Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8 (18 page)

BOOK: Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8
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“Stay out of this, both of you,” Cord ordered, but he knew he had no choice. “When your father turned against the Czar and the Imperialist, he turned his home over to the Bolsheviks to use as a headquarters in France for their underground movements. And even though he betrayed us when he fled with our gold, we’ve got Daniberry and we intend to keep it.

“It’s the perfect place for him to make contact.”

For a moment, Marilee could only look at Cord in stunned silence. It had to be a lie. Her father would never turn his back on Nicholas, who was like a brother to him. And why would he have stolen the gold when he had a fortune of his own, unless—and the thought filled her with cold dread—it
was
true, and he had given away his wealth to the Bolsheviks, but then changed his mind and stolen the gold intended for the counterrevolution.

Dear God!

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trembling from head to toe as she fought back the bitter tears of denial.

“Marilee—”

Her eyes flashed open. She whirled furiously on him. “Damn you!” she screamed. “Damn you all to hell!”

The car turned into the driveway, and in the far distance, above the bare limbs of tall, magnificent trees, Daniberry came into view.

As the automobile approached the circular driveway lined with marble statues, Marilee knew there was no need to look for familiar faces. Platt, the gardener, would be nowhere around, for the huge fountain in the middle of the drive was dry, dirt and leaves scattered on the bottom. The windows of the three-story mansion were streaked with dirt. Ila, the housekeeper, had obviously been relieved of her duties.

Then she saw them—the strangers staring as Cord got out of the car, pulling her behind him. Her home, she realized with a sickening jolt, was hers no longer. It was a haven for spies!

“Inside,” Cord whispered, grasping her arm and steering her forward. “I’ve been here. I know my way around. We’ll take quarters on the top floor. I’ve got a few men who respect me and will follow my orders. I’ll have the area sealed off. You’ll be safe.”

As though in a stupor, Marilee allowed him to lead her inside. She was shocked to see that the rare lapis lazuli table cabinet on a Charles II gilt wood stand was missing from the foyer, along with the Regency ormolu candelabra.

Cord released his hold on her, allowing her to wander sadly from room to room. He followed her to the back corner room, the glass sun porch that had been her mother’s favorite place, and it was there she gave way to her tears.

“Come along,” he urged.

She again allowed him to lead her like a little child. He had no way of knowing that inside she was burning with hatred. She would have her revenge—on him, and Rudolf, and all the others who had conspired in this fiendish deed.

Cord sighed with relief when they got to the top of the stairs and he saw Serge Kurakin on duty. Serge could be trusted. He was one of his own men, handpicked for this assignment.

They exchanged curt nods, but Cord did not pause as he steered Marilee along.

Suddenly she froze when she realized where he was taking her. “My father’s room,” she said thinly.

“It has the best vantage point, a corner room, large windows on two walls, and—” Cord attempted to explain.

“I’m not sleeping in here with you!” She turned on him fiercely. “This is too much,
Herr
Brandt. First you abduct me, then you have the audacity to bring me to my own home to hold me prisoner, then you plan to seduce me in my father’s bedroom. Have you no shame?”

He lost patience then and grabbed her wrists, giving her a shake. “Now listen to me, dammit!” He maneuvered them both into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He wrestled her to the bed and slung her down, holding on to her wrists as she glared up at him with raw hatred.

“How many times do I have to tell you—you’ve nothing to fear from me. It’s
them
you’ve got to worry about.” He nodded toward the door. “Men like Ludwig and Gretz. And the only way I can protect you is to keep you with me, at least until I make sure I’ve got absolute control over everyone here.”

“You could sleep outside the door!” she shot back tartly.

“That’s taking a chance. Barricaded in here, I’ll feel safer.”

“But what about me? Who’s going to protect me from you? I know how you operate in the dark.”

He released her, unable to resist laughing. “Well, the concern is shared, my dear. I seem to recall that you enjoyed what went on in the dark, and you’ll probably dream about it one night and sleepwalk your way to
my
bed. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such hunger in a woman.”

He ducked in time to miss being hit by the first thing she could get her hands on—a marble paperweight the scavengers had overlooked. It crashed against the wall as he slammed and locked the door after him.

Serge rushed across the landing at the top of the stairs to ask, “Is everything all right? She sounds really upset.”

Cord sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was a big shock to her, being brought here on top of everything else, and she’s also very tired. It’s been a long trip. I’ll get her some tea and put something in it to make sure she gets the rest she needs.”

Serge glanced about before whispering, “You are sure she suspects nothing?”

“Why should she?” Cord grinned wryly, giving Serge’s shoulder a hearty pat. “I’m the enemy, remember? You will have to keep watch over her while I slip out tonight and see if I can make contact with headquarters.”

Serge grabbed his arm, suddenly frightened. “That’s taking a big chance, comrade. Where will you go? And how will you get there?”

“It has to be done. Don’t worry about how, that’s my problem. Just make sure nothing happens to Drakar’s daughter.”

Serge sighed and returned to his post as Cord went downstairs.

The huge mansion was secured by Zealots from Zurich and Bolshevik supporters from France. Cord had been told by Hanisch that there were only a dozen men guarding Daniberry. More than that might arouse the suspicion of the Allies. There was no reason to suspect that. Daniberry was a holding point for the abduction and subsequent ransom of
Mademoiselle
Mikhailonov, and Cord intended to keep it that way. The men were dressed as gardeners and some of their wives posed as maids.

Cord went through the entire house. Then, satisfied there was nothing else to be done for the moment, he went to the kitchen to make tea for Marilee. He wanted her to rest, yes, but most of all, he wanted her to sleep soundly all night.

