Compromised by the Prince's Touch

by Bronwyn Scott

  * * *

  He would say yes. For her. Was it possible to feel oneself turn pale? Klara felt white, her body numb with shock and realisation. This was how a warrior loved; not with words but with actions. He was so tactile in the bedroom, all touch and physicality. It stood to reason he’d be the same in life. He showed how he felt with actions. She thought of the foal and the mare he’d rescued because she’d asked him, of the plate he’d fixed for her at breakfast, all thoughtfulness in his selection of toppings for the blini, a very small thing compared to what he shared now. She could not let him do it. ‘I don’t need to be saved, Nikolay.’

  He gave an intimate chuckle that had her wanting to stop the carriage, to stop the world, and make love with him right here in the broad light of day. ‘Yes, you do, Klara. You are far too reckless; sneaking off to Soho and into men’s bedrooms.’ He was teasing her now and it felt good to move away from more serious considerations for just a moment. That moment was gone too soon. He squeezed her hand, his voice private and low. The worst things were said, it seemed, in the quietest of voices, as if to derail the listener from the importance of them.

  ‘I have a father I love very much, too. I had to choose between him and coming here.’ He had to stop and collect himself, his grip on her hand noticeably tighter. ‘I would not want the same for you. Like you, my mother is gone. The family I know is my father and I.’ The father that had given him the St John’s medal. Her gaze dropped briefly to his neck, to his chest where she knew the medal lay secret beneath his shirt. No wonder he wore it close to his skin. Not just as a soldier’s protection but a reminder of a father’s love.

  ‘My father was proud of me. When that woman—Helena...’ he hesitated over her name ‘...cut me, it was he and Stepan who saw that I recovered. He hid me. He denied the Tsar entrance to our home to protect me when the guards came.’ He swallowed hard again, his Adam’s apple rising in his throat. Klara hung on every word. ‘In Kuban, a family has to renounce a traitor among them if they wish to escape a traitor’s fate. Failure to do so makes one complicit. He had no choice. I wanted him to do it, but I could see that he’d rather die. The last time I saw him, he’d just come from the palace and it had aged him twenty years. Klara, that is what I’d save you from.’

  ‘And my father, too,’ Klara said softly. ‘You would save my father, too.’ How different he was from Amesbury, who thought only of himself and his money. She leaned into him, her mouth close to his, lips hovering just before a kiss. ‘And I would save you.’ They were on the same side now. Nikolay and Klara against her father, against the revolution, against the consequences of saying no, against the consequences of saying yes. Nikolay and Klara, together against the world.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘How could you do it?’ Klara spoke tersely, barely keeping a rein on her anger as she stood beside her father at the demonstration grounds. It was the first chance they’d had to talk since she’d discovered what he’d asked of Nikolay.

  ‘Do what, Klara?’ He kept his eyes forward, gaze on the show, applauding politely when a young captain on the obstacle course sliced the last rope loop with his sabre.

  ‘Use me to send Nikolay to St Petersburg. He told you no at that first dinner and you persisted.’

  Her father didn’t flinch. Another rider entered the course. ‘He’s capable of making his own choices. I doubt anyone coerces Prince Baklanov to do anything he doesn’t wish.’ Her father slid her a sideways look. ‘Has he told you his decision, then? Are you as close as all that to know his mind before I do?’

  ‘No. He did not say. He said only that you’d asked.’ She paused and clapped for the rider. Her father had taught her that nothing was ever as it seemed. Unfortunately, she had not applied that advice to him. She’d assumed there was no need. Of all the people she should be able to trust, her father ought to be on that short list. Apparently he wasn’t. ‘And Amesbury?’ she ventured. ‘Have you promised him anything I should know about? He’s been proprietary of late.’ That was putting it mildly. He’d been violent and threatening.

  ‘He holds you in great esteem, Klara,’ her father evaded. ‘I promised your mother a marriage to an English peer. He would be a fine choice if it came to that. He cannot be outdone in wealth, stature and social standing. One can never have too many friends.’

