Christmas with a Czar by Emily Murdoch

5

The deep breath that Anne brought into her lungs did nothing to calm her nerves, nor keep her hands from shaking.

She could barely believe it. There he was. The Royal Prince George of England. Prinny.

Despite St. James’ Court being one of his favourite places, he almost never actually attended, but of course on the day that her marriage of convenience was announced, there he was.

“…terrible complexion,” he was saying to someone as he lounged in the throne at one end of the room. “I could barely look at her for more than two minutes together, I ask you! How did…”

“This is it.”

Maxim’s voice was barely above a whisper but they were standing so close together, it seemed to echo into Anne’s mind. She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

“You know,” he continued in a whisper, “I believe this is the perfect opportunity for me to speak with His Royal Highness about my claim to the title of Czar!”

Anne chuckled under her breath, attempting to ignore the pointed stares radiating towards her from many faces around the room. “You think my father will allow you to distract the court from our impending marriage?”

Looking down, she saw her own hand on his arm. It had been placed there by her father, and it felt strange to see them so tangibly connected, and in public too.

To think: she had expected to come here, while away the hours of boredom as agreed with her father, perhaps spend a little more time with Meredith, and then return home.

Instead, she appeared to have gained a fiancé – and one who was not only handsome and charming, but claimed a royal title too!

Anne swallowed down the excitement and forced herself to remember that this was all an act. None of it mattered. She was going to tell Maxim on Christmas Eve that she could not marry him, just as they planned.

It was not as though they were actually going to be wed…

The mere thought of it forced an image into her mind, and it made her gasp aloud, it was so forceful. There she was, in her favourite gown – none of this court formality, just a simple muslin gown in a light blue – and before her was Maxim, in his finery as a Russian Czar. They stood together, at the altar of a church, and he was placing a ring on her finger.

Anne felt her cheeks blush and forced the image aside. Glancing up at Maxim, she tried to consider him as objectively as possible. Would marriage to him really be so awful?

He was personable, at least. In fact, she could probably listen to him all day. That kiss he had stolen, not that she had forced him away, had proven they were compatible in that way…

“Miss Anne Marsh, daughter of Sir Thomas Marsh, of Romney.”

Anne jumped at the sound of her own name being so formally presented in a loud voice by a servant in the largest powdered wig she had ever seen.

“Miss Anne Marsh?” Prinny looked over with a sneer. Anne felt her cheeks darken as he continued, “I have never heard of her. Who is she?”

A courtier, dressed in the court fashions which had never been permitted to be altered, leaned over into the prince’s ear, and whispered something.

Prinny’s gaze moved to her. Anne pinked, curtseying low as Max clicked his heels and bowed.

The prince snorted. “Ah, the so-called Czar, eh? Now Matthews, you were telling me earlier the most delicious bit of gossip and I did not hear the end of the tale. Was she really…”

It was only in that moment that Anne realised she had been holding her breath, and she allowed it to escape her lungs slowly, the tension she had not felt in her shoulders starting to lessen.

She glanced up at Maxim and caught the full weight of his disappointment – but then it was gone. He was smiling, and Anne knew he had forced down his emotions before the Royal Court.

“Well,” he said quietly, “he knows who I am now. That is a start.”

Anne could barely hear his final words due to the rising muttering around the room. Some were even starting to point as their chatter rose in volume.

“We are going to have to become accustomed to this, you know,” she said quietly, her hand squeezing his arm briefly. “All this gossip, the pointing, the wondering, the rumours…”

“What do you mean, this is fantastic,” breathed Maxim, looking around with a smile and inclining his head at a few people who were making the most obvious remarks about him. “Do you think we should circulate, and introduce ourselves?”

Anne stared in disbelief. “Do you mean to say you are enjoying this kind of attention?”

Maxim shrugged. “‘Tis better than no attention at all.”

Her mouth fell open. Well, if that was the way he was going to approach life, then he was certainly not the man for her.

“My dear ones!” Sir Thomas had rushed over to them, all smiles, and Anne plastered one of her own onto her face for his sake. “To think, the Prince Regent of our land saying my daughter’s name, not once, but twice! Ah, this is a happy day indeed! The announcement of your betrothal!”

“Father, keep your voice down,” Anne said quietly. “And remember, this is a marriage of convenience only, nothing more.”

But Sir Thomas was not to be dissuaded from celebration. “Here, you must meet Meredith – Meredith Marsh, come here!”

Anne’s heart leapt. “No, let her speak with – ”

Meredith approached their group hesitantly, hiding behind Sir Thomas and peering out at Maxim from behind his safety.

