Satin Ice

by Iris Johansen

  "He'll damn well tell me if he knows anything."

  "I hope that's true. I couldn't get a word from him." She lowered her cheek once more to rest on his shoulder. "And I could find out nothing these past months about the doctor or who could have bribed him to have done this thing."

  He suddenly lifted her chin to look down into her face. "That's why you wanted to go to court?"

  She gazed at him in bewilderment. "Of course, why else should I go there? It's a very boring place."

  "Boring? The most glittering court in the world is boring?" He suddenly gave a shout of laughter as his arms closed tightly around her. "Merde, she thinks it's boring!"

  "I don't see what's so amusing. You said you had no liking for court life either."

  "But I thought that you ..." He trailed off and began to caress her naked back with exquisite gentleness. "You're right, it's not amusing." His lips touched her temple. "It's a gift from God."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "It doesn't matter. Not now."

  She didn't speak for several languid moments, and when she did, her voice was barely audible. "I can't give up, you know. Not until I find the person who killed our baby."

  "I wouldn't want you to give up. We'll find him together."

  "Will we?" She was so accustomed to thinking of herself as alone that it felt strange to realize she now had someone to share the joys and the burdens of life. Even though it might not last, it was still extraordinary. She said haltingly, "Thank you. That's very kind of you."

  "Kind?" he asked, startled. "For God's sake, Silver. She was my child too. Why shouldn't I want to find the bastard who did this?"

  "No reason." She would not let the tears fall. She felt full, bursting with a joy that knew no bounds. She must not let him see how foolish she was being, how much it meant to her to know that she had him beside her in this precious closeness of mind as well as body. Even he would not understand the impact of the knowledge that had rocked the foundations of everything that had gone before. The knowledge that was so simple yet resounded within her like the joyous caroling of a thousand bells.

  She was no longer alone.

  10

  "I want to know, Mikhail." Nicholas's tone was hard. "The time for secrets is over."

  "I cannot tell you," Mikhail said quietly.

  "Silver thinks you're keeping something from her." Nicholas shook his head. "And God knows I don't know what to think. Why the devil wouldn't you come to me and tell me about the potion?"

  "I thought it best not to do so."

  "But why?"

  Mikhail didn't answer.

  "This was my child too. Not only Silver's but mine. Does a friend keep silent in such a situation?"

  "I will always be your friend."

  "Mikhail, dammit. Talk to me."

  "I cannot." Mikhail's expression was troubled. "It is not something I can ..." He trailed off and shrugged his massive shoulders helplessly. "I cannot. If you think this is a betrayal of our friendship, then I will leave you."

  "Merde, you're stubborn."

  "Shall I leave you?"

  Nicholas gazed at him broodingly. "No, dammit." He dropped down in the chair before the fire. "But before this is over I may crack that thick stubborn head of yours."

  A relieved smile lit Mikhail's face. "You do not believe that I would betray you?"

  "I'm not such a fool. You may lack judgment but not loyalty."

  "Sometimes judgment is not easy. You know I've never been clever. I can only do the best I can."

  No, Mikhail had never been clever, Nicholas thought, but he possessed both honor and almost faultless instinct. Nicholas was torn between frustration and affection as he stared at his friend. "You will say no more?"

  Mikhail started to turn away. "I must go now. I promised Etaine I would walk with her in the garden."

  "Mikhail."

  Mikhail glanced back over his shoulder.

  "If you won't help, at least promise that you won't hinder me. I will find out who did this."

  "I will not hinder," Mikhail said slowly as he opened the door. "I would feel as you do."

  The door closed behind him.

  So much for the assurance he had given to Silver last night, Nicholas thought wryly. After all these years he should have realized how obstinate Mikhail could be. Now, how the devil could he go back to Silver with no information to give her?

  A perfunctory knock sounded before the door of the study was opened to admit Valentin. "Good morning." Valentin warily studied the scowl on Nicholas's face. "Or is it? It wasn't my fault that Silver followed you to Tania's, you know. I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't listen. You didn't—"

  "Drown her in the Neva?" Nicholas asked dryly. "No, she's quite safe. She's only sleeping late."

