Daughter of the Raven

by Cherime MacFarlane

  He was furious. What she and the poor boy had suffered was beyond belief. The generosity of the old herder and his family coupled with the kindness of the captain of the Bear, lightened the matter. It was sufficient for him to keep a tight lock on his emotions.

  Forgiveness was the word Anya had used when talking of the kidnapper and Keetering. It was not a word he was able to use in conjunction with either individual. How on earth was he supposed to forgive a crazed kidnapper and a stupid excuse for a man?

  Anya had not described the last portion of the Lena voyage accurately. He knew her as well as he knew himself. She was skimming over the matter. Making light of it, so no one would guess how very close to dying in the middle of Siberia, she and the boy had come.

  What he would, or should do was unclear at the moment. Stanislaus wondered if he might be able to let it all go. Just at this moment, it was a very good thing Keetering was among the missing and the insane Jurekovitch was safely in Russia.

  Stanislaus held his anger inside. Instead, he tended to Anya. When she had finished the tale, he snuggled her close to his chest as they sat in the sun. Anya was his main concern at the moment.

  He was aware of the hardness of her body now. The woman was all bone and muscle. He had felt her strength when she had insisted on kissing him. He was grateful she had been able to fall back on her Tlingit heritage in order to feed and care for herself and her friend.

  She was an uncommon woman, a fine blade forged of the best steel. He would care for her, as much as she would allow it. Yet, he was aware that the stubborn streak common to all Bressoffs, was wider and deeper in Anya. He would need to gentle her with love, or he would ultimately lose her.

  The four of them met in the study after dinner. Anya sat next to Stanislaus, unable to keep her hands from him. When not holding his hand, she was holding his arm.

  Camille watched Stanislaus. He was always aware of Anya. At the same time he was also aware of his surroundings and the other two people in the room. Camille knew he was more than a bit upset.

  Dmitri was the first to broach the main topic. The matter which had brought them to this particular meeting. "I take it there has been no new information on Keetering?"

  "None." Stanislaus put his hand over Anya's where it lay on his arm. "Where ever he has gone, he has covered his tracks well."

  Camille tapped her foot restlessly on the floor. "Abigail Keetering may not know exactly where her son is, but she has a general idea."

  Anya was agitated. Stanislaus felt the nervous tattoo her fingers made on his arm. "I must find him. I will have that divorce!"

  "Leontine and I spoke with his mother. She knows something, but is afraid to give him away." Camille glanced over at Anya before speaking again.

  "You may be the only person she will give him up to. You are his wife, she must give you the information. She will not want to do so. You must go see her. Unfortunately, you will need to do this under cover. Since Leontine and Samuel are staying in Sitka until their Seattle home is completed, there is no one for you to stay with in San Francisco."

  Dmitri nodded. "The tongs have long memories. It has not been that long since Charles disappeared. If your appearance there is discovered, they could try to use you to find Charles."

  "That cannot happen!" Stanislaus' hand tightened on Anya's. "She has been through enough."

  "I will have my divorce, Stanislaus. I am not going to wait until...who knows how long!"

  Anya was ready to defend her position. Stanislaus could feel the tension in her. This would not help either of them. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled, forcing himself to think. "Then we must find a way to keep from alerting anyone to your actual identity."

  Dmitri watched the couple before him. Stanislaus was a very intelligent man. There were several businessmen who would attest to that if pressed. It was far too easy for people to think of big men, like Stanislaus, as brawn and no brain. In the case of the man seated before him, that way of thinking could cost anyone foolish enough to judge by appearances, a great deal.

  Dmitri also knew his soon to be son-in-law possessed a propensity for violence, which matched his own. He found it interesting to watch Stanislaus bend his temper into a tool.

  Perhaps, once again, it would serve best if Stanislaus accompanied Anya. It would mean he would need to go to Seattle to handle several pressing business matters. Anya was his first consideration. Camille and the children could wait in Sitka until the matter was taken care of. They would need two more hands on the Arctic Tern for a voyage of this length.

