A Sister's Quest (6 page)

She dared to breathe again only when she heard him arrange his makeshift bed. Even when the soft rhythm of his breathing filled the room, every inch of her ached for him. She must learn to control this longing for his touch, or she feared that, by the time they reached Vienna, there would be no need to
pretend
to be his mistress.

Chapter Four

The second day of their journey proved even more difficult than the first. Exhausted from not sleeping, Michelle fought the sway of the carriage, which reminded her of a roughly rocking cradle. More than once her head drooped against Alexei's shoulder. He said nothing when she was routed awake.

If her relationship with Alexei had improved even slightly, she could not say the same about Rusak, who tried to ignore her. When it was impossible, he made it obvious with gestures that he found her company disgusting. She did not mention to Alexei how much Rusak's coldness bothered her. She was sure he would tell her to learn to live with Rusak.

The schedule of their journey did not change. They paused only to rest the horses or stop at an inn at night. Slowly Michelle became accustomed to sharing her bedchamber, but she made certain every night that a pillow and a blanket were set aside for Alexei. She did not care if he slept on a chair or on the floor. Just as long as he kept his promise not to sleep with her.

She wanted to believe she was worried about nothing, because, after the first night, Alexei treated her with the kind indifference of a big brother for a vexing younger sister. Yet, when she finally convinced herself of that, she would catch a glance from him that she was not supposed to have seen. The barely quiescent sparks in his eyes cut through her defenses, suggesting ideas that should not be in her head. He was an impossible man, and she hoped he would change when they reached Vienna.

On Sunday morning, Michelle woke as the sun peeked into the window of the
Gasthaus
where they had taken a room high under the eaves. She heard the soft chime of church bells. After the past week's confusion, hearing something so familiar was like unearthing a treasure.

She drew on her dress under the covers and slipped her nightgown over her feet. Hooking her dress, she slid out from beneath the blanket. She wrapped her braids around her head and pinned them in place. It was not neat, but with her bonnet, no one would notice.

Her eyes widened when she saw Alexei sleeping on the floor not far from the door. If he had chosen such an uncomfortable bed each night, she had seen no sign of it. The hard floor of a Swiss
Gasthaus
must seem heavenly in comparison to nights of camping with the Russian army.

Michelle tiptoed across the floor. As light as her footsteps were, she was not overly astounded when Alexei's hand gripped her ankle.

Half-asleep, he grumbled, “Where are you sneaking off to at this godforsaken hour?”

“To church.”

“Church?” He muttered something.

“Go back to sleep.” She tried to pull away.

Alexei released her ankle and stood. He stretched, revealing his bare chest. Her gaze moved along that firmly muscled expanse. She had never seen so much raw masculinity. Heat as strong as a fever oozed up her cheeks as she realized he was amused with her stare. She thought of snarling at him for being so vain, but such an admonishment would be a waste of her breath.

“Something wrong?” He laughed. “Your face is the color of the rising sun.”

Again she was tempted to retort. She said nothing as she reached for the door latch.

He laughed once more and pulled her away from the door.

“Release me!” She was shocked that he would treat her so coarsely.

“If you will stay here.”

“I am going to be late if you don't—”

“
I
don't like being reprimanded at this early hour. Will you act reasonably?”

“Me?” She swallowed her rage as her voice broke on the single word. Taking a slow breath, she said, “Alexei, I am going to be late.”

“Do you think I intend to let you just wander about alone? You are in a strange village on the border of the Hapsburg Empire.”

Clenching her fingers on her reticule, she snapped, “I know the dangers, but I doubt I shall be accosted on my way to church.”

“Church?” He laughed. “I thought that was what you said, but I was still only half-awake.”

“Yes, I would like to go to church. If you will excuse me …”

“Sit.”

“I am not a child for you to order about.”

“Then act like a grown woman and sit while I get dressed. I don't think you want me to accompany you with my shirttails hanging down out of my breeches.”

