The Prince and I

by Karen Hawkins

  “Fine. I will testify.”

  “Good. And let us have no more nonsense about ‘donations.’ ”

  “My testimony will be the truth. I will tell the constable that they had no weapons trained upon us, and all they requested were donations to their cause.”

  Loudan’s eyes blazed, but to Max’s surprise, the man didn’t say another word to him. Instead, the earl turned to Tata Natasha and said in a clipped, arrogant voice, “The constable will arrive within the hour. Bring your grandson to the study at eleven and make sure he knows what to say.”

  He didn’t add an “or else,” but Max heard it as surely as if the man had shouted. Fury burned through Max. “Loudan, you will remember you speak to a grand duchess.”

  “I know exactly whom I speak to.” The earl gave Tata Natasha a hard look and then turned on his heel and left.

  Max reached for his sword and started after the earl.

  Tata grabbed his sleeve. “Nyet!”

  “No one speaks to the house of Romanovin in such a way.”

  “Leave him! He—he is just abrupt. He means nothing.” Tata Natasha’s knuckles shone whitely where she held Max’s sleeve.

  “Why do you protect him?” Max demanded. “What does he hold over your head?”

  “Nothing! I—I . . .” She wet her lips, and concern, uncertainty, and worry all flickered over her face.

  In that instant, he saw her face as it truly was: not that of his beloved if troublesome grandmother, but that of an old woman wracked with fear. He sighed and removed his hand from his hilt. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never allowed a gadjo to order you about like a servant. Whatever has happened, you must tell me.”

  She hunched her shoulders and said in a sullen tone, “You won’t like it.”

  “Probably not.”

  She sighed, her shoulders dropping. “I suppose you are right. Very well. I will tell you. I brought you here because I have lost something.”

  “Lost?”

  “In a manner of speaking. And Loudan has it.”

  “You lost this item . . . as in, you put it down and he found it and took it? Or you lost it in a game of chance?”

  A dull color flooded her cheeks. “I held three queens.”

  “Ty shto shoytish!”

  “It was a sign. Or so I thought.”

  “Bozhy moj, Tata!” Max turned from her and paced away and then back. “Why were you gambling with a man like that? One look and you can see he has no principles, no honor.”

  “I know, I know,” she replied testily. “I was at a table; he joined after the game started. I did not choose to play with him, and I definitely did not choose to lose to him.”

  “I must know what this object is that you have lost.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I requested he return it. He is considering it.”

  “At a cost, I presume.”

  “Of course at a cost!”

  “I fear he is toying with you. Men like that are more interested in power than in money.”

  Her expression said she’d had the same thought. “Max, can’t you fight him, or just let him know you will kill him outright? It would be quicker.”

  “Tata, I cannot do that. If I were to threaten a nobleman, it could involve our country in many difficulties. Surely you know that.”

  She sighed, her face etched deeply with worry. “Fine. Then that leaves us no options. Until he agrees to sell it back to me, our hands are tied and we must do whatever he suggests.”

  “You are joking, da?”

  “Would I joke about something like this?”

  “You may do as you wish, but I will not capitulate.” Not to a weaselly creature like Loudan.

  “But—”

  “You brought me here as a threat. I cannot be both a threat and compliant. If you wish me to convince him that I will not bargain with him for this thing you’ve lost, then I must let him know I do not play his games.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Ignore him, and pretend I do not care if he has this item or not. It will infuriate him. And angry men do not bargain well.”

  “He will ask why you are not meeting the constable.”

  “And you will tell him I was too busy hunting.”

  Her lips twitched. “He will be angry.”

  “I am counting on it.”

  “Fine—irk the man. What am I to do in the meantime?”

  “Stop acting as if you are desperate to have this item back. Pretend you are reconsidering whether you even want it.”

  “I can do that. I have to admit, though, that I was at a loss as to how to proceed. He keeps raising the price and I . . .” She shook her head, shivering a little. In the sunlight she looked older than her years, the lines by her mouth deeper than usual.

  “From now on, Tata, you will let me speak to Loudan about this object. Tell him I am in charge of the negotiations now.”

  Relief brightened her face. “Very well.” Her gaze met his. “We must get it back, Max. We must.”

  “We will. One way or another. But I must know what it is. I cannot bargain if I do not know what it is.”

  She glanced back at the footmen. “I will tell you later. Now off with you; you have an earl to enrage, and some hunting to do.”

  He bowed. “Good day, Tata.” He left the portico and walked to the stables. Sunshine traced the lush slopes and played upon the sparkling waters of a small loch that stretched before the castle.

  Orlov stood near the stables with Demidor, Raeff, Pushkin, and Golovin, their horses saddled and ready. As Max approached, a groom brought out Max’s large black gelding.

  Orlov left the others and came to meet him. “You escaped, I see.”

  “Aye. By the bye, it appears our brigands are cleverer than we realized.”

  “How so?”

  “Last night, the lady who was robbed said she would not call it a robbery, as they never demanded anything—they politely requested donations.”

  Orlov’s eyes widened; then he smiled. “As they did with us. I must give them credit for that.”

