Seduced By The Prince’s Kiss. Bronwyn Scott
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shook her head, pessimistically. Her hopes faded. ‘How will we ever do that? He won’t even let me go riding without a proper escort, let alone live with a man.’ It was a poor choice of words. It said far too much about how her view of Stepan had changed in the last week.
The comment earned her another sharp look from Evie. ‘But that man is Stepan. It’s not as if you’re living with a stranger. He’s practically family,’ Evie argued.
Not really family, though. One did not kiss family like that, Anna thought. Over the course of the winter, he’d gone from being a childhood fixture to a curious mystery, to being a flesh-and-blood man with deep-seated emotions he strove to hide, along with an ability to shatter one’s world with a single kiss. She should want to run from that intensity, but she found she only wanted to run towards it, to see where it led.
Evie was too deep in her plans to notice her misstep. ‘You can take Mrs Batten, our housekeeper. She has a sister in Shoreham. She’ll enjoy the chance to visit. I’m sure the Worths have their own housekeeper, so this will free up plenty of time for Mrs Batten to keep an eye on you. She’ll be able to give you household management instruction, too. I’m sure Stepan wouldn’t mind the assistance, or the company if he’s as busy as he says he’ll be.’ Evie laughed. ‘Men don’t know how much they take a hot meal for granted at the end of a long day until it’s not there for them.’
‘Of course.’ Anna nodded and gave her attention to her embroidery. She was starting to doubt her eagerness to go to Shoreham. Mrs Batten was highly capable and a moral termagant to boot. And then there was the issue of just how ‘glad’ Stepan would be to see her, especially when Evie apprised him of the plan for her to stay more permanently—hot meals at the end of the day notwithstanding.
* * *
In the end, Dimitri’s carriage went home from Shoreham one occupant short of what it had come with. Anna-Maria stood on the steps of Seacrest with Stepan waving them off, a curious loneliness rising in her stomach when the carriage was out of sight. It was silly, really. Dimitri and home were just an hour away. She could ride over whenever she liked, yet, as dusk settled, home might have been a thousand miles away. Stepan had not been glad to see them, at least not her. He’d been cold and stand-offish since their arrival. He and Dimitri had closeted themselves away, leaving her and Evie and the redoubtable Mrs Batten to their own devices. Those devices had involved meeting with the household staff—a staff far more elaborate than the five servants who helped Evie at home. They’d drawn up lists for foodstuffs and a weekly menu of meals. They’d gone over the linens and found most things to be in order. Preston’s wife ran a good house, anything that needing shoring up was due only to Stepan’s abrupt arrival.
‘Regretting your decision to stay already?’ It was the first direct comment Stepan had made to her all day. It seemed he was intent on ignoring not only the kiss, but her, too.
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m just thinking of other times I watched Dimitri drive away,’ Of the time he didn’t come back. He’d sent a letter instead informing her of his decision to give up his title, his life, and stay in England to marry the daughter of a baronet. Stepan had been with her then. Dimitri had entrusted Stepan and Ruslan with the details of their quiet departure from Kuban. Only that departure had not been so quiet. Nikolay had been arrested and Illarion would have been next. Stepan had suddenly found himself not only with one young girl and an old man to whisk off to safety, but also a gravely wounded cavalry officer and a poet wanted for libel. Stepan had never faltered no matter how difficult the duty.
Stepan sighed. ‘They all drive away one way or another.’ He must be thinking of the others: of Illarion, Ruslan and Nikolay. He missed them, she realised. He was always so strong, so stoic, it was hard to imagine he had softer feelings, as well. But she knew better now, didn’t she? Now that he’d kissed her. That kiss had exposed him to her as much as it had exposed her. He did feel, he did yearn, he did hurt. Beneath his hard shell, Stepan Shevchenko was human after all. Such a realisation should have made him less heroic to her, but in fact it did not. It only increased the mystery of him, a stark reminder of how much she didn’t know and how much there was yet to know.
Stepan gestured towards the open door. Somewhere deep inside, a servant was lighting the lamps. A warm glow beckoned through the dusk. ‘Come, Anna-Maria. Dinner will be on the table soon and we can discuss exactly what you’ve got yourself into.’
* * *
Did she understand that by extension whatever she’d got herself into she’d got him into, as well? Stepan poured himself another glass of wine, studying Anna-Maria in the candlelight of the dining table: the glossy dark waves of her hair, the fine line of her nose, the soft curve of her jaw, the stubborn point of her chin. She was a beautiful woman, empirically, a quality heightened when she smiled, putting the sensuality of her mouth on full display. She was smiling now as she motioned to his nearly untouched plate.
‘Do you not care for the venison pie?’
He’d only taken a few bites. ‘No, on the contrary, it’s quite delicious.’ It was the best meal he’d had since he’d left Dimitri’s and he knew it was thanks to Evie and Anna-Maria, who’d given Cook instructions and direction. He’d been too busy with the ships to pay attention to the house. As a result, he’d eaten cold meat and bread since he’d left Dimitri’s, or eaten at the tavern. But he wasn’t going to admit that to Anna-Maria. It would only give her justification for staying. He took a bite to pacify her. ‘Why are you really here, Anna-Maria?’
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