The older man nodded. “A mistake, you said.”
“Exactly.” Katherine smiled. “So if you will be so kind, I would greatly appreciate being put ashore—if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, of course.”
“No trouble,” he said agreeably, only to look at Dimitri. “Highness?”
“Continue on your present course, Sergei.”
“Yes, my prince.”
And the man walked away, leaving Katherine staring after him with her mouth open. She quickly snapped it shut and rounded on Dimitri.
“You bastard—”
“I did warn you, my dear,” he said pleasantly. “You see, this ship and everything in it belongs to me, including the captain and his crew.”
“That’s barbaric!”
“I agree,” he returned with a shrug. “But until the Tzar can reconcile himself to going against the majority of his nobles and abolishing serfdom, millions of Russians will continue to be owned by only a select few.”
Katherine held her tongue. As much as she would have liked to tear into him on this issue, she had already heard him tell the beautiful Anastasia that he had offered his own serfs their freedom. And if he was against serfdom, as that indicated, they would only end up agreeing on any arguments she might raise, and she was in no mood at the moment to agree with him on anything. She took another tack.
“There is one thing on this ship that doesn’t belong to you, Alexandrov.”
His lips turned up at the corners, and in that smile was the knowledge that even though she was correct in principle, she was nonetheless at his mercy. Katherine didn’t need to hear it said to understand this subtle message. The problem was in accepting it.
“Come, Katya, we will discuss this in my cabin over dinner.”
She drew her arm out of the way when he reached for it. “There is nothing to discuss. Either put me ashore or let me jump ship.”
“To me you make demands, to Sergei you make sweet requests. Perhaps you should change your tactics.”
“Go to hell!”
Katherine stalked away, only to realize belatedly that she had nowhere to go, no cabin of her own to retreat to, no place on the entire ship, his ship, where she could hide. And time was running out, England receding more and more into the distance with each passing second.
She stopped just as she reached the companionway and turned back toward the Prince, and found herself nearly knocked off her feet as he bumped into her, having been close at her heels. His quick reflex in grabbing her was the only thing that kept her from tumbling down the stairs, and now she was in the same position she had been in earlier, only facing him this time.
She had been ready to swallow her pride. She could have swallowed her tongue in that moment of pure physical sensation and not known it.
“You had something more to say, Katya?”
“What?” He stepped back, releasing her, and her thoughts came rushing back. “Yes, I—”
Good Lord, this wasn’t easy. How do you humble yourself, Katherine, when you’d rather kick his shins?
She looked up, then quickly down. The dark, velvety eyes were as potent as his embrace had been. And at this close proximity, she didn’t dare meet such a challenge.
“I apologize, Prince Alexandrov. I’m not usually so short-tempered, but under the circumstances…never mind. Look, I am willing to be reasonable. If you will put me ashore, I swear I will forget we ever met. I won’t go to the authorities. I won’t even tell my father what happened. I just want to go home.”
“I’m sorry, Katya, I truly am. If Tzar Nicholas weren’t visiting your queen this summer, it wouldn’t be necessary to remove you from England. But your English newspapers would love to have a reason to attack Nicholas Pavlovich. I won’t give them that reason.”
“I swear—”
“I can’t take the chance.”
Katherine was angry enough to look him in the eye now. “Look, I was upset this morning. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. But now I’ve told you who I am. You must see that I can’t afford to exact retribution, that I can’t do anything without embroiling my family in a terrible scandal, and that I would never do.”
“I would agree, if you were in fact a St. John.”
She made a sound that was half a groan, half a scream. “You can’t do this! Do you know what it will do to my family, the anguish they’ll go through not knowing what happened to me? Please, Alexandrov!”
She could see that his conscience was pricked, yet it didn’t make any difference. “I’m sorry.” His hand came up to caress her cheek, but dropped when she flinched away. “Don’t take it so hard, little one. I will return you to England as soon as the Tzar’s visit is over.”
Katherine gave him one last chance. “You won’t change your mind?”
“I can’t.”
With nothing left to say, she did what she had wanted to do in the first place: drew back her foot and gave his shin a solid kick. Unfortunately she forgot she wasn’t wearing any shoes. His grunt of pain wasn’t quite as satisfactory as she had hoped, and her toes were throbbing, but she gave him her back anyway and limped down the stairs. Hearing him bellow for Vladimir didn’t stop her. She passed the Prince’s cabin, found the storeroom, and sat down on the trunk she had been locked in earlier. There she waited; for what, she didn’t know.
Chapter Twelve
“Sweet Mary and Jesus!” Vladimir exploded. “What did I say? Tell me! All I asked was for you to take the new clothes to her and extend Dimitri’s invitation to dinner. But you look at me as if I suggested you do murder!”
Marusia lowered her gaze, but her mouth was set mulishly, and her knife chopped with excessive force, multilating the spinach for the salad she was preparing. “Why do you ask me anyway? You said he made her your responsibility. Just because I’m your wife doesn’t mean I’ll share that responsibility.”
“Marusia—”
“No! I won’t do it, so don’t ask again. The poor thing has been through enough.”