  “Da. The earl was not happy when I realized I’d come to view our meeting with the brigands in the same light as Miss MacLeod did hers—a donation request gone awry. He wanted—nay, he demanded—I lie to the local constable so that charges could be pressed.”

  Orlov whistled silently. “Loudan is determined to capture these thieves.”

  “Indeed. And I will not help him; I said no.”

  Orlov grinned. “The earl won’t like that.”

  “I’m counting on it. I tire of the man’s attitude.”

  “As do I. By the way, speaking of the brigands, I may have found something to aid us in our search.” The sergeant pulled a paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “This was in the earl’s library. It is a plat of all the lands held by the Rowallen estate.”

  Max took the map and scanned it. “Does the earl know you took this?”

  “I left a note, as is only polite, though I did not write it in English. I’m sure he will figure it out in time.”

  Amused, Max traced their location on the plat. “We’ve covered here, here, and most of here.” He shook his head. “So much, and yet it’s only a small amount of the forest.”

  “Even with a reduced area, we are searching for a needle in a haystack. The woods are thick, the trails few and seemingly unused, and the locals have done nothing but mislead us. They are determined to hide these thieves, whoever they are. I dislike our chances.”

  “Da, but I am convinced they are closer than they want anyone to know. It is a good strategy, to be close enough to watch your enemy, yet hidden well enough that he doesn’t even know he is watched.”

  “True, General.” Orlov regarded the map for another moment, then refolded it and slipped it back into his pocket. “Has the grand duchess shared why she allows the earl’s atrocious behavior? It is most unlike her.”

  “She lost something to Loudan in a game of chance. Whatever
it is, she is desperate to have it returned.”

  “And he refuses.”

  “More than that, he holds it over her head like a sword.” Max crossed his arms and gazed at the castle, gray and stern, set in a manicured park so meticulously groomed that the grass appeared to have been combed blade by blade. “I could forgive the earl for winning over an old woman at a game of chance, even though that shows a weak character.” Max’s jaw tightened. “I will not forgive him for causing her such worry.”

  “This situation complicates our mission.”

  “It can, yes. If we let it.” Max shook his head. “I should be angry with her, but then we, too, have secrets.”

  Orlov glanced at Max. “You received word?”

  “A packet arrived this morning by special courier. I would have said something earlier, but the earl interrupted us.”

  “I don’t suppose there were any other letters in that packet?”

  “There were. And yes, one is from your beloved wife, and yet another from your sister.”

  Orlov beamed. “I shall read them as soon as—” His gaze locked on something beyond Max’s shoulder. “Ah. The earl’s constable has arrived.”

  Max turned to follow the sergeant’s gaze. A large, heavily built coach rumbled up the long, picturesque drive toward Rowallen’s arched door. The coach pulled around the fountain decorating the looped drive and stopped. A liveried footman raced from the castle, opened the coach door, and put down the steps. The constable stepped out of the coach.

  At the sight of the constable, Max froze. “Ty shto shoytish.”

  “What is it?” Orlov asked.

  “The constable—you see him? He is the second giant we’ve seen since we arrived in Scotland.”

  “The second? When did we see— Ah!” Orlov’s brows rose in comprehension. “The giant with the brigands. Ian, nyet?”

  “And our Ian has the same reddish hair, and the same shape of face.”

  Orlov watched a moment. “They even walk the same.”

  “Now we know why Loudan’s constable is reluctant to pursue these brigands.”

  “Da, the man is related to one of them.”

  Max nodded. “I think I will speak to the constable after all. Stay here. I’ll return shortly.”

  “Aye, General.”

  Max walked toward the castle, his gaze locked on the huge man strolling toward the front door.

  Max smiled. Ah, dorogaya moya, I will find you yet.

  An hour later, Max pulled his horse to a halt on a small, almost invisible path deep in the woods about an hour’s ride north of Rowallen, and held up his hand.

  Behind him, his men went still and silent.

  From somewhere in the woods, beneath the rustle of the trees playing in the breeze, and over the rush of a nearby creek, came a melody that faded in and out of hearing with the direction of the breeze. It was a woman’s voice, singing a Gaelic tune. Max knew that voice, knew it well.

  As they listened, other sounds lifted now and then, blown their way—the sound of a door closing, the occasional moo of a cow.

  “We have found them,” Orlov said, faint surprise in his voice.

  “So it would seem,” Max said. “A mere two miles from the village of Kilmarnock, where Constable Ruddock’s family hails from.”

  “And less than three miles from Rowallen Castle,” Orlov added. “We were looking much too far away.”

  “The earl has been making the same mistake, for every village he set afire was twelve miles away or more. He has no idea they are under his very nose.”

  Orlov nodded. “What do we do now?”

  “We don’t do anything. It is best if I go into the village alone.”

  Demidor’s horse shifted as if conveying his rider’s unease. “I don’t like that,” the younger soldier said. “We should go with you.”

  “Which would make it look like an attack. Nyet. I will go first and speak to their leader. Then I will call you in. Demidor, take Raeff and Pahlen back the way we came and guard the path. If we need to leave quickly, we’ll want the way open. If we need you, we will call.”