  Dmitri broke into the silence. "Stanislaus. I think I may have a plan. Camille, Anya, this will need to be refined, but I believe this will serve as a starting place."

  They all looked expectantly at him. "The Arctic Tern is not well known on the coast. She is small and fast. There is no reason why we cannot take her to Seattle. Leave me there and I will take over the negotiations on the matters regarding Sydney and Antwerp. Stanislaus, you go on to San Francisco with Anya. From there Anya can meet with Mrs. Keetering and get whatever information is available. If he is truly gone."

  Dmitri lifted his hands and dropped them back to the arms of his chair. "There is nothing more to be done and no one is the wiser."

  Anya opened her mouth to protest. The Count raised a hand. "We cannot make something happen just to suit you. You will need to be reasonable here. I know what you want."

  He looked pointedly at Stanislaus. "I would that the first time I had given you away it would have been to Stanislaus. You made your choice, now all of us are dealing with the consequences. I know you have had more than your share of misery from it. We, all of us here, would give you anything it was in our power to give. You will need to learn patience, Anya."

  Stanislaus did not move. He barely breathed. Dmitri had put it to her bluntly and in no uncertain terms. How she would react was another matter.

  Her cheeks flushed and her lean fingers dug into his arm. "Poppa, you are correct. I chose Keetering. I am grateful for your support and understanding. I do truly regret my foolishness. It was my stubbornness, which has placed this burden on everyone. Forgive me."

  Dmitri nodded. "Anya, you have no idea of the suffering we all experienced thinking you were dead. You are alive and well, child. That gift is from God. You have been given another chance, all of us have been given another chance to do better. I suggest we make the most of it. You are forgiven. Now, let us see what can be done to free you so that you two." Dmitri waved his hand at Stanislaus and Anya. "Can get on with the business of living."

  Anya nodded. "Yes Poppa. Go on please."

  "San Francisco society is quite mired in pretension. Pose as a widow. That will allow you to wear black and veil yourself. Reveal your identity only to Mrs. Keetering. Hopefully, the poor woman will not die on the spot. That is probably best done in a very public place. A chance meeting to anyone watching."

  Stanislaus nodded. "Once we have the information, if it exists, then we can use the Tern if the place is accessible by water. If not, we can return to Seattle, to make whatever plans may be necessary."

  Stanislaus decided it was the most logical manner in which to proceed. "I think this will work."

  Anya spoke up. "I suggest Petyr go along. He learns new things easily and can help with the Arctic Tern."

  Dmitri was considering who else they might take along, when Anya spoke.

  "Poppa, there is no need for a fourth person. Stanislaus, Petyr and myself can handle the Arctic Tern. You have made many trips to Sitka with only one other person throughout the years." Anya smiled at her father. "Trust me, I can do this."

  "Do you feel rested enough Anya?" Her father asked. "You have been through a great deal."

  Anya chuckled. "Believe me Poppa, sailing the Tern cannot compare with wrestling a birch bark canoe through ice floes on the Lena. Or negotiating the deer trail to Okhotsk."

  Waving her hand, Anya continued. "Nothing I know of between here and Seattle that comp
ares. Anytime you want to give the wood splitting job over to me Poppa, I will be happy to show you the muscles I have developed."

  Something passed between Dmitri and Anya, neither Camille nor Stanislaus understood. Fur hunter father to wilderness traveler daughter and back again. They understood the testing they had survived.

  Each knew the other was capable of doing whatever might be necessary for their own safety and that of the ones they loved. A tiny uplift of the corner of Dmitri's mouth and a slight brush of one finger to the eye patch he wore, told Anya he understood.

  "Good! That is settled." Dmitri smiled. "Anya, please ask Petyr if he is willing to undertake this for us. If he feels he can do so, we will begin preparing the Tern for a long voyage."

  "I will do so Poppa. He will need some time to pray about it."

  Dmitri rose and gently urged Camille to her feet. "And no, Anya. You cannot have the only exercise Camille will allow me. Get your own wood to split. Good night you two. Do not stay up too late."