“Poor thing! That poor thing snarls like a she-wolf.”
“Ah, so now we have it. You’re afraid to face her after all you’ve done.”
Vladimir sat down heavily at the opposite side of the table. He glared at the cook’s back, whose shoulders were shaking suspiciously. His two galley helpers peeling potatoes in the corner were doing their best to pretend they lacked ears. This was no place to have an argument with his wife. Everyone aboard ship would know of it before morning.
“How can my request do anything but please her?” he demanded, but softly.
“Nonsense. You know she won’t accept the clothes or his invitation. Yet you have your orders, don’t you? Well, I won’t be the one to force more grief on her.” Her voice lowered and was tinged with self-disgust. “I did enough already.”
His eyes widened, finally understanding what had turned her into a shrew. “I don’t believe it. What have you to feel guilty about?”
She glanced up, all hostility gone from her expression. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t suggested you drug her—”
“Don’t be a fool, woman. I had heard Bulavin’s boasts too. I would have gone to him eventually without your suggestion.”
“That doesn’t change how callous I was, Vladimir. I gave no thought to her. She meant nothing to me, just another one of the nameless women he avails himself of between his more lofty conquests. Even after I met her and saw how different she was from all the others, I’m ashamed to say I still didn’t consider anything except pleasing him.”
“Which is as it should be.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “But that changes nothing. She was a virgin, husband!”
“So what?”
“So what? She wasn’t willing, that’s what! Would you take me, if I weren’t willing? No, you would respect my wishes. But no one has respected her wishes since you dragged her off the street. Not one of us has.”
“He didn’t force her, Marusia,” he reminded her quietly.
“He didn’t have to. The drug took care of that, and we gave her the drug.”
Vladimir frowned. “She hasn’t complained of her loss. All she does is hiss and snarl and make demands. And you forget she will be well compensated. She will be returned to England a rich woman.”
“But what about now? What about forcing her to come with us?”
“You know it was necessary.”
Marusia sighed. “I know, but that doesn’t make it right.”
After a moment of silence, he said gently, “You should have had children, Marusia. Your mothering instinct has been aroused. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” She leaned across the table to reach for his hand. “I love you, husband. I have never regretted my choice. Just—just go easy on her. You men, you never consider a woman’s feelings. Consider hers when you deal with her.”
He made a long-suffering face, but he nodded.
Vladimir hesitated before he knocked on the door. Behind him Lida stood shamefaced, her arms full of packages. He had given the girl a sound scolding for carrying the tale of the stained sheets to Marusia and no doubt anyone else who would listen. If it weren’t for that cursed virginity, his wife would never have been so sympathetic toward the English wench, or so he thought. And her guilt had rubbed off on him. Despite all the difficulties the wench had caused, Marusia had managed to make him feel sorry for her. His pity lasted as long as it took for the door to open.
She stood there, a picture of arrogant defiance and withering malice. Nor did she move aside to let him in.
“What do you want?”
He had to stop himself from automatically bowing in deference to her, her tone was so imperious. It prodded his temper, just as it had from first meeting her, this superiority of hers. No Alexandrov serf would dare put on such airs, even those elevated to new enviable positions. The ballerinas, opera singers, ship captains such as Sergei, architects, actors who had performed for the imperial court, they all still knew their place. Not Little English. No, she put herself above them all.
She needed a good slap to bring her down a peg, and every instinct cried out for Vladimir to deliver it. He didn’t. Instead he steeled himself to recall Marusia’s entreaty. How could his wife feel sorry for this bitch?
“I have brought you a few necessities you will need for the voyage.” He took a step forward, forcing Katherine to move out of the way so that Lida could carry in the packages. “Over there,” he told the girl, indicating the top of one of the many trunks in the cabin.
It annoyed him that the wench would undoubtedly be pleased with these many new clothes. He should have attended to the purchasing himself, what with the four women in the Prince’s entourage too busy putting the Duke’s house back in order to go shopping. But he had been unable to bring himself to buy anything for her.
He had sent Boris instead, who had helped him load Katherine into Dimitri’s trunk and so could at least judge her size. He had secretly hoped the fellow would fail and return empty-handed, with no time left to send anyone else. But Boris was smarter than Vladimir gave him credit for. Afraid to make a mistake, he had coaxed Anastasia’s maid, Zora, along to help him. And Zora was unfortunately accustomed to buying for the Princess, so everything the two had bought was of a better quality than Vladimir had intended. Nothing fit for royalty, but nothing appropriate for a servant either.
“There is one dress that is finished and appears near your size.” Vladimir addressed Katherine again, but avoided looking at her until he had said what he had to say. “The others are all in different stages of completion, according to the dressmaker, but Lida here will help you if you have no talent with the needle. We were lucky to find anything at all at such short notice, but there are still some things money can buy if the price is right.” He smiled to himself when he heard her gasp, his barb hitting its intended mark. “You should have everything you will need. The Princess’s maid was quite thorough. If not, you need only tell me.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? Did you buy me a trunk too?”
“You may use that one, since it is now empty.”