She flushed. Before she had met Alexei, she had not blushed more than a handful of times. As she dropped onto the chair, she watched as he went to the washtable.

When he poured water into the bowl and splashed it on his face, she wondered where he had washed since she began traveling with him. He had arranged for times for her private needs, but never spoke of his own. There were many things that had gone unsaid between them.

Lathering his face, he grimaced at the small mirror. “I assume this churchgoing is a habit.”

“Yes.”

“I should have guessed. Sophie said often that she wanted you to have a chance at a righteous life.”

“Righteous? What do you mean?”

He grinned at her through the soap. “Why are you asking me? You are the one who teaches in that convent.”

“St. Bernard's School for Girls is not a convent.” She wanted to get up and walk out, but she was fascinated by how confidently he wielded the sharp razor so close to the vulnerable line of his throat. “Zurich is very Protestant. It was at the crossroads of the Reformation.”

“Crossroads of the Reformation? Must you sound like a schoolteacher all the time?”

“And can't you ever be serious?”

Alexei yelped as he nicked the edge of his jaw. “You could be less exasperating while I am shaving.”

Michelle went to the bowl and dipped the end of a towel into it. Dabbing at the bloody spot, she ordered, “Put this against it. The water will cleanse it.”

“I guess I should say thank-you for your quick nursing.”

“No need. Just don't talk and shave at the same time.”

“I didn't realize you were such an expert on men shaving. Or have you left your school before for an adventure? Mayhap an amorous one?”

She whirled away. “You are disgusting. 'Tis just common sense not to run a sharp blade against a moving object. If you cannot keep your mouth closed, mayhap you should grow a beard.”

“I have.” He chuckled as he dropped the towel onto the marble washstand. “It looked horrible. All patchy and a dozen shades of blond and brown. I prefer the risk of cutting my throat in front of an exasperating woman.”

Michelle considered answering, but the sound of church bells reminded her of the passage of time. “Alexei, if we are going …”

“A moment.”

She was going to tell him that she did not have time to wait, but more quickly than she would have guessed possible, Alexei shrugged on his best frock coat. He adjusted his stock collar and the cravat closing it. Sitting, he pulled on his boots.

He looked up at her, and the gleam of amusement returned to his eyes. “Damnable boots! Hard to put on and harder to take off.”

“You do not have to wear them.”

He stood and placed her fingers on his arm. “I am afraid I cannot resist wearing the latest fashion, Michelle. After years of fighting in the mud, the idea of fine clothes is almost as enticing as waking to find your slender legs out from under the covers and so close to my face.”

Fire slapped her face.
Um Himmels willen!
He could be a gentleman and not mention such things. When he gave her a bold wink, she lifted her chin. She would not be intimidated by his crass comments. Quietly she said, “Alexei, need I remind you that we are on our way to church?”

“All the more reason to be honest.” He unlocked the door, revealing that she could not have left without his knowledge. “And allow me to be honest, Michelle. You are an incredibly lovely woman.”

“Which is why you chose me for your supposed mistress?”

He squeezed her fingers and chuckled. “Why shouldn't I have a beautiful mistress instead of a plain one?”

“We shall be late,” she reminded him, unsure at the course of the conversation, for his eyes never hid his admiration.

As Alexei led her down the stairs and across the main room of the inn, he chatted as easily as if they took a walk every morning. The bite of the wind silenced him when it swirled through the door. Winter was greeting them here in the mountains.

Bowing her head to its icy caress, Michelle hurried with him down the steps. The brown grass in the center of the small village was lifeless. Only the pine remained green as everything waited for snow.

The church was a simple building. Gray stone edging the door and windows offered the only decoration amid shingles that needed painting.

Michelle adjusted her bonnet as they entered the chapel. Incense billowed out to lure them into the hush. Walking between two rows of stone pews, she admired the intricate altar. She saw the stares of the churchgoers, who must be curious about the strangers who had appeared in their midst.

