Seduced By The Prince's Kiss (Russian Royals 0f Kuban Book 4)

by Bronwyn Scott

  Stepan managed a smile, trying to take their minds off the macabre. ‘You and Joseph don’t need to worry about it. They aren’t going to hang boys.’ At least he hoped not. Feeling the boys’ eyes on him was galvanising. Even at the last, there were people who needed him. These boys were counting on him and he would not fail them. He had to keep his spirits up for their sake and his wits. He would bargain with Denning for them if the time came. He would try to spare them. Then he sobered. ‘You will probably be transported, though.’

  Who knew if he’d have a chance to speak with them again in detail? ‘You must promise me you will stay together and watch out for one another. You must be like brothers. You will be all the other has.’ He gave Oliver a long look. ‘Do you understand? You will have to be strong. Transportation is not the worst thing to happen to you. You will get a chance at a new life, eventually.’ With luck, it might even be better than what they could have hoped for here.

  ‘They will hang you, though, milord.’ Joseph was serious.

  ‘Yes.’ He would not lie to Joseph about that. Stepan had spent his life saving others and now there was no way out for himself. That was not entirely true. There was one way out. He could take his own life and cheat Denning of his prize. Denning wouldn’t be able to make an exhibition out of him. Instinctively, he knew Denning would resent him challenging his power even at the last.

  Ruslan’s father had taken his life in prison before the Tsar could execute him. At the time, Stepan had been ashamed of the man’s decision. He’d seen it as weak and cowardly, although he’d never said as much to Ruslan. He saw that decision differently now. Perhaps the man had feared his son trying something rash to save him and had done it to protect his boy. Perhaps the man had seen the act as a chance to rob a petty tyrant of his power. Maybe those were the reasons Denning had brought the boys—to prevent just such a turn of events. Perhaps Ruslan’s father’s final moments had taken more bravery than Stepan had originally understood. But his bravery would have to take a different path. He would not leave the boys alone, not when their fates were uncertain and there was a chance he could do something about them.

  ‘We could fight them, if we lured the guards inside when they brought our food.’ Joseph began to plan. ‘We could lock them in and you could run.’

  ‘No,’ Stepan said sternly. ‘There will be no heroics on my behalf, Joseph.’ He didn’t want anyone dying for him. Not Joseph, not Oliver, not Anna-Maria, not Dimitri. He wanted them all safe, otherwise what had any of this been for? He might as well have stayed in Kuban.

  * * *

  It was a long day. The boys jumped and exchanged wild-eyed glances every time the door opened, even though he assured them if one wasn’t hung in the morning, they were safe another day since the British army insisted on morning hangings. But if the truth were told, something in him leaped, too, when the doors opened. Apparently, his hope wasn’t as dead as he thought it was. But it was only guards bringing their meals. He had to remind himself there was no one coming. ‘This is merely Denning playing with us,’ he told the boys. ‘He knows waiting can be its own kind of torture. Waiting for the unknown even more so.’ One never knew if one should want time to hurry up so that the outcome would be clear, or if one should beg for time to slow down because at least for now one was alive.

  The boys drifted off to sleep after a bread supper, Joseph still shivering with fever. Stepan stayed awake, keeping watch for what it was worth, the way he’d kept watch all those nights on the journey from Kuban, all those nights in London waiting up for Nikolay and Illarion to come home, to know they were safe. It was what he was good at: standing vigil.

  Anna-Maria kept watch with him in his thoughts, the image of her burning bright in his mind. She was safe now and so was the child that she might carry. A son. The possibility no longer filled him with trepidation and he marvelled at the revelation. There was even elation with the thought that he might be a father. That he might have taken a boy fishing, or bought him his first pony—a docile, fat little beast with short legs and a thick mane. He let his mind conjure up a hundred scenes of ponies and piggyback rides, the boy on his shoulders, Anna-Maria at his side.

  When had this happened, this loss of fear, this desire to love? He knew the answer. It wasn’t a when that had changed him but a who. Anna. Anna had given him back love, given him back himself, here at the last when it was too late.