  "Silver?" Valentin asked, surprised. "Silver never sleeps late."

  "Well, she is this morning. She was ... tired."

  Valentin gazed at him speculatively, and then a delighted smile lit his face. "I see," he murmured. "You look a trifle weary yourself today. Tania's must have been very ... interesting. How is young Stepvan?"

  "Alive."

  "How surprising. Is he going to remain that way?"

  "Probably."

  "My, you must be mellowing. I hear the gentler emotions do have that effect on a man."

  "I'm not feeling very gentle at the moment. Mikhail—" Nicholas broke off. "Did you come here only to see if you were going to have to act as my second?"

  "Tut. Tut," Valentin chided with a mocking smile. "I just don't understand you. You're bad tempered when you don't get what you want and in even fouler temper when you do. You're a very difficult man to please, Nicky." Then, as he saw Nicholas's expression darken, he hastily continued. "But as it happens, I did have a reason for coming here other than my concern for Silver. I spoke to Dzosky last night regarding the inquiries we instigated about Monteith. He received a report from London day before yesterday."

  Nicholas's eyes narrowed with sudden alertness., "And?"

  Valentin's smile faded. "Ugly. Very ugly. It took a long time to gather the information because no one would talk about Monteith in the village where he grew up. He was the son of the vicar, but he obviously didn't inspire any faith, hope, or charity." He paused. "The investigator's report emphasized how afraid people were to talk about him."

  "Why?"

  Valentin hesitated. "Do you want me to give you the bare bones? You should have a full written report from Dzosky by tomorrow."

  "Why were they afraid?" Nicholas asked impatiently.

  "Devil worship."

  Nicholas went still. "What?"

  "Monteith was involved in devil worship. He was rumored to have conducted black masses in the dungeons below the castle of the Earl of Leith. There were all kinds of stories...." Valentin paused. "Several women disappeared during the last two years Monteith was in Yorkshire. They were all young village girls whose bodies were never found. Rumor had it they were chosen by Monteith as sacrifices at his black masses."

  Nicholas experienced an icy chill as he remembered the sight of Etaine on the black marble slab in the lion's cage. The scene was a parody of just such a sacrifice. "Could the local magistrates do nothing to stop it?"

  "The Earl of Leith had the magistrates firmly under his thumb." Valentin's gaze met Nicholas's. "And evidently the earl was equally under Monteith's control. It sounds ominously familiar, doesn't it?"

  "Peskov."

  Valentin nodded. "And God only knows how many other men and women of the nobility. According to certain sources, Monteith dealt heavily in promises."

  "Promises?"

  "Eternal youth and beauty for the women, and wealth and power for the men. Whatever they want as long as they follow and obey him."

  Nicholas muttered a curse beneath his breath. "It's preposterous!"

  "Of course." Valentin shifted uneasily. "Still, he held sway over those people in Yorkshire for almost three years. How did
he do it without fulfilling those promises, Nicky?"

  "He's a very clever man."

  "Perhaps—"

  "What do you mean perhaps?" Nicholas asked in astonishment. "You can't think there's anything to Monteith's claims?"

  "He's very ... strange," Valentin said slowly. "And there's one more thing in the report that's even stranger."

  Nicholas gazed at him, waiting.

  "Monteith married a young village girl named Mary Trask. A year after Etaine was born his wife disappeared just like the others and was never found."

  Nicholas's eyes widened in shock, "He sacrificed his own wife?"

  "Presumably."

  And a man who would sacrifice his wife would have no qualms in sacrificing his daughter, Nicholas thought in horror. He jumped to his feet and started toward the door.

  "Where are you going?" Valentin asked.

  Nicholas opened the door. "To Dzosky's office to get that report."

  "But he'll send it to you tomorrow."

  "That's not soon enough. I want to study every detail immediately." He glanced back over his shoulder. "And I don't want Silver to know any of this. Do you understand?"

  "No, I don't understand." Valentin frowned in puzzlement. "Why not?"

  "What do you think Silver would do if she thought Etaine was in that kind of danger?"

  Valentin grimaced in sudden comprehension. "Go after Monteith and remove the threat."