“It has been a long time,” mused Alexei behind her.

“A long time?”

Instead of answering, he pointed to the right. “Over there. There is half a pew empty.”

When she heard a rumble from the people closest to them, she tensed. She hurried along the aisle before Alexei could say anything else. His accent identified him as a despised Russian.

Reaching the pew, she sat on the damp stone. He sat next to her and flashed her the smile that continued to disconcert her. When it dimmed and his eyes narrowed as he looked past her, she glanced to her right to discover that the three people who had been in the pew had risen and were leaving.

The Swiss could not forgive the Russians, who first had declared their friendship, then slaughtered the Swiss men conscripted into the French army. Although she empathized with their hatred, Michelle was embarrassed by it.

“You look unsettled.” Alexei's fingers covered hers, drawing her hand within his arm. She tried to pull it back, but his fingers tightened on hers as he bent toward her to murmur, “I do not take the insult personally. Neither should you.”

“Me?”

“Are they disgusted because they do not want to be contaminated by a Russian or by a Swiss woman in the company of one?”

Michelle was saved from answering by a song from the off-key choir. How had
Maman
handled these complications? Throughout the service, Michelle tried to imagine how she could put her life back together after Alexei and his schemes were behind her.

Had he guessed this would happen? She saw his jaw work as a comment came from behind them, the voice just loud enough so he would not miss the scorn. Mayhap that was what he had been cautioning her about. If he spoke plainly just once instead of acting as if she could not be trusted with even the most basic truths, she would be amazed.

As Michelle came out of the church, she noted every hostile glower. Alexei had been right. They saw her as a traitor who had sold herself to the man who owned the wondrous carriage that was stopping in front of the church.

Alexei stroked her fingers, and she looked at him. His smile was gentle. In spite of herself and knowing she condemned herself further in the villagers' eyes, she smiled back. Odd that this man her countrymen saw as an enemy was her only ally.

As he would be in Vienna.

What had her yearning for adventure gotten her into?

Michelle grimaced when Alexei opened the carriage door, and she saw Rusak inside.

Alexei handed her in and asked, “Is everything ready for the day's journey?”

Rusak nodded.

“You packed all of Michelle's things as well?” he asked as he sat opposite Rusak and slapped the wall.

“My things?” Michelle asked. She yelped as the carriage started. She fell backward onto Alexei's lap.

“This is charming,” he said as his arm encircled her waist, “but I do believe there is enough room on the seat for both of us.”

“It is not charming,” she retorted as frostily as the ice that clung to the grass. “You should have given me a chance to sit before giving the signal to get under way.”

“Mayhap, but that does not lessen the pleasure of our current circumstances.”

She tried to slip off his knees, but his arms tightened around her. “If you want me to move, you must release me.”

“I don't recall saying anything about you needing to move.” He glanced at Rusak. “Did I say that?”

Rusak grumbled something in his throat.

“He did not hear me say that,
Liebchen
.”

“Don't call me that!” Fear erupted within her. Alexei had altered from the kind man who shared her disquiet to this haughty fool in a single heartbeat. Brushing away his fingers, which stroked her waist, she gasped when he tipped her face beneath his.

She stared up into his catlike eyes. Green and mysterious, they glittered with potent emotions. Her mouth was caressed by his warm breath as her own caught and burned away all thoughts of anything but him.

“Endearments are used by lovers,” he whispered. “You are portraying my mistress. What better way to show my devotion than by calling you
Liebchen?
'Tis a part of our charade. Unless you prefer …?”

“No!” she cried as his mouth lowered toward hers. Pushing herself out of his arms, she struck the side of the carriage. When she heard Rusak's guttural laugh, she added viciously, “Call me whatever you wish, but do not think you can take liberties because you are my employer. I shall not have you touching me, and I do not want
him
touching my clothes!”

“Don't be ridiculous! Rusak helps me as you do. If you want to waste time on our trip, you must expect he will do what is necessary to get us on our way on time.”