  Stanislaus led Anya out of the study. He needed a bit of exercise himself. They went out the front door of the house before wandering around the side. For some reason he did not understand, he found his steps taking him to the stable.

  How many days had he spent in this area? So many hours spent here working with the animals, tending the large garden, watching over Anya. This place held so many fond memories for him. The night was warm. He found the stable door partially open for ventilation. The lone bear on the island had not been seen in several years. There were no other large predators to disturb the animals, so the door could be left ajar.

  They had not spoken, both of them busy with their own thoughts. Stanislaus felt some of Anya's frustration at having to wait to clear up the matter of her marriage. There had been so much wasted time already. Waiting was difficult, but necessary.

  He wanted Anya Bressoff, not Anya Keetering. It was a difficult situation. Anya was clinging to his arm. Desire for the feel of her skin was like the red hot stab of temper which caused everything else to vanish. If he allowed it to take over, this instant he would rip off their clothing and......

  Stanislaus calmed himself with the deliberate exercise of an iron will. Not here and not now. He wanted her exclusively, with no one, nothing between them.

  Anya felt the tension. God knew she wanted to kiss him and more. Hopefully, they could finally make love.

  She wanted to strip off his clothing the first moment she saw him. Anya had said nothing, hoping Stanislaus' thoughts and feeling were running in the same course as hers.

  The stable held fond memories for her of their times together when growing up. It would not bother her one bit to make love in the hay.

  After entering the stable, Stanislaus pulled her over to the old bench Anya had once used to mount her pony. He lifted her up on his lap and took her face in both hands. Soft lips opened to him easily.

  Pressing her breasts against him, Anya placed one arm around his neck. Her tongue flicked lightly across his lower lip.

  The manner in which she touched him caused an immediate reaction in his groin that stunned Stanislaus. This would not do. He tried to set her down, but she was far stronger than he imagined. Anya would not let go. Strong fingers twisted into his hair and she captured his mouth as a hunter takes a bird.

  Unable to help himself, Stanislaus gave in to her urging. Anya turned and pressed herself between his legs. Pulling his shirt from his pants, she ripped the buttons away giving herself access to his chest. Anya ran one hand across his bare skin, rubbing the hard nipples she found.

  A groan, that to his mind sounded much like a growl, left Anya's throat and accompanied the wonderfully demanding kiss, she deepened. Stanislaus knew if he did not stop her very soon, he would not be able to stop himself. He was trembling with want.

  Anya felt the shift within him. Stanislaus stood, taking her wrists in one hand, he spun her around so her back was to him.

  "Stanislaus?" Her voice and the raw desire in it almost caused him to crumble.

  No, not this time. There must be a balance between them. Her need was no greater than his. Stanislaus wanted her so much his body was screaming with it. Blood pounded through him like a sledgehammer.

  "No! Not yet Anya."

  She heard the strain in his voice, felt him shake as she leaned back, pressing against him once again.

  "But?" She whispered, almost unable to speak.

  "Anya I want you so badly I may perish. I have needs as well, love. I must have Anya Bressoff not Anya Keetering."

  She understood him. Anya closed her eyes and a small moan began in the back of her throat.

  "Hush love." Stanislaus wrapped one arm around her. Tugging her head to one side, ever so gently, he kissed her and stroked the line of her jaw and throat. Pulling her backward against him so she was slightly off balance, Stanislaus touched her. With both hands, he kneaded her breasts. Anya turned her head to nip at his throat as he ran his hands over her body then down to her hips.

  Off balance, she could only reach back with one hand to grasp his neck. Stanislaus again kneaded her breasts. Slowly, he stroked his hands down her body. Anya reached back to hold him with both hands around the back of his head.

  Having her off balance was enjoyable, she was under his control. Stanislaus knew his own control hung by a tiny hair. It was enough. Now, Anya would learn what they could do together.

