Secret Fire (6 page)

He didn’t consider the possibility of contagion and that getting near her might postpone his sailing tomorrow. He poured the water and lifted her head to bring the glass to her lips. She took a few sips, and her cheek turned toward his wrist and rubbed against it. Then her whole body turned toward him, as if drawn by the contact.

He let go of her, but she groaned at the loss of his cool skin. “No…so hot…please.”

She was trembling. With cold? he wondered. Her cheek hadn’t been hot. He put his hand to her forehead; it was cool. Yet she acted as though she was burning with fever. What kind of sickness was this? And damned if he still didn’t want her!

His anger returned and he slammed out of the room, bellowing for Vladimir. The servant appeared instantly.

“My prince?”

Dimitri had never struck a servant in anger. To do so would have been the height of unfairness, because his servants belonged to him. They could not retaliate, could not leave his employ, could do nothing to protect themselves. But his present frustration nearly made him lose sight of all that.

“Damn you, Vladimir, the woman is sick! How could you not know it?”

Vladimir had anticipated this, had known he would have to explain. But better now that the dose had taken effect than earlier, when he would have had to admit to failure.

“She is not sick,” he said quickly. “She was given cantharides in her food.”

Dimitri stepped back in amazement. Why had he not realized himself what ailed the woman? He had seen a woman given that powerful aphrodisiac before, during the year he had spent in the Caucasus. She had been insatiable. Fifteen soldiers hadn’t been enough to satisfy her. She still demanded more, and the effect had lasted for hours.

Dimitri was disgusted, knowing that he alone wouldn’t be able to take care of the woman, that he would probably have to call his guards to help relieve her suffering, and suffering it was. She was burning to have a man between her legs, aching with need. But despite his disgust, his manhood throbbed in anticipation. She wasn’t sick. He would have her, and she would beg for more. A unique situation that produced all manner of pleasurable thoughts.

“Why, Vladimir? I was looking forward to a relaxing evening, not a sexual marathon.”

The crisis had passed. Vladimir could see that the Prince had accepted the idea, even if it
wasn’t what he had had in mind. And he would be well pleased in the end. That was all that mattered.

“She was difficult to persuade, my lord. She could not be bought and insisted she did not bed strangers.”

“You mean she actually refused me?” Dimitri was amused at the thought. “Didn’t you tell her who I was?”

“Of course. But these English peasants have a high opinion of themselves. I think the wench wanted to be wooed first. I explained there was no time for that, not that you need to exert yourself for someone like her,” he added, with a touch of disdain. “Forgive me, Prince Dimitri, but I could think of nothing else to do.”

“How much of the drug did you give her?”

“We were not sure how much to use.”

“So it could last for hours or all night?”

“For however long you wish to amuse yourself, my lord” was the simple reply.

Dimitri grunted and waved Vladimir away. He reentered the room, rather surprised at how eager he was to see the woman again. She was still thrashing about on the bed and moaning quite audibly now. When he sat down beside her, her eyes turned to him. She quieted a bit, but she couldn’t still her body.

“A doctor?”

“No, little dove, a doctor can’t help what ails you, I’m afraid.”

“I’m dying, then?”

He smiled gently. She really didn’t know what was happening to her, or that there was only one cure that would give her relief. But he would be happy to show her.

He leaned over and softly brushed his lips against hers. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. Dimitri couldn’t help laughing. Such a combination of innocence and sexual allure. He found her delightful.

“You didn’t like that?”

“No, I…oh, what is wrong with me?”

“My man took it upon himself to overcome your shyness with an aphrodisiac. Do you know what that is?”

“No, but it…it’s made me sick.”

“Not sick, little one. It’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to do—arouse your sexual desire to an unbearable degree.”

It took her a moment to accept that she hadn’t mistaken his meaning before she cried, “Nooo!”

“Shh,” Dimitri soothed, cupping her cheek in his hand. Her face immediately turned into his palm again. “I would not wish this on any woman, but it is done, and I can help you if you will allow it.”

“How?”

