her. If she truly desired to avoid the stubborn man, she would have to travel a great deal further than the garden.

At last, she grasped the most convenient excuse that came to mind. “I needed some fresh air.”

“Fresh? It is freezing.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, Edmond firmly turned her to meet his searching gaze. “Come back inside where it is warm.”

“In a while.”

The dark brows drew together at her refusal to jump at his command, but surprisingly, he seemed more concerned than angry.

“Vanya said that you were not feeling well.”

“I am fine.” She smiled ruefully as he continued to regard her as if she might swoon at any moment. “Truly, I am, Edmond. It was nothing more than a passing queasiness.”

He stepped closer, lifting his hand to lightly touch the shadows beneath her eyes.

“You are not accustomed to such hard travel, ma souris. You need to rest over the next few days.”

“I have been doing nothing but resting the entire day. It feels good to be out of the house.” Oddly unnerved by his fussing, Brianna sought to divert his attention. Pulling from his grip, she turned back toward the wrought-iron fencing and pointed toward the island in the center of the frozen river. “What is that?”

There was a brittle silence before Edmond shifted to stand directly behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her firmly against his hard body.

“That is the Petropavlovsky Cathedral.” He murmured. “It is the burial place for the Czars of Russia.”

“There are so many trees. Do they have some religious significance?”

He chuckled softly. “Actually, they were left to grow on the island out of the very real possibility that the soldiers would need firewood if the fortress surrounding the cathedral was ever under siege. Once I have dealt with the traitors, I will take you to visit the island. There are not only the Czars’ tombs to see, but a treasury mint and the Governor’s House.”

Brianna tilted back her head to regard him in surprise. “Y

ou intend to take me sightseeing?”

“Of course. I also intend to take you ice skating on the Neva.”

“Ice skating? You?”

He leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. “Why do you look so shocked? I happen to be a fine ice skater.”

Sharply turning her attention to the skaters skimming down the river with elegant ease, Brianna easily imagined Edmond among them.

“Of course you are,” she said, dryly.