  There was a soft squeak of the main door opening, someone coming to collect supper dishes, finally. He looked up when the key turned in the lock. There were two guards this time instead of one. His senses were on alert, the drowsy lethargy leaving him. ‘We’ve brought paper and ink, Shevchenko.’ The one man spoke quietly out of deference for the sleeping boys. The other held up a key for the shackles. ‘You can write if you like.’

  Stepan struggled to his feet and swallowed as he held out his hands. He knew what this meant. Denning would not have allowed the concession on its own. ‘Tomorrow, then?’ He rubbed his wrists as the shackles fell away. He would have a night of freedom before they were put back on in the morning to lead him away.

  A chance to fight, came the unbidden thought, a remnant of his ghostly vigil with Anna. A chance to live.

  ‘Yes.’ The men were solemn, polite. ‘The captain wants to wait until the town is awake to watch.’ After breakfast, then. Well, now he knew.

  ‘And the boys?’ He nodded towards the sleeping forms, his heart pounding. He had two boys left to save and he would if it was the last thing he did. The expression wasn’t just words any more.

  ‘They will be hanged, as well.’ The men shuffled their feet uncomfortably.

  The warrior in him woke. ‘They are children.’ His stomach clenched in desperation. He had to save them. ‘I want an audience with Denning. I want to bargain. I want them transported instead, if not set free outright.’ He racked his brain for options. He had money—perhaps he could buy their freedom as long as Denning had one man to hang. Denning was not the most scrupulous of men. ‘Tell him!’ Stepan said when the men remained silent. ‘They are children, dammit. They are just trying to survive.’

  * * *

  The door locked behind them and Stepan stared at the paper and ink left with the little writing desk. Reality claimed him. He was down to last things. He was thirty-one and this was all the time he would get. When the boys woke, their needs would claim the rest of his time and strength. There was only this time left to reflect on his life and settle his affairs and yet he could focus only on Anna-Maria.

  Did she know that he loved her? That he was capable of loving and she’d been the one to show it to him? There’d been times throughout his life he’d been ready to lay down his life for his friends, for Anna-Maria. But now, he wanted to live for her, for what they might have had. Never had he felt the tang of life so completely as he did now—thinking of Anna, watching the boys rest. He was needed alive.

  That settled it. Determination replaced desperation. He would not go out in the morning and simply let Denning put a noose over his head and pull the lever. He would fight every step of the way. If he had to die tomorrow, he would die trying.

  * * *

  Each passing moment was a hellish torment for Anna as the carriage stopped yet again in the crowded streets of Shoreham. She hit the side of the carriage with her fist in frustration. They were so close and they would be too late at this rate. They’d arrived last night and gathered at Seacrest; Dimitri and Evie, May and Sir Liam, Jonathan Lashley and his wife, Claire, even Anna’s father had come, all from Little Westbury. Nikolay had ridden ahead of the Worths from London on his warhorse, Cossack, eating up the miles with enviable speed and had already been waiting at Seacrest, already gathering information, none of it good. Anna wished she could have ridden with him.

  She managed a peek out the window, but it did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach. It had been there since Nikolay had brought back his repo
rt last night. He’d ridden down to the barracks and asked to see Stepan, but had been turned away. Stepan would hang in the morning in the town square. Anna had gone to pieces then. To her amazement, it had been her father who had carried her from the room and sat with her through the night, holding her with great tenderness, murmuring empty assurances as she cried. Even now, his words remained imprinted on her mind. ‘There, there, my darling girl, let it all out. I know what it is to lose the one you love.’

  Now the morning was here and time was flying again. There had been too much of it in the night and now there wasn’t enough.

  They’d left early from Seacrest, but apparently Shoreham hadn’t had such a grand entertainment as a hanging in ages and everyone had turned out for it. Not everyone was pleased by it, though. She sensed the anger in the crowd. She heard it in the calls that went out whenever a soldier passed. Perhaps the men could turn the crowd and use the chaos to free Stepan?

  Dimitri poked his head inside. ‘We won’t get any closer,’ he informed them.

  ‘We have to,’ Anna protested. ‘What are we going to do?’ How many times had she asked the question? Surely this time there would be an answer.

