Free Behind the Palace Walls by Lynn Raye Harris Page A

of her depth being here. She’d been raised in a two-bedroom house with a tiny kitchen and a postage-stamp lawn. Hardly comparable.
    The helicopter made another pass, then began to hover before gliding softly down, its rotors lessening in speed until they were on the ground and a man opened the door and smiled at them. He said something in Russian. Alexei answered before turning and taking her hand in his.
    Then they were stepping out of the craft and hurrying along a path that had been cleared of snow until they reached the house. Alexei led her inside a grand entry where Paige came to an abrupt stop, her head tilting back and her jaw dropping open.
    The entry was vast, its gilt and alabaster walls rising to a dome that was painted all around with a scene from the bible. Three large crystal chandeliers were suspended from different points of the dome. The glittering crystals threw light into every nook and corner of the fresco, which gleamed with rich golds, deep blues, and vibrant reds.
    “It’s the Adoration of the Madonna,” she said in wonder. Mama’d had a print of a religious scene similar to this one on the wall in their living room. Paige had been so accustomed to it that she’d lost the ability to see it with fresh eyes when she was still quite young.
    But this was like seeing it again for the first time—though clearly this painting was far better. Not to mention real. Still, odd as it seemed, it gave her that wistful feeling of home.
    “Da.”
    She looked at Alexei, blinking back tears. For a moment, she’d forgotten he was there. What must it be like to live with this kind of beauty every day of your life?
    He came to her, his gaze filled with concern. “What is wrong, Paige? You are safe with me, I promise you.”
    It was too late to hide her reaction now. She gave him a watery smile, embarrassment creeping through her. “It’s silly,” she said, swiping her fingers beneath her eyes. “I always cry in art galleries. There’s just something about the ethereal beauty of old paintings that gets to me. It’s like the painter’s soul is inside, if that makes sense. It’s just so wondrous.”
    It was true, and yet she knew it was more than the beauty of this painting making her cry. It was that connection to the past, discovered in such an unusual place, that made her more emotional than she might have otherwise been.
    Alexei wiped away a tear that slipped down her cheek. His handsome face was gentler than she’d ever seen it. “You are very refreshing, Paige Barnes. I do not think I’ve ever met a woman who cries in art galleries, though this is hardly a gallery.”
    She managed a soft laugh. Hardly a gallery? Who was he kidding? “Well, I’ve only been inside three in my life, not including this place, so maybe it’s not a phenomenon so much as the newness of the experience. I might grow positively callous with time.”
    He smiled. “I doubt that. And I think I had better not take you into the portrait gallery. You’ll never be able to eat dinner with your nose closed from crying.”
    “Maybe after dinner then?” How could she not want to see portraits of his ancestors?
    “After dinner is a surprise.” He took her hand and pulled her to his side. “Now come, if I’m not mistaken, a delicious meal awaits us in the library.”
    “The library?” she said as they moved deeper into the house.
    “The formal dining room is vast, whereas the library is far more cozy.”
    If cozy was a two-story room the size of a small department store, then yes, this room was cozy, Paige thought, as Alexei ushered her into a book-lined space with a giant fireplace burning at one end. A round table was set near the fire with crystal, china and snowy-white linens. A trio of uniformed servants stood to one side, near a cart from which glorious smells wafted.
    Alexei took her coat and hat and handed them to one of the servants. Then he piled his own on top and came to pull out a chair for her. Paige sank into