Katarina (Kate)

Moscow, Russia, 1812

Throughout the summer, her father and brother had spoken of nothing but Napoleon's invasion of Russia while she sat nearby, knitting a scarf for her brother to take on his next journey. As merchants they were constantly traveling, which made them privy to all sorts of information, information that they doubted that she would be interested in.

Despite what they assumed to be her lack of interest, she listened. She listened intently because although her fiancé, Mikhail, was stationed in the city, she had no doubt that if things continued along this course that he would be sent off to fight. It was a thought that did not sit well with her.

Already they had had to push back their wedding date because of his military duties and though she understood, she could not wait to become Mikhail's wife, and neither could her father and brother. It was rare that nobility married outside of their social stations, but Mikhail had fallen in love with her and when she had gotten over her broken heart from a previous relationship, she had grown to love him as well.

Now she looked forward to his company, whether they were the supervised visits under the watchful eyes of her father, brother, or the housekeeper, Raya, or meetings in her room at night when he snuck in to spend the evening with her.

Her father and brother would be shocked if they ever knew that she welcomed Mikhail into her bed. They would be even more shocked if they knew that Mikhail was not the first man that she had lain with. No, she had given up her maidenhead several years before to a handsome young friend of her brother's, a young man from a fellow merchant family named Nikolai. She had loved him with all her heart and whenever he took her in his arms and made love to her, she had no thoughts of sin or doing the wrong thing. She knew that they were meant to be. They had secretly become engaged before he went on a trading trip for his family, one that he said would set up his personal fortune so they would be able to marry and live comfortably.

He had never come home and it had been several months before his family received words that he had succumbed to illness in some small city where his family did business.

Her family never understood her reluctance to take on suitors since she never shared the truth about her relationship with Nikolai. So they had little hopes when Mikhail began to show interest, but then he had pursued her relentlessly, and after a time, she found herself smiling in his presence and finding a bit of joy in her life once again.

She was brought out of her thoughts of Nikolai and Mikhail by her father's voice. "The hour has grown late. Perhaps we should retire."

Nodding, she put her knitting away and gave her brother a kiss on the cheek when he helped her up from her seat and then she went up to kiss her father's forehead before she made her way out of the sitting room. Glancing at the ornate grandfather clock at the base of the stairs she blinked a bit and hurried her steps; she hadn't realized how late the hour had grown and she knew that Mikhail would be sneaking in soon…if he hadn't already.

Lifting up her skirts she made her way up the stairs and entering her room she smiled. He was already there, standing before the fire, warming his hands. As the door clicked closed behind her he looked up, his blue eyes dancing in the firelight, and he gave her a rakish grin as he brushed some loose locks of black hair from his forehead. His voice was teasing as he spoke, "You're late. I almost broke my neck falling out of the tree while trying to get the window open."

She leaned back against the door and smiled. "And, what would you have done if the window had been locked?"

He grinned and waggled his brows. "I would have seduced Raya into letting me in."

She couldn't help but chuckle at his words since their housekeeper was a round, squat, rather grumpy looking old woman who's face seemed stuck in a permanent scowl. Rushing towards him, she threw her arms around him, and giggled softly. "I knew that you had a crush on her, Misha!" His strong arms tightened around her as he heard her nickname for him and he whispered, "I cannot keep away from you for long, dearest. You are my very soul."

Lifting her face away from the crook of his neck she smiled at him and kissed him gently. It wasn't long before the kiss turned more passionate as he lead her to the bed, both their hands fumbling at the fastenings to their clothing.

As he made love to her, her body trembling and moving with his, their soft sounds filled the shadowy room and in the back of her mind she was grateful that her brother and father's rooms were at the other end of the house.

Mikhail had never been bothered by the fact that she had given herself to another before him. He loved her and that was the end of the matter. She also had no regrets. She loved Misha, and while she felt that he was not as skillful in bed as Nicolai had been, she couldn't deny that she found pleasure in his arms.

That much was obvious as she clung to him as his cock moved in and out of her depths and she panted in his ear, moaning, whimpering, and finally crying out as she let her climax overtake her. Usually when they coupled, he would come soon after she did, cuddle for a while before making his way out into the night, but tonight he lingered over her, holding back on his own climax in order to elongate her pleasure. And, while she enjoyed every moment, afterwards she knew that something was wrong.

Spooning her from behind he whispered softly in her ear, "You and your family must leave the city." She stiffened in his arms and turned to look at him over her shoulder. "The French?" He nodded and kissing her softly he whispered, "Do not worry. I will speak to your father tomorrow. I will see to it that you are all safe." He brushed her fair hair away from her face and she felt her own pulse racing at the look in his eyes. In their blue depths she saw something she had never seen before, pure, unadulterated fear. His next words made it feel as if death itself had reached out to squeeze her already racing heart, turning her blood to ice water.

"We are abandoning the city. Moscow will be theirs."