  ‘They’re bringing him out now.’ Dimitri ignored her question and her stomach lurched. If she couldn’t go forward, she could go up. Stepan was out there and she was going to see him. If the worst happened, he would see her at the last. Anna shoved past her brother.

  ‘Where are you going, Anna?’ He grabbed for her, but she wrested away, climbing up to the driver’s seat. She clambered up on top of the carriage to the luggage rack.

  Dimitri scrambled up behind her. ‘Anna, this is madness! Get inside where you are safe. The crowd might riot.’

  ‘No, he has to see me. He has to know I am here.’ She calmed for a moment and searched her brother’s eyes. ‘Don’t you see, I love him and he loves me. He gave himself up to save me and now we have to save him.’ She didn’t try to hold back the tears. She wasn’t ashamed to love Stepan.

  Dimitri held her gaze, the full significance of her words settling on him. A wry smile quirked at his lips. ‘I was so afraid you’d fall in love with the first man who showed you any adventure and I was right. I just never dreamed it would be my best friend.’ He paused. ‘You do know if we’re successful today, he won’t be able to come back? He’ll have to leave England.’ If she went with him, she’d never be able to come back either. It would mean leaving Dimitri.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s see him free first.’

  The ominous drums rolled. Stepan and the boys were brought out. Her heart clenched. Even at a distance, they looked haggard and dirty. Denning had not allowed him any quarter even in death. Denning couldn’t risk it. No one wanted to hang a clean-shaven, well-laundered man who looked every inch the prince he was. There was little of the prince in his face today, though. Stepan’s face was cut, there were new bruises and he was heavily guarded by three men, as if there’d been trouble earlier. Anna hoped there had been. She hoped Denning was paying for every step Stepan took towards the noose.

  ‘Stepan!’ She called his name over the crowd and watched his posture go alert.

  Look at me, she begged silently. I will hold you with my gaze until it’s over. I will not let you go.

  The crowd faded, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Anna was here! Stepan’s head turned towards the crowd, scanning it quickly and finding her atop a carriage, Dimitri beside her. Despite the grimness of the situation, his heart soared at the sight of her. His brave Anna here at the last. Her eyes held his over the crowd, over the noise.

  I will hold you with my gaze until it’s over. I will not let you go.

  He wished suddenly that he looked better for her. She would see his bruised face and she would worry. He was a battered specimen indeed. There had been fighting this morning when the guards had come. He’d fought again when he’d been brought before Denning, this time in chains. He’d managed to get his chains around Denning’s neck before the guards had reached him. It had delayed the hanging. Denning insisted on changing into clean clothes, but it had not stopped it.

  So intent was he on Anna, he nearly missed the commotion at the front of the scaffold as Preston Worth, flanked by the imposing form of Sir Liam Casek on one side and Prince Nikolay Baklanov on the other, approached the scaffold and contained chaos broke loose. His Anna had not come alone. Stepan shot a quick look at Joseph and Oliver at his sides, a look that said to be alert.

  ‘What is going on here?’ Preston’s voice carried over the crowd, silencing them as he approached Captain Denning. ‘Since when do we hang men without a trial?’

  ‘Since they’ve been caught smuggling and confessed to it,’ Denning answered smartly. ‘I have his vodka as proof.’

  ‘We were coerced.’ Stepan spoke up, rapidly, forcing his hoarse voice to carry. ‘He threatened a lady’s virtue if I did not confess to his charges. I am a gentleman. I would have confessed to anything to save a lady from rape.’

  He watched Worth nod, his eyes narrowing in speculation. ‘Is that true? Are there witnesses?’ Worth turned his gaze to him and Stepan had the suspicion Preston Worth was making this up as he went with only a very loose idea of what he was doing.

  ‘I would not ask a lady to incriminate herself in something likely to be scandalous.’ Stepan hedged, his eyes darting across the platform at Nikolay and Liam, ready at their stations. Worth couldn’t truly think he’d reason his way out of this if he’d brought them. ‘You have only my word, as a prince of Kuban.’

