Kiss an Angel (31 page)

A chill slithered along her spine. "Exactly who is he?"

Her father leaned back into the couch. "Alex is the great-grandson of Czar Nicholas II."

16

Daisy stared at her father. "That's impossible. I don't believe you."

"It's true, Daisy. Alex's grandfather was the czar's only son, Alexei Romanov."

Daisy knew all about Alexei Romanov, the young son of Nicholas II. In 1918, at the age of fourteen, Alexei, along with his parents and four sisters, had been herded by the Bolsheviks into the basement

of a mansion in Yekaterinburg and executed. She said as much to her father.

"All of them were murdered. Czar Nicholas, his wife Alexandra, the children.

They found the remains

of the family in a pit in the Ural Mountains in 1993. They did DNA tests."

He picked up his mug. "The DNA tests identified the czar, Alexandra, and three of the four daughters. One daughter was missing—some people think it was Anastasia. And they didn't find Crown Prince Alexei's remains."

Daisy tried to take it in. Throughout the century, there had been a number of people who had claimed to be the czar's murdered children, but most of them had been women presenting themselves as the princess Anastasia. Her father had contemptuously dismissed all of them as impostors. He was a careful man and she couldn't imagine him being taken in by any sort of scam, so why did he now believe the crown prince had escaped? Had his obsession with Russian history grown to the point where he wanted to believe this story so much that he'd lost his judgment?

She spoke carefully. "I can't imagine how the crown prince could have survived such a terrible massacre."

"He was rescued by some monks who hid him with a family in southern Russia for several years until a group loyal to the czar smuggled him out of the country. That was in 1920. He'd seen firsthand how violent the Bolsheviks could be, so it's understandable that he lived quietly after that. Eventually, he married and had one child, who was Alex's father Vasily. Vasily met Katya Markov when she was performing in Munich and, like a fool, he eloped with her. He was only a teenager; his father had just died; he was rebellious and undisciplined. Otherwise, he would never have married so far beneath him. He was only twenty when Alex was born. A little over two years later, he and Katya were killed in a circus train accident."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I don't mean to doubt your word, but I simply can't believe this."

"Believe it, Theodosia. Alex is a Romanov. And not just any Romanov. The man who calls himself Alex Markov is the direct heir to the crown of Russia."

She stared at her father with dismay. "Alex is a circus performer. That's all."

"Amelia warned me you'd react like this." In an uncharacteristic gesture, he patted her knee. "You just need some time to get used to the idea, but I hope you know me well enough to realize that I would

never make a claim like this if I weren't absolutely certain it was true."

"But—"

"I've told you many times about my family's history, but you've obviously forgotten. Ever since the nineteenth century, the Petroffs have served the Russian czars, all the way back to Alexander I. We've been linked through duty and custom, but never through marriage. Not until now."

She heard the sound of a jet passing overhead, the roar of a truck's diesel engine. Gradually comprehension seeped through her.

"You planned all this, didn't you? You arranged my marriage to Alex because of this crazy idea you have about who he is."

"It's not even remotely crazy. Just ask Alex."

"I'll do that." She rose to her feet. "I finally understand what all this is about.

You've made me a pawn in some absurd dynastic dream of yours. You wanted to unite the two families, just like fathers used to do in the Middle Ages. This is so barbaric I can't believe it."

"I'd hardly call marrying you to a Romanov barbaric."

She pressed her fingers to her temples. "Our marriage is only going to last five more months. How can you get any satisfaction out of that? A short-term marriage is hardly the beginning of a dynasty!"

He set down his mug and walked slowly over to her. "You and Alex don't have to divorce. As a matter

of fact, I'm hoping you won't."

"Oh, Dad. .."

"You're an attractive woman, Daisy. Perhaps not as beautiful as your mother, but still appealing. If you could learn to be less frivolous, you might be able to hold on to Alex. There are certain secrets to being a good wife, you know. Cater first to your husband's wishes. Be accommodating." He frowned at her grubby jeans and T-shirt. "And you should be more careful about your appearance. I've never seen you look so sloppy. Do you know that you have hay in your hair? Maybe Alex won't be so anxious to get rid of you if you try to be the sort of woman a man looks forward to coming home to."

