As the kiss deepened in intensity the two stepped slowly backwards, until Andrei found himself trapped between Natasha and the hard press of the door. The heady combination of the length of her body pressed against his and the strength of the drinks were wreaking havoc on his self-control. He tried desperately to quiet the voices in his head that reminded him just how long it had been since he'd been with a woman. No, NO he was a gentleman and would behave as such. Regretfully, he pulled back from the kiss and gently pushed Natasha back. "As lovely as this is,it is late and we have both had,I think, too much to drink." I shall ring for a maid to attend to you." Natasha looked up at him with a pleading expression but he held firm in his resolve. They would be together soon enough.

Natasha frowned, "But Andrei why must we wait? Why does your father with for us to wait so very long?" He traced her cheekbone with his thumb, smiling. "Papa isa most peculiar man, but I promise, I will talk to him in the morning and sort things out." She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, then raised her hand to cover a yawn. "Mmm, perhaps you are right, it is terribly late and I have behaved most unladylike."

He pressed her hand to his mouth "I was hardly complaining" he released it and stepped back towards the door. "Goodnight my Natalia" he said softly, before opening the door and leaving the room. After he closed it he let out a sigh, thinking that his self-control was indeed going to be tested if his father insisted on along engagement.

Downstairs, Nikolai had forgotten his chaperone duties, for he too had indulged in one too many drinks and found the Princess exceedingly interesting. While girls like his dear sister and Sonya only wanted to talk about dresses and music and frivolous things, the Princess seemed just as happy to talk about affairs of state, about the war, about proper literature. He had heard that she was religiously devout, somewhat of a dour old maid, but that description hardly fit the animated young woman that had captured his attention. Marya was wearing her cross, and her usual dark colours, but her cheeks were flushed and she was in fine form tonight. So often left with only her disapproving father, young nephew and his flighty french governess, Marya was enjoying discussing things of importance with her new aquaintaince, Nikolai Rostov. She had been shocked at first, at Andrei's letter; of all the things she would have expected him to write to her about (and he did not write often, or lengthy letters) that he was thinking of remarrying was a close last. Then again, perhaps she should have seen it as a foretelling of shocks to come, for she was surprised again at the physical transformation that her brother had undergone. His face had life in it again, he was smiling more than she could ever remember and everyone could plainly see the cause of it: Natasha. She had inititally been suspicious (something she credited with being raised by her father) but couldn't help but like the young woman. She wasn't sure when she had started thinking of herself as old, at 26 she was certainly no spring chick, but neither was she an old maid-no matter what her father said.

After only a slightly awkward dinner they had all retired to the sitting room and its roaring fire. Her father had made a bit of a scene on his way to bed, but the drinks they had all shared after his departure made things seem much had been engaging her in a debate about one of her favourite books when her brother had interrupted, asking Nikolai for permission to bring his sister up to her room. The poor girl had fallen asleep on the couch and Marya squinted at the grand clock, wondering just how late it was. When she turned back her brother had gone, and Nikolai was looking at her most peculiarly. "What is it?" she asked,

smiling.

"They seem..good together" he said, almost regretfully.

She tilted her head to the side "You say it as if that's a bad thing." He smirked "Not a bad thing no, but I'm her older brother. It's my job to be protective, make sure that she marries a good man." Marya smiled at his sense of brotherly duty, "I know it may seem biased coming from me, but I can assure you, my brother is a very good man. He's not been himself since Lise died." She swallowed, the loss still sharp years later. "But I think he's done wandering around like a ghost. This evening, being here with you all...I think he might finally be happy again. All thanks to your sister."

Nikolai digested the words thoughtfully. Or as thoughtfully as he could given the late hour and drink. He had, of course, been critical of Andrei and his intentions, but could find no fault with the man. He had been honourably discharged-wounded at Austerlitz—and had lost his wife in childbirth. Obviously life for the Prince had not been especially easy, or without its sorrows. He nodded, "I think she is happy too- though Natasha so often is. Sometime's I envy the ease with which she is happy. All is good and pure in her mind."

He paused, a flicker of his memories from battles crossing his face.

Marya saw it and waited a beat, before quietly prompting "and you?" Nikolai looked back at her and shrugged, "I'm in the Tsar's army." Marya had spent time nursing soldiers that had come back with wounds, including her brother. She knew better than most that not all wounds were physical. She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. "I'm afraid it has gotten rather late, shall we do our sibling duty and make sure everyone is in their room tonight?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, but she could see his expression was still good-humoured. "I believe you are right Princess, it has been a very long but enjoyable day. I will see that my sister is well and then retire to my chambers." He took her hand and softly pressed his lips against it. "Goodnight"

Marya waited until he had left the room before she let out a short breath. It seemed that Andrei was not the only one enjoying the company of a Rostov.

The next morning at the breakfast table there were more than a few thick heads. The elder Prince Bolkonsky did his best to make as much noise as possible, letting his cutlery clatter on to his plate and speaking maybe a little bit louder than was necessary. Privately, he was entertained by the young people, having spent many mornings of his youth in a similar state. Strong coffee was drank in great quantities, but not much food was eaten and eventually the ladies excused themselves from the table. Andrei asked to speak to his father in private and the two went in to his office, closing the door firmly behind them. His father smirked at him, "It was a long night eh?"

Andrei blinked, "Ah yes father I'm afraid it was. We all had a great deal to discuss." His father looked at him knowingly, "and a great deal to drink, I'd wager."
Andrei ducked his head, but stayed silent. "Father I wanted to discuss what you said last night, what did you mean?"
The Prince sat down at his old desk and folded his hands in front of him. "I'm not saying I don't approve of the match my boy, but don't think it's escaped me how young that girl is. Lovely, but very young. I simply want to give you both some time to make sure this is what you want."

"But father it-"

"Don't interrupt me, I'm nearly finished." His tone brooked no opposition so Andrei waited. "I know you'll think I'm being mean spirited, in making you wait, but in the end it will prove that she's serious and teach her a bit of patience. I will say it is 6 months but in reality I think we can announce it in a month or two. Those Swiss treatments don't take that long." He paused, giving Andrei a chance to speak, "Well?"

Andrei wasn't sure. "I don't know Papa, it seems like a cruel trick."

His father smiled "I wouldn't worry too much, she seems rather devoted."

At that moment there was a sharp rapping on the door and Natasha peered around the side of the door. "Andrei? Prince Bolkonsky? I do hate to interrupt but I'm afraid Nikolai doesn't seem at all well.."