by Sandra Heath
Alison sat very still, listening carefully, but there wasn’t a sound from the other adjoining room. After a moment, just as she was about to resume reading her book, voices approached, and she recognized that of the Englishman. He was conducted to the room next to hers, where the fire had been lit, and then the serving girl hurried away again. The Englishman closed the door firmly.
Alison suddenly felt much safer, knowing that a fellow countryman was in the next room. Should she approach him and tell him that someone had tried to enter her room? Putting the book aside, she got up from the bed and went to pull the armchair aside, but even as she pushed it back into place by the fire, she knew that it wouldn’t do at all to approach a total stranger in the middle of the night in an inn. Indeed, such a move would be considered most improper, especially when the incident concerned had long since past, and if the truth be known, she didn’t even know if the would-be intruder had meant to enter her room. What if someone had been attempting to keep an assignation and had then realized his mistake and gone away? It could be as simple as that, and she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her.
She glanced back toward the door. Should she push the wretched armchair back to wedge the handle? As she stood there undecided what to do, again she heard a soft, stealthy noise, and this time it didn’t come from one of the adjoining rooms, but apparently from her balcony. A cold finger of fear touched her, and she turned slowly, her frightened gaze drawn toward the windows. As she looked, she saw the curtains tremble a little. It wasn’t the slight motion caused by the breeze having opened the glazed doors, but the surreptitious movement made by someone hiding there. She’d left the tiniest crack between the two curtains, and she knew that someone was observing her through it.
With a stifled cry she fled toward the door, but before she could reach it, the curtains were flung aside and Prince Nikolai dashed across the room to seize her, forcing his hand over her mouth to silence her.
‘Don’t be foolish, Miss Clearwell, for I mean you no harm,’ he breathed.
Terrified, she could only stare at him. Her strength seemed to have deserted her, and she couldn’t even struggle to save herself. Her heart was pounding unbearably in her breast, and her whole body was ice cold with dread.
His dark eyes were intense, and his hand was still pressed roughly over her mouth. ‘I don’t wish to hurt you, Miss Clearwell, so I want you to promise me that you will not scream if I take my hand away. Do I have your promise?’
For a moment she couldn’t respond, but then she managed to nod.
Slowly he removed his hand, but he still held her in a viselike grip from which she couldn’t possibly have escaped. His lips were only inches from hers, and he held her body against his. He could smell the lavender water she used, and he found it arousing. ‘How very resourceful of you to put the chair against the door, Miss Clearwell, for at first it confounded my efforts, but then I remembered that the adjoining rooms are unoccupied and that earlier today I heard the landlord mention that he would have to send for a locksmith to mend the doors on to your balcony. Dame Fortune is determined to place you in my hands tonight.’
‘Please let me go,’ she whispered, terrified.
‘Let you go? My dear Miss Clearwell, I will only do that when I’ve enjoyed your charms to the full.’
‘No! Please, no!’ She tried to pull away.
‘Don’t be foolish, Miss Clearwell, for there is so much pleasure to be had. I intend to possess you, and I will do so whether you struggle or whether you consent. Of course, it would be so much better if you consented, because it would please me to introduce you to the delights of making love.’
‘Please leave me alone,’ she begged, tears stinging her eyes.
‘Leave you all on your own? What gentleman of honor would do that?’ he murmured, a sensuous smile curving his lips.
She stared at him, and then, from out of nowhere, inspiration came to her. ‘I – I’m not alone, sir,’ she said, the plot of her book suddenly coming to mind.
A quick suspicious light passed through his eyes, but then he gave a soft laugh. ‘Oh, but you are, my dear. You’re totally alone and unprotected.’
A jumble of thoughts milled in her head, and she strove with all her might to sort them into a believable story. ‘I may appear to be alone, sir, but the truth is that I traveled from England with my chaperone, who left me earlier today in order to run off with a Swedish nobleman. But I am still not alone, because I’ve come to Stockholm to meet the man I’m to marry, and we’re traveling on to St Petersburg on the Pavlovsk because the Duchess of Albemarle sank. We’re running away to be married, sir, because my father wishes me to enter an arranged match with a man I detest, and in St Petersburg we are sure that my uncle will lend us his assistance.’