She regarded him with disgust. "Do you want me to meet him at the trailer door with his slippers?"

"That's exactly the sort of flippant remark that will drive someone like Alex away. He's a very serious man. If you don't curb that inappropriate sense of humor, you won't stand a chance of holding on to him."

"Who says I want to?" Even as she spoke, something painful twisted inside her.

"I can see you're going to be difficult about this, so I'll go now." He walked toward the door. "Just don't cut off your nose to spite your face, Theodosia.

Remember that you're not a woman who does well alone. Setting aside the issue of Alex's family lineage, he's steady and reliable, and I can't imagine a better man to take care of you."

"I don't need a man to take care of me!"

"Then why did you agree to the marriage in the first place?"

Without waiting for her reply, he opened the door of the trailer and stepped out into the sunshine. How could she explain the changes that had taken place inside her? She knew she was no longer the same person who'd left his house over a month ago, but he wouldn't believe her.

Outside, the kindergartners she'd spoken with earlier were grouped around their teacher, prepared to return to the classroom. Over the past month she had grown accustomed to the sights and smells of

Quest Brothers Circus, but now she looked at it all with fresh eyes.

Alex and Sheba stood near the big top arguing about something. The clowns were practicing a juggling trick while Heather attempted a handstand and Brady frowned at her form. Frankie played on the ground near Jill, who was working the dogs, little yippy things that made Daisy cringe. She smelled hamburgers sizzling on a charcoal grill the showgirls had lit, heard the ever-present hum of the generator, the snap of the pennants in the June breeze.

And then a child screamed.

The sound was so ear-splitting that everyone noticed. Alex's head shot up.

Heather fell out of her handstand, and the clowns dropped the pins they were juggling. Her father came to a sudden stop, just blocking her line of vision. She heard his gasp and pushed past him to see what was causing the commotion.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Sinjun had escaped from his cage.

He stood in the short grass between the menagerie and the back door of the big top, while behind him the door of his cage hung open from a broken hinge. The white flags on his ears were up and his pale golden eyes were fixed on an object less than ten yards away.

The chubby little kindergarten cherub in her pink overalls.

The child had somehow become separated from the rest of her class, and it was her piercing scream that had caught Sinjun's attention. The little girl howled in terror as she stood frozen to the spot, her arms jerking at her sides, a stain spreading on her overalls as she wet herself.

Sinjun roared, revealing lethally sharp teeth curved like scimitars, teeth designed to hold his prey in place while he ripped it open with his claws. The little girl screamed again, the sound more piercing. Sinjun's powerful muscles rippled and all the blood left Daisy's head. She sensed him ready to spring. To the tiger, the child with her thrashing arms and shrill shrieks must seem like the most threatening sort of prey.

Neeco appeared from out of nowhere, rushing directly toward Sinjun. Daisy saw the cattle prod in his hand and took an involuntary step forward. She wanted to warn him not to do it. Sinjun wasn't used to the prod. He wouldn't be cowed by it the way the elephants were; it would merely make him more enraged. But Neeco was reacting instinctively, handling the tiger in the only way he understood, as if Sinjun were an unruly bull elephant.

As Sinjun turned away from the child toward Neeco, Alex came running from the opposite side. He dashed toward the little girl and snatched her up into his arms to carry her to safety.

And then everything happened at once. Neeco plunged the end of the cattle prod at the tiger's shoulder. The maddened animal gave a roar of fury and flung his massive body at Neeco, knocking the elephant trainer to the ground, Neeco lost his grip on the prod, and it rolled out of his reach.

Daisy had never felt such terror. Sinjun was going to savage Neeco, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

"Sinjun!" Desperately, she called out his name.

