Free The Frost of Springtime by Rachel L. Demeter Page A

couldn’t contain myself, I suppose.” Sofia closed the space
between them and took Aleksender within her clutches once more. “I’ve just
never felt anything more wonderful than having you back in my arms.” Delicate
fingertips grazed his cloak in a tentative and experimental touch. She sighed
and laid her cheek across his chest, inhaling the exotic blend of Persian
spices that was uniquely Aleksender. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”
Sofia’s head teeter-tottered as his body rose and sank with deep, soulful breaths.
    “Alek?” Her voice was
swallowed up by the material of his coat and barely coherent.
    “Hmm?”
    “Your heart is beating so fast.”
    Those words sobered Aleksender.
    He inhaled a shaky breath and took several generous steps backward. The
softness of Sofia’s body slipped away and made the streets of Paris feel
remarkably colder.
    He pried the top hat from his hair and passed a hand over the glossy
strands. They were heavy with perspiration, soaked through and through. His
fingertips skirted across the top hat’s velvet rim as he replaced it.
    The girl cleared her throat, sufficiently yanking Aleksender from his
haze.
    “Oh! Heather! Forgive me. This … this is le Comte de Lefèvre.”
    Heather looked Aleksender up and down, folding both arms across her
breasts. A sly and almost knowing smile tugged at her lips. She eased forward,
the flaming mass of red curls rivaling her attitude. “So, you are Sofia’s
Alek?”
    Aleksender angled his chin and glanced at Sofia who was singed by Heather’s words, her cheeks flushed a severe red. She groped at
her skirts without conscious effort and twisted the material between two
slender fingertips. “Yes. This is him. This is my Alek. He is my guardian.”
    Something in her voice made Aleksender’s heart skip a beat. Then she stared
into his eyes and it skipped several more.
    “You have a carriage?” Aleksender asked Heather.
    After a speculative glance, the girl nodded, lifted her hood, and
vanished into the shadows.
    A heavy silence descended.
    Sofia eyed Aleksender’s elegant dress from head to toe, a subtle grin
plastered to her lips. She tugged at the folded cravat with a playful smile,
blue eyes shining like beacons. “Look at you, monsieur, so very formal. Off to
the races, I suppose?”
    Aleksender slipped the cravat from her fingertips. Smoothing the
material into place, he sprawled a hand across the small of Sofia’s back.
    “I’ve a coach waiting.”
    Sofia grinned. “Oh, I see. Goin’ to wine and dine me in Paris’s finest,
are you?” she teased, arms propped onto either side of her hips. Then her form
shook with happy and heartfelt laughter. She laughed for no apparent reason.
She laughed just for the sake of laughing.
    The sound was beautiful and brimming with life. The bleak alleyway
seemed to lighten the slightest bit.
    A wink was Aleksender’s sole response as he further expanded the
mystery at hand. Together, they wandered down the slim alleyway in silence
until reaching Salle Le Peletier’s carriage house.
    De Lefèvre and a coat of arms were printed across the vehicle’s
black lacquered door. Aleksender tentatively outstretched his hand and helped
Sofia into the coach. A magnetic spark flared between Aleksender and Sofia’s
fingers, sending currents of awareness shooting through their bodies. Blushing
deeply, Sofia cleared her throat and lifted her skirts. Heart
beating like a bunny rabbit’s, she settled against the fine upholstery
and awaited her dashing escort. He propped a hand on the archway and studied
her with an intense, unwavering gaze. She felt his eyes bear deeply into her
own, drinking her in.
    “So wherever are you taking me? I must say—the suspense is nearly too
great.”
    Aleksender shot her a crooked grin. He turned away, directing his
response at the driver who was perched in the box seat. As usual, the portly
gentleman wore a powdered wig, elaborate garb, and a pensive scowl. “Voisin of