Katherine followed his nod and grimaced, seeing the trunk she knew so intimately. “How did you guess I was sentimental?”
He couldn’t help himself. He smiled at such blatant sarcasm. But she didn’t notice. She was still staring at the trunk.
And now for the last of his immediate duty. “Lida will help you change since there isn’t much time. The Prince is expecting you, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Katherine turned to him, her expression bland for the moment. “For what?”
“He has invited you to dine with him.”
“Forget it,” she replied curtly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re not deaf, Kirov. Extend my regrets, if you must. Word it however you like. The answer is unequivocally no.”
“Unacceptable,” he began, but it was as if Marusia were there jabbing him in the ribs. “Very well, we will compromise. Change, go to his cabin, and you tell him you don’t wish to accept his invitation.”
She calmly shook her head. “You’ve missed my point. I’m not going anywhere near that man.”
With a clear conscience Vladimir could tell Marusia he had tried, but now he smiled with particular pleasure.
Chapter Thirteen
Bathed, shaved, and donned in one of his more elegant formal coats, Dimitri waved Maksim away when he approached with a frilly white cravat. “Not tonight, or she’ll think I’m trying to impress her.”
The valet nodded, but spared a glance for the candlelit table set for two, the gold-rimmed china and sparkling crystal, the champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. And she wasn’t to be impressed? Perhaps not. If she really was an earl’s daughter, and Maksim was inclined to believe she was from what he had seen so far, she would be used to such luxury.
The Prince was another matter though. He was at his best tonight, and not just in looks. It wasn’t often that Maksim saw him like this. Undoubtedly the stimulation of a new challenge, the sexual tension had its effect, but there was something else too that Maksim couldn’t define. He might call it nervousness if he didn’t know better, but mixed with a lighthearted exuberance that had been sorely lacking in the Prince for many years. Whatever it was, it made those dark brown eyes sparkle with anticipation as never before.
She was a lucky woman, this Englishwoman. Even if the seductive atmosphere in the cabin didn’t impress her, the Prince couldn’t fail to.
But when she arrived a few minutes later, Maksim’s opinion changed drastically. He learned quickly what it would take Dimitri longer to learn: never to assume anything about this particular woman.
Vladimir was not escorting her. He delivered her, trussed up and tossed over his shoulder. With a single apologetic look in Dimitri’s direction, he set her down and quickly untied her wrists. That done, she ripped off her gag—the reason Dimitri had had no prior warning of what was going on before this startling arrival. She took only a second to throw the cloth at Vladimir before swinging round to impale Dimitri with the hot fury in her eyes.
“I won’t have it! I won’t!” she screamed. “You tell this churlish brute of yours he is not to lay his hands on me again, or I swear—I swear—”
She stopped, and Dimitri gathered that she was too upset for simple verbal threats as she looked wildly around for some kind of weapon. When her eyes lit on the well-laid table, he leaped forward, unwilling to sacrifice a fortune in crystal and china to this tantrum, not to mention possible wounds, at least not when he didn’t yet know what had caused it.
His arms were as effective as thick ropes, wrapping around her and locking her own arms firmly to her sides. “All right,” he said tightly by her ear. “Calm down and we will unravel this little drama—”
“To my satisfaction,” she hissed.
“If you insist.” He felt her relax then, if only slightly, and looked toward the supposed
culprit. “Vladimir?”
“She refused to change her dress or join you, my lord, so Boris and I assisted her.”
Dimitri felt her anger return full force in the straining of her small body against his hold. “They ripped my dress—tore it right off me!”
“You want them flogged?”
Katherine stilled completely. She was staring at Vladimir standing only a few feet away. His expression didn’t change. He was a proud man. But she saw that he was holding his breath as he waited for her answer. He felt fear. She didn’t doubt it. And she took a moment to savor the power Dimitri was unexpectedly giving her.
She envisioned Vladimir tied to a mast, his jacket and shirt stripped away, and she herself holding a whip poised above his naked back. It was not just for his having dressed her as if she were a child and couldn’t do it herself, her arms thrust into tight sleeves, her stockings changed and shoes shoved on her feet. Nor was it for gagging her and tying her up again while her hair was brushed, even while perfume was applied behind her ears. She wielded the whip in her imagination for everything this man had done to her, and he deserved every revengeful stroke.
The picture was nice to contemplate for those few moments, but Katherine wouldn’t order it done, no matter how much she might hate the man. That Dimitri would, however, disturbed her.
“You can let go, Alexandrov,” she said quietly, still staring at Vladimir. “I believe I have my dreadful temper under control now.”
She wasn’t surprised that he hesitated. She had never made such a shameful spectacle of herself before. But she wasn’t embarrassed. Enough was enough. They had simply pushed her too far.
When Dimitri did let go, she turned slowly to face him, one brow raised in question. “Do you make a habit of flogging your servants?”
“I detect censure.”
Wary of his sudden frown, she lied. “Not at all. Mere curiosity.”
“Then no, I never have. Which isn’t to say there aren’t exceptions to that rule.”
“For me? Why?”
He shrugged. “Everything said and done, I believe I owe you that much.”
Secret Fire Page 11