Free Whitefire by Fern Michaels Page B

horses, he noticed a cat wander through the stalls, gently rubbing against the horses’ legs and purring softly and contentedly. The stallions quieted immediately, as did the rest of the horses. They lowered their heads to the ground while the cat purred and nuzzled their noses. My great-great-grandfather learned from the cat how to touch and how to speak to them.”
    â€œAn amazing story,” Yuri said quietly.
    â€œAnd now you wish to know the secret, eh, my young friend,” the Kat said drunkenly. He slapped the Russian on the arm and started to speak. “The secret is . . . is . . .” He stopped. “I’ll tell it to you this way,” the shrewd Cossack went on. “There is an old Arab proverb that says: the fleetest of horses is the chestnut, the most enduring the bay, the most spirited the black, the most blessed the one with the white forehead. That is the secret, my young friend.”
    â€œIs it!” breathed a puzzled Yuri, who dared not ask one question.
    â€œYou fool, did you think for one moment that I was so drunk I would tell you our secret? Better men than you, my friend, have tried and died for their efforts. Fool!” He pushed the liquor toward the Russian. “Have a drink.”
    Yuri rose from the table and walked to the door. As his hand touched the latch, the Cossack thundered, “I said have another drink!”
    Yuri turned, his eyes full of hate. “I don’t drink with liars,” he said softly as he left the room, the latch clicking softly behind him.
    The Kat picked up the jug and sent it crashing against the wall. “Fool! Better men than you have tried and died for their efforts, just as you will!” he shouted over and over, until his eyes grew heavy. Finally he lowered his head onto his folded arms and slept.
    Â 
    Katerina sensed Yuri approaching. Drawing in her breath, she turned to meet him and rushed into his arms, welcoming him with her whole being. “I’ve been waiting,” she said simply.
    â€œI know,” he said huskily. “I’m here now.” He pulled her into his arms in a hard embrace before she could utter another word. His lips crushed hers, driving the breath from her body as she pressed willingly against him. Yuri’s arms tightened around her. His long muscular legs, next to hers, drove her back till she rested against the gnarled old tree where she had been sitting. His hands caressed her back, her breasts, the flatness of her stomach. He lifted his mouth from hers and looked deeply into her eyes in the bright moonlight. “You’re so beautiful,” he said hungrily as his mouth opened her lips, demanding more and still more from her straining body. She felt his hands inside the looseness of her sarafan, her breasts becoming alive under his touch. His strong hands caressed the warm, bare flesh till she moaned in delight.
    Suddenly they were on the ground, the grass soft and cool. Fumbling, with shaking hands, she removed her clothing while Yuri did the same. When their nude bodies met, low moans escaped them both as his lips crushed hers, his body pressed hers, demanding more.
    Crying softly with desire, she lay beside him as Yuri explored her body, which was pliant to his every demand. Her senses soared and whirled about her as she opened her mouth to his gently exploring tongue, her taut breasts boring into his hard, muscular chest. She moved invitingly beneath him, striving to make them one, always one.
    Unable to bear the exquisite torture, she parted her thighs, and he entered her, gently at first and then with deep plunges, her pain a momentary thing as she was caught up in the passion of the pressure within her. Wave after wave of passion engulfed her as Yuri’s violent pain was released to meet hers in the cascade of their emotions.
    They lay quietly, each content to feel the other’s nearness, neither speaking. From time to time Katerina reached out to touch his