Dimitri carefully approached Anya. Growing up in the palace, he'd been taught to keep his distance and remember his place.
Now, he kissed her as never before. He suddenly broke off the kiss, however, retreating to the farthest corner of the room on board ship.
"What is it?" asked Anya, concerned for her husband.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's just, growing up in the palace kitchens, I was taught respect. Respect towards the royals meant no looking and certainly no touching. Old habits die hard, I guess."
He shrugged apologetically.
Now Anya was the one to carefully approach Dimitri. She stopped before him. If he reached out his hand, he would touch her. She waited.
"It seems to be more than just an old habit," observed Anya.
"It's nothing, honest," Dimitri pleaded with her to ignore his hesitation.
"Honest?" asked Anya, knowing his views on honesty.
Dimitri looked guiltily at her.
"I'm sorry," he apologized for the millionth time for deceiving her.
She shrugged off his apology. She'd already forgiven him. There was no need for him to continue apologizing.
"What's wrong?" she asked again. "You look so disturbed. Did something happen in your past to make you fear me?"
"Oh, god. It's not you. I swear, it's not you. It's me, it's all me."
"What's all you, Dimitri?" asked Anya, losing her patience.
Dimitri sighed, before sitting on the bed and motioning for her to join him.
"I've already told you that I worked in the palace as a boy. I was found wandering the streets and brought to the palace to work in the kitchens. I was told early on that as a kitchen boy, in the servant hierarchy, I was the lowest of the low."
Anya made a sound of protest. Dimitri silenced her with a look, asking her if she wanted him to continue.
"I was the lowest of the low. I never forgot my place, except for one time. Now, all my life I'd heard stories about you and your sisters. But mostly the stories were about you and what you'd done to get yourself into trouble. I was attracted to that because I was something of a troublemaker too. I lost track of how many times I went without food as punishment for something I'd done wrong. The cook had it in for me."
Anya growled slightly, dismayed at learning that Dimitri had gone without food.
Dimitri went on, lost in the past.
"The one time I forgot my place was when I was 18 and you were 16, the year before the revolution. I was in the kitchen as I always was, when a young girl came bursting through the doors. I was paralyzed with shock when I recognized the girl as you, Anastasia. I threw myself on the floor at your feet."
Anya smiled. "Bet I loved that."
"You ordered me to get up, saying it was silly to lie on the cold floor. I would catch a cold. I think that was the moment I knew for sure that I was in love, your concern for a lowly kitchen boy."
Anya and Dimitri smiled at each other. Dimitri's smile soon dropped, however, as he began to relive the past.
"You pulled me to my feet. I could only stare in shock. You, the Grand Duchess, were actually holding my hand. You informed me that you had run into the kitchen to escape your lessons. You then looked up at me, for I towered over you, and told me that I had beautiful eyes. You put your arms around my neck, and at that moment, the cook came in. We merely turned to look at him, you wouldn't remove your arms from around my neck. The cook was coming toward me, ready to hit me, when you stepped in front of me. The cook stopped in his tracks, finally recognizing the girl whose arms had been around me. He'd had his hand raised to strike me, but when you stepped in front of me it was you he almost hit. He was spluttering out apologies, begging your forgiveness. You merely gave him a cold, hard stare. You'd seen what he'd been about to do and you didn't like it. He explained that he thought you were someone else. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak. The Grand Duchess Anastasia had just moved to protect me. You forbade him from laying a hand on me, as you had been the one to initiate the touching. The cook turned on the charm, oozing politeness and assuring you that he wouldn't hurt me. He escorted you out of the kitchen, then came back for me. "
Dimitri paused, carefully moving to lie on his back on the bed.
"The look on his face was one I'd never seen before and never want to see again. It still haunts me to this day. He came at me and began to shake me, then he began hitting me in the face. He'd hit me before, but never like this. However, over the years I'd learned not to defend myself. That would only make my punishment worse. He backed off and I thought he was finished with me. Instead, he began to loosen his belt."
Dimitri heard Anya gasp but refused to meet her gaze, sure that he'd only find pity in her beautiful blue eyes.
"He beat me within an inch of my life. It was a week before I could work again. In the meantime, I'd been unable to earn my keep and my food. As he beat me, he said that he was protecting you from my filthy ways."
Dimitri had been speaking as though the belt was punctuating every syllable. He now stopped.
"I never saw you again until three days ago, but I never forgot your bravery in standing up to the cook in defense of a lowly kitchen boy."
There was silence in the cabin. Both Anya and Dimitri were lost in thought.
Finally, Anya slowly touched Dimitri, rolling him over onto his stomach. When he'd first laid down, she'd noticed how careful he was. She had her suspicions as to why. She pulled up his shirt, gasping at what lay underneath.
There was still physical evidence of the beating Dimitri had suffered at the hands of the cook. The belt had whipped him mercilessly, leaving permanent scars. Furthermore, it was obvious that the buckle had also been used, for there were deep cuts that had scabbed over and scarred.
"Dimitri…," Anya whispered. "What did he do to you?"
Dimitri instantly rolled back over, pulling Anya into his arms.
They cried together, remembering the past.
"I should have done more," Anya murmured against Dimitri's chest.
"You did all you could. He deliberately disobeyed you."
Anya began to cry again at the thought of Dimitri's suffering.
"Is that why you're afraid to touch me?" she asked after her sobs had subsided.
"Yes. His constant dialogue as he was beating me, that I was the lowest of the low, unworthy to walk the same ground as you, and certainly unworthy of touching you, stuck with me until recently."
"You mean everything to me, Dimitri," Anya said softly.
"You mean everything to me too, Anya," Dimitri replied.
Sparks flew as Dimitri slowly lowered himself over Anya. Silently asking her permission, he explored every inch of her, forgetting everything his former master had ever told him.
Later, as they lay tangled together, Anya whispered to him, "I love you, Dimitri."
Dimitri looked over at the woman who, amazingly enough, had chosen him over anyone else. "I love you too, Anya. More than life itself."