  A step forward gave her back her balance, but he did not allow her to manipulate this coming together. Stanislaus lifted her into his arms and sat back down on the bench. With a slight smile, Anya could not see in the dark stable, he kissed her throat.

  "Put your hands around my neck Anya." She did as he instructed.

  Stanislaus pulled the shirtwaist blouse from her skirt with one hand. Pushing the material up, he forced his hand up under the blouse to the neck of her chemise. With a quick tug he ripped it apart, leaving the shirtwaist still buttoned. He knew she did not wear any other undergarments. Now he had access to the softness of her breasts. He moved her slightly away from him so her right arm was free.

  "Unbutton the blouse, love." Stanislaus felt her movements as she did as he requested.

  "I have." Her voice was shaky.

  Without a word Stanislaus lifted her so he could kiss and nibble on her breasts. Her right arm was around his shoulders. Anya's fingers dug like talons into his muscle. She was making small noises. Stanislaus shifted his hold on her, so he could lick and nibble at the hard muscles of her stomach.

  "Oh God! Oh God!" Anya twisted as she moaned in his arms. "I need you! Please?"

  "Anya, can you feel how much I want you? Here." He lowered her hand so she felt the hard lump between his legs.

  "I can and will wait. I have waited for you this long, I will have you on my terms, not yours."

  "I am yours, Stanislaus. Never have I felt this way. I need you so badly I ...I"

  He lifted her as he stood, allowing Anya to lean against him. With one hand he snagged a horse blanket which he threw on the stack of hay in the vacant stall.

  Lowering her gently to the hay, Stanislaus found the other two blankets where they were always kept. Placing one next to her, the big man lay beside Anya. The third blanket he pushed behind him.

  Her breathing was ragged, but she was waiting on him. Later, when they were good and married, then he would let her have her way.

  "We are agreed then my heart, I am yours and you are mine. I will not leave you unsatisfied, dearest."

  Stanislaus bent over her. "Kiss me my sweet wild woman. I will take care of you. Trust me."

  As she kissed him, Stanislaus reached under her skirt to touch her. Anya pushed herself up against his hand, seeking release. He played with her until she was moaning as she moved against his hand. Then she cried out. He caught her mouth with his to muffle the noise. It would not do to wake her father.

  Anya slowly began to breathe normally. She turned on her side toward Stanislaus who lay on his back beside her
.

  He was trying to control the aching need, which had almost caused him to take her in the hay. Stanislaus refused to give in to it, or her.

  "Stanislaus?"

  Her hesitant whisper amused him. That tiny flash of amusement allowed him to master his body, somewhat. "Believe me love, I am not asleep." He laughed softly.

  "What did you do? I have never felt that way before."

  "Button your blouse love. I do not want anyone else to see your lovely flesh. I love you Anya. More than anything else in the world, I adore you."

  He heard the rustling as she buttoned the blouse over the remains of the chemise. "Dear heart. We need to sleep, turn on your side. Come here."

  Stanislaus flipped the blanket over them where they lay spoon fashion on the two horse blankets. He did not care that the blanket barely covered him. She was covered, she would have his body heat. Most assuredly, Anya would have his body heat.

  Stanislaus was amazed he had managed to keep her from pushing him over the edge. By the finest margin imaginable, he had controlled this night. Now, perhaps they would meet as equals. Anya no longer had the upper hand. It was his last conscious thought.

  Dmitri knew it was early, very early. Something had disturbed his sleep. He waited and listened. One of the horses had nickered. Usually he could not hear them. That must mean the stable was completely open. With a yawn, he slipped out of bed. He would go check to see all was as it should be. There was no need to wake the rest of his sleeping household. Camille flipped the covers from her head. Yawning, she sat up and stretched before looking over at her husband.

  "What woke you?" She asked.

  "Probably nothing. I will take a walk around. You go back to sleep."

  He found a fresh wool shirt and slipped his arms into the sleeves. With both hands he flapped the collar into position.

  "No. I am awake. It might be nice to have a short walk before the children wake. Perhaps a quiet cup of coffee."