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much of you since you arrived at court.’

      ‘Thank you for your concern, Aunt,’ Ekaterina replied. ‘I have—’

      ‘By the way,’ her aunt interrupted brusquely. ‘Did you hear what happened to Sergei? The baker?’

      ‘I didn’t realise you knew him,’ Ekaterina said lightly. ‘He is a good baker.’

      ‘Was.’

      Ekaterina blinked and tried to remain calm.

      ‘Was, Aunt?’

      The Empress sniffed delicately.

      ‘He was sent to Siberia yesterday,’ her aunt informed her. ‘Because he was caught stealing bread for his family.’

      Ekaterina’s throat closed.

      ‘And his family?’

      ‘Thrown to the street, as they well deserved.’

      Ekaterina felt numb. The poor man and his family. She would have to instruct her own servants to find the family, give them money and hopefully help them find some means of living. Unfortunately she could no longer help Sergei.

      ‘Do you know what that means, Ekaterina, dear?’ her aunt queried.

      ‘That his family will probably perish in the cold?’

      ‘Yes—but no.’ Her aunt clicked her tongue. ‘That’s not the lesson here, my dear.’

      The Empress reined in her horse, wheeling it round so that it blocked the path. She looked from Ekaterina to Andrey and then back again, her eyes narrowing.

      ‘The lesson is that stealing will be punished harshly,’ Anna said calmly. ‘No matter who the culprit is.’

      She let an awkward silence blanket the group before kicking her horse into a trot.

      ‘Remember that, both of you.’

      Ekaterina didn’t dare look back to gauge Andrey’s reaction. It was clear that the warning was meant for them, but why? Her stomach tightened at the memories of them in the field, in the corridor and in the royal wing. Someone had seen. Someone had whispered. And now they were both on thin ice.

      When they reached the palace Ekaterina ignored Andrey and dismounted gracefully. She handed the reins to the stable keeper and bowed deeply before escaping her aunt’s oppressive presence. She wandered the echoing corridors aimlessly, her mind whirring.

      Danger on one side and unrequited attraction on the other. How she wanted to return to the country, to be with her loving family once again!

      ‘My lady!’ a page called to her.

      Ekaterina halted and waited for the breathless page to reach her. The boy bowed and presented her with a scroll.

      ‘A missive, my lady,’ he said as she took the letter. ‘From the architect’s apprentice, Andrey Kvasov.’

      Ekaterina nearly dropped the letter. The fool! She slid the scroll into her sleeve, feigning complete indifference.

      ‘You may go,’ she said, waving the boy away.

      As soon as he was out of sight she pulled the letter from her sleeve and unravelled it hurriedly. The words were hastily but beautifully scrawled...and they would damn them both if they were seen by another other eyes.

      ‘My lady,’ the missive read, ‘I must explain. Please come to my suite.’

      She crumpled the paper in her hands, her ire boiling over. Jaw set, she stalked to the western wing of the palace. She knew where he was staying; she’d had one of her guards investigate. Without knocking, she threw open the doors to Andrey’s suite and slammed them shut behind her. Andrey jumped up from his seat.

      ‘You!’ she shouted angrily as she stormed towards him. ‘What were you thinking?’

      She shook the ragged letter in the air, and then pitched it into the fireplace. It dissolved in a bright burst of flame.

      ‘I needed to see you,’ Andrey explained, his palms up.

      ‘Could you not think of a way that doesn’t involve us both getting killed?’

      ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

      Ekaterina stared at him incredulously.

      ‘Haven’t you realised the Empress plans to make you hers?’ she asked disbelievingly. ‘Are you unaware that all your hard work has finally paid off?’

      * * *

      A look of abject horror passed over Andrey’s usually stoic face. Then, finally, understanding dawned on him and he grew calm. He relaxed his stance and took a slow step forward.

      ‘I see,’ he said in a low, almost gentle tone. ‘Did you think I’d planned to be the object of her affection?’

      Ekaterina’s brow creased, confusion mounting alongside her anger.

      ‘Of course you had! Why else would you be at court?’ Her voice quietened. ‘Why else would you lure ladies into your grasp?’

      ‘You are mistaken, my lady,’ he corrected sternly. ‘I am here as an apprentice to plan and construct the Hall of Light.’

      ‘Ha!’ Ekaterina exclaimed in disbelief, her voice bitter. ‘You are like every other man here,’ she accused. ‘You prey on—’

      In three quick strides Andrey was across the room and a hair’s breadth away from her. His hands closed over hers tightly. He captured her eyes with his and her voice faded away in surprise.

      ‘You are wrong,’ he said, his voice low but intense. ‘You have been at court for far too long, my lady.’

      ‘You used me,’ Ekaterina said flatly, her eyes hard.

      Andrey shook his head and pulled her closer, setting her palms on his chest so that she could feel his wildly beating heart.

      ‘I had no such ambitions,’ he said seriously. ‘I thought you were a peasant girl. I had no idea you were royalty. In fact, when I found out who you were I thought you were the one using me.’

      Ekaterina was silent as she searched his face for any hint of duplicity. But his face, though not expressive, was free of any of the telltale signs of dishonesty. Her brows lifted. He was right; neither of them had known who the other was. It was possible that he had wanted her for herself. It was possible. So...

      ‘So,’ she said slowly, ‘you do not want to be the Empress’s lover?’

      ‘I could never touch that sadistic woman,’ he said gravely. ‘Never.’

      Then he carefully took Ekaterina’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up to his. His eyes roved her perfect face, from her pouting lips to her earnest eyes. She was beautiful, and in more than just her physical appearance. She was a noblewoman who spurned courtly ways, who decried the idea of using love as a weapon and who wanted nothing more than honesty. He’d never met anyone like her before; she was a pearl amongst wooden beads.

      Yes, she was beautiful.

      Andrey carefully lowered his lips to her cheek, his breath ghosting over her lashes. She swallowed nervously, and his lips curved at the innocence that lay beneath her sharp mouth—a mouth he would very much like to savour once again.

      ‘I will never be her lover,’ he murmured against her cheek. ‘But I might like to be yours.’

      * * *

      Ekaterina started in surprise, but Andrey held her fast. Her heart raced and blood rushed to her ears. She was sure she had not heard him right.

      ‘Say that again?’ she whispered.

      He smiled and nuzzled her cheek, his stubble gently scratching her delicate skin as he dipped lower to nibble at the corner of her lips.