The Ranger of Marzanna (The Goddess War #1) - Jon Skovron Page 0,72

pushing herself hard since they’d left Gogoleth, but she knew that the wounds left by the betrayal of her brother and her mother had not yet healed; she could use all the comfort she could get.

She was just beginning to drift off when a strange scent jerked her sharply awake. She lay completely still, her senses on full alert, but a moment later it was gone. It had definitely been animal, possibly mammalian, but beyond that she couldn’t say, which was strange.

Something unusual was out there. Whatever it was, it was keeping its distance for now, but she would need to stay on her guard.

28

Irina Turgenev Portinari leaned back into the sofa as Dmitry Kuvaev slowly pushed her skirts up her smooth, pale legs. His neatly trimmed beard tickled the inside of her thigh as he softly kissed her skin. His hands gripped her knees while she gently took hold of his ginger curls. He worked his way patiently toward the center with his warm lips and flickering tongue. Patience was something Giovanni had never possessed, particularly as a lover. Making love to him had been like riding a thunderstorm. Loud and thrilling, but also exhausting and lacking in nuance. Dmitry was more like a gentle rainfall whose delicate kisses cooled her skin like drops of rain even as his deft fingers stirred her body like a light summer breeze, leaving her quietly vibrating in a state that hovered between anticipation and bliss.

Her breath grew shallow and she pressed her thighs against the sides of his head. Her back arched as waves of pleasure radiated outward through her body like the ripples of a pebble dropped in a pond. She abandoned herself to the feeling in a way she had never allowed herself during her many years with Giovanni. As her body slowly relaxed, she wondered why it was easier now.

Then the doorbell rang.

Dmitry lifted his head and gave her a sheepish smile. His hair and cravat were disheveled, and his beard visibly moist. “My lady.”

She returned his smile. “You may wish to freshen up before you answer the door, Mitya. I’m sure whoever it is can wait.”

“Yes, my lady.” He stood, bowed, and left. She liked that he never forgot his place, even in such intimate moments.

She allowed herself a few more moments to luxuriate in postcoital bliss, then sighed and stood up. She smoothed down her skirts and adjusted her hair in the mirror. The sofa was a bit damp, and she could use a change of scenery, so she made her way out to the terrace, which overlooked Nadezhda Square. She enjoyed watching the bustling commerce below. Merchants hollering, children frolicking, horses pulling carts laden with any number of luxuries she had never allowed herself back on the farm.

They had lived a simple, almost austere life, and she had not really minded. After such a decadent childhood, it had felt good to purge herself of all those supposed “needs,” and Giovanni had a gift for romanticizing their more humble existence. And of course, the children had both been such a handful, most of the time the very idea of bothering with a formal gown would have seemed onerous to her. Those had been uncomplicated times, really. Full of modest pleasures, unhindered emotions, and a great deal of quiet.

But now she was returned to society and she enjoyed that boisterous complexity as well. She knew her children struggled to adapt their conception of her in this new environment, but that was a healthy learning experience for them as well. One should never presume they knew a person in their entirety. Not even someone they’d known their whole lives. Irina felt that both the best and worst thing about humanity was its endless ability to surprise.

“My lady,” Dmitry said from the doorway, looking entirely composed now. “Commander Vittorio is here to see you.”

“Really?” She frowned thoughtfully, wondering what his purpose might be. “Very well. I’ll see him here.”

“Yes, my lady.”

As Dmitry went to fetch Vittorio, Irina continued to gaze out at Nadezhda Square, sorting through all the reasons the commander might wish to speak with her. Perhaps he objected to the impending engagement because he feared it would distract Sebastian from his duties. Or perhaps he had already caught on that this marriage would grant Irina and Sebastian some independence from him.

She would have to handle this carefully.

“Lady Turgenev, may I present Commander Vittorio.”

Irina turned from her view of the square to Vittorio, spotless as ever in his green