Nikolai was a little startled, but then his eyes narrowed. ‘Your uncle? Would that be Thomas Clearwell, who resides on English Quay?’
Dismay lanced through her, for she hadn’t thought that he might be acquainted with her relative, but she was trapped now and didn’t dare to deny it. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Do – do you know him?’
‘I know of him.’ His eyes were very dark and suspicious. ‘Where is this so-called lover, Miss Clearwell? I do not see him, do you?’ He glanced mockingly around the room.
Her heart was pounding. ‘We’re observing propriety, sir, and although he stayed at the quayside to assist Captain Merryvale after the ship sank, he has now joined me here and is at this very moment in the next room. Perhaps you heard him arrive? He’ll be wondering why I haven’t tapped the wall so signify that I am all right. I – I’m sure that at any moment he’ll come to the door.’
The prince hesitated, for he had indeed heard someone arrive in the next room. She thought she had convinced him, but another slow, unpleasant smile returned to Nikolai’s lips. ‘Oh, my dear Miss Clearwell, how very inventive you are. First there was the business with the armchair, and now we have this string of commendably plausible lies. My respect for Englishwomen has increased immeasurably, for they are most stimulating.’
‘I’m not lying,’ she whispered. ‘I’m telling you the truth.’ Fresh terror had plunged through her, for she knew that she hadn’t deterred him at all and that she was completely at his mercy.
He pressed her even closer, suddenly forcing hungry fierce kisses upon her mouth. His hands moved over her, touching her breasts and sliding down to caress her thighs, and all the time he was bearing her toward the bed. She was helpless, unable to do anything but struggle futilely in his far superior grasp.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. Nikolai leapt away from her, whirling about toward the sound. Alison stumbled backward, grabbing at the bedpost to prevent herself from falling. She was so confused in that moment that she remained silent.
A voice called from the corridor. ‘Alison? Are you there?’
It was the Englishman. Thunderstruck, she stared at the door. Why had he interrupted at such a providential moment, and what was more, how could he possibly know her name?
Nikolai’s hand slid softly inside his uniform jacket, and she realized that he had a weapon concealed there, a pistol or a dagger. His dark eyes were filled with warning as he looked at her. ‘So, you have a lover, after all,’ he murmured. ‘Be well advised now that it would be extremely foolish if you said or did anything concerning what has just happened. If you don’t wish any harm to come to your lover, you’d better invent another plausible story to explain my presence. Do I make myself abundantly clear?’
Her eyes were huge and frightened, and she nodded.
‘Then admit him.’ As he spoke, he moved to stand with his back to the fireplace, his hands clasped almost casually behind his back.
Trembling so much that she felt weak, she went to the door. As she opened it, the Englishman stepped swiftly in, bewildering her still more by sweeping her into his arms and kissing her passionately on the lips, and she was too stunned to do anything but submit.
He took
his time over the kiss, his fingers curling richly in the warm hair at the nape of her neck. It was the practiced kiss of a man who’d made love to many women, and who knew full well how to give pleasure. To all intents and purposes, it was also the kiss of a man who was deeply and irrevocably in love with the woman he held in his arms, and to Nikolai, who stood watching, it must have been very convincing indeed.
To Alison it was a breathless, heart-stopping moment of self-knowledge, for in spite of the danger that was still all around, she could feel herself responding to the caresses of this man whose identity was still a mystery.
4
For several seconds she was utterly powerless to resist, trapped both by confusion and by the strangely beguiling feelings that stirred through her at his touch. But then she remembered Nikolai’s whispered warning, and a cold sanity swept over her. She pulled away from her rescuer’s arms, turning swiftly to indicate the prince.
