Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8 (20 page)

“No. The original note, which demanded
her
ransom—before we discovered you were kidnapped by mistake—was intercepted before it was delivered. We’ve since learned she’s gone to London to visit your uncle. So far, they don’t suspect you’re missing, and you can believe it has been emphasized to the Whites that the Coltranes are not to be told.”

“So we wait,” she declared with a shrug of resignation.

He nodded quietly. “Does it have to be so bad? I think you’ve found out I’m not the ogre you originally thought I was.”

She wondered what his reaction would be if he knew just what she did think of him, that it was all she could do to refrain from throwing herself into his warm, strong arms.

Forcing such thoughts aside, she agreed that the situation was not all bad. “While I don’t agree with your philosophies, and I still think you are all lying about my father, I realize that you’re only doing as you’re told. I’d like to think of you as a friend.”

He laughed gently, getting to his feet. “Well, then, if I’m to remain your friend, I’d best take my leave before I give in to temptation and crawl into that bed with you.”

Marilee felt her cheeks flame as a shiver of delight coursed through her body. “Yes,” she said in a barely audible voice as she retrieved her book and tried once more to concentrate on what she was reading, “I think that would be best.”

As soon as he closed the door behind him, she threw the book across the room and burst into tears.

Cord made sure that they had enjoyable days, and they spent long hours walking about the estate while she told him of her childhood memories of Daniberry.

One warm fall afternoon they were in one of the forgotten gardens, sitting on a wrought-iron bench beneath the bare arms of a weeping willow tree. Marilee began to talk, sharing stories of cherished times here with her father.

She also told him about the Coltranes—their exploits, tragedies, and triumphs. He listened raptly. “Maybe one day someone will write a saga about the Coltranes,” he commented.

“Maybe we’d better wait and see how
my
story turns out. Maybe that will be the end of the saga,” she said soberly.

He drew her close, his breath warm on her face. “God, I hope not, Marilee,” he whispered fervently. “I hope the Coltranes never end—that you and I never end.”

“All things end,” she said nervously. “There has to be an ending in order to have a new beginning.”

He devoured her with his eyes as his hands moved possessively up her back, tracing the curve of her spine, the swell of her hips. He pressed her closer, and she felt his hardness as he held her against him. “I think we’ve begun, my little
dushka
,”
he murmured huskily. “I don’t want to think about where it ends. Not now…

His mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss that left them both shaken.

Mustering every ounce of self-control she possessed, Marilee pulled out of his embrace. She glanced about nervously, afraid that someone was watching. “We’d better go inside. This…this isn’t right,” she stammered, turning toward the manor.

“It
is
right,” he argued, following after her. “What’s wrong is that you’re too immature to accept it.”

She was not about to be goaded into a fight. “Like all the women before me,
Herr
Brandt? Did they accept your kisses and everything that goes with them? Did they fall into your arms like eager little puppies?” she asked, tossing her head.

He pretended to ponder her question as he fell into step beside her. She allowed him to take her hand. Finally he sighed. “Yes, I guess they did. I truly can’t remember ever being turned down. Not even once. You’re quite a challenge,
Fräulein
Mikhailonov. Maybe that’s why you’re driving me crazy.”

“Oh, really?” She gave him a mock look of wonder. “Then why don’t you let me go?”

She broke into a run toward the house, laughing as he followed right behind her. He allowed her to gain a lead, then he grabbed her just as she sprinted into the deserted rose garden. He lunged, grabbing her about her waist and bringing her down with him, laughing, to the ground.

But the laughter stopped when he kissed her. Marilee tried to roll away, but he held her tight and rolled with her until they rested beneath a large shrub that hid them from anyone who might be about.

“Marilee, I want you…” he declared, cupping her face in his hands and forcing her to look directly at him. “And you want me. Damn this pretending—damn me sleeping in another bed, or on the floor outside your door, lying awake all night in pain from wanting you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my life!”

“But that’s only because you can’t have me, and—”

“Dammit, stop playing!” He gave her a shake, then he kissed her again, almost bruising her lips. “Why are you denying us the little bit of pleasure we can take in an otherwise cruel and lonely world? Who’s to say either one of us will ever get out of this alive? Why are you torturing me? Torturing yourself?”

Why am I, indeed?
Marilee asked herself as her gaze burned into his. Dear God, she
did
want him—fiercely. She, too, suffered physical agony each time they were apart.

She closed her eyes against the emotions running wild within her. Then they both stiffened at the sound of Serge’s frantic voice.

“Brandt! Brandt! Where are you?”

Cord sprang to a crouch as he drew his pistol. Holding a finger to his lips, he motioned Marilee to remain where she was and not make a sound.

Then he waited.

Serge’s voice came closer. “Brandt! Where the hell are you?”

Finally Cord decided it was safe to call out to him.

“You must come at once,” Serge said. “We’ve got a visitor—”

“What?” Cord roared, glancing about wildly. “Who the hell got through the security posted at the entrance? We weren’t expecting anybody.”

“A woman,” Serge informed him, almost apologetically. “She had the necessary papers to get through security. She’s a Zealot. From Zurich.”

Cord’s eyes narrowed.
Dammit
,
he cursed under his breath. It could only be
her
.

“She said…” Serge paused to take a deep breath, knowing his comrade was not going to like what he was about to hear.

But Cord finished for him. “She said her name was Elenore. Goddammit!” he swore again. Marilee felt as though she’d been dashed with ice water. Scrambling to her feet, she joined them as Cord instructed Serge to take her back to her quarters.