  Looking unhappy, the young soldier nodded and, collecting the others, he turned his horse and left.

  “Orlov, you will stay here with Golovin and Pushkin. I will get as close as I can and see if I can find the leader. After ten minutes, circle around and move closer.”

  “And then?”

  “Wait for my signal. Be very careful you are not spotted. I don’t wish to startle anyone or they might think their village is under attack.” The wind shifted yet again, and the singing grew a touch louder. Max winced as the singer lingered on an off-key note.

  Pushkin, large and barrel-chested, with a long black beard that made him look a bit like a wild pirate, exchanged an uneasy look with Golovin. “I don’t know about this, General.”

  A tough, grizzled veteran with a grumpy demeanor, Golovin agreed. “We’re away from civilization and near water. And now there’s a female singing.”

  Max’s brows knit. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

  “Whilst I was assisting Her Grace into the carriage last week, she told me about creatures who sang songs in the wild. Evil women, they were, luring a man to the water with their singing and then . . .” He made a slashing gesture across his throat.

  “Sirens,” Max said in a dry tone.

  Pushkin brightened. “Da! You know of them.”

  “I know they are imaginary. My grandmother was doing what she does best: spinning tales and causing problems. I will wager my finest sword the woman you hear singing now is just that—a woman. She is not magic, and she’s certainly not drawing us closer with that atrocious singing.” She was, however, dangerously intelligent, and held the answers to his growing list of questions. “Orlov, I leave you in charge. If you do not hear from me in twenty minutes, you may come for me.”

  With that, he turned his horse and headed toward the distant voice.

  Chapter 8

  The late-morning sun slanted through the shutters as Murian sank deeper into the tub, warm water sloshing over her shoulders. The large brass tub was another prize she’d stolen from Rowallen, and she still took great delight in thinking of the earl having to use one of the small tubs she’d left behind. He’d barely be able to sit in one, his legs folded in front of him, which would be most uncomfortable.

  Grinning, she slid farther down in the water so that it encircled her face and her hair fanned around her. She’d been singing her favorite song, one her mother had taught her when she was a child, about maidens and knights. With her ears underwater, her voice was muffled and—to be honest—much improved.

  The warm water felt heavenly, her cares dissolving into the thick curls of lavender-scented steam that rose from the tub. It had been a long few weeks and she’d needed some time to let her cares go.

  Yet try as she would, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the prince, wondering why he’d taken such an interest in her. Was it mere pride, because she’d bested him at a sword fight? She didn’t think so, seeing as how he’d turned the tables at the end. Though if she hadn’t slipped— No, it was better not to dwell on might-haves. Life had taught her that lesson far too well.

  At one time, she’d had a new, adoring husband, a beautiful castle for a home, and a future that had seemed endless. In one day, she’d lost it all. The only way she’d been able to come to terms with such devastation was to move forward and keep moving. She missed Robert dearly and knew that a part of her always would. But as time passed and she heard stories from the widows who’d been wed for years before being parted from their husbands, she’d realized her and Robert’s relationship had only just begun to grow roots. She was certain it would have become a towering tree, had they been allowed the luxury of time. As it was, she was left with an empty heart and many sweet memories, which had been enough until now. Somehow, meeting the prince had awakened her imagination and made her wonder what if?

  She shouldn�
��t even be thinking about the prince; she’d only met him three times, anyway. Which was three times too many.

  Still . . . there was something about him that stirred her curiosity. She felt as if she knew him in some way, which made no sense, for they had nothing in common. She should just forget him.

  And she would, for she had many things that needed her attention far more. Like how to get the supplies to repair their cottages, and when Loudan might ease his guard and she could slip back into Rowallen.

  She reached up and grasped the high sides of the tub, pulling herself into a sitting position. The water lapped at her shoulders as she leaned back against the elegant slant of the tub, her hair clinging to her neck and shoulders before floating around her in the water in red silken waves.

  She sighed happily and closed her eyes. Life was always surprising. Who would have ever thought she’d meet a prince? “Prince Max,” she said aloud. “Mighty, oh-so-sure-of-himself Prince Max.”

  “You called, dorogaya moya?” came a deep voice.

  Her eyes flew open. Surely . . . that couldn’t have been . . .

  Heart pounding, she lifted her head and peered over the edge of the tub.

  The prince stood just inside her window, re-closing the shutters. When he finished, he faced her and said in a polite voice, “Good morning, Murian.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “I climbed through the window.”

  “But . . . how did you find me?”

  He smiled, and her heart fluttered. “Ah, I cannot give you all of my secrets. Not all at once, anyway.”

  “I dinna— You shouldna be here!”

  “But I have some questions for you.”

  She could call for help and Ian would come running, but then there would be yelling and very little talking. From the prince’s demeanor and the fact that he hadn’t moved from the window, perhaps he wished for just what he said—answers to his questions.

  Well, she had questions, too. Besides, there were two loaded pistols and a rapier in her cottage, so she was plenty safe.

  His green eyes warmed with amusement, a lopsided smile curving his chiseled mouth. “Do not look so surprised. Surely you knew I would find you.”