Christmas Wishes Part 1. Elizabeth Rolls

      * * *

      The man blinked, his expression unreservedly abashed. This woman had interrupted his daily ritual of wandering out into the wilderness to feed his geese. Hearing a human voice in the cold, abandoned outdoors was unexpected...though not completely unwanted. Her voice was sweet, even in anger, and it was a welcome contrast to the harshness he’d just left behind. He’d wandered out into the countryside to escape the sweat, dust and shouting, and the cold, fresh air and natural beauty usually invigorated him. But now...he only had eyes for the firecracker burning him with her stare.

      The woman before him was petite, her slight form dwarfed in her overly large wool overcoat. Her bright blue eyes were unparalleled jewels that burned with passion. His artist’s eye immediately traced the pale contours of her exquisite face, from the elegant arch of her thin eyebrows to the perfect bow of her dainty lips. With midnight-black hair and a radiant complexion, she stood out in stark relief against the barren land around them. He hadn’t seen her before at court—he was sure he would have noticed her if she had ever made an appearance.

      Despite her slim frame and petite figure, she was a burning bundle of seething rage. He took a step back. But the woman pressed forward and reached up to jab a finger into his shoulder.

      ‘Well?’ she questioned, her voice like a sharp whip.

      She reached out to poke him again, but he caught her hand in an easy grip.

      ‘Young lady,’ he began, his voice a slow, smooth velvet tone, ‘I don’t know who you are, but I don’t see how it is any business of yours what I do with my bread. For your information, these are my geese. I found them with broken wings and now I have to feed them.’

      Colour bloomed beautifully on her porcelain cheeks, and her ocean-blue eyes widened. Her pink lips parted in surprise and she quickly snatched her hand back, cradling it against her chest as if she had been burned. The man watched this transformation with ever-increasing interest, his desire to sketch her expressive face matched only by the primal urge to mould his hands to her hips and pull her close.

      * * *

      For her part, Ekaterina felt the anger drain from her body. His touch had been like fire, setting her nerves alight with an inexplicable longing. Awareness washed over her in a tingling wave as she took in the rugged slant of his thick brows, the intensity in his green eyes, the curve of his sensual lips and the hard line of his jaw.

      Not a statue of a Greek god, she thought to herself, but a living, breathing Adonis!

      He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and reality slammed back into her with the force of a tidal wave. He was a stranger in her aunt’s palace and could be anyone...and anyone could bring malicious whispers to her aunt’s itching ears.

      Her face closed as her guard went up. The man’s other brow lifted, his expression mildly surprised at the sudden change.

      ‘I mean you no harm,’ he said in the same steady tone. ‘I am merely an employee here at the palace.’

      ‘You work in the palace?’ she asked, her facial features softening slightly.

      ‘Yes,’ he said and nodded. ‘My name is Andrey.’

      * * *

      She studied his face, distrust in her eyes.

      Andrey met her glare with an open expression, suddenly afraid that the beautiful creature before him would take flight and leave him alone in the cold. She was so refreshingly different from the women he’d met in the palace.

      ‘Where do you work?’ she asked, suspicion tingeing her tone.

      ‘In the workshop,’ he replied.

      It was only a slight lie, he told himself. There was no need to expound upon the unnecessarily complicated nature of his true employment at the palace. He simply did not want to lose the chance to spend more time with her.

      * * *

      ‘The workshop?’ Ekaterina almost sighed in relief.

      No one in the workshop would ever brush shoulders with the nobles. It was far too dusty and dingy for the likes of Russian aristocracy. She shook off the lingering feelings of dread, banishing all thoughts of her horrible aunt. Instead, she looked upon Andrey with clear eyes. As her gaze dropped to his hands, she imagined them at work. He had long, tapered fingers and callused palms. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and she could see the muscles in his taut forearms. She visualised the careful attention he would give to carving, the bulge of his upper arms as he worked the machinery and the sweat glistening on his perfect brow.

      Ekaterina felt a tingle in her thighs that spread like fire through her lower belly. It ached deliciously. It twisted her stomach in knots. It made her shift from foot to foot.

      ‘Now, if you have finished with your interrogation,’ Andrey said, cutting into her thoughts in a wry tone, ‘who might you be?’

      Ekaterina started, looking up. Her cheeks warmed as she felt the full force of his lusty gaze. He was watching her knowingly, his intense eyes hooded. She took a moment to savour the sight of him. She would have loved to bask in the heat of his gaze but she knew it was dangerous—oh, so dangerous—to dally for too long.

      So, lifting her chin defiantly, she turned on her heel and cast one last look over her shoulder.

      ‘No one of interest,’ she quipped.

      She made as if to walk away briskly, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to level the stranger with a half-hearted glare, only to be met with his smouldering eyes. She swallowed, suddenly feeling light at the feeling of his fingers.

      ‘You don’t know what I’m interested in,’ Andrey returned, his voice even. ‘Maybe I want to have a chat with a mysterious woman in the middle of nowhere.’

      Ekaterina pulled out of his grip and spun round, a frown turning down her pink lips. She inclined her head slightly, studying his chiselled face. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to turn and escape back into the palace before it was too late. But her heart and body tugged in the opposite direction; she longed to run her fingers through that thick hair, to feel the sweep of his stubbled jaw under her smooth palms, to push away his shirt and explore the mysterious expanse of muscle hidden beneath.

      He was just too gorgeous.

      Surely a few more minutes couldn’t hurt, she told herself. After all, he was a lowly peasant and she was a hidden princess. They would probably never meet again, and no one would be the wiser about this strange encounter.

      * * *

      Andrey could plainly see the war in her eyes; she wanted to stay and yet felt she had to go.

       I don’t want her to go.

      The yearning was an insistent tug, pounding like the blood in his veins. He wanted to hear her voice, feel the curve of her body against his and paint the canvas of her flesh with his lips. But she looked ready to flee, and he did not want to lose his chance. Her sweet face and honest sincerity were a balm to his frazzled nerves. He hated palace life. When it wasn’t stuffy and pretentious, it was dirty and dusty. Even worse were the palace girls: their faces false with makeup and their voices forcibly high-pitched. So while the wilderness was his usual escape, he longed to spend even a few more moments with this woman.

      And so, before she could make up her mind, he took her by the arms and pulled her into his chest.

      * * *

      Ekaterina’s senses were suddenly overcome by the feeling of Andrey’s hard chest against hers and the musky scent beneath his chin. She inhaled sharply, but couldn’t find the resolve to pull away immediately.

      ‘Don’t go,’ Andrey murmured softly.

      She could barely hear him over the wild pounding of her heart. She craned her head back to look up at him and was instantly arrested by his sultry gaze. He had her pinned in place with his arms around her slim