  "Exactly."

  The door slammed behind Nicholas.

  The cloak floated down upon Silver in a coverlet of flame.

  "Get up, woman, it's the middle of the afternoon. Are you going to sleep all day?" Nicholas was standing by the bed and grinning down at her. Silver's heart gave a leap of pure joy that dispersed the last remnants of sleep.

  Nicholas was dressed entirely in black suede trimmed with lustrous black fox, and his golden hair and bronze skin glowed against its darkness with a radiance that made her catch her breath. Hers. This beautiful creature belonged to her now. It was beyond belief.

  When she didn't answer, his brow rose. "Well?" he asked.

  She propped herself up on her elbow. "I might decide to get out of bed." She added with a yawn, "Since there's nothing of interest to do here."

  "A challenge?" he murmured, his dark eyes twinkling. "You're uncommonly fond of issuing challenges, love. I think I can assure you an interesting time— not in bed this time—but on a ride in the troika. Come. Put on your cloak. Though I should rightly return it to the shop since you've expressed no appreciation for it."

  He was right. She had wanted to look at nothing but Nicholas, had noticed nothing but his loving smile and the sheer sensual beauty of him. Now she reluctantly shifted her gaze away from him to the garment he'd dropped over her when he had first awakened her. She smiled in delight. The hooded cloak was incredibly lovely and outrageously extravagant, composed entirely of feathers dyed a brilliant shade of scarlet that curled like soft tongues of flame. "It's ... beautiful," Her finger reached out to caress one silky feather. "Where did you get it?"

  "Madame Lemenov's. I saw it through the window of her shop on the Nevsky Prospekt. Actually, I saw it two weeks ago, but I was in no mood to shower you with gifts then." He pulled her to her knees on the bed and the covers fell away, revealing her golden nudity veiled only by the glossy darkness of her hair. The smile faded from his face as his gaze traveled over her and his eyes gleamed with admiration. "However, when I passed the shop this morning my mood had undergone a miraculous change and I decided every firebird deserves a few feathers to keep her warm."

  A tingle of heat burned through her. "A few?" Her palm stroked the cloak gently. "There must be thousands of feathers in this cloak. What kind of feathers are they?"

  "Firebird feathers, what else?"

  "No, what are they truly? No myths."

  "You and Mikhail." He shook his head reprovingly. "Neither of you have any faith. When one sees a firebird, one must not question." He picked up the cloak and flung it over her shoulders. "Who's to say that a firebird didn't shed these feathers to summon her lover to follow after her?" He fastened the cloak at her neck. "Then all Madame Lemenov had to do was gather them up and fashion them into a cloak for—"

  "I think perhaps they're ostrich feathers."

  "Nonsense." He pulled the hood over her dark hair. "You have to believe." His eyes were grave as he gazed down at her. "There are so many beautiful worlds open to us, but we may never find them unless we believe."

  He was no longer talking about myths, she realized. But didn't he know how difficult it was for her to have faith that his love would last for more than a short time? He did understand, and the sadness generated by his comprehension was reflected in his expression as he looked at her. She wanted desperately to banish his sadness, but she could only gaze at him helplessly. "Perhaps someday ..." She smiled vlith an effort. "What were you doing on the Nevsky Prospekt today? I would have thought you would have been as tired as I this morning," she said to distract him.

  His gaze slid away from her. "I had business to attend to that wouldn't wait." He pulled two shining tresses from beneath the hood and arranged them against the fiery feathers. "Your dark hair looks quite wonderful against this scarlet."

  "What business?"

  "Nothing of consequence at the moment." He lifted her in his arms and whirled her in a dizzying circle above his head. "Fly, firebird!"

  "Nicholas!" It was madness. She laughed helplessly as she clutched wildly at his shoulders. "Stop."

  "Why? Aren't you enjoying it?"

  The room was whirling around her, and there were only the flaming feathers of the firebird and the golden radiance of Nicholas. Exhilaration spiraled within her, intertwining with a joy so great she felt as if she would float away at any moment. "Oh, yes." She held out her arms as if they were wings, and the cloak of the firebird shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the windows. The laughter bubbled in her throat as the hood of the cloak fell back and her hair streamed behind her in a wild cascade. "Oh, yes, I'm enjoying it."

