by The Countess
"Of course not. The sooner you are well, the earlier we can leave, but we must be very careful. Vladimir must not suspect for one moment that either of us has any thought of leaving." Alexandreya bent and kissed her. "When Anya returns she will come and sit with you for as long as you wish. Try to sleep, my dear."
To Alexandreya's dismay, as she was descending the stairs Vladimir Krylenko appeared from the direction of the rear entrance of the house. She attempted to pass him by without speaking, determined to show her displeasure at the treatment her sister had received, but he stepped in front of her, deliberately blocking the way.
"Alexandreya, surely you are not going out alone? It is almost dusk and the streets are hardly the place for a lone woman," he said with a smile.
If he noticed the loathing and contempt in her eyes, he gave no sign. He was acting as if nothing had happened, Alexandreya thought, horrified. Had he no qualms over the awful thing he had done?
In a silky smooth tone he asked, "Can I not escort you wherever you are going?"
"Thank you, Major, but I prefer to go alone. Now please allow me to pass."
"Gently- gently, Alexandreya." His smile mocked her. "I have not had the pleasure of your company all day. You must hurry back and dine with me."
Alexandreya looked disgusted.
"I have no intention of remaining in your company for two minutes, let alone a whole evening," she said icily. "There are no words to describe how I feel about you, Major. You are beneath contempt."
Vladimir laughed, unperturbed by her coldness. He had been thinking of her all morning, comparing her to his wife. If only he had married this one; she had everything, including a fiery spirit which he would have enjoyed breaking.
"Am I to be held to scorn for chastising an unfaithful wife? I answer to no one, Alexandreya and you would do well to remember you are a guest in my house. Do not question my actions again, dear sister-in-law."
"Natasha is my sister-"
"And my wife, although she chooses to forget it with annoying regularity. You would have been a much more satisfactory wife, Alexandreya. I could be a very proud man with you by my side."
The caress in his tone - the sudden passionate light which sprang to his eyes - made Alexandreya step back in alarm.
"You are quite mad to speak to me in this fashion."
Vladimir stiffened. Silently he cursed the unwanted woman upstairs who stood in the way of him having this lovely creature, and wished her dead, as he had done many times since the day Alexandreya had come beneath his roof. He stepped to one side.
"Keep your appointment, my dear. We will have supper together when you return."
Alexandreya swept past him out into the courtyard, her head held high. Not-until she reached the street did she stop trembling.
The West Gate was a small, narrow archway barred by a wrought iron gate. It adjoined the barracks and officers' quarters. Alexandreya was relieved to see Anya waiting there and beside her, the figure of the Holstein lieutenant.
"Good evening, Lieutenant Bruckner, thank you for coming," she said gratefully. She turned to her maid. "Go back to the house now and stay close to Mrs. Krylenko. I will not be long."
"I came at once, Countess. Is anything wrong?" Andre's pale eyes searched her face in the half-light.
"Nothing that cannot be rectified provided we are careful," Alexandreya answered. "Is there somewhere less open where we can talk?"
"The palace is the safest place. The guards have just been changed and my men are on duty here. No one should question us, but if we are stopped I shall say you are one of Her Imperial Majesty's new ladies-in-waiting. She has at least three new ones every week."
Andre opened the gate and ushered her quickly through. They passed a patrolling sentry who gave them no more than a cursory glance and entered the palace. In a deserted corridor on the first floor, Andre halted and motioned to the chaise-longue against the wall.
"Please be seated, Countess. It is safe for us to talk here."
Alexandreya sat down. She knew she had to take extreme care with her words. If he guessed the truth, he might foolishly challenge the Major to a duel and wreck her plans.
"Natasha has been followed for several days," she said quietly. "Major Krylenko is now aware of the affair between you. Let me finish!" She held up a hand as Andre turned pale and began to speak. "I am afraid for my sister's safety, Lieutenant Bruckner, and that is why we are leaving for my home at Bratz as soon as possible. You are welcome to come too, if you wish. Is it possible for you to leave St. Petersburg?"