‘Darling, we aren’t alone. Please allow me to present you to Prince Nikolai Ivanovich Naryshky, who has been the very personification of gallantry ever since I arrived here. Not only did he act as my interpreter, but when a thief was apprehended in the inn a short while ago, he was so concerned for my safety that he came to see that I was all right. I am truly in his debt.’ While her face gave nothing away, inwardly she marveled at the ease with which she concocted the story. It seemed that tonight she’d discovered a considerable gift for telling believable lies.
The Englishman’s clear blue eyes rested lightly on the Russian. ‘If Miss Clearwell is in your debt, sir, then so am I. Francis, Lord Buckingham, your servant, sir.’ He sketched an elegant bow.
How Alison managed to conceal her shock she didn’t know. Lord Buckingham? The man who was soon to be betrothed to Pamela? Suddenly she understood how he knew her first name. Somehow he’d overheard what was happening to her, he’d heard her addressed as Miss Clearwell, and he’d heard mention of her uncle, Thomas Clearwell. Through Pamela, and probably through William as well, he knew all about her unwanted visit to St Petersburg, and an astonishing stroke of luck had brought him to this inn when she was so desperately in need of rescue.
Nikolai hadn’t noticed her reaction, for his attention was on Francis. ‘I am honored to make your acquaintance, my lord, but it seems to me that your name is known to me already. Are you not going to St Petersburg in the hope of purchasing a colt from the imperial stables?’
‘That was my original purpose, yes, but as you can see, I now have other reasons for going as well,’ replied Francis, reaching across to take Alison’s hand and draw it tenderly to his lips.
Nikolai smiled a little. ‘I can think of no sweeter reason in all the world, my lord, for in Miss Clearwell you have a prize beyond compare.’
‘I am daily more conscious of my great good fortune,’ murmured Francis, smiling into her eyes as if he adored her with all his heart.
Somehow she managed to return the smile, but in truth she was suddenly very close to losing her nerve. So much had happened to her since leaving England that she’d been finding it a terrible strain even before the fire on the Duchess of Albemarle, but now she’d been forced to stay at an inn, she’d almost suffered a vile fate at the prince’s hands, and finally she was having to pretend that Francis Buckingham was indeed the fictitious lover she’d invented on the spur of the moment to save herself from unwelcome advances.
Nikolai continued to smile agreeably. ‘My lord, I seem to recall that you approached his imperial majesty some time ago concerning the colt; indeed, I believe your letter arrived when the peace discussions had barely begun.’
Francis nodded. ‘I am a loyal Englishman, sir, but I am also a devotee of the turf, and my stud at Newmarket is acknowledged to be one of the finest in Britain. The recent regrettable war interfered most devilishly with my plans to improve my bloodstock, and the moment the whiff of peace was in the air, I wrote to every important stud in Europe. I’ve visited France, Belgium, Holland, and Denmark, where I was dismally unsuccessful, but here in Sweden I’ve acquired the sweetest brood mare imaginable, and I have high hopes of the foal she carries. Now only St Petersburg remains, and I sincerely hope that his imperial majesty will still kindly grant me the promised audience, but I know that he has so much to do that a mere Englishman’s desire to purchase a thoroughbred colt cannot figure highly on his agenda.’
‘On the contrary, my lord, if the czar has promised you the audience, then only exceptional circumstances will compel him to cancel it. I am close to him and believe I can boast that I know him well.’
‘I am sure that he holds you in very high regard, sir, for he has entrusted you with responsibility for talks that I understand are of considerable importance.’ Francis spoke with clever flattery, his tone and words astutely calculated to appeal to Nikolai’s overweening vanity. Nikolai himself wasn’t held in very high regard – his sister was – and the Stockholm talks weren’t important, they were humdrum. But it did not harm to let the Russian believe that he, Francis, was impressed.
Nikolai gave a gracious nod that spoke volumes of his conceit, and then he came to take Alison’s hand, drawing it to his lips. ‘I must bid you both good night now, for I am expected at the palace in the morning and so must get what sleep I can. I trust we will meet at breakfast, but if not, I wish you both every happiness for the future.’
Alison smiled, but it was all she could do not to snatch her hand away.
