Satin Ice

by Iris Johansen

  Mikhail's eyes widened. "We are going somewhere?"

  "Yes, hurry." Silver turned and began quickly to climb the steps. "We're going to the Winter Palace!"

  "Your invitation, please, Princess Savron," the plump liveried footman requested politely as Silver swept into the foyer of the Winter Palace.

  "I've misplaced it. You know the tsar sent me one." Silver moved past him and started up the Jordan Staircase. "Are the guests still in the Nicholas Ballroom?"

  "No. It's after eleven. They've already retired to the gallery for supper." The footman followed her. "Permit me to take your cloak."

  "No!" Silver said sharply. "I'll continue to wear it."

  "But I must—" "I said no." Silver didn't give him a second look as she continued up the Carrara marble stairs. "I won't be here long."

  He scurried up the stairs behind her, murmuring remonstrances, but it was only after they reached the doors of the gallery that he became more insistent. "This is most irregular. At least, allow me to announce Your Highness."

  Silver gave him an impatient glance. "Then for heaven's sake, hurry up and announce me."

  The footman sighed with relief and opened the double doors with a flourish. He bellowed, "Her Highness, the princess Silver Savron."

  Conversation at the long damask-covered table instantly ceased as Silver walked into the room.

  Silver entered the gallery and paused just inside the doors, gazing at the long table forming an open rectangle capable of seating hundreds of guests. Her glance ran quickly down the table, locating and identifying Natalya Savron sitting beside Peskov at the end of the head table. Nicholas was sitting to the right of the tsar with Valentin at his side. Then, looking intently at Alexander, she strode with great dignity across the room.

  "My God," Nicholas murmured. He had never seen Silver looking more beautiful, more splendid. There was no rouge on her face, and her shining dark hair hung down her back as straight and unadorned as it had been the first day he had seen her in Mrs. Alford's parlor. Yet the clean simplicity of her toilette served only to emphasize her great beauty. The cloak of the firebird trailed behind her in a blaze of glorious scarlet and she, too, was shimmering, blazing, aflame with a fire that came as much from within as from the surface. Aflame and yet terribly alone in the vastness of the crowded gallery. Something hurtful twisted within Nicholas and he jumped to his feet. He couldn't stand to see her that alone. "It appears my wife has changed her mind about attending the ball tonight. If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, I'll escort her to a seat at the table."

  "That doesn't seem to be necessary." Alexander's gaze narrowed on Silver's face. "She obviously knows exactly where she's going. Sit down, Nicholas."

  "I don't believe—" Nicholas broke off.

  Silver had stopped directly before the tsar and was gazing at the emperor with bold directness. She did not curtsy but stood proudly, her back straight, her chin lifted. "I must speak to Your Majesty."

  Alexander nodded. "Your husband has been telling me a rather interesting story, Silver." He smiled sardonically. "According to Peskov, an almost unbelievable story. Have you come to corroborate it?"

  "No. Nicholas speaks the truth, but that's not why I'm here." She paused. "You may have heard that last summer I lost the child I carried."

  A flicker of surprise crossed Alexander's face. "I sympathize, but I hardly think that's a matter for discussion here."

  "My child was murdered." Silver turned and pointed to Nicholas's mother. "She bribed Dr. Rellings to give me a potion that would kill my baby."

  Natalya jumped to her feet. "You lie!"

  "No, Monteith told me before he died that it was you. He said that you were one of his followers and he killed the doctor to cover your crime."

  Natalya gazed entreatingly at Alexander. "Your Majesty, this is nonsense. Surely you don't believe—"

  "This is a serious charge," Alexander interrupted. "Why would Natalya do this?"

  "To rid herself of me, to get me to leave Nicholas and St. Petersburg. She wanted no grandchild with tainted blood and cares for nothing but her position at your court."

  "And have you proof?" Natalya asked mockingly. "Not that you killed my child," Silver said. "But Monteith told me the doctor's body is buried beneath the big evergreen tree near the summerhouse at Peskov's estate."