"Major Krylenko will never allow me to be transferred now," Andre said bitterly. "You are right to take Natasha away, he is a dangerous man and we have made him look a fool. He will not forgive either of us. If I stay here, I will end up in Siberia, he will see to that. I have no choice but to come with you."
Alexandreya was annoyed that he made it sound so terrible a decision. Surely anything was better than Siberia, even desertion.
"I have many loyal men at Bratz who will hide you should the need arise, and swear you have never been near the place."
Andre nodded, his mind made up.
"I have never loved any woman as I love your sister. I will do anything to be with her, even this, God forgive me. Have you decided when to leave?"
"Not yet, although it will be soon. We must choose the time carefully to avoid suspicion," Alexandreya said. "My maid will come to you again when the final arrangements are to be discussed."
"Countess Romanova." Andre laid a hand on her arm as she was about to rise. "A moment, please. There must be some way I can repay you for helping Natasha and me in this manner."
Alexandreya smiled.
"Continue to love my sister, that is all you can do for me, Lieutenant Bruckner."
"I will - I swear it. If I ever fail her, may I be struck dead," he answered fervently.
Seizing both her hands in his, he pressed them to his lips. Alexandreya grew perturbed lest someone should come upon them unexpectedly and mistake them for a pair of lovers.
And that was how Dmitri Varanov found them as he turned into the corridor en route to his apartments.
For nearly four weeks, Dmitri had been kicking his heels in Moscow, under orders from the Czarina Catherine not to return until she personally sent word to him.
He did not like Moscow and spent most of the first two weeks bored and dispirited in the barracks. He had even been deprived of the company of his faithful Sergei - a giant of a man nearer seven feet than six, who was bodyguard, friend and servant all rolled into one. He had been left in St. Petersburg with instructions to watch and listen.
The third week, restlessness set in. Dmitri found two trends of thought occupied his mind. Concern over Catherine during his absence, and the memory of Alexandreya standing before him in the stables.
Her scornful words returned at night to haunt his dreams. She had taken precedence over everything else in his mind and the days of his exile dragged with interminable slowness. No one else managed to reopen old wounds and revive past resentment as successfully as she did. At first he had felt anger towards her, but in going out of his way to make himself unpleasant, he had found he was inexplicably attracted to her. He denied it vehemently, of course. She was just another woman and given half a chance, she would spit on him. He had no intention of giving her that chance; he would give her nothing, but he would take.
It had been so easy to think that way in the beginning. Now, lying outstretched on his rough bed in the barracks, an empty jug of braga beside him, he was forced to admit that such methods were out of place with this one. Somehow she had infiltrated his defences and pushed herself into his thoughts.
"Damn the bitch," he swore and hurled the jug against the opposite wall with unconcealed rancour.
For the remainder of his stay, he sought solace in the many taverns in the town, remaining partially drunk for the best part of three days.
A messenger from Catherine roused him
from a stupor early one morning. Within an hour of reading the letter ordering him home, he was riding swiftly towards St. Petersburg, leaving boredom, misery and many empty braga jugs behind him.
He made only one stop on the journey, at the bardak owned by Boris, where he ate a large meal with relish and washed it down with Wine. To the inn-keeper's surprise, he refused the offer of a girl for the night and continued on his way as soon as his horse had been fed and watered.
At the Winter Palace he had a brief audience with Catherine. She had welcomed him back with genuine feeling which touched him; an unusual victory for anyone to achieve. She refused to discuss anything that had happened during his absence however, saying that it could wait until he had rested. He was to ride with her the following morning, she said, and then they would talk.
Countess Alexandreya Romanova had not intruded on his thoughts during the long ride, but he was thinking about her as he strode towards his quarters. He was tempted also to spend the night at the hunting-lodge, but this was abruptly forgotten as he rounded a corner and came upon a man and a woman seated close together on one of the chaise-longues in the corridor.