To her astonishment, the tiger lifted his head. Whether he'd heard her or was responding to some unnamed instinct, she didn't know. Her legs were so weak she could barely lift them, but even so, she moved forward. She had no idea what she was going to do. She merely knew she had to act.

The tiger remained crouched over Neeco's motionless body. For a moment she thought the trainer was dead, but then she realized he was holding himself very still, hoping the tiger would forget about him.

"Daisy, don't take another step." She heard her husband's voice, quiet but commanding. And then her father's voice, more shrill.

"What are you doing? Get back here!"

She ignored them both. The tiger turned his body slightly, and they stared at each other. His sharp, curved teeth were bared, his ears flat against his head, his eyes wild. She felt his terror.

"Sinjun," she said softly.

Long seconds ticked by. She saw a flash of auburn between Sinjun and the big top, Sheba Quest's flaming hair as she moved quickly toward Alex, who had just passed the screaming little girl off to her teacher. Sheba handed Alex something, but Daisy's mind seemed to be paralyzed.

The tiger stepped over Neeco's prone body and riveted all his ferocious attention on her. Every one

of his muscles was tensed and poised to spring.

"I have a gun." Alex spoke to her in a voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't move."

Her husband was going to kill Sinjun. She understood the logic of what he was about to do—there were people all over the lot; the tiger was wild with terror and clearly a danger— but at the same time, she knew she couldn't let it happen. This magnificent beast shouldn't be put to death merely because he was behaving in accordance with the instincts of his species.

Sinjun had done nothing wrong except act like a tiger. Human beings were the ones who had transgressed. They had taken him from his natural environment, imprisoned him in a tiny cage, and forced him to live his life beneath the stares of his enemies. And now, because she hadn't noticed that his cage was one of those needing repairs, he would be killed.

She moved as quickly as she dared and put herself between her husband and the tiger.

''Get out of the way, Daisy." The quiet timbre of his voice did nothing to soften the force of his command.

"I won't let you kill him," she whispered back. And she began to walk slowly toward the tiger.

His golden eyes blazed at her. Through her. She felt his terror seep into every cell of her body and conjoin with hers. Their souls melded, and she heard him in her heart.

I hate them.

I know.

Stop.

I can't.

She narrowed the distance between them until they were separated by barely six feet. "Alex will kill you," she whispered, gazing into the golden eyes of the beast.

"Daisy, please . . ." She heard the strain in Alex's desperate entreaty, and she was sorry for the distress she was causing him, but she couldn't stop her course of action.

As she closed in on the tiger, she sensed Alex shifting his position so he could get a clear shot from another direction. She knew she had run out of time.

With fear filling her chest until she could barely breathe, she sank to her knees before the tiger. She smelled his feral scent and stared into his eyes.

"I can't let you die," she whispered. "Come with me." Slowly, she reached out for him.

One part of her waited for his powerful jaws to clamp around her arm, while another part—her soul, maybe, since only the voice of the soul could so stubbornly resist logic— the soul part of her no longer cared if she had an arm, not if he was to die. She gingerly touched the top of his head between his ears.

His fur felt both soft and bristly. She let him grow accustomed to her touch, and his heat seeped through her palm. The soft skin of her inner arm brushed against his whiskers, and she felt his breath through the thin cotton of her Tshirt. He shifted his weight and gradually sank down onto the ground with his front paws extended.

Calm seeped through her body, taking the place of the fear. She experienced a blissful sense of homecoming, a peace she had never known, as the tiger became her and she became the tiger. In one fragment of time she understood all the mysteries of creation, that every living being was part of every other living being, that all were part of God, bound by love, put on earth to care for one another. She knew then that there was no fear, no disease, no death.

Nothing of any importance existed but love.

And in that fragment of time, she understood that she also loved Alex in the earthly way a woman

loves a man.

It seemed natural for her arms to encircle the tiger's neck. Even more natural to press her cheek to him and close her eyes. Time ticked by. She heard the throb of his heart and, overlaying that, a deep, gravelly purring.