  "So am I." Then he was gently lowering her, letting her slip down his body. Nicholas. The scent of leather, soap, and musk. The softness of fur and suede. The hardness of taut, locked muscles and fevered arousal.

  "Do you believe?" he whispered.

  At that moment she could believe anything. In a love that could last forever, in honor and trust and vows. She reached up to touch his cheek with infinite tenderness. "I believe."

  "Good." His smile flashed with sudden mischief. He scooped her up in his arms and strode toward the door that led to the hall. "Then let's see if my firebird can melt the icicles."

  "Where are we going?" She didn't really care. Her arms slid contentedly around his neck as he started down the hall.

  "You should pay attention. I told you before that we were taking a ride in the troika. It's a beautiful morning and the woods should look like a fairyland."

  "I think I should call your attention to the fact that I'm wearing nothing beneath this cloak."

  "I noticed."

  "Not even shoes."

  "You won't need them." His eyes twinkled as he gazed down at her. "I believe this is the first time I've seen a glimmer of modesty in you. Are you acquiring a sense of decorum?"

  She shook her head. "I just thought I'd mention it. My being naked in front of people seems to bother you."

  "You're damn right it does." He started down the marble staircase. "And I shall take great pleasure in tanning that delightful bottom if I catch you displaying it to anyone but me ever again. However, I definitely have no objection when we're by ourselves."

  "You're going to drive the troika?"

  "No. Sergei is driving. I want to be able to relax and enjoy ... the scenery. Don't worry. I told him if he didn't keep his eyes on the horses, I'd carve a hole in the ice and toss him in the Neva." He reached the bottom of the steps and started across the gleaming foyer toward the front. "The door, Rogoff."

&nb
sp; The servant scurried ahead to throw open the door before resuming his statuelike immobility.

  Silver's bare feet were peeping from beneath the hem of the cloak, and as soon as they were outside and moving toward the waiting troika, she shivered in the frigid air.

  Nicholas looked down at her with sudden concern, "Just a few more steps and you'll be warm under the furs, but perhaps we should go back."

  "The cold is nothing. I don't want to go back." She was brimming over with excitement. "You promised to show me a fairyland."

  "I did, didn't I?" His smile held pride as well as tenderness as he placed her on the wide cushioned seat of the sleigh and drew the sable robes around her until only her face showed above them. "I should have known a little ice would have no effect on you. Mikhail says you could have been a Cossack." He climbed into the troika and slipped beneath the furs beside her.

  Silver noticed with amusement that Sergei was sitting ramrod straight on the driving seat, his gaze fixed rigidly ahead. He was obviously taking seriously Nicholas's threat of immersement in the icy waters of the Neva.

  Nicholas gave an order in Russian and the driver snapped his whip. The troika began to move over the snow, first slowly and then faster, then faster still as the horses gained momentum. Within minutes they had left the grounds of the palace and had entered the woods.

  Fairyland, Nicholas had called it, and fairyland it was, Silver thought. The boughs of the white birch trees and evergreens held thousands of icicles whose crystals sparkled with all the hues of the rainbow. The colors were so brilliant they dazzled her eyes, and the beauty was so intense she found her throat tightening with emotion.

  Nicholas was watching her face. "I keep my promises, Silver," he said gently.

  "Yes." She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. "I see that you do. Fairyland."

  "It's a fitting place for a firebird." He drew closer and his hands were suddenly moving beneath the fur, unfastening her cloak. "But there are too many icicles." His fingers began to pluck teasingly at the nipples. "Can you melt them, love?"

  A hot shiver ran through her and she felt a familiar clenching between her thighs. They had made love so many times last night in the bathhouse before they had returned to the palace that she had thought she'd never be hungry again. She knew now she had been wrong. The hunger was back, as sharp as if it had never been satisfied. "I find the icicles very ..." His hand moved down to stroke the tight curls surrounding her womanhood and she had to steady her voice. "Pretty."