  The footmen came out to reset the course for the next rider and Klara let her gaze drift to the lists, looking for Nikolay and not finding him. He’d been right. She’d been the bait. Her father had used her. It was so hard to accept that it made denial easy. Nikolay was a cynic at heart. He simply didn’t understand. And yet, she very much feared Nikolay’s cynical eyes had seen the truth.

  Her conscience whispered, What does that truth mean to you? Is it enough to choose Nikolay over your father?

  There was a rustle in the crowd. The course was reset and another rider was in the lists, drawing the crowd’s attention. No, not just any rider. This one wore a brilliant scarlet coat with a placket of dark blue bars trimmed in gold braid across the chest, gold epaulettes on the shoulders. The rider’s head was bare despite the cold, his long dark hair braided into a tight queue that hung down his back. It was unmistakably Nikolay. She had not seen him since the tour of the home farm. He’d found time to change into his military uniform and to groom Cossack, who pranced beneath him, looking as sleek as his rider. The warrior Prince was in full glory. It sent a frisson of desire through her to think this man had been hers for a night and that he might be hers again if she were bold enough.

  Amesbury materialised beside her. ‘He still looks a bit rough to me. A uniform is only a piece of clothing after all. I’m surprised you’re so taken with him, Klara.’

  ‘I’m not taken with him,’ Klara insisted, mortified that the Duke found her so transparent. What else did he see? Information in his hands was always a dangerous commodity.

  Amesbury shrugged. ‘You’ve spent a lot of time with him lately when I warned you not to. He will not be careful of your reputation, Klara. He is from a different world. He does not answer to an Englishman’s concept of honour.’ The Duke nodded towards the course, changing the subject. ‘I do think he’s attempting a bit much.’

  For a moment, Klara thought the Duke was referring to her, that Nikolay had overreached himself, then she followed the Duke’s gaze to the course. It had not been only reset, it had been restyled. Where each young captain had run a single lane to exhibit their prowess with a weapon, the course now contained a comprehensive set of obstacles. Her horseman’s eye could appreciate the complexity of it: a lane of rope loops to be sliced from horseback with a steady sabre, a line of poles to weave one’s horse through, followed by a small flag to pull out of the ground, a dummy to stab while riding at full speed, and a final target to shoot. The course would take concentration and the ability to transition between skills for both horse and rider.

  ‘Shall we wager? I think the Prince shall do handsomely,’ Klara offered perversely just to antagonise the Duke.

  ‘I shall pass. I’ve had poor luck with wagers lately, Klara, dear. I lost one last night. One I did not expect to lose. I misjudged the person in question.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Your Grace.’ Klara kept her eyes fixed on the course, hoping to end the conversation.

  Amesbury gave an urbane shrug. ‘I did not lose too much,’ he went on as if she’d asked. ‘Not monetarily any way. It was more of a loss to my pride. You see, I lost a bet with myself. We shall take a walk and I shall tell you about it after the Prince’s run.’ His voice was at her ear, sending a shiver of fear down her spine. She wanted to go nowhere with him, nowhere away from people, away from Nikolay.

  There was no chance to respond. A flag dropped and Cossack surged from the lists, Nikolay balanced in the stirrups, his sabre drawn as he approached the hanging loops of ropes. The trick was to be steady. The loops were tiny. The slightest jolt would throw a
rider off balance, his sabre out of alignment with the loops. She held her breath, worrying Cossack’s speed was too fast, that the horse required too much of Nikolay’s attention. His sabre sliced the loops without hesitation. He sheathed it and turned towards the poles, Cossack weaving through them effortlessly, changing directions from right to left. They headed towards the flag. It seemed impossibly low, too low to grab. The other men’s flags had been higher, coming to the horse’s belly. This flag was four inches off the ground. To get it, one would have to lean entirely out of the saddle. To do that required an impossible combination of flexibility and muscle control.

  She gasped. Nikolay let the reins drop, then flung his body to one side, the grip of his thighs his only contact with his horse as he swung close to the ground, his hand sweeping up the little flag. The crowd around her applauded wildly. But Nikolay wasn’t done. There was a dummy to stab and a target to shoot, but how could he? Klara wondered. He had no weapons.

