Page 52 of Savage Warrior

“I do not know the words.”

“Say it in Russian, then.

She hesitates, thinking, then, “Eto bylo prekrasno…”

I smile and have to agree with her. It was wonderful.

CHAPTER 14

Arina

I sip my orange juice and bask in the warmth of the crackling fire. This is my first and probably only experience of a traditional British pub, and I have to admit, I really like it. The Lord Wallace, where we have been marooned for three days while the snow continued to pile up outside, is, in my view, quite delightful.

Our room is tiny, but it’s warm and comfortable. The landlord’s wife comes huffing up each day to change the sheets and replenish the bathroom supplies. She’s assumed we’re on honeymoon, and neither of us has contradicted that. If nothing else, it helps to justify the state of the bedclothes every morning. And afternoon. Evenings, too.

With not much else to occupy us, at least until the snow stops, we’ve kept ourselves busy. And I’m aching in places I never knew I had. The sex is wonderful, or so I assume. I have nothing, no one to compare to, but I’m reasonably certain. ?tefan knows what he’s doing, and I’m learning fast. Just a week ago, I was a virgin. And now… well, my imagination has had a workout to match my body.

Pain is an aphrodisiac. Who knew?

?tefan is never rough or cruel. But he likes to hurt me. Not much, or should that be not too much. But enough. Enough to set my senses tingling, my heart racing. Enough to make me scream and plead and beg before I melt in a sloppy puddle of lust.

I think of home. Is it snowing there, too? Are Yuryl and Natalija managing to keep warm? And fed? Have they paid the rent? Stayed in school?

I swipe away a tear. I’m so desperate to go home, to see them again, and at the same time I dread it. Back to the fear and worry and drudgery of just trying to survive one week to the next, one day to the next. This time spent with ?tefan is turning into some sort of heady oasis, a brief glimpse at paradise before real life rears its ugly, mean-spirted head all over again. ?tefan has made it possible for me to go home, and I am grateful, of course. But I wish I didn’t need to leave.

I let myself dream, just for a few moments, of a different life, a new reality where I would be free to stay in this country and live the life I choose. With the man I would choose.

?tefan.

But would he choose me? I doubt it. ?tefan could have any woman he wanted, and probably does. He must have other women he sleeps with. How else would he be so good at it? He’s never said anything to suggest it, but he must find me less than inspiring. Gauche, inexperienced, with nothing but the clothes I stand up in, I’m not much of a catch.

But he did say he would take care of me, and I believed him enough to share his bed. He invited me to take a risk, to trust him, and I did. That must mean something.

“Another drink, love?” The landlord looms over me, a friendly grin on his ruddy face.

“Oh, no, thank you. But is it all right for me to stay here?” I’m the only person in the bar right now. The weather seems to have kept most of his regular customers away, and it probably seems wasteful to him to have a roaring fire going just for me. “I could sit in the room.”

“You just stay there, lass.” He beams at me. “It’s a rare treat tae have a pretty face tae look at. Not that ye’ll hear me sayin’ that if the wife’s around, mind.”

I smile back. Bert Megson adores his wife. He says it’s because of her cooking, which is without doubt beyond excellent, but I’m sure that’s not it. Well, not the only reason. They were just meant to be together. I’d be jealous if they weren’t quite so nice.

Mrs Megson has fed us on home-made stews, pies, and puddings for the last three days. If we were to stay much longer, I’d be the size of a house. As it is, I’m sure my jeans are getting tighter by the day.

“Weather forecast is pickin’ up,” Bert observes as he swipes a duster across the polished wood tabletop in front of me. “Rain tomorrow, so they say. Mind, there’ll be floodin’ once the snow all melts, ye mark my words.”

“Rain? Does that mean the roads will be passable?”

He shrugs. “Mebbe. Are ye sure I canna get ye anythin’?”

“No, thank you. I—”

?tefan chooses that moment to enter from the car park where he’s been checking that the Land Rover will still start after being buried in snow for three days. He drops into the seat next to me and orders a pint of beer.

“Is the car okay?” I ask.

“Sweet as a nut. We can leave tomorrow, or the day after.”

Relief and disappointment war within me. I’ve enjoyed our stay at the Lord Wallace.

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