An Outing

KIRA’S EXCITEMENT ROSE, like the moment a crescendo peaks in a symphony. She had spotted Roman dismount his horse and approach along the pebbled path. “Lieutenant Roman Pavolitch, may I present Countess Maria Protasova Sheremeteva. Masha is my dearest and favorite aunt.”   

Roman bowed at the waist without words to acknowledge his station.

“Father is in meetings all day, so I’ve invited the Lieutenant to ride with us.” Kira caught her aunt’s one raised eyebrow and smiled back.     

 The Countess said, “I have had a lunch packed. There should be plenty for all.”

The groomsman assisted each lady onto her horse. Kira placed her leg over the horn of the sidesaddle then fitted the twill tape sewn inside her skirt over her boot instep to ensure that her leg remained covered while riding. She secured the hat’s veil around her chin to protect her from insects.

She sat upright and said to Roman. “You look like a Reynolds’ painting in your uniform atop your steed.” He looked away. She thought his cheeks flushed.   

The trio cantered across the estate’s meadow, bordered by tall leafy trees. A slight sprinkle earlier that morning provided a fresh airing of wild flowers and grasses.

Kira noticed that Masha had fallen behind, allowing them privacy. Roman and she slowed their horses to a walk. 

“Last evening you were rather rude in your suggestions that we feed the peasants,” Kira said.

“Was I?” He continued to look straight ahead.

“Do you have a kinship with these people?”

He halted Ivan. “It’s not that I support rebels or terrorist, but if monies were spent more wisely, uprisings would diminish and the country would be richer.” 

“But how would the aristocracy live? You know, they support your livelihood.”

“I’m only saying conditions could be better if properly managed.” 

“Please don’t speak of these things in front of my father.”

“As you wish.”

“How did you come to be an Imperial Guard?”

He shrugged. “It’s in our blood. Several Pavlovitch generations have served Czars. My grandfa­ther saved Alexander II from an assassination.”

“Like you did for my father and me. I am forever in your debt.” She held a steady gaze into his warm brown eyes and wondered how his full lips would feel against her own.  

“You said that you haven’t been to St. Petersburg since you were a child. Where do you reside?”

“We, my family and I, live in the country outside of Minsk.” She found it difficult to turn her attention away from his lean body with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

Roman turned his head away and adjusted himself in his saddle.

Kira spotted a knoll laced with colorful wildflowers. “This looks like a good place.”

A puzzled look crossed his face.

“For a picnic. Please help me down.”

Roman dismounted then reached up to Kira, who fell into his arms. They stood for a moment in an embrace until they heard Masha clear her throat.

Kira and Roman spread out a blanket. Masha opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of champagne then handed it to Roman. He wrestled with the cork. It popped then flew by Kira, out into the field while bubbles overflowed the mouth of the bottle.

“Grab a glass, Kira. We must save every precious drop,” The Countess said.

Kira turned to Roman. “Savor every precious moment.”