Anne swallowed. She had had no plans for introducing Maxim to Meredith, and had intended to shield her from the wedding plans.

“This is Maxim,” her father was saying. “Well, that’s not his full name – I think it is Alex Dimity…”

“Alexei Dmitry Immanuil Maximilian Konstantinvich,” said Maxim quietly. “But my friends call me Maxim, and I would like it if you would.”

Anne watched Meredith carefully, but she did nothing but blink silently from behind Sir Thomas.

“Well then,” said Anne briskly. “That part is over, the announcement is made.”

Maxim placed his hand on hers. “I think this has been sufficiently uncomfortable for everyone. Sir Thomas, Miss Meredith, my future bride and I are leaving.”

“L-Leaving?” Sir Thomas spluttered.

Anne stared. “Where are we going?”

Maxim smiled, and something lurched in Anne’s stomach. “Not far, I promise you. I think we have spent enough time in this stuffy court and I could do with fresh air.”

The thought of escaping the stares and gossip around her was enticing.

“Meredith, stay with Papa.”

The girl nodded, and Anne sighed as she and Maxim left the hot room.

“Thank you.”

Maxim stared, confusion across his features as they walked down a corridor. “For what?”

“For rescuing me from those stares,” she said heavily as they stepped outside. “I cannot bear it.”

He laughed and squeezed her hand. “My dear Annika, you will need to become accustomed to that when you are a Czarina.”

She could not help but laugh, it was so ridiculous – but that laugh became a gasp as she saw two beautiful horses, just waiting to be ridden.

* * *

Arush of warmth suffused across Maxim’s body as he watched Anne smile. When was the last time he had brought such joy to anyone?

“Oh, they are beautiful,” she breathed.

Maxim watched her gently release her hand from his arm, and move quietly and without sudden jerks towards them. It was evident that she was not only an excellent horsewoman, but one who appreciated the steeds for their own merits. Instead of rushing towards them, allowing her own excitement to overwhelm her, she moved slowly, allowing them to move towards her curiously.

“Thunder and Lightning,” he said with a smile.

Anne turned back to look with laughter in her eyes. “You did not honestly name them that?”

Maxim shook his head. “They are court horses, but I have befriended them over the last few weeks. I have been desperate for a good ride for a while, and I thought it would be a good chance to escape the court, if only for a little bit.”

Her eyes shone, illuminating her beauty even more. “You read my mind. Come, help me up.”

“You cannot ride in that gown,” he protested, moving forward.

“Nonsense,” she said decidedly. “Any woman who cannot ride in a day gown should not call herself a rider. Come on.”

Maxim grinned. Here was a woman who was more than a match for him, then. As he reached out to help her mount Lightning, their hands touched. It was more than a frisson this time, more than just coincidence. Anne’s body made his own come alive, and it looked like he was not alone – Anne’s cheeks were pink and her eyes wide.

Did she feel as he did? Was she also wondering how far they could take this wild dance? Could this engagement of convenience simply become something real?

Maxim coughed as Anne settled herself in the saddle. He must not get too ahead of himself. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her, like a wild horse.

Pulling himself onto Thunder, he clicked his steed with his ankles and Anne followed suit, moving their horses outside the inner courtyard and beyond the limits of St. James’ Court.

Already, knowing that she was moving further and further away from the stares of the gossips and the focus of polite society, it was clear that Anne was feeling better. The tension in her face was gone, and as a breeze tugged at her hair, she smiled and closed her eyes.

Maxim smiled. “This is for you.”

Reaching into a saddlebag, he pulled out a box, wrapped in brown paper with a gold ribbon.

Anne stared at it. “What is the occasion?”

“Occasion?” Maxim shook his head with a wry smile. “It is almost Christmas, and if I cannot get my betrothed a present five days before Christmas, then what is the point?”

Blushing prettily, Anne reached over and pulled Lightning to a stop as she opened it. Her eyes were fixed on the gift, but Maxim could not take his eyes from her face.

Her mouth opened as she pulled out an elegant riding cloak. “Oh, Maxim!”

“I thought you would like it,” he said, a little hoarsely. Pulling Thunder close and steadying him, he reached out and brought the cloak around her, fastening it with fumbling fingers.

“Thank you,” Anne breathed. The moment was taut with restraint, and she looked a little uncomfortable as she said, “but…I do not have a gift for you.”

Maxim chuckled. “We Russians celebrate Christmas completely differently to you English, anyway, so I would not worry. We celebrate much later, January the seventh.”

