tents, the boredom of long days spent travelling from town to town.’
‘Then the life of a Flying Vengarov, and the life of an officer in the Ninety-Second really are pretty similar.’
She smiled, but shook her head. ‘On the surface, perhaps. All the time that you are packing up, marching, drilling, writing letters for your men, talking in the Mess, you are still Colonel Kennedy in his uniform, with his stripes or flashes or whatever it is that shows your rank. When I am out of my uniform, I am a shabby thing whom no one notices.’
She had not meant it to sound so pathetic. She did not like the rather too-perceptive gaze which rested on her. ‘Shabby is the very last word I’d use to describe you,’ Fergus said. ‘Then again, I didn’t have you down as the type of woman who fishes for compliments any more than I thought you were the self-pitying type.’
‘I’m neither,’ Katerina said awkwardly. ‘I’m simply not accustomed to talking about myself.’
‘Now that I can believe, though I find it difficult to believe that it’s for lack of interest.’
‘Oh, there is never any lack of interest in my ability to cling to a rope, or to bend myself backwards or in half, or—or any way you choose.’
‘Oh, if I could choose...’ Fergus said with a wicked smile that made her blush, but then immediately shook his head. ‘I’ll not pretend it isn’t a fascinating subject for any red-blooded male, but it’s not the only thing I’m interested in. I want to hear about you.’
Once again she found herself both aroused and disconcerted by him. Katerina gazed down at her hands. ‘What do you want to know?’
He raised his hands expansively. ‘Everything. Where you were born. Have you any brothers or sisters? Are your parents still alive? What is your favourite colour? Your favourite country? Your favourite food? Can you ride? Shoot? Swim? What frightens you most?’
‘Stop. Wait.’ Laughingly, Katerina counted his questions off on her fingers. ‘I was born in Kerch, in the Crimea. No sisters, only one brother. Yes, my parents are still alive. My favourite colour is the blue of the Mediterranean Sea. My favourite country—I should say Russia, but there are so many places I have not been—I would like to visit America. My favourite food is coulibiac, which is a pie, filled with salmon and boiled egg and rice. Yes, I can ride well enough. No, I have never fired a gun. Yes, I can swim very well, from having spent much of my childhood near the Black Sea. There, I think I have answered them all.’
‘You missed the last one.’
‘What frightens me the most?’ At this moment, her feelings for this man, who was frighteningly good at making her feel as if he really was interested in her. But she could not have such feelings for him. ‘Falling,’ Katerina said ambiguously.
He pressed her hand, giving her a smile that was as ambiguous as her own words. ‘I hope you don’t think my curiosity satisfied. I want to know a lot more.’
She surprised herself by obliging, not because he was persistent, but because she wanted to. She forgot all about her resolution to keep her distance, surrendering to the temptation to talk and to laugh with someone new and beguiling, just for a little while.
Though it was not such a little while. The gong sounded from the house to warn guests that it was time to change for dinner. Katerina jumped to her feet. ‘Goodness, I had no idea—we have been talking for hours.’
‘By far and away the most pleasant hours I’ve spent here.’ Fergus caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. ‘Thank you.’
His touch changed the atmosphere between them. It was there again, that tug of awareness, that tension that thickened the air, made her breath catch in her throat. The way he looked at her made her blood heat. ‘You had best go, or you will be late for dinner, which would never do.’
‘Watching you last night,’ Fergus said. ‘It was like watching stars tumbling from the sky. I was mesmerised.’
‘I know. I felt it. Felt you. Watching.’
He pulled her to him, his hands resting lightly on her waist. Heat was spreading through her in all directions. Her skirts were brushing against his legs. Her bare toes were touching his boots. ‘I hope it didn’t distract you too much.’ His hands slid from her waist to her arms. His skin on hers. ‘If I thought that you might fall, especially now I know how much it frightens you...’
‘Once, I fell.’ Katerina surrendered to the temptation to step closer. ‘That is why I will be very careful never to fall again,’ she said, shivering as her body brushed his.
He shuddered in response. ‘Never?’
She pulled his head towards her. ‘Absolutely never,’ she said, and closed her eyes as his lips met hers.
It was a kiss that felt long, long overdue. As his mouth covered hers, his hands slid around her back and moulded her to him. Too quickly, he came to his senses and with a sigh, he let her go.
She could not bring herself to be sorry. What she felt was cheated, and frustrated. If she felt regret it was only because their kiss had been all too brief. A taste, no more, of what a kiss might be.
What was Fergus thinking? He looked as confused and discomfited as she. The uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Busying herself in an effort to break the awkwardness, Katerina slipped her foot into her slipper and began to cast about for the other one.
‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
She held her foot out. He made to place the shoe on her foot, and then at the last moment handed it to her, leaning down instead to pick up her book. Didn’t he want to touch her, or didn’t he trust himself? What did it matter! ‘Thank you,’ Katerina said, ‘That’s exactly what I’m looking for.’
Monday June 16th
Brockmore Manor House Party
Programme of Events
Masterclass in the Acrobatic Arts to be
held in the Ballroom
Expedition to a Mystery Beauty Spot
Musical Evening with Recitations and
Recitals from the guests
Alicia, the Duchess of Brockmore, settled into her lone seat, strategically placed on the balcony of the ballroom, with a keen sense of anticipation. The acrobatic masterclass about to be delivered by the Vengarovs promised to be highly entertaining, though not necessarily for those guests bold or perhaps foolish enough to participate.
Engaging the services of the two Russian acrobats had been a masterstroke. They lent enormous cachet to this year’s party. Alicia had no doubt they would be the talk of the ton for months to come. The session she was about to witness was pushing propriety to the very limits. Were it being held anywhere other than Brockmore Manor, under the auspices of anyone other than a duke and duchess, she doubted very much that any of her guests would dare turn up. As it was, she had guiltily high hopes that at least some of them