  For the first time a shadow of fear touched Natalya's face. "Then Monteith must have been the one who did it."

  "It was you," Silver said clearly. "You're a murderess and a devil worshipper and now everyone here knows it."

  "You have no proof." Natalya's voice was shaking. "No one will believe you."

  "They will." Silver's gaze went from face to face of the guests at the table. "They already do."

  "No!" Natalya said shrilly. "It's all lies."

  Silver shook her head. "You're as much a killer as Monteith."

  "I can't punish her without proof, Silver," Alexander said quietly.

  "I know you can't." Silver's gaze shifted back to the tsar. "I was going to do that myself. I was going to kill my baby's murderess." She paused, searching for words. "But she's the mother of my husband, and Monteith told me that to do this would be to destroy the love between Nicholas and me. He said he would win because I'd never be able to live here, seeing her come and go, free and smug without avenging my child...." She closed her eyes. "He was right. I do not have a tame nature and would not be able to bear it." Her lids opened to reveal eyes glittering with tears. "But I will not let Monteith win." She whirled to face Natalya. "I will not take your life, but I will take what gives it meaning. I've learned that any wickedness may be permitted here, but not if the wrongdoer is indiscreet. Now that all the court knows you've killed your grandchild, there will be ugly whispers and you will soon be shunned like a leper."

  "You savage bitch," Natalya snarled. "I'll find—"

  "Silence," Alexander cut in sharply. "I don't like this story, Natalya. I believe we may dispense with your presence in the future."

  Panic robbed Natalya's face of anger. "No, I didn't mean . . . You can't . . ." She fell silent, gasping for breath, wildly looking around the table for some show of support.

  There was none.

  Silver braced herself and turned to face Nicholas. His expression was stern and she tried desperately to smother a sudden leap of alarm. "I had to do this, Nicholas. I could not let her go unpunished." She drew a shaky breath. "But I know myself and I will not be able to leave her alive and unhurt if I'm in the same city with her. There will have to be an ocean between us to keep her safe from me." She met his eyes. "And there will be. When I leave here I'll go directly to the docks to arrange transportation back to America for Etaine and me."

  "Silver." Nicholas's voice was hoarse. "Listen to me—"

  "No, you listen to me. There's not much more." Her crystal-gray eyes were glittering in her tense face. "Remember the tale you told me of the warrior and the firebird? The firebird gave the warrior up and flew away into the sun. Well, I'll not give you up so willingly. I love you too much to—" Her voice broke and she waited a moment until she could go on. "I can't stay here.... But if you wish to come with me ... I know it would mean giving up your home and your country." She gazed directly into his eyes. "I cannot promise you a happy ending to our story. I promise only that I will love you until the day I die, Nicholas."

  Silver's fingers fumbled at the fastening at her throat. "If that's enough for you, then follow me, Nicholas." The feathered cloak floated down to form a brilliant pool of scarlet on the floor, revealing the simplicity of the pearl-gray gown she wore beneath it. Her throat and arms were bare of jewels, and she looked poignantly vulnerable stripped of the magnificence of the cloak. "Come to me," she whispered.

  She turned and walked swiftly from the gallery.

  She did not glance back as she descended the Jordan Staircase. She was afraid to look back. The stakes were too high in the gamble she had made tonight.

  She heard no footsteps behind h
er.

  She started down the last flight of stairs.

  He wasn't coming.

  Her train flowed like pale moonlight on the white marble steps as her pace unconsciously slowed.

  She had asked too much of him.

  She reached the entry hall and the plump footman stepped forward. "Shall I summon your troika, Your Highness?"

  "No, Mikhail is waiting." She was scarcely conscious that she had answered him. She moved toward the front door.

  No man gives up his country for a woman.

  "Your cloak," the footman persisted. "It's snowing. You can't go out without your cloak."

  "I have no cloak." The cloak of the firebird was lying abandoned, untouched, on the gleaming floor in that gallery upstairs. "Open the door."