She was wary of him. He could see the mistrust in her eyes. Vladimir was right. She really wanted no part of him. If not for the drug, he would have failed with her, just as that lout on the street had failed. How intriguing. Even if he were to put all his considerable charm to use, he had the feeling it would avail him nothing. What a challenge! If only there were more time…

But there was the drug. The cantharides would deliver up what human efforts could not. He would have her. And his vanity was pricked enough to take full advantage of the situation and humble this little English flower.

Dimitri didn’t answer her question. He continued to caress her cheek, which was flushed a delicate rose, like the rest of her lovely body.

“What is your name, sweet?”

“Kit—no, Kate—I mean, it’s Katherine.”

“So, Kit and Kate for Katherine.” He smiled. “An imperial name. You have heard of our Catherine, Empress of all the Russias?”

“Yes.”

“And have you no last name?”

She turned her face away. “No.”

“A secret?” He chuckled. “Ah, little Katya, I knew you would amuse me. But it is no matter, last names. We will be much too intimate for them anyway.” As he spoke, his free hand dropped to her breast. Her cry was sharp and agonized. “Too sensitive, sweet? You need immediate relief, don’t you?” He moved the hand to the dark triangle of brown curls between her legs.

“Don’t! Oh, no, you mustn’t!” But even as she protested, her hips thrust up against his fingers.

“It is the only way, Katya,” his deep voice assured her. “You just don’t realize it yet.”

Katherine moaned as the throbbing accelerated with his touch. Her mind balked at what he was doing with his fingers, but she was powerless to stop him, just as she had been powerless to cover herself when he first appeared. She needed the coolness of his soothing hands. She needed…

“Oh, oh, God!” she screamed as pleasure erupted in shuddering, pulsating waves that went on and on, flooding her senses, washing away the unbearable heat.

Katherine floated down into a sea of blissful lassitude. The tension had all drained away, leaving her sated and infinitely relaxed.

“You see, Katya?” His voice robbed her peace. “It was the only way.”

Katherine’s eyes flew open. She had forgotten about him. How could she forget? It was he who had brought her relief from that molten heat. Oh, God, what had she let him do? He was sitting there watching her, and she was naked!

She half sat up, looking about frantically for the top sheet, but it had long ago slid to the floor beyond reach. She started after the cover at the foot of the bed, but he anticipated her intention and his arm shot across her stomach, keeping her in place beside him.

“You expend useless energy, when you have only a few minutes of respite. It will all begin again, little one. Conserve your strength and relax while you are able.”

“You’re lying!” Katherine said in horror. “It—it can’t start again. Oh, please, let me go! You have no right to keep me here!”

“You are free to leave,” he said magnanimously, though he was quite sure she would never get off the bed. “No one is stopping you.”

“They did!” She remembered her anger. It swelled and exploded. “That—that barbarian Kirov abducted me and has kept me a prisoner in this room all day!”

She was adorable in her fury. Dimitri felt an overwhelming desire to kiss her blended with a desire to take her in his arms. She was potent, this surprising little gem, and he was on fire to have her after watching her reach her climax. But
he must be patient. He didn’t have to take from her what she would willingly give soon enough.

“I’m sorry, Katya. My people sometimes exceed what is reasonable in their efforts to please me. What can I do to make amends?”

“Just—just—oh, no, no!”

The fever was starting, the warmth flowing through her veins, swiftly getting hotter. She looked at him for a moment in abject misery before turning away with a groan. The ache had returned so swiftly. He hadn’t lied. And now she knew what she needed, what her body was craving. Morals, shame, pride, all slid away like rain down a gutter.

“Please!” She squirmed, seeking those velvety eyes of his again. “Help me!”

“How, Katya?”

“Touch me…like before.”

“I cannot.”

“Oh, please—”

“Listen to me.” He caught her face between his hands to hold it still. “You know what must be.”

“I don’t understand. You said you would help! Why won’t you help me?”

She couldn’t be that naive, could she? “I will, but you must help me as well. I need relief too, little one. Look at me.”

He opened his robe. He was naked beneath it, and Katherine sucked in her breath, seeing his manhood thrust boldly forward. Understanding dawned, and with it hot color flooded her cheeks crimson.

