RUSSIAN WINTER NIGHTS by Linda Skye Page B

his face, she told herself. A quick glance, and her curiosity would be satisfied. As she trailed after his loping strides, she found herself wondering if he would be angry at her intrusion or interested in her audacity?
    Her thoughts suddenly ceased as the mystery man reached the creek, which had almost completely frozen over. She halted, expecting him to turn around and spot her, but a quacking pair of geese distracted them both. Ekaterina eyed the waddling birds quizzically. Had they neglected to migrate? How had they survived?
    And then the man dug into his trouser pockets and pulled out a few crusts of bread. Clucking at the geese, he tossed the bread to the snow-covered ground and watched as the geese noisily snapped up the bits of food. Anger awoke in Ekaterina’s belly, rising like a flame to her throat. The squawking of the fat birds only increased her ire as she watched him toss another handful of crusts.
    How dare he , she thought as she strode heedlessly forward. How dare he squander such food on mere geese!
    Startled at the sound of shoes on snow, the stranger stilled and turned, his brows lifted in surprise.
    “You!” Ekaterina snapped, her blue eyes fiery as she advanced on him. “What do you think you are doing?”
    The stranger held up his hands, the last few breadcrumbs falling to the ground.
    “Feeding the birds?” he answered, his eyes wide.
    “Feeding the birds?” Ekaterina exclaimed incredulously. “You’re feeding the birds fresh bread while the peasants are near starvation?”
    * * *
    The man blinked, his expression unreservedly abashed. This woman had interrupted his daily ritual of wandering out into the wilderness to feed his geese. Hearing a human voice in the cold, abandoned outdoors was unexpected...though not completely unwanted. Her voice was sweet, even in anger, and it was a welcome contrast to the harshness he’d just left behind. He’d wandered out into the countryside to escape the sweat, dust and shouting, and the cold, fresh air and natural beauty usually invigorated him. But now...he only had eyes for the firecracker burning him with her stare.
    The woman before him was petite, her slight form dwarfed in her overly large wool overcoat. Her bright blue eyes were unparalleled jewels that burned with passion. His artist’s eye immediately traced the pale contours of her exquisite face; from the elegant arch of her thin eyebrows, to the perfect bow in her dainty lips. With midnight black hair and a radiant complexion, she stood out in stark relief to the barren land around them. He hadn’t seen her before at court, and he was sure he would have noticed her if she had ever made an appearance.
    But despite her slim frame and petite figure, she was now a burning bundle of seething rage. He took a step back. But the woman pressed forward and reached up to jab a finger into his shoulder.
    “Well?” she questioned, her voice like a sharp whip.
    She reached out to poke him again, but he caught her hand in an easy grip.
    “Young lady,” he began, his voice a slow, smooth velvet tone. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t see how it is any business of yours what I do with my bread. But for your information, these are my geese. I found them with broken wings, and now I have to feed them.”
    Colour bloomed beautifully on her porcelain cheeks, and her ocean-blue eyes widened. Her pink lips parted in surprise, and she quickly snatched her hand back, cradling it against her chest as if she had been burned. The man watched this transformation with ever-increasing interest, his desire to sketch her expressive face matched only by the primal urge to mould his hands to her hips and pull her close.
    For her part, Ekaterina felt the anger drain from her body. His touch had been like fire, setting her nerves alight with an inexplicable longing. Awareness washed over her in a tingling wave as she took in the rugged slant of his thick brows, the intensity in his green eyes, the curve of