  The door was opened and Silver was suddenly on the stone steps outside. Snow was falling, and she should have been cold, but she felt only numbness. She could see Mikhail and the troika across the courtyard and started down the steps.

  "Why must I always be forced into the position of putting clothes on you?"

  She froze. She was afraid to breathe. She was afraid to turn around.

  The feathered cloak was placed gently around her shoulders. "When you know I much prefer to remove them."

  "Nicholas." She whirled around to face him. "I was afraid—"

  "I know you were." Nicholas smiled down at her lovingly. Starlike flakes of snow were glittering on his fair hair and catching on his black dinner coat. "I've discovered you have a great problem with faith. I would have been here sooner, but I had to have a brief word with Alexander and Valentin before I bolted after you."

  She held her breath. "What did you tell them?"

  He fastened the cloak at her neck. "That a Cossack must always follow a firebird when she leaves a feather to summon him." His eyes twinkled. "Trust you to be so extravagant as to leave a thousand feathers."

  She tried to smile. "I wanted to make sure you knew I wanted you."

  "I think you made it abundantly clear. To me and to the entire court."

  "It's a difficult thing to leave your home. Are you sure you want to do it?"

  "I'm sure I want to be with Silver Savron for the rest of my life." He touched her lower lip with a gentle finger. "I think I could soon become acclimated to your Arizona Territory. Its wildness sounds much like the Kuban."

  "But you have so many business interests here."

  "Valentin will be delighted to oversee them."

  "He will not leave here? I'll miss him," Silver said.

  "We'll try to coax him away from St. Petersburg eventually."

  "Will the tsar—"

  "Hush." Nicholas threw back his head and laughed. "Silver, my love, only you would issue an invitation on such a grand scale and then give me a hundred reasons why I shouldn't accept it." His dark eyes were glowing with love as he smiled down at her. "I'm going with you and you can't talk me out of it. You promised you would love me forever and I have to follow to make sure you don't renege on that promise." He lifted a hand to motion to Mikhail to bring the troika around.

  "I want you to be so happy," she whispered. "Promise me you'll be happy."

  "I promise you that we'll both be happy." Nicholas kissed her gently on the lips. "And that I'll never leave you, my beloved skeptic. Do you finally believe me?"

  "Yes." Her eyes were shining with joy as she took his arm. How could she help but believe him now, she thought joyously . How could she help but believe in a love that would last forever and in a life without loneliness. "Oh, yes, Nicholas. I do believe you."

  "Well, it's about time." His laughter rang out again on the cold night air as he turned to help her down the snow-covered stairs.

  And the cloak of the firebird drifted behind Silver in a cloud of flaming splendor as they ran down the steps toward Mikhail and the waiting troika.

  Saturday evening 9:15 p.m.

  Shamrock

  Dear Cousin Maureen,

  I know it's been a long time since you've heard from me, but I truly couldn't help it. I've been on a wondrous journey and have seen some things that would fair knock your eyes out. Where?

  Australia!

  Did you know that Koalas aren't really bears at all? And that there's a great, grand rock square in the middle of the country where you can see almost to heaven itself? Never did I think I'd see such sights when you and I were growing up in Dublin and our finest dreams were of just having three meals a day.

  But I'm getting ahead of myself. You're going to want to know the how and why of it.

  Do you remember when I sent you that long, long letter telling you about the early Delaneys and how they came to America and founded Killara and Shamrock Horse Farm? You might recall a certain scalawag named William who's buried on Boot Hill, the Lord bless his soul.

  Well, as it turns out, William left a wife and child in Australia and founded an entirely new branch of the family. The current Australian Delaneys consist of Spencer Delaney and his three daughters Manda, Sydney and Addie and an interesting family they are. Well naturally when Burke, York and Rafe found out about the family down under they were curious about them. And so the end of it all was that they decided to travel to Australia to meet them. Burke and Cara, York and Sierra, Rafe and Maggie—the entire family. No, that's not right, is it? Because now there's an Arizona branch and an Australian branch. I'm used to thinking of my Delaneys as the only ones.