“No…you can’t,” she whispered brokenly.

“I must. It is what you really need, Katya, me inside you. I am here for you. Use me!”

This was the closest Dimitri had ever come to pleading with a woman. That he did so now proved the extent of his desire—he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman this much. And it was so unnecessary for him to argue with her at all. She couldn’t resist for long. The drug wouldn’t allow it.

He said no more, waiting, not touching, watching her welter in an agony of need. Watching her needless suffering was almost painful. She had only to ask, and relief would be hers. But she was resisting the drug and resisting the cure. Was it pride? Could she be that foolish?

Dimitri almost took matters into his own hands—her protests be damned—when she turned to him, her eyes beseeching, lips parted enticingly, hair all bedraggled, and flesh quivering. God, she was beautiful like this, so incredibly sensual.

“I can’t bear it anymore. Alexandrov, do what you will, please, anything—just do it now.”

Dimitri smiled with amazement. The little wench had managed to turn a plea into an order. But it was a command he was quite willing to obey.

Shaking off his robe, he stretched out on the bed next to her and drew her close. She sighed at the cool contact of his flesh, but the sigh quickly turned to a whimper. She had waited too long. Her skin was too sensitive again, everywhere, but especially her breasts. Damn. He wanted to feel her exquisite body under his hands. He would have to wait.

“Next time, Katya, don’t wait so long.” His voice was sharp with frustration.

Her eyes rounded. “Next time?”

“This will last for hours, but there is no need for you to suffer through any of it. Do you understand? Don’t deny me again.”

“No—I won’t—only please, Alexandrov, hurry!”

He smiled. No woman had ever called him Alexandrov, at least not in bed. “Dimitri,” he corrected. “Or Your Highness.” He chuckled. She beat her tiny fists against him. “All right, little one. Easy. Relax.”

He could wait no longer. Her hips were thrusting wildly against him, firing his passion to an alarming height. He rolled on top of her, resting on his elbows, his long upper arms keeping the massive width of his chest well above her. He bent to taste the sweetness of her parted lips, and they were sweet, distracting, but the gyrations of her lower body would not let him forget the matter at hand.

He released her lips to move into position, cupping her face between his large hands. He wanted to watch again as she received her pleasure, to see ecstasy reflected in her eyes. He thrust deep—and she screamed. But it was too late. Her maidenhead was breached.

“Sweet Jesus!” Dimitri hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me, woman?”

She didn’t answer. She had closed her eyes, and a single tear slid from the corner of one. Dimitri swore silently. She was no blushing girl, but a woman! What the devil was she still doing with her virginity intact? It was not something usually valued by servants. Only the nobility used it as a commodity when arranging important marriages.

“How old are you, Katherine?” he asked gently now, brushing the moisture away from her eyes.

“Twenty-one,” she murmured.

“And you managed to stay a maiden that long? Incredible. You must work in a household sorely lacking in men.”

“Mmmm.”

Dimitri laughed. She wasn’t listening anymore, but was availing herself of the hard shaft embedded deep within her, undulating provocatively, drawing him in even more—exquisite. He groaned, gritting his teeth, letting her have her way as long as possible, but it didn’t take long before she soared over the edge. And although he would have prolonged his own pleasure, the throbbing pulsations he felt within her were his undoing. He joined in her climax, grinding his hips fiercely against her and hearing her cry out as she exploded yet again.

With his heart still pounding erratically, Dimitri moved to sit on the side of the bed and poured himself a brandy. He offered one to Katherine, but she shook her head without looking at him. He would have to wash the stains of her virginity from her, but he would wait until she would better appreciate it. He smiled, contemplating that. Already he was anticipating bringing her to another climax.

He moved back, sitting sideways, resting one arm on the other side of her hip. She still wouldn’t look at him until he brought the cool, round base of the brandy goblet to play across one pointed nipple. He chuckled, delighting in the way her eyes flared.

“You will have to appease me, Katya. I like to play with my women.”

“I’m not one of your women.”

The rancor in her tone made it a pleasure to insist. “But you are—for tonight.”