the hell do I keep wondering about that man, she asked herself with irritation as she resolutely sipped a second cup of coffee in hopes that she would acquire a taste for the strong brew. She was reading things that simply weren’t there into his last words. Do sveedah nyah. The phrase was a polite exit line, nothing more. But it was hard not to think about a man when one had spent the night in his couchette … accidentally.
Oh, yeah, of course, accidentally. And platonically. No, nothing about Jarod Steele was platonic. His eyes could caress and sear the flesh like a perceptible touch, strip it, bare it; his voice could do things that were far from decent to the blood. And damn him, the worst thing about him was that he was impossible to forget, even if she wasn’t even sure whether or not she liked the man.
Erin left the open and airy dining room with its attractive display of windows and plants to explore the crimson carpeted and crystal chandeliered elegance of the Russia’s hallways. The hotel was marvelous, but she didn’t dare spend too much time discovering its amenities. She was due to meet her Intourist guide for the day in the lobby at eleven, and she had learned that the Soviets were punctual.
This time she was met by a young woman whom she judged to be about her own age. Tanya, as she introduced herself, immediately aroused Erin’s admiration. She was very attractive, with sable hair and deep, expressive hazel eyes. Her manner was friendly yet assured. There didn’t seem to be such a thing as a cultural gap between the two women. Both seemed aware, as so often happens when people meet for the first time, that they would warm to one another immediately.
As they stood in Red Square and Erin’s eyes wandered from Lenin’s tomb to the thick red walls of the Kremlin to the intricate architecture of St. Basil’s Cathedral, Tanya explained that much of the contemporary life-style of the Soviet peoples stemmed from the thirteenth century, when Russia was invaded by the bloodthirsty Mongol hordes of Genghis Khan. The Mongols left behind them mountains of skulls and miles and miles of smoked-out cities. For the following two centuries the Russian people fought to free themselves from the yoke of the Mongols, thereby missing much of the Renaissance and Reformation that were taking place in Europe. Not until the time of Ivan the Terrible—the first czar—were the Mongols subdued, and then Russia continued under the rule of the czars until 1917.
“In this century we have also been plagued by war,” Tanya continued. “Our own revolution, World War One, and World War Two—to name our main conflicts. “She paused suddenly. “Why are you here, Miss McCabe?”
Erin laughed, thinking she should tape-record her answer to the continually asked question. Yet from Tanya the query didn’t bother her. Erin hesitated, then answered with far more depth than she had given Jarod Steele.
“When I was very young, Tanya, our president Kennedy was in office. I was in grammar school during the Cuban missile crisis, and I can still remember the drills in which we crawled under our desks. I was terrified of war, and as I grew up, I was determined to study Russian history and try to understand our power balance across the world. That, in a nutshell, is why I’m here. I discovered an American could see the U.S.S.R.—and here I am.”
Tanya smiled slowly. “I think I shall truly enjoy taking you through our history, Miss McCabe. I, too, was always terrified of another war,” she murmured. “Many Soviet people are, and you will understand that when you travel to Leningrad. But for now—”
Erin was next taken to St. Basil’s, where she studied the many priceless icons while Tanya colorfully related the history of the cathedral built between 1555 and 1560 by Ivan the Terrible. She shuddered with a true understanding of the “Terrible” in Ivan’s name as she heard how he made certain each of his architects died so
Oh, yeah, of course, accidentally. And platonically. No, nothing about Jarod Steele was platonic. His eyes could caress and sear the flesh like a perceptible touch, strip it, bare it; his voice could do things that were far from decent to the blood. And damn him, the worst thing about him was that he was impossible to forget, even if she wasn’t even sure whether or not she liked the man.
Erin left the open and airy dining room with its attractive display of windows and plants to explore the crimson carpeted and crystal chandeliered elegance of the Russia’s hallways. The hotel was marvelous, but she didn’t dare spend too much time discovering its amenities. She was due to meet her Intourist guide for the day in the lobby at eleven, and she had learned that the Soviets were punctual.
This time she was met by a young woman whom she judged to be about her own age. Tanya, as she introduced herself, immediately aroused Erin’s admiration. She was very attractive, with sable hair and deep, expressive hazel eyes. Her manner was friendly yet assured. There didn’t seem to be such a thing as a cultural gap between the two women. Both seemed aware, as so often happens when people meet for the first time, that they would warm to one another immediately.
As they stood in Red Square and Erin’s eyes wandered from Lenin’s tomb to the thick red walls of the Kremlin to the intricate architecture of St. Basil’s Cathedral, Tanya explained that much of the contemporary life-style of the Soviet peoples stemmed from the thirteenth century, when Russia was invaded by the bloodthirsty Mongol hordes of Genghis Khan. The Mongols left behind them mountains of skulls and miles and miles of smoked-out cities. For the following two centuries the Russian people fought to free themselves from the yoke of the Mongols, thereby missing much of the Renaissance and Reformation that were taking place in Europe. Not until the time of Ivan the Terrible—the first czar—were the Mongols subdued, and then Russia continued under the rule of the czars until 1917.
“In this century we have also been plagued by war,” Tanya continued. “Our own revolution, World War One, and World War Two—to name our main conflicts. “She paused suddenly. “Why are you here, Miss McCabe?”
Erin laughed, thinking she should tape-record her answer to the continually asked question. Yet from Tanya the query didn’t bother her. Erin hesitated, then answered with far more depth than she had given Jarod Steele.
“When I was very young, Tanya, our president Kennedy was in office. I was in grammar school during the Cuban missile crisis, and I can still remember the drills in which we crawled under our desks. I was terrified of war, and as I grew up, I was determined to study Russian history and try to understand our power balance across the world. That, in a nutshell, is why I’m here. I discovered an American could see the U.S.S.R.—and here I am.”
Tanya smiled slowly. “I think I shall truly enjoy taking you through our history, Miss McCabe. I, too, was always terrified of another war,” she murmured. “Many Soviet people are, and you will understand that when you travel to Leningrad. But for now—”
Erin was next taken to St. Basil’s, where she studied the many priceless icons while Tanya colorfully related the history of the cathedral built between 1555 and 1560 by Ivan the Terrible. She shuddered with a true understanding of the “Terrible” in Ivan’s name as she heard how he made certain each of his architects died so
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