him and wept softly. His own clothes seemed to come away from him, and they slipped into the enormous bed with the canopy hanging over them like a blessing. It was dark in the room as they made love, but in the light from the bathroom beyond he could see her face as he made love to her, kissing her and holding her and loving her as he had never loved any woman before her.
It seemed hours before they lay silent side by side, and she sighed happily as she nestled close to him like a tiny animal seeking its mother. His eyes were serious then and he was thinking of what they had done, praying that she wouldn't get pregnant. He rolled over on his side and rested on one elbow as he looked at her.
“I don't know if I should be furious with myself, or just let myself be as happy as I feel right now. Zoya
… darling, are you sorry?” He was terrified of that, but she smiled a womanly smile, and reached her arms out to him, as he felt desire for her flood him again. They lay in bed and talked and made love until almost midnight, when he glanced at the clock on the bed table with sudden horror.
“Oh my God, Zoya! Your grandmother will kill me!” She laughed at him as he leapt out of bed and pulled her out with him. “Get dressed … and I didn't even feed you!”
“I didn't notice.” She was giggling like a schoolgirl and suddenly he turned and put his arms around her again.
“I love you, you crazy girl. Do you know that? Old as I am, I happen to adore you.”
“Good. Because I love you too, and you're not old, you're mine!” She pulled his silver hair gently and brought his face close to hers. “Remember that, no matter what happens to either of us, remember how much I love you!” It was a lesson she had learned early in life, that one never knew what grief could come on the morrow. The thought of it touched him deeply and he held her tightly.
“Nothing is going to happen, little one, you're safe now.”
He ran a bath for her in the enormous tub, and the sheer luxury of it was too much for her. For a minute, she could tell herself that she was back in the Fontanka Palace, but as she dressed in her ugly gray wool dress again and slipped on her worn black shoes, she knew she wasn't. She wore black wool stockings to keep her legs warm, and when she saw herself in the mirror, she looked like an orphan.
“My God, I look awful, Clayton. How can you love me like this?”
“You're beautiful, silly one. Every inch of you, every bright red hair … everything about you,” he whispered into her hair, and it was like breathing summer flowers. “I adore you.”
They could hardly force themselves to leave, but he knew he had to take her home to the apartment at the Palais Royal. There was no way at all she could stay out with him all night, and as he followed her up the stairs to the fourth floor, he kissed her one last time in the dingy, dark halls, and she opened the door with her key, as they saw Evgenia asleep in a chair, waiting for them. Their eyes met for a last time, as Zoya bent to kiss her cheek gently.
“Grandmama? … I'm sorry I'm late, you shouldn't have waited up….”
The old woman stirred and smiled up at them both, even in her half sleep she could see how happy they both were. It was like a breath of spring in the ugly room, and she found that she couldn't be angry.
“I wanted to be sure you were all right. Did you have a nice time?” She looked at them both, searching Clayton's eyes, but all she saw there was kindness and his love for Zoya.
“We had a lovely time,” Zoya answered without guilt. She belonged to him now, and nothing could change that. “Did you have dinner?”
“I had some of yesterday's chicken, and one of the eggs the Captain brought. Thank you,” she turned to him as she struggled to stand up, “it was lovely, Captain.” He was embarrassed not to have brought her more, but he had been in a hurry that morning. And he realized again suddenly that he had never fed Zoya that night, and