"I'm right here, my darling," she said, tenderly sweeping the blond locks back from his forehead. It was the first time she'd ever called him by the endearment, and he smiled when he heard her words.

"This type of situation occurs frequently in the line of work I do," he told her. "If you want me to be a part of your life, you must become accustomed to it."

"I was alone for months at a time while Nicky was away on the Eastern front during the war," Alexandra told him. "I know what it's like to miss a man and pray for his safety."

"War is terrible," Illya said softly.

"The Russian people hated me for my German blood."

"Many Americans dislike me because of my background as well." Illya felt a sudden kinship with the woman whom he'd always believed had died years before his birth. The fact that, through a rather ordinary object, he'd actually gone back in history and changed it still astounded him. Sometimes he had the sudden urge to reach out and touch Alexandra, just to make certain that she was real, solid. Yet he'd kissed her lips, and they'd felt warm, soft, definitely human.

"What year were you born?" Alexandra asked him, jerking him out of his reverie.

"Nineteen thirty-three. Why do you ask?"

"I suppose the Bolsheviks were firmly established by then."

"Yes." Illya was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation seemed to be headed.

"And there was another war, also with Germany."

"A crazy man named Adolf Hitler tried to take over all of Europe and make it his own. We lost many men, as did the United Kingdom and the United States."

"But we were victorious."

"Yes, but as I said, at the cost of many lives."

"I cannot help the country of my birth, Illya."

"Of course you cannot."

"Please don't hate me."

With his good arm he reached for her and pulled her into an embrace. "I could never hate you."


As always, Illya insisted upon returning home long before the physician considered it advisable. He was given a few days' leave before returning to duty.

He spent much of his free time with Alexandra, going for walks in the park or along the beach, enjoying the amusements on Coney Island, touring the city, or just sitting and talking together. Many times Illya simply forgot who she'd been and where she was from and felt as if he were in the company of a twentieth-century-born commoner. He listened as she explained the tenets of her adopted religion of Eastern Orthodoxy and how it differed from the Lutheranism in which she'd been raised. Although not a believer himself, he admired her devotion to her faith, which was so great that she'd turned down Nicholas' first proposal for its sake.

One night he took her to his favorite jazz club and they stayed long into the night, enjoying the music, drinking, and talking, until Alexandra began to yawn and Illya offered to take her home.

"I wonder, Illya...would it be a terrible imposition if I asked you to take me back to your apartment rather than my home?"

"Not at all," Illya replied. "However, my apartment is very small and plain by comparison to your home."

"There is something I would like to discuss with you in private."

"I hope that nothing is wrong."

"Oh, no, not at all. It's simply that..." She blushed deeply. "Well, I will have to wait until we are alone to explain."

His curiosity now greatly piqued, he nevertheless took the time to enjoy the brisk night air on the short walk back to his apartment. When they were inside, Illya poured drinks for them both and then sat beside her on the sofa.

"It's rather difficult to begin," she said after a moment's silence.

"Just take your time." Illya smiled.

"It's simply that...you came so close to death recently."

"As I told you, that is the nature of my position."

"And I realized that if you had died, I would have never known what it was like..." She blushed deeply again.

"What what was like?" he asked gently, taking both her hands and looking into her eyes.

"Do you recall the discussion we had the morning before you took us to the beach, in which you told me that many modern-day people consider intimate relations outside marriage to be acceptable?"

"Indeed I do." He now had an inkling in what direction this conversation was headed, and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

"At the time, I cringed in horror internally, but over the past few days, I've given it a lot of thought, and..."

"Yes?"

"Illya, how do you feel about the idea of...well, you know..."

He took her into his arms and began to kiss her passionately. She responded with equal fervor, and soon both their tongues were entwined. She lay back on the sofa, and he lay atop her, the evidence of his arousal pressing into her.

"Shall we move to the bedroom? We would be more comfortable there," he whispered.

In the bedroom, they took their time undressing one another, relishing each moment of discovery. When they were both finally naked, they lay on the bed together as he used first his fingers, then his mouth, to stimulate her, getting her ready. She gave a cry of surprised joy as his tongue swathed her most intimate parts.

When he knew that the time was right, he moved into position and entered her, weeks of anticipation culminating in an act of fevered passion.