NINE

 

“Come, Maria! This way!” Nikolai pulled her through the big double doors and into the hallway.

“What are you doing?” She looked around, not wanting to be seen but too happy at the prospect of having time alone with him to protest properly. “Are you mad?”

He didn’t answer, but then again, she hadn’t expected him to. It was Nikolai’s way to ignore the truth when it did not suit him. To push for the impossible even when it defied all logic.

As they twisted and turned through the halls, she lost track of their whereabouts. The Winter Palace was enormous. None of the Romanov children were allowed to roam free when they were in residence. It wasn’t safe. Mama and the governesses responsible for their schooling and supervision always gave them strict orders not to wander beyond the family living quarters unless it was with permission or for a state function.

Galloping through this rarely used wing of the palace in one of her finest gowns, her hand held tightly by the fingers of the clockmaker’s grandson, was certainly on neither list.

Especially in such a time of turmoil.

It didn’t matter that her heart beat so quickly when Nikolai was near or that her face flushed when he gazed upon it, his lips sensual and full. She was forbidden from being unsupervised with a man—especially a commoner.

And she was nothing if not obedient. Usually.

Her slippered feet slid on the polished floors, the ribbon in her hair flowing behind her like a banner as they entered a receiving room decorated in red and gold. The room was silent, the sounds of the clergy in the ballroom far off in the distance.

Under renovation, the room was the perfect meeting place. She and Nikolai had used it often since the first night she had snuck out of bed, traveling the lesser used halls of the palace to meet him at midnight.

Once inside the room, Nikolai stopped. Maria was still trying to catch her breath when he turned to her.

“I think we’ve escaped everyone.” His green eyes were dark with desire.

She didn’t have time to answer before he pulled her into an alcove, stepping back into the shadows. His hands slid into the curls at the back of her head. Her eyes closed of their own volition, her head falling back as his lips seared her skin.

“Maria … Maria … ” he murmured, his lips grazing the tender skin of her neck. “Things are growing more and more dangerous for you. We must leave. I must get you out of here while I still can.”

“Get out? What are you talking about, Nikolai?”

His eyes burning feverishly into hers. “You’re in danger. Your whole family is in danger. You must know it!”

Fear rose in her throat. She forced it down. Forced her voice to remain steady as she repeated the words Papa said to Maria and her sisters. “That is all nonsense. I know there are rumblings, but all societies suffer unrest from time to time. Rumblings are not enough cause to abandon my family and country.”

Nikolai’s expression grew hard. “This is not unrest, Maria. This is revolt. Revolution. And I am not talking about abandoning your family, your country. I am talking about ensuring their legacy through the survival of at least one Romanov.”

She would have turned away if Nikolai’s body had not been pressed to hers. His words were too shocking. Too unsettling. She couldn’t consider them.

“You’re wrong.” Despite her feelings, she looked at him with suspicion. “Unless … ”

“Do not even suggest it,” he hissed. “I love you. I would give my life for you, Maria. I am willing to risk my life now to get you into hiding. Just because I’m the grandson of a servant doesn’t mean I would betray the Tsar. I would seek your father’s blessing to take you with me, though that alone could mean my death.”

  If the rest of what Nikolai had said was true, then he was right. There could be no greater risk than to aid the Romanov family, even a Romanov daughter, at a time such as this.

Yet, Nikolai was willing. Willing to risk his own death to see her to safety.

The air left her body in a rush. She leaned her head against his strong shoulder, the scent of evergreen crisp and clean on his shirt. “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry. I know you speak the truth. I simply cannot fathom it.”

He stroked her hair. “Run away with me, Maria. Let me take care of you. Let me guard you from those who would do you harm.”

She only contemplated the possibility for a split second before she pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I can’t abandon them. My sisters … Alexei … Mama and Papa.” She shook her head. “It’s not possible.”

“It is possible. You simply refuse to do it.” He turned his face from her, his voice bitter.

She reached up to touch his face, to bring him back to her. He had become so dear, though their moments together were few and stolen. Resting her palm on the smooth skin of his cheek, she looked into his eyes, allowing herself a moment to commit them to memory. She’d known from the beginning that their destinies would never allow them to be together for long. Even if they had lived in less volatile times, her father would never permit her to wed a commoner.

Finally, she spoke. “I must get back now. My absence will be noticed and that will mean trouble for us both.”

His sigh was one of resignation. “I’ll see you back, then.”

She shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. I can make my way.”

“What will you say if anyone asks where you’ve been?” He was testing her as he always did—wanting to be sure she had a plausible excuse.

“That I was lost. Being lost in the halls here is not unrealistic. We haven’t lived here for ages.”

He escorted her to the door, peeking out into the hallway before turning back to her. “I’m not done with this. I won’t let anything bring you harm, Maria.” Determination was written in the hard set of his jaw. “Not even revolution.”

Then he slipped through the door and was gone. She felt more vulnerable without his warm body close to hers, but she stepped into the hall and headed toward the sounds of the ball. Down one hall. Into the next. She wasn’t worried about being caught. Not now.

Alone she was safe. And so was Nikolai.

She was traversing the length of an empty hall when she heard music coming from one of the open doors. Recognizing the notes of Moonlight Sonata, she stepped into the room.

It was Sergei, head bent to the keys of the piano, dark hair just touching the collar of his jacket. His eyes were shut as his fingers, long and slender, moved gracefully over the keys. A cigarette hung from his mouth; smoke circling toward the ceiling far above their heads.

She was surprised when he spoke, eyes still closed. “Out for a stroll, Princess?”

It took her a moment to recover her composure. “Why … yes. How did you know?”

He opened his eyes, turning them on her as he continued playing. “There is not much that is truly a secret in these times.”

She wondered if she was imagining the message in his voice, the undercurrent of warning. That there were whisperings he would be her betrothed only added to her fear that he knew exactly where—and with whom—she had been.

She swallowed before speaking, trying to gather her wits. “I suppose you’re right, though I cannot imagine anyone finding fault with a need for fresh air.”

He stopped playing and stood. His military jacket hung open, the brass buttons gleaming.

He narrowed his blue eyes. They were not unkind, but there was a shrewdness in them that worried her.

“Nevertheless,” he finally said. “It is unwise for you to travel the palace alone. Anything could happen to you in these deserted rooms.” He walked toward her, offering her his arm. “Shall we?”

She took his arm without answering.