He reached out and caressed her cheek, murmuring, “Don’t worry. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

Her cinnamon eyes flashed with fire. Although he had never owned up to the fact, Marilee knew he’d been looking for Elenore that night in the cellar. The kisses, the caresses that had awakened her to never-before-experienced passion had been meant for Elenore. And now she had to remind herself that no matter how she felt when he held her in his arms, he was still the enemy—and so was his lover. “How the hell do you know what I’m thinking?” she snapped coldly, hurrying to where Serge was waiting.

Cord watched them go, shaking his head in disgust. Damn! He did not need Elenore to show up—not now. Not when he had almost gained Marilee’s trust and confidence.

And maybe, most importantly, her
love
.

Chapter Twenty

Serge had left Elenore in the custody of one of the other guards. He was not about to give her the freedom to roam about. She paced up and down anxiously, every so often giving the man watching her a glare to let him know she was greatly vexed by his presence.

He merely ignored her.

All the weeks of thinking about Cordell being alone somewhere with another woman had been torture. There was no denying that Marilee was beautiful, and Elenore was all too aware of Cordell’s appeal.

She jumped at the sound of the door opening, then screamed at the sight of Cordell walking into the room. “Oh, my darling, how I’ve missed you!” she cried excitedly. She threw herself upon him with such eagerness he was almost caught off-balance, and began to shower his face with kisses.

The guard smirked.

Cord saw him watching and hissed angrily in Elenore’s ear before pushing her back, “Not now, goddammit!”

To the guard, he snapped, “It’s okay. You can leave.”

As soon as they were alone, Elenore attempted to throw herself at Cord again, but he held her away from him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You had no business—”

She was indignant, masking her humiliation with anger. “Oh, yes, I did!” she blazed. “I had permission. I can prove it.”

“Just tell me why you’re here.”

She tossed the remnants of her pride to the wind and tried once more to wrap her arms about his neck. As he stiffened, she smiled coquettishly. “If you keep pushing me away, darling, I’m not going to tell you, and I think you’ll want to know, since I bring very important orders.”

“And how did you get here?” Cord persisted.

“By train,” she said airily. “An automobile provided by friends in Paris. What difference does it make?” She stood on tiptoe to playfully bestow a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I’m here. We’re together again. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

She was too damn close, Cord decided, triggering heated memories of the passionate hours they’d shared. After just having been agonizingly aroused by Marilee, he was in no mood for teasing. He unwound her arms from about his neck and held her wrists. Giving her a gentle shake, he commanded firmly, “No games, sweetheart. Just tell me why you’re here, and we’ll play later, all right?” He had no intention of taking up with her again, not when Marilee had come to mean so much to him. But he wasn’t about to let Elenore know that. Not yet, anyway.

She pouted silently for a moment. “All right. Business first,” she then said.

He released her and she sat down on the one piece of furniture left in the room—a divan—and patted the seat beside her.

He remained standing.

She sighed. “Oh, Cord, for heaven’s sake! What is wrong with you? Being around that namby-pamby little virgin princess has made you positively stodgy!”

He stood with his feet slightly apart, his arms folded across his chest. “Just give me the orders, Elenore.”

She paused for effect, thin gave up. “Oh, very well. I’ll tell you. Drakar Mikhailonov cannot be located. The ransom will not be paid. The kidnapping was a failure. As I knew it would be,” she finished with a triumphant grin.

Cord felt a tremor of foreboding. If there was no ransom, what would happen to Marilee? Surely they had not ordered that she be killed, because he’d be damned if he’d let that happen.

Keeping his voice even so as not to betray his inner turmoil, he urged, “So what happens now? And why was it necessary for you to come here? I report to headquarters regularly.”

Her gaze was warm with desire. “Because I persuaded them to let me come to you. I’ve nowhere else to go, and you don’t know how badly I’ve missed you.”

He ignored her last words and snapped, “Well, you aren’t staying here. And if there’s to be no ransom, then I’m getting out, too. Just give me the damn orders, Elenore, so I can find out what the hell is going on around here.” He held out his hand impatiently.

She took an envelope from her bag and gave it to him, swallowing her rage at his coldness.

He scanned the lines quickly. He was to take Marilee to Petrograd, where she would be bait for Drakar. The Bolsheviks believed that sooner or later he would hear that his daughter was being held hostage, and he would come out of hiding to save her. Cord did not like their plan. He knew that once he turned Marilee over to them, her fate would be out of his hands.

“Is something wrong?” Elenore asked sharply, seeing the way his brow furrowed. “I thought you’d be pleased. You won’t have to keep staying here. You can send Marilee on to Petrograd, and you and I can return to Switzerland together, and—”

“Where’s Rudolf?” he interrupted.

She shrugged. “He got worried that the Coltranes would eventually find out Marilee is missing and trace everything to him, and he’d get the blame and go to prison. So he left for Russia with Hanisch Lutzstein and the others in preparation for the Bolshevik takeover—leaving
me
behind,” she added testily.

“And your mother? What about her?”

Another shrug. “He had her committed to an asylum. The way she drinks, that’s where she belongs, because she can’t be left alone, and I’m not going to get stuck with her. I’ve got my own life to live.”

But not with me
,
he yearned to tell her, feeling no guilt or regret. He had never promised her anything, never professed his love for her. He gave her pleasure and got pleasure in return. That’s all it was, and all it could ever be. She might be a hell of a beautiful woman, and a wild, wanton tigress in bed, but it ended there. Elenore had no depth. There was nothing to experience or share with her once their passion was spent.

She started toward him, but he backed away in the direction of the door. “I need to make some inquiries about all this,” he told her.

“So do that.” She nodded. “But first, don’t you have a few moments for me? It’s been a long time, darling, and I’ve missed you…”