wondered if she was as hungry as he was. They had been distracted for long, happy hours but now he was starving. And as though she read his mind, she glanced at him with an ill-concealed smile and handed him the chocolates. He swallowed one guiltily and put one in her mouth as she smiled and then went to help her grandmother into their bedroom.
She came back for a moment afterward and they kissed again. He hated to leave her and go home, but he knew he had to.
“I love you,” she whispered happily before he left.
“Only half as much as I love you,” he whispered back.
“How can you say that?”
“Because I'm older and wiser,” he teased, and then quietly closed the door behind him, as Zoya stood there, young again and happy and free, as she quietly turned off the lights in the apartment.
CHAPTER
22
Clayton returned the next morning looking impeccably groomed, and carrying an enormous basket of food for them. This time he had taken the time to go shopping.
“Good morning, ladies!” He seemed in exceptionally good humor, Evgenia noticed with a worried glance, but she knew that there was nothing she could do to stop them. He had brought meat and fruit, and two different kinds of cheese, cookies, and more chocolates for Zoya. He kissed her lightly on the cheek and squeezed her hand, and insisted that the Countess come out for a drive with them. They drove happily through the Bois de Boulogne, talking and laughing, and even Evgenia felt young again just being with them.
Clayton took her out to lunch with them, to the Closerie des Lilas this time, and then they took her home. She was so tired, she almost couldn't make it up the stairs, and Clayton half carried her, as she smiled gratefully at him. She had had a wonderful time, and for a little while, their poverty and the war and their sorrows were forgotten.
They sat drinking tea in the living room for a long time, and then Zoya went out with Clayton again. They went back to the Mills house on the rue de Varennes, and they made passionate love for hours. But this time, he insisted on taking her out to dinner. He took her to Maxim's and then regretfully home, and Evgenia was asleep in bed when they got there. The two lovers tiptoed soundlessly around the living room, eating chocolates and whispering, as they kissed in the firelight, and shared their dreams with each other. She wished she could stay with him all night, but there was no way imaginable that she could do that, and when he left, feeling like a boy again, he promised to return in the morning.
The next day he was later than he had been the day before, and by eleven o'clock, Zoya was getting worried. They had no phone, so she couldn't call, but at eleven-thirty he appeared, struggling with an enormous bundle wrapped in brown paper. He set it heavily on the kitchen table with a look of mysterious delight and told Zoya it was for her grandmother. The old Countess came to join them then, and he stood back as he watched her pull the paper off to reveal an extraordinarily beautiful silver samovar, engraved with the crest of the Russian family that had brought it to Paris and been forced to sell it. He couldn't even imagine how they'd gotten it there, but when he'd seen it that morning in a shop on the Left Bank, he had known instantly that he had to buy it for Evgenia.
She caught her breath as she stood back, staring at it, in wonder, and for a moment she felt a sharp pain of sadness, knowing how dear her own treasures had been and how much it hurt when she had to sell them. She was still grieving over the cigarette cases she had been forced to sell just before Christmas. But now she could only stare at the samovar and at the kind benefactor who had brought it to them.
“Captain … you are far too good to us …” Tears filled her eyes, and she gently kissed him, the faded satin of her cheek touching his male flesh, reminding her of her own son, and her husband. “You are so very kind.”
“I only wish I could do more.” He had brought Zoya a white silk dress, and her eyes opened wide with amazed delight as she peeled away the wrappings. It