Silver Nights by Jane Feather

course,” she agreed sweetly. “What other reason could I have?”
    â€œA nature that can’t sit still for a minute,” he retorted. “You are not at all a restful traveling companion, Sophie.”
    She laughed. Taking the statement as permission for the gallop, she clicked her tongue against her teeth at Khan, who immediately gathered his great front legs and sprang forward. She turned him off the road and onto the grassy sweep of the plain. Adam made no attempt to follow; it would be pointless. She would come back when she had shaken the fidgets from her spirit.
    He peered up the winding dusty strip of white road ahead. A cloud of dust rose in the distance, drifting toward him, indicating fellow travelers presumably coming from St. Petersburg. They were no more than half a day’s ride from thecapital, even at the relatively slow pace set by the carriage in which Tanya Feodorovna traveled in solitary state.
    The dust cloud drew nearer, and Adam stiffened suddenly at a premonitory flash. It would be both natural and appropriate for Dmitriev, as befitted an eager groom, to come to meet them. His runner had reached them the day before yesterday, and had stayed for no more than a change of horse before taking the news of their position back to St. Petersburg.
    The Dmitriev livery on the front riders at last became clear, and Adam could make out the tall, erect figure of his general, commanding in his uniform, the silver of buttons and sword hilt glimmering in the sunlight. He was come to meet his bride. But where the hell was she?
    Adam scanned the flat plain for a sign, but she had disappeared long since behind a screen of brush, leaving her escort in the awkward position of having to explain to his commanding officer, who also happened to be her anxious bridegroom-to-be, the unescorted absence in uncharted territory of a princess of the house of Golitskov.
    Adam had given Sophie back her pistol several weeks ago, so he was not concerned for her safety, but how could he possibly explain such a situation to Dmitriev? The prince would have to see Sophia Alexeyevna and judge for himself. It was time for Adam Danilevski to bow out. His lips twisted in a cynical smile at the reflection that the prospect of bowing out of Sophie’s life somehow did not bring the sigh of relief he should have expected. This irksome escort’s task that he had assumed with such annoyed reluctance had taken on a different complexion. And gnawing constantly at the pleasure he took in her company was the knowledge that what he found delightful about Sophia Alexeyevna her designated husband would find objectionable.
    When the two parties met up, the general saluted his aide-de-camp with impeccable formality, the martinet’s eye sharply inspecting the deportment and uniforms of the guardsmen, who had all come to attention in the saddle. The dullness ofbuttons, the wrinkles in jackets, the grubby linen were all noted.
    â€œIt is a long and uncomfortable journey from Kiev, General,” Adam said quietly. “Water, polish, and shoe blacking are not easy to come by in some of the places where we have been obliged to spend our nights.”
    The general simply nodded. His eyes went to the carriage, which had come to a halt in the rear. “Princess Sophia has not endured too much discomfort, I trust?”
    Adam swallowed. “She is remarkably resilient, General.”
    Dmitriev looked at him in surprise, thinking what an odd choice of word that was. He urged his mount forward to the coach and Adam spoke hastily.
    â€œSophia Alexeyevna is not traveling in the carriage, sir. She suffers acutely from motion sickness.”
    The general stopped in his tracks. His eyes swept the column of twelve men, the carriage with its coachman, Boris Mikhailov stolidly astride his mountain horse. He looked at Count Danilevski, not bothering to articulate the question.
    Adam scanned the plain, then saw to his relief a figure