  Nikolay passed the weaving poles. He yanked one out of the ground and twirled it over his head, wielding the pointed end like a lance. He kicked Cossack hard, increasing the horse’s speed, his arm drew back and he plunged the tip into the dummy with a force that would have separated most men from their horses. There was just the target left. Nikolay drew his sabre once more and threw as Cossack raced past, the sabre blade vibrating as it found purchase in the bullseye.

  ‘Ingenious!’ Klara breathed. He’d done the course with only his sabre when it would have taken other men four different weapons to accomplish it. The whole display had taken less than a minute, but it would be talked about for hours, days even. Klara surged forward with the rest of the crowd to congratulate him, taking perverse delight in knowing the display had rendered Amesbury silent.

  Her father and Vasilev reached him first, clapping him on the back in congratulations. ‘Splendid, just splendid,’ Vasilev was saying. ‘You’re a credit to Kuban and to the military. Those skills are nonpareil. You must be untouchable in battle. And your troops? Do you teach them to ride like that?’

  ‘Yes.’ Nikolay was all politeness, but she could tell he was careful not to be too warm with the General. ‘I had my unit train daily on the parade grounds.’ Near her, Klara heard some of the women titter and whisper remarks about the crowd that must have drawn, the sight of so many ‘talented’ men on display.

  A drawling voice cut through the exclamations, a reminder that Amesbury was still with her. ‘Prince, do all the men in Kuban wear their hair long?’

  Nikolay gave him a hard stare. ‘Only the real ones.’

  Everyone laughed. Even Amesbury pretended to be amused at the response, but he had his hand about her arm again, firmly insistent as he pulled her into the crowd of guests, away from the centre of attention, his tone ominous. ‘Come with me, Klara. It’s time for our walk, and I’ll tell you why I lost the wager.’

  * * *

  Amesbury steered her away from the group. ‘I went to your room last night. I wagered myself you’d be glad to see me. You weren’t there, much to my surprise.’ He chuckled coldly. ‘You disobeyed me, Klara.’

  ‘What are you insinuating, Your Grace?’ Klara stiffened at the implication, her battle senses on full alert. What did he know? ‘Am I not allowed to go to the library and get a book or go down to the kitchen for some warm milk in my own home?’

  ‘Of course not. But that’s not where you went, is it?’ He accused. ‘I know empirically that you went to him.’ He squeezed, his fingers digging into the flesh of her upper arm. He paused, perhaps to let her become duly frightened by the discovery. It was definitely alarming, but she refused to be cowed by it. There were people nearby. He could not hurt her here. ‘I waited for you to come back. You have a very comfortable chair in your room, by the way. Thank goodness, because I sat there for hours.’

  He’d gone into her room, unasked. That frightened her as much as the idea that he’d found her gone. What else would he take from her unasked?

  Klara pulled her arm away from his, opting for the high ground. ‘I am deeply disturbed that a gentleman would claim he has proof of such a thing when he does not. Sitting in an empty room is not empirical proof, Your Grace. For all you know, I fell asleep in the library.’ The ice was pretty thin where she was skating. She hoped it held.

  The Duke was menacing now, his body rippling with tension. ‘Don’t play me for a fool like you play your father. I know what my eyes see. You are infatuated with the Prince, Klara, and you’ve been very foolish,’ he hissed in her ear, ‘I know the look of a woman who’s had a man between her thighs, even if your father does not.’

  ‘How dare you! I will go to my father and tell him all about your dirty mind, how you have laid hands on me twice...’ She raised her hand, striking out at his cheek, but he caught her wrist and dragged her behind the wide trunk of an oak.

  ‘You will do no such thing, you little harlot. You will go to your father and you will tell me we have set a date for our wedding. Early June, I think.’

  ‘Our wedding? You haven’t even proposed.’ This was fast becoming a terrifying situation. The Duke seemed unhinged in his anger.

  ‘Consider this your proposal,’ Amesbury growled, his body up against hers, trapping her against the rough bark of the tree. She could feel his arousal against her skirts. ‘Unless you need a further display? I am more than capable of compromising you here and now.’ She struggled in earnest now, but it only made him angrier. ‘You will say yes if you know what is good for the people you love.’ His teeth sank into her ear and it was no love bite. ‘Marriage to me protects your father and your lover. Your compliance keeps them alive.’