One day, perhaps he could tell her that her father was actually his comrade, and that they were both working together with the counterrevolutionaries. Drakar, however, had been chosen to defect to the Bolsheviks in order to try to free the Czar and the Imperial family.

But for now, Cord could confide nothing. He could only continue his assignment to protect Marilee Mikhailonov with his own life, if need be.

However, he had not counted on wanting her so badly that it was like a knife in his loins.

Chapter Eighteen

Daniberry did not truly seem like home to Marilee. After all, she had never actually lived here, and the occasions when she had met her father here for a reunion could be counted on one hand. The room that was to have been hers held no memories. It did not matter where she was, she supposed. All she could hope for was imminent release and reunion with her father.

Cord Brandt tried to make things easier for her. Yet she masked her growing feelings with exaggerated resentment. No matter what he did for her, she complained.

The big four-poster bed was quite heavy and hard to slide across the floor, but she managed to shove it to the other end of the room. After a cup of tea, she fell so soundly asleep she did not awaken till the next morning—to see Cord sprawled across his bed. He had not attempted to move the four-poster back to its original place and, from all appearances, had not come near her all night long.

She awakened him, demanding to know how long she could expect to be kept a prisoner. He looked at her groggily, then, without uttering a word, he got up and walked out, locking the door behind him. She was sure he went somewhere else in the house to go back to sleep. The thought that Elenore might be around made her bristle, and she hated herself for even caring.

When he returned later in the morning with a pot of coffee and a breakfast tray, he looked refreshed and wore clean clothes.

When she asked again how long she was going to be held prisoner, he looked at her for a long time before answering.

“Don’t lie,” she pleaded, her lower lip trembling. “If something has happened to my father, I want to know now.”

He quickly allayed her fears. “Don’t worry. As far as we know, he’s alive.”

“Was the ransom note delivered?”

He poured himself a cup of coffee and explained that he could not say for sure. “We won’t know until we hear from him. And until then, we stay here.”

“And I suppose I stay locked in this room?” Marilee sighed.

“For a few days,” he told her, “till I get rid of the men I can’t trust.” He wasn’t about to tell her of his own elation over receiving permission from the Bolsheviks to do just that. If he was in charge, he was going to do things his way. They had agreed, giving him permission to replace men he did not like, and he was doing just that.

 

 

So the time had passed. Days later Marilee awoke hoping that this would be the day she would be given some freedom.

Cord’s bed was empty. She padded to the window to look out at the sprawling lawn but she could not see anyone about. Of late she had somehow sensed that there were less people in the house. Certainly, fewer automobiles came and went during the day.

She bathed and dressed, on guard should Cord walk in unexpectedly, although, so far, he politely knocked before opening the door.

She was standing before her father’s mirror, one of the few personal items remaining, when she heard Cord’s gentle knock, and she invited him to enter.

As usual, he was carrying a tray with coffee, juice, fruit. He set it down on the bedside table before saying quietly, “I have something to tell you.”

“Tell me!” she begged, rushing over to him, forgetting, for the moment, to pretend that she loathed him. “Is it my father? Have you heard from him? Is he paying the ransom and coming for me—” She fell silent as she saw his expression change.

“I wish I could tell you that, but all we can be sure of is that the ransom note was sent and received.”

She shook her head, bewildered. “But I don’t understand. Received by whom—”

He turned away. “You were told, Marilee, that your father was one of those who deserted the Czar when he was forced to abdicate. He went with the Bolsheviks, then betrayed them for his personal gain, stealing all that gold…” He winced, hating to repeat the lies.

“But that’s not true!” Marilee cried, maneuvering herself to stand in front of him. “He loves Nicholas and the Empress, and he’d never steal. He’d—”

“He would, and he did!” Cord yelled at her.

“I don’t believe you. I will never believe you.” Marilee turned away from him, filled with cold hate.

He forced a steely laugh. “It doesn’t make any difference what you believe. Sooner or later, you’ll see that I’m telling the truth. Meanwhile I have orders to take you to a meeting with a French government official sympathetic to the Czar It seems that your father, or whoever received the ransom note, wants proof that you are all right before the negotiations go any further.”

“And you’re going to allow me to go?” she asked dubiously.

He had no choice, as usual. During the night, he had managed to meet with both factions—the Bolsheviks and his people, the Whites. He had orders from both. “Yes,” he said finally, “I’m going to allow you to go, and I’ll be with you every minute. But it will be dangerous for both of us, especially you.

“I have orders to kill you if you say or do anything to make a scene, if you try to get word to anyone where you are being held,” he said, looking at her soberly.

Marilee did not flinch. “And could you do that?” she challenged him icily. “Could you kill me?”

He was too good at his job to hesitate. “Oh, yes,” he assured her, his blue eyes locking with her cinnamon ones. “I can…and I will, if I have to.

“Don’t make me prove it,” he added softly, “because I care about you, Marilee…more than you realize.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do!” she snapped, unmoved. She stalked to the window, trembling with fury as she cried, “You’re really just mad about me, aren’t you? That’s why you can threaten to kill me in one breath and vow that you care about me in the next.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Cord said in a low voice.

He walked to the door, pausing to say, “You are free to move about the house for the rest of the day. Just be ready to leave at six tonight. Maybe once they see you’re well, it won’t be long till you’re free.”

She turned with her fists clenched, to lash out at him. “I do hope so, Cord Brandt—free of them and free of you!”

He walked out and closed the door behind him without saying a word.

 

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