  And they are my Delaneys, Maureen. I'm not just a servant to them.

  Mr. Rafe took me aside when all this news came and said naturally me and Bridget would come along. For how could they do without us? They were taking Deuce Moran, me, and Bridget and her husband, Couger, too. I admit I bawled like a baby and Bridget was a bit misty eyed her ownself. It would've broken my heart to stand by and see them go without me, particularly with Miss Maggie being with child. Did I tell you that? The baby is due any day now and Mr. Rafe is hovering over Miss Maggie as if she were carrying eggs instead of a fine healthy baby. Such foolishness when she's so hale and hearty. I saw to that. I was the one who took care of her while we were travelling all around the Barrier reef to visit Sydney and Nicholas and then to the movie location near Perth where Matilda and Roman were staying. But it was Mr. Rafe who had to put his foot down when we visited Miss Addie at the station where the girls grew up. Miss Maggie was wild to ride that horse, Resolute, and her big as a house with child!

  Deuce Moran didn't come back with us to Arizona. I couldn't believe it myself when they told me he was staying on at the Isle of Charron. He spent most of his time there at the casino which didn't surprise any of us. I've told you what a gambler the man is, and I've suspected many a time that he's not an entirely honest one. While he was at the casino he met an old friend of Nicholas's, a very pretty lady with the queer name of Mandarin and fell like a ton of sod bricks. I have no idea what will come of it. It seems the lady has just suffered the grievous loss of the man she loved and will have nothing to do with Deuce as anything but a friend. I will let you know; how his suit prospers. Who knows? Perhaps the rascal will find someone to reform him at last.

  We were all very sad to leave Australia. There wasn't a one of us who hadn't formed strong ties with the folk that live there but I know we'll be returning someday. And they've promised to visit Arizona as well when they get the opportunity. In fact, Miss Manda and her husband, Roman, will be visiting Killara next year when they go to the Academy award ceremony and Miss Addie will probably be moving to Kentucky with her brand new husband any time now.

  I feel I'm bombarding you with news but there's truly much more to say than I have time to put down right now. I have gingerbread in the oven and I mustn't let it burn. You know how Mr. Rafe loves my gingerbread. By the way, did I remember to thank you for saying the fudge I sent you was "exceptional?"

  Oh, one thing I did forget to tell you. Miss Sierra just found out she's with child. Mr. York is out of his mind with joy. I get down on my knees and pray every night the c
hild will be strong and healthy. It should be all right for Mr. York's sickness wasn't inherited. Still, prayers never hurt, do they now? I remember what a nightmare we went through with Mr. York's heart ailment. I've never regretted for a moment that I broke that blasted clock with its infernal ticking away of the time Mr. York had left. Though I know I should have had the courage to confess and spare the boys from being punished for me. I guess I was afraid of being sent back to Ireland and away from the family that's become so dear to me. Through the years I truly believe I've made it up to all of them, Maureen.

  You asked me once if I ever regretted coming to America and taking the Delaneys to my heart instead of marrying and having children of my own. I never answered you. Perhaps because I did have a few wistful moments when you wrote to tell me of the doings of your two children and now the birth of that fine grandson you're so proud of. Maybe I could have had a more fulfilling life if I'd stayed in Dublin but somehow I doubt it. The years I've spent at Killara and Shamrock have been full of love and the people I've served have a grand, richness of spirit.

  Oh dear, Mr. Rafe is calling me. The baby's coming! More later.

  Hurriedly,

  Kathleen

  Sunday morning,

  6:30 a.m.

  P.S. The baby is a six pound girl and just as healthy as she is beautiful. They're naming her Erin after the boys' mother. Must get to bed. I'll write again soon.

  Love,

  Kathleen

  P.P.S. The gingerbread burned but Mr. Rafe was so happy about the baby he didn't seem to care at all. I'll make him another batch today to celebrate.

  Kathleen

  Table of Contents

  Satin Ice

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12