  The crowd oohed, enjoying the drama. ‘Ah, yes, another consideration, Denning,’ Worth pressed his case. ‘This man is not a British citizen. He is not subject to our laws. He is a royal prince. He cannot be tried and convicted here.’ He spread his hands. ‘It seems the evidence for hanging is shaky indeed—a foreign national with no obligation to keep our laws and an account of coercion.’ Worth tapped a hand against his thigh impatiently as he scolded, ‘This is not the finest hour of the British legal system, Captain.’

  Was that true? Stepan wondered. Was he not subordinate to English law? For a moment, he thought Worth’s case would carry weight, that it would be enough, but it was Denning’s hand that lay close to the fatal lever. Even if Worth was right, actions would speak louder.

  ‘A condemned man will say anything and there is no witness,’ Denning snarled. He raised his hand. ‘Let the hanging commence!’ A hood was slipped over Stepan’s head without warning and all went dark. Stepan struggled. No, this could not be it. He wanted to see Anna, freedom was so close, he could feel it, taste it. Nikolay and Liam were just feet away.

  He could sense movement in the crowd. ‘Stop, you have a witness!’ It was Anna. He wished he could see. Her words came fast, a sure sign Denning’s hand was at the lever. ‘I’m the woman he saved. Denning threatened me to force a confession.’

  Jeers and hisses went up, the crowd was starting to turn against Denning and Stepan understood the brilliance of Preston’s plan and Anna’s sacrifice. They were all close now: the carriage, Anna, Dimitri—Dimitri who had once thrown a knife to save Evie’s life. The import of that took on new meaning. Stepan stopped fighting and stood still. He wished he could tell the boys the same, but that would expose too much. He forced himself to breathe deeply, calmly, to put his trust in his friends. Nikolay would save Joseph. Liam would take Oliver. And Dimitri would throw for him. He had simply to wait and be ready.

  ‘Cut them down. They all must stand trial first. We have a witness.’ Worth’s order came loud and clear. The end game was in motion. Stepan steeled himself. Denning would comply or Denning would pull the lever. It would all be over in a matter of seconds.

  Denning spoke, rage evident in his tone. ‘Shevchenko has no power here. He is not above the law.’

  ‘Nor he is below it,’
Preston answered. ‘He is in limbo, he is neutral. He can be neither innocent nor guilty. He must be returned to Kuban and face his justice there, if I am right. If you are right, you may try him for his crime at that time, but not before.’

  ‘He must be made an example of!’ Denning roared. ‘He has broken the law.’ Stepan strained his ears. The crowd was silent.

  Worth made the most of that silence. ‘What say you, people of Shoreham? Will you support this tyranny? This man has been given no trial, he has been given no justice by those who are supposed to protect you. If it can be done to him, it can be done to you. If you allow this man to hang today, you will be next whether you’re guilty or not. Nothing will stop Denning, nothing except you. This is your chance. Will you take it?’

  The crowd’s volume began to rise, the sound of rotten fruit being thrown filled the air. Denning swore, his voice only reaching those on the platform. ‘You think you’re powerful, Worth. I will show you real power.’

  Instinctively, Stepan knew this was the moment. Time stopped in a scream—Anna, he thought. For a moment there was air beneath his feet, the tightening of the rope about his neck, he began to choke, then came the thunk of a blade into the knot above him and he was falling.

  Beneath the gallows, Stepan was frantic. He had to get the hood off, he had to see, he had to stand up, almost impossible to do with his hands tied and there were only seconds before the soldiers found him. Then, someone was there, familiar hands, old hands, pulling off the hood, ‘My son, quickly, to the carriage.’ Christof Petrovich shoved him forward, Stepan could see the wheels of the coach and he went, stumbling on weak legs. His strength was giving out at the last, when freedom was just feet away. But Christof caught him beneath the arms and half carried him the rest of the away, his voice rough with emotion at Stepan’s ear. ‘Don’t you dare give up now, not when my daughter loves you.’ At the coach, he barked orders through the chaos, ‘Daughter, drive! I have him!’ Stepan looked up with his failing strength to see Anna at the box, reins in hand as he and Christof tumbled inside. For the moment, he was alive. For the first time in two days he let himself believe in the impossible: he was going to live.