He pulled away, conscious that if he stayed much closer, he would be unable to resist the temptation of those pink lips.

“I did not know that,” Anne said breathlessly, clicking her horse into action.

“Yes, the New Year is far more important than Christmas,” he said, attempting to keep his attention on his words. “We fast for forty days before Christmas Eve, and the day is full of feasting, story-telling, even telling fortunes.”

“Fortune telling?”

He could hear the interest in her voice, and grinned. “Why, would you like to know your fortune, Annika?”

Her eyes dropped and her cheeks darkened. “Perhaps. Meredith’s, certainly. I would like to know she will be happy. B-But that is of no consequence – your Christmas celebrations sound vastly different to ours.”

Maxim followed her, trying to focus on their route rather than her beauty. “I have had to adapt in the few months I have been here, but nothing like how quickly you have adapted to Lightning. ‘Tis like you have known her all your life!”

Anne laughed, and it was a true laugh now, with no concerns or self-consciousness. “A country girl who doesn’t know her way around a new horse isn’t worth anything.”

“Ah, so you are not a city dweller then?” Maxim found himself asking. Suddenly, knowing all about Anne, everything about her, felt especially important.

“No, I am from a small town in Kent that no one in London has ever heard of,” she said with a smile. “We are not far from London, but I have to say I much prefer the countryside.”

“If I had not promised your father we would stay at St. James’ Court, you could have shown it to me.”

Anne glanced at him, as though attempting to decipher whether he was jesting with her or not, but she seemed convinced of his sincerity. “I would like to show you, one day. The marshes are beautiful, especially when the mists are rising in the morning. I often see them when I visit Mrs Patterson each morning. She has lost her sight, poor thing, and her daughter is in service over ten miles away. I help with her sewing.”

It was impossible not to hear the wistfulness in her voice. “You miss your home.”

Anne jerked from her reverie and smiled a little awkwardly. “Well, who would not? You must miss your family, and the places you grew up.”

Maxim swallowed. Why did it come so quickly, this instinct to lie, to hide the truth? It was an innocent question after all, one that she would probably not think twice about saying to any acquaintance.

But he was not just someone she had met. He was a Czar, and telling her anything could not just reveal his secret, but perhaps put her in the most dangerous of plots.

“If you do not wish to speak of it,” Anne’s voice cut through his thoughts, “you do not have to.”

Maxim glanced over and saw her smile gently. There was surely no danger in telling the truth here. While Éduard would surely tell him to beware any woman – he had been caught that way before – Anne’s enquiry was innocent.

“I certainly miss the winters,” he said, his throat feeling strangely dry as they turned and started making their way back to St. James’ Court. “You do not have real winter here in England, I think. No icicles hanging from your nose when you step outside, no mountains.”

“Icicles on your nose?”

“In the depths of winter, you would be lucky to get away with that,” Maxim said with a wry smile. “And in the palace I grew up in, the winter palace, we would have fires in every room just to keep out the chill.”

Just one glance told him all he needed to know.

“It really is disgraceful, you know,” he quipped. “My own future bride not believing me.”

Anne laughed in turn. “You do not actually think we will get married, do you?”

The words ‘of course not’ were on the tip of his tongue when a cloud moved and sunlight lit up Anne’s entire face. Maxim’s breath caught in his throat. She was perfection, and she had been handed to him on a plate. He would be mad to walk away from her – mad!

“Are you quite well, Maxim?” Anne’s voice was close by and he blinked. She had moved closer, halting her mare beside his horse. “You look very strange.”

Maxim looked around them. They were alone.

Dropping his reins, he reached out and caressed Anne’s cheek before pulling her face towards him. She did not resist, her lips meeting his with just as much passion as that which he poured down upon them.

If they had not been mounted on different horses, it could have been different. As it was, Maxim was unable to pull her into his arms, but if anything that just made the kiss more tender.

Eventually, they broke apart.

“I must not get accustomed to this treatment,” Anne breathed, her blue eyes searching his. “When we announce the end of our engagement on Christmas Day, I may end up missing you.”

Maxim swallowed. “I know I will miss you even if we decided to end the engagement now.”

She stared, as though attempting to decipher any secret meaning in his words, and then she chuckled gently and moved her horse forwards.

“Your Czar charm won’t fool me.”

Maxim watched her back as she rode ahead of him, and then remembered he needed to be moving too and touched Thunder into action.

“Yes,” he said, awkwardly. “Czar charm.”