The man looked up and saw Dmitri first. He was mildly suprised to discover it was Andre Bruckner and he chuckled silently, wondering what Natasha would say to this titbit of information. He received an unexpected jolt as the man's companion quickly snatched her hand from his and sprang to her feet, so hastily that the hood covering her face fell away.. Red hair glinted in the light of the torches suspended on the walls.
Dmitri halted a few feet from them, his face bleak.
"Good evening Countess. Bruckner." He inclined his head slightly in the other's direction, his eyes intent on the crimson cheeks before him. Was it possible he had interrupted a lovers' meeting? They had been holding hands. The thought angered and disgusted him.
"Colonel Varanov, I thought you were in Moscow." Alexandreya forced herself to be calm. His appearance had momentarily shattered her composure and it was not easy to regain it under such bold surveillance. The expression on his face told her he thought the worst.
"I was." He did not bother to enlighten her.
"Colonel, it is good to see you back," Andre said. His smile was polite, his attitude formal. The palace was no place to acknowledge this Cossack as his friend. "Did you have a pleasant stay in Moscow?"
"I did not. Are you on duty tonight?"
"Yes, I am."
"I thought so. Major Krylenko stormed past me just now looking for you," Dmitri said. "I suggest you find him, before he finds you. I will take care of the Countess," he added with a tight smile.
"You had better go," Alexandreya said as the lieutenant hesitated. "If he found us together, it could ruin everything."
"Yes, it would. Goodnight, Countess." He bowed smartly. "Thank you. Goodnight, Colonel."
Alexandreya had no intention of being alone with Dmitri. As Lieutenant Bruckner hurried away, she turned and began to walk back the way they had come. In two long strides, Dmitri caught up with her and laid a heavy hand on her arm.
"Not so fast, my mala koska. You rush away as if you are not pleased to see me. Or are you angry because I interrupted a touching scene?"
"I was delivering a message from my sister," Alexandreya retorted bristling. "How dare you think you saw anything else?"
"Did you deliver it by hand?" Dmitri mocked.
She tried to pull herself free, but he held her fast, his eyes glinting dangerously.
"I am in no mood to be provoked, Countess, you must humour me. If I was wrong, I apologise. Come and dine with me to prove you hold no grudge."
Alexandreya's eyes widened. He had reminded her that she was to have supper with Vladimir Krylenko when she returned to the house. It was an impossible situation. A man she loathed on one hand - a man she feared on the other.
"Please, Colonel Varanov." She raised a hand to her forehead feeling suddenly drained of all strength. Lack of sleep and constant worry were at last beginning to tell. "I am in no mood to be provoked either. I am no match for you tonight."
"Then I will take you home."
"No - I mean-" She looked up into his puzzled features. "If I return home now I must dine with Major Krylenko."
"I see. As he has offered first, then you must go, of course."
"He has ordered me to dine with him. I have no choice. He reminded me earlier this evening that I am nothing more than a guest in his house."
Dmitri felt a tremor run through her body and he frowned.
"Your eyes tell me that something has happened while I was away."
"Yes, it has."
"We cannot talk here, he may come along at any moment," Dmitri interrupted. "Whether you like it or not, you are going to have my company for a while. We will discuss it in my quarters over some brandy."
Alexandreya walked beside him in silence to his quarters, which as it turned out were at the far end of that very corridor. He opened a door and ushered her into a large room, strangely luxuriant for the needs of a soldier. Dmitri smiled, but said nothing as he watched her gaze wander over the massive four-poster bed, hung with dark silk drapes against one wall, the tapestry-covered couch before the hearth with its burgundy coloured tassels and sumptuous cushions. Rich tapestries hung from the walls and a huge candelabra hung over the oak table in the centre of the room.
Neither the furniture or the decorations were of his choosing - they were Catherine's. She was generous to a fault with anyone she liked. He had grown used to the comfort in time, and there was always the hunting-lodge, furnished to his own taste, when he tired of these surroundings.
The figure of a man loomed up in the doorway behind them, blocking it with his enormous frame. It was Sergei - the Tartar.
"Colonel, it is good you are home," he said enthusiastically. His voice boomed from behind a lengthy growth of white whiskers, curling down from his chin almost to the wide, metal-studded belt around his stout waist. Dark eyes, not unlike Dmitri's, focused on the woman. "You have company, forgive me."
"Nonsense, my friend." Dmitri embraced him warmly. "Thank you for the fire and the table - I see you are expecting me to be hungry."
"It was a long ride."
"I stopped over at Boris'. There is some excellent brandy in my saddlebags, bring it up, will you, and lay another place? The Countess is dining with me. Oh, one more thing, Sergei," he added as the Tartar was withdrawing. "If anyone other than Her Imperial Majesty asks for me, I have gone to bed. As for the lady here, you have not seen her. That will ensure we are not disturbed," he said, turning to Alexandreya.
She remained motionless, making no attempt to remove her cloak. It seemed that fate had decreed she should at last dine with him.
"I will tell you the truth, Colonel, although it is no compliment. If I remain, it is because I consider you to be the lesser of two evils."
"Coming from you that is quite an admission," Dmitri returned quietly. "Come." He unfastened her cloak before she could protest. "Sit down before the fire while I wash off some of this dirt I've brought with me. Sergei will be here with the brandy soon."
Wondering if she were in a dream world, Alexandreya sank back into the depths of the couch and allowed her head to fall back on to a cushion. What a blessed relief it was to relax. Unconsciously a sigh escaped her.
From the doorway of the small antechamber adjoining the main room, Dmitri stared at her uneasily. There was trouble in the air; he saw it in those expressive green eyes and heard it in her voice. A nagging voice within him warned against growing involved in someone else's trouble, especially if that someone was a beautiful, proud woman to whom he was already attracted against his will. Quietly, so as not to disturb her, he closed the door, but he could not shut out the voice.
CHAPTER FIVE
When she had gone to the palace with a message for Andre Bruckner, Alexandreya had never dreamed she would at last accept an invitation to dine with Dmitri Varanov.
They ate
a simple meal in his apartments. Sergei apologised, explaining he had no previous knowledge that there was to be a lady present and had provided only soldiers' fare. Nevertheless Alexandreya enjoyed it, and said so. Afterwards Dmitri opened one of the bottles he had brought back with him.
"I think you are worried," Alexandreya declared, looking at him over the rim of her goblet. He was staring at his own vessel and frowning heavily. Neither had spoken for a long while.
"That I cannot deny; I fear daily for Catherine's life. The Czar is mad enough to resort to murder. Sergei tells me even the Church is divided over him."
"Kill his own wife?" She was appalled. "Surely he would not dare?"
Dmitri smiled at her surprise.
"And who would speak out against him? He could pay some rogue to kill her and then silence him to ensure his tongue was still. Whatever anyone thought, they dare not voice an opinion. If only Catherine was Empress. If she held the power-"
He broke off, his eyes narrowing sharply. "This is for your ears alone, do you understand me? Never repeat a word of what I have said, unless," and he leaned back in his chair mockingly, "unless you have a mind to see me arrested and broken on the wheel as revenge for my past conduct."
Alexandreya could not suppress a violent shudder. She had noticed before how easily he talked of death and torture, while the mere thought of it turned her stomach.
"I bear you no grudge, Colonel Varanov. I have tried and failed; it is not in me."
"You surprise me, mala koska," he said and his tone was confirmation of this. "Most women can be vindictive when they try, especially if they have the man they dislike at a disadvantage."
"Do you want me to try?" Alexandreya challenged. "Is that why I am here?"
"No, it is not. Believe me, I did not ask you here to argue. I am in need of company tonight - the company of a woman who does not expect me to sleep with her," he added as if sensing she was about to question his reason for choosing her. "Let me refill your draka. This is good brandy, is it not? I had the feeling you would appreciate it. I intended to send you another dinner invitation, would you have accepted this time?"