He bowed to Francis, who returned the salute, and then he withdrew, closing the door softly behind him.
They heard the jingle of his spurs as he walked away, and as the sound died away, Francis suddenly clenched his fist and beat it once against the jamb. ‘Damn,’ he said under his breath. ‘Damn it to hell and back, for Naryshky is the last man I wished to tangle with.’
Alison looked at him in bewilderment. ‘But you wished to meet him. I overheard you say so.’
‘Meet, yes, tangle with, no.’ He turned toward her. ‘So, you were eavesdropping earlier, were you?’
‘Yes, as I have to believe you must have been as well, for that is the only way you could have known what was happening in here and who I was.’
He nodded. ‘Touché. When I was shown to my room, my first act was to go out on to the balcony, where I was just in time to see the prince enter your room. My curiosity being aroused I climbed over on to your balcony to listen. When it became plain that he wasn’t about to be deterred, I deemed it to be time for your lover to make an appearance.’ Then he smiled a little. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Clearwell.’
‘And I yours, my lord.’
His eyes were very vivid and blue in the mixture of fire and candlelight. ‘Why are you here all on your own?’
‘I’m not alone through choice, I promise you, sir,’ she replied. Then she explained all that had befallen her since leaving England. ‘So you see,’ she finished, ‘I’ve hardly chosen to stay in this horrid inn, and I didn’t exactly lie to the prince when I said that you and I would be going on to St Petersburg.’
‘Or when you said we were both going to your Uncle Thomas,’ he observed.
She stared at him. ‘I – I beg your pardon?’
‘Surely you knew? I’ve been invited to stay at the Clearwell residence on English Quay during my stay. I can’t imagine that Pamela didn’t inform you …’ He broke off a little ruefully. ‘Perhaps she didn’t, for she and I parted somewhat, er, acrimoniously, I fear. She didn’t ask me where I would be staying, and I didn’t inform her. So, Miss Clearwell, I am telling you now that you and I will be staying beneath the same roof in St Petersburg, thanks to the sterling efforts of your cousin William, who insisted upon it the moment he learned I was hoping to have an audience with the czar. I can only trust that that audience still takes place.’
She was confused. ‘But why on earth shouldn’t it?’
‘Because I may just have crossed Naryshky.’
‘What difference does that make? The prince is here in Stoc
kholm—’
‘But his reach is very long and very swift, I promise you. Forgive me if what I’m about to say is rather direct, but the fact is that Naryshky’s desirous gaze has fallen upon you, Miss Clearwell, and thanks to my intervention, he was denied his pleasure. I trust that his agreeable manner on taking his leave is proof that he bears no malice, but if he does, then it would be very easy for him to send word to his sister, the Countess Irina, requesting her to see to it that the czar no longer gives me the time of day.’
‘The countess is the czar’s—’
‘Inamorata? Yes, she is, and she won’t need a great deal of persuading to confound any British plan, even one so insignificant as my approach concerning a colt in the imperial stables.’
‘Why do the prince and his sister hate the British as much as it seems they do?’
‘They are both fervent admirers of Bonaparte, and the Countess Irina regards the British as the murderers of her beloved husband, Count Axel von Strelitz, a Prussian nobleman who happened to be on board the French flagship L’Orient when it was blown up by Nelson at the Battle of the Nile in ’98. Of the thousand men on board, only sixty survived, and although the French and British navies were engaged in battle, the countess is disposed to believe that the sinking of the L’Orient was a deliberate act of savagery that amounted to nothing more or less than cold-blooded murder. She happened to love her husband very much, and she’s been the implacable enemy of the British ever since. She would act in a moment if her dear brother asked her to, you may be sure of that.’
Alison searched his handsome face. There was much more to all this than the mere purchase of a colt; her every instinct told her there was, but she said nothing.
He was silent for a moment, his gaze averted to the fire, but then his eyes swung to meet hers again. ‘You do realize that we’ll have to maintain this pretense until the Pavlovsk leaves?’
‘I hadn’t thought—’