  She shoved at him, but couldn’t dislodge him. ‘My father doesn’t need your protection!’ His hand closed over her breast.

  ‘One word from me to the Tsar’s circles about your father’s plans and he’s branded a traitor. I could even manage to have him sent home. I know I can manage sending the Prince home. His Tsardom is hungry for his head on a spike. Your father will do it for me to save his own hide. He can hardly get away with harbouring a known traitor.’ He was rutting against her thigh now in a grotesque simulation of sex, doing it on purpose to humiliate her, to scare her. It was working. She was scared. Her father killed. Nikolay betrayed. Those were very real fears that could come to pass.

  ‘Klara...’ His breath was coming hard now. He was enjoying torturing her too much. ‘Let me ask you again, will you marry me?’

  She could save them both, her father and Nikolay, with a single word. They would not die for her. She gathered her courage. ‘Yes.’

  ‘A much better answer, Klara dear. We’ll announce it after the dancing on the last night. Until then, it will be our secret. I’d hate for a stray bullet on the pistol range find our Prince because you told him.’ The Duke gave her a thin smile, one that was falsely forgiving. ‘Pardon my jealousy. Perhaps I may offer my envy of the Prince as a token of my affections for you, a token of my eagerness to have us joined in marriage. An eagerness that I do not think can wait until June, after all, dearest.’

  * * *

  Horror had a way of bringing clarity, mainly the clarity that she was on her own. Klara braced her hands against the windowsill in her room. She fought back tears. Crying would do her no good. Her father could not help her. Nikolay could not help her, especially not Nikolay. He would challenge the Duke to a duel and blood would be spilt, possibly his. She did not trust the Duke to play fair. She’d been so distraught about being her father’s pawn, she hadn’t seen how she could become Amesbury’s pawn. Now, she was all that stood between Nikolay and her father’s safety, their very lives. Somehow, she had to go down to dinner and pretend that all was well. Would Nikolay see through her? What would she tell him if he guessed something was wrong? Would he believe her? The terrible mordancy of the situation was not lost on her; now that he believed her, she had to lie to him. For his own good, for his
own protection. Perhaps some day he would understand that.

  She let Mary come and dress her for dinner in the pewter silk, one of her favourites. She let Mary do her hair in a complicated pile of curls that showed off her neck. She fastened her mother’s pearls about her neck. If this was to be her last night of freedom, she would make it count. Not that there would be much of that freedom. Amesbury would be watching. There was no longer a question of going to Nikolay’s room or of him coming to hers. Tonight, her door would be locked.

  * * *

  Dinner featured delicious cold-water salmon and champagne. She barely tasted it. She was too busy plotting how to steal enough time alone with Nikolay. There would be a bonfire and fireworks tonight after the men’s brandy. It would have to be then. Beside her, Nikolay was positively charming, laughing at jokes and appearing like a man at ease. She took quiet pride in knowing that she’d been privy to the dilemma that lay beneath his bonhomie. He’d trusted her enough to share his thoughts with her and she’d protected those thoughts when her father had asked. He had his own decisions to make. Tonight they would be together and she would warn him one last time.

  She was waiting for him in the hall when the men emerged. She whispered her instructions as she passed him. ‘Everyone will go outside to burn Maslenitsa. When they do, come with me.’ It was the annual farewell to winter, this bonfire burning of Maslenitsa in effigy. In the dark no one would notice if two people were missing.

  As if on cue, her father began directing everyone out of doors to the lawns where a bonfire shot flames into the night sky. She felt Nikolay interlace his fingers with hers, determined not to lose her in the bustle. ‘Stay with me, I know a place.’ A place to be alone, a place to forget. Klara shivered. If Amesbury discovered them together...well, people duelled over things like that. And for good reason. But there would be no more chances after tonight. This time tomorrow, her engagement would be announced. Amesbury would have her under proverbial lock and key with his constant attentions and Nikolay would absolutely despise her. She wouldn’t think about that now.