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seeing he would get no more out of me, clicked the reins angrily and accidentally gave them a severe jerk and the horse reared in panic and the sleigh skidded wildly to a stop and blankets and bags and canteens tumbled out onto

the icy surface of the road. So did Jeremy, landing quite ungracefully on his backside and cracking the back of his head as he fell over.

"God damn!" he cried.

"That was beautiful," I said calmly. "Would you like to do it again? I didn't get a really good look the first time."

"Shut up, Marietta. I feel dazed. I feel dizzy. Christ, I think I've hurt myself."

"I imagine you'll survive," I said.

I climbed out of the sleigh and went around to calm the horse, stroking its neck gently, speaking to it in a soothing voice. Jeremy climbed shakily to his feet and began to sling blankets back into the sleigh. The moon came out again, its rays not as bright as before, and everything turned pale silver and soft silver-gray, shadows deep amethyst

with only a faint suggestion of black. Jeremy brought a large cloth bag around to where I stood, thrusting

it at me with considerable hostility.

"Since you're so bloody concerned about the bloody horse you might just as well give it some oats while you're at it."

"You brought oats for the horse? Jeremy, how sweet of you to remember. Here, sweetheart, have some oatsthat's right, eat them out of my hand. I imagine you're starved, poor darling."

Jeremy stomped about, tossing more things back into the sleigh, cursing again when he dropped the food bag and food scattered over the ground and he had to gather it up. I dipped my hand into the bag, bringing out more oats; and the horse nibbled them greedily, its lips moist against my palm. It was lovely here, the night so still, the moonlight

gleaming, and I felt curiously serene as I fed the horse, as the man I loved grumbled about his minor exertions.

"That's enough, sweetheart," I said. "You'll get more in the morning. Everything back in the sleigh?" I called.

"No thanks to you!" he snapped. "You might have given me a hand, Marietta! My backside hurts something awful.

Feels like someone paddled it with a solid oak beam."

"You're such a baby. Want me to kiss it and make it well?"

"Keep it up, just keep it up!"

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" I said.

"What is?"

I put the feed bag back into the sleigh. "This. Us. Just like the old days. I may be out of my mind, but-oh, Jeremy, I do love you so."

"You do?"

"With all your quirks, all your foibles."

"What quirks? What foibles?"

I moved over to him and reached up and touched his lean cheek and he pretended to be very cool and aloof and I smiled and stood up on my tiptoes and brushed that wide mouth with my lips and he gathered me to him and kissed me fervently and held me so tightly I felt my ribs might crack, and I gloried in it. After a long time he released me and ran a hand across his brow and said this was hardly the time or place and I said that was a pity and he grinned a wicked grin and said we did have plenty of blankets on hand and I told him it was a charming thought but we'd better wait until-we also had a roof over our heads.

"You always were a stick," he said. "No spirit of adventure, no mad impulses, no damn fun."

"I know."

"All that time we were traveling through Texas you remained

depressingly perpendicular." ,

"Not all the time," I reminded him.

"Yeah, once, and then you got mad at me and went right back to your damnable celibacy. Did you sleep with Orlov?"

"Of course not."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Would I lie?"

Jeremy gave me an exasperated look and helped me back into the sleigh and clambered in beside me and arranged

blankets and rug and we were soon skimming

along over the icy road again, the horse frisky after the oats.' I moved over, nestling against him, and Jeremy curled an arm around my shoulders, keeping a tight grip on the reins with his right hand. We had been through a nightmare and we were alone in the cold, in the middle of the Russian wasteland, but we were together, and I had rarely felt such bliss.

"What happened when you got to St. Petersburg?" I asked.

"I went straight to the British embassy. I spoke to Sir Reginald Lloyd. He told me that Orlov had left for his estate

in the north some two weeks before, apparently taking you with him. I got a horse and came after you. I heard an incredible din as I rode through the woods near the house. I smelled the smoke, and in a few more minutes I saw the flames. I abandoned my horse and crept through the woods, and-Jesus, love, I almost went insane. The peasants were jumping and yelling and waving pitchforks and the house was aflame and I thought you might still be inside it, thought they might have killed you."

"What did you do then?" I asked.

"I crept closer and one of the peasants came staggering by, wearing this coat, this hat, waving a bottle of vodka. I took him out with no trouble and removed my own coat and hat and put on his and joined the melee, yelling like a banshee, waving a scythe I picked up. I grabbed one of the

peasants, said I wanted the woman, the redhaired woman, and he told me Pulaski had you and intended to take you back to Pugachev's camp, so I kept on shouting 'Down with

tyranny' and became part of the mob, became Nikki the buffoon, making several friends during the next two days as we headed back to camp."

"None of them suspected you?"

"The mob was composed of men from a dozen different villages. Everyone just assumed I came from a different village. When we finally caught up with Pulaski and I saw you with that rope around your neck-" Jeremy hesitated, shaking his head grimly. "It took all the control I had not to start swinging then and there."

"But you stayed in character," I said.

"And did a bloody fine job of it, too," he added. "Maybe I should have gone on the stage. I have the gift; no doubt about it."

"It's something you can always fall back on," I said dryly.

"Don't imagine there'll be much call for it in Texas."

"Texas-" I whispered. "Will-will we really get there, Jeremy?"

"Count on it, love," he told me. "Why don't you close your eyes for a while now, try to get some sleep."

"I couldn't sleep," I replied. "There's no possible way."

And five minutes later my eyelids grew heavy and I pulled the blankets up and snuggled against him and felt warm and safe and secure. Jeremy curled his arm tighter around my shoulders, and his warmth, his strength became

part of a blissful dream as I drifted off to the soft, scraping noise of wood on ice and the steady clop-clop of the

horse. The dream captivated me, melted into lovely fragments,

faded away, and I slept a long time, and later, much later, something evil, something frightening pierced the layers of slumber and I shivered and moaned. It came again, a sound, and I sat up, alert, gripped with terror. It was daylight now. Jeremy turned to look at me and gave me a warm, reassuring smile.

"Have a nice sleep?" he inquired.

"Some-something woke me up-a noise."

"Nothing to worry about," he said casually. "It was just a wolf."

"Oh, my God-"

I had forgotten about the wolves.

JEREMY SCOFFED AT MY ALARM AND PATIENTLY

explained to me that wolves were shy, harmless creatures that presented absolutely no threat. I told him I didn't know what kind of wolves he had encountered in the past but Russian wolves were unique unto themselves and did indeed present a most definite threat. He smiled at my charming, typically female naivete and, while not actually patting me on the head, managed to infuriate me with his insufferable, typically male attitude of superiority. I had a big, strong man with me, his manner implied, and there was nothing to worry about.

"I happen to know a little more about this than you do,"

I said sharply. "I've been in Russia longer. They do attack people."

I told him some of the stories I'd heard, and Jeremy listened

and smiled again and said Russians thrived on high drama and loved to exaggerate and, besides, both of us were excellent shots, had three rifles, a pistol, and plenty of ammunition.

"Relax, Marietta."

HI find that rather difficult when we're being pursued by a pack of starving, bloodthirsty wolves!"

"One lone wolf," Jeremy said, "and he was probably scared by the sound of the sleigh, probably turned tail and hurried back to his den as fast as he could. It isn't like you to fall to pieces like this, love."

"I'm not falling to pieces!"

"You could have fooled me."

"Go to hell! I just happen to be extremely frightened of wolves."

"Nary a wolf in sight.t'he said.

He was right, and a good twenty minutes had passed since the howling had awakened me. I was probably overreacting,

but I still resented his smug attitude and his infuriating calm. I rubbed my eyes and gazed at the drab day. The sky was a solemn gray, filled with heavy clouds of

even darker gray. The few rays of sunlight that managed to filter through were thin and white, dim, and the usually blinding white snow was tinged gray, too, dull and depressing

and bleak. It was extremely cold.

"It looks like it's going to snow again," I said miserably.

"Does indeed," he replied.

"I'd give half my gold for a cup of hot coffee."

"Wouldn't mind a cup myself. You hungry?"

"I could use a plate of scambled eggs and some crisp bacon," I replied. "Some hot muffins and orange marmelade

would be nice, too, even some kippered herring.

"

" 'Fraid you'll have to settle for less, love."

Jeremy pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a halt.

He got out of the sleigh and stretched and yawned sleepily,

then pulled the bag of oats out and patted the horse on the back and tied the bag around its neck. I sat under the blankets,

still apprehensive, keeping a sharp eye out for the wolves. Jeremy stretched again, throwing his arms wide, leaning back. His sheepskin coat flapped open, and I saw the fine white lawn shirt beneath. Sometime during the night he had tied a bright red scarf around his neck, and it gave him a rakish, piratical look. The wide, mobile mouth, the slightly twisted nose, the vivid blue eyes added to that impression, as did the pistol and the knife thrust into the waistband of his snug black breeches.

"I'Il be back in a minute," he said.

"Where are you going? Jeremy, are you out of-"

"Nature calls, love."

I had five minutes of stark terror, sitting therein the sleigh with one of the rifles gripped firmly in my hands, and when he sauntered back onto the road I whirled it around, pointing at his chest. He let out a frenzied yell, jumping at least three feet. I calmly put the rifle down and began to remove food from the bags: bread, sausage, cheese, apples. Still shaken, Jeremy gave me a severe, heated lecture about firearms and safety to which I paid not the slightest attention.

The horse munched blissfully on the oats, and we ate our extremely unconventional breakfast. I borrowed the pistol from Jeremy and took a short walk myself, returning a few minutes later to find him curled up under the blankets fast asleep, the black sheepskin hat tilted down over his eyes, his mouth open. Poor darling. Filled with love, I smiled, and then I removed the bag of oats from around the horse's

neck and climbed into the sleigh, nudging him over a little. He made an angry, snorting noise, flopping heavily against me as soon as I had pulled the blankets up around my legs. I gathered the reins up and clicked them. Jeremy sank down farther and farther as we started off, finally settling

his head in my lap.

The pistol at my-side, I held the reins firmly and clicked them occasionally, prompting the horse to trot even faster, We sped through the gray morning. Jeremy moaned now and then and made puffing noises in his sleep, changing positions, wrapping his arms around my legs, his head still resting heavily in my lap. I felt wonderfully maternal, for there was so much of the little boy in this extremely virile man. I stroked his cheek. He snorted irritably. He had so many engaging, endearing quirks. How could I ever have believed I loved anyone else? Now that I had him back, I never intended to let him out of my sight again. How I loved him. How I longed to prove that love with every fiber of my body and soul.

The morning wore on and the sky grew darker still and the shadows spread pale violet across the grayish white snow. My arms began to ache a bit from holding the reins so long. Although it was impossible to tell from the light, I reasoned it must be almost noon. Jeremy had been sleeping

four or five hours. I sighed, shifting my position on the seat. The light grew dimmer. The clouds were threatening.

I braced myself, determined to let Jeremy sleep for as long as possible. Perhaps another hour and a half passed before

I caught a glimpse of the gray shadow bounding through the trees on my right. It was the merest glimpse, so brief I couldn't be sure I had actually seen it, but my blood ran cold nevertheless.

You're not going to panic, I told myself. You're not going to wake Jeremy up. You're going to be very, very calm. It probably wasn't a wolf at all. It was probably just a shadow. My hands were trembling as I gripped the reins, and my legs were trembling, too. I pressed my boots down hard on the floor of the sleigh, trying to steady my legs.

Cold waves seemed to wash over me. You must get hold of

yourself, I scolded.

I clicked the reins, urging the horse to go faster still, and another fifteen minutes or so passed and I kept watching the woods to my right, and I saw only crusty mounds of grayish white snow and thick tree trunks and pale violet shadows. Jeremy groaned again in his sleep, burrowing his head in my lap, and I began to relax, began to believe I had imagined it all, and then I glimpsed it again. There could be no mistake this time. The wolf leaped from behind

a mound of snow and darted behind another mound, disappearing,