… darling, are you sorry?” He was terrified of that, but she smiled a womanly smile, and reached her arms out to him, as he felt desire for her flood him again. They lay in bed and talked and made love until almost midnight, when he glanced at the clock on the bed table with sudden horror.
“Oh my God, Zoya! Your grandmother will kill me!” She laughed at him as he leapt out of bed and pulled her out with him. “Get dressed … and I didn't even feed you!”
“I didn't notice.” She was giggling like a schoolgirl and suddenly he turned and put his arms around her again.
“I love you, you crazy girl. Do you know that? Old as I am, I happen to adore you.”
“Good. Because I love you too, and you're not old, you're mine!” She pulled his silver hair gently and brought his face close to hers. “Remember that, no matter what happens to either of us, remember how much I love you!” It was a lesson she had learned early in life, that one never knew what grief could come on the morrow. The thought of it touched him deeply and he held her tightly.
“Nothing is going to happen, little one, you're safe now.”
He ran a bath for her in the enormous tub, and the sheer luxury of it was too much for her. For a minute, she could tell herself that she was back in the Fontanka Palace, but as she dressed in her ugly gray wool dress again and slipped on her worn black shoes, she knew she wasn't. She wore black wool stockings to keep her legs warm, and when she saw herself in the mirror, she looked like an orphan.
“My God, I look awful, Clayton. How can you love me like this?”
“You're beautiful, silly one. Every inch of you, every bright red hair … everything about you,” he whispered into her hair, and it was like breathing summer flowers. “I adore you.”
They could hardly force themselves to leave, but he knew he had to take her home to the apartment at the Palais Royal. There was no way at all she could stay out with him all night, and as he followed her up the stairs to the fourth floor, he kissed her one last time in the dingy, dark halls, and she opened the door with her key, as they saw Evgenia asleep in a chair, waiting for them. Their eyes met for a last time, as Zoya bent to kiss her cheek gently.
“Grandmama? … I'm sorry I'm late, you shouldn't have waited up….”
The old woman stirred and smiled up at them both, even in her half sleep she could see how happy they both were. It was like a breath of spring in the ugly room, and she found that she couldn't be angry.
“I wanted to be sure you were all right. Did you have a nice time?” She looked at them both, searching Clayton's eyes, but all she saw there was kindness and his love for Zoya.
“We had a lovely time,” Zoya answered without guilt. She belonged to him now, and nothing could change that. “Did you have dinner?”
“I had some of yesterday's chicken, and one of the eggs the Captain brought. Thank you,” she turned to him as she struggled to stand up, “it was lovely, Captain.” He was embarrassed not to have brought her more, but he had been in a hurry that morning. And he realized again suddenly that he had never fed Zoya that night, and wondered if she was as hungry as he was. They had been distracted for long, happy hours but now he was starving. And as though she read his mind, she glanced at him with an ill-concealed smile and handed him the chocolates. He swallowed one guiltily and put one in her mouth as she smiled and then went to help her grandmother into their bedroom.
She came back for a moment afterward and they kissed again. He hated to leave her and go home, but he knew he had to.
“I love you,” she whispered happily before he left.
“Only half as much as I love you,” he whispered back.
“How can you say that?”
“Because I'm older and wiser,” he teased, and then quietly closed the door behind him, as Zoya stood there, young again and happy and free, as she quietly turned off the lights in the apartment.
CHAPTER
22
Clayton returned the next morning looking impeccably groomed, and carrying an enormous basket of food for them. This time he had taken the time to go shopping.
“Good morning, ladies!” He seemed in exceptionally good humor, Evgenia noticed with a worried glance, but she knew that there was nothing she could do to stop them. He had brought meat and fruit, and two different kinds of cheese, cookies, and more chocolates for Zoya. He kissed her lightly on the cheek and squeezed her hand, and insisted that the Countess come out for a drive with them. They drove happily through the Bois de Boulogne, talking and laughing, and even Evgenia felt young again just being with them.
Clayton took her out to lunch with them, to the Closerie des Lilas this time, and then they took her home. She was so tired, she almost couldn't make it up the stairs, and Clayton half carried her, as she smiled gratefully at him. She had had a wonderful time, and for a little while, their